#You can just barely see I tried to use one of my skin-tone pencils from the Crayola set but it doesn't scan the best :P

[sysig]

Looking his very best, as much as he can anyhow (Patreon)

[zodiyack]

Little Loner

Pairing(s): Jace Wayland x fem!reader

Warnings: clary being jealous but then cupid??, I wrote this while sleep deprived, fluff at the end, Clary x Simon if you squint.

Words: 1,743

Author's Note: I finally finished the requests. Now have some drafts while I work on sequels and stuff <3

Masterlist | The Mortal Instruments Masterlist

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read it,  @simonsbluee,  @thewarriorprincessxo,  @sebastianstanslefteyebrow,  @livlaughquinn,  @bubsonnobx,  @bunnyweasley23

Jace leads Clary to Hodge, but hesitates when he sees an open door. He finds himself pausing to admire the scene, leaning on the door frame with a crooked smile. Clary moves to get a better view and is confused.

A girl sits in a windowsill, her pencil hitting the paper lightly as she sketches out the scenery outside the window. The light appears to angle just right, giving her an almost angelic presence. Black runes cover her skin, some disappearing to hide under her clothes.

Clary leans over to Alec and whispers. "Who is that?"

Alec simply nods a little. "Y/N. Jace has a thing for her, but he's never acted on it." Clary feels her heart break a little. "Shame, really. She likes him too, but they're both too stubborn to be the one to confess."

"Oh..."

"My advice," Alec looks between her and the room, "stay away from Jace."

He moves on before she can ask much else, walking along the halls and calling to Jace quietly. Jace is brought back to reality as he gives one last look into the room before venturing on.

"So, Y/N..." Clary tries.

She doesn't miss when Jace blushes slightly, "another Shadowhunter. She's been here a long time, however she really only talks to me."

"Why's that?"

He chuckles a little but shakes his head. "That's none of my business to tell. She's a great person when you get to know her though." That's all the information he gives before they reach their destination. He opens the door and gestures inside with a nod.

His expression stays neutral, stoic as he explains, "You may find Hodge a little eccentric, but he's one of the greatest Shadowhunters that's ever lived." He looks down at the cloth in her hand and his brows furrow. "Here, give me that."

She walks inside of the giant room, her body and eyes exploring. The two boys walk in after her. They watch her carefully. Despite her distance, Clary can still hear Jace and Alec by the door.

"Don't lead this one on while you pursue your little loner. You'll get her hopes up, and if she decides to stay...the rune to fix a broken heart is the most painful one." She could practically feel Jace roll his eyes.

"I'm not leading her on."

"Oh? Is that so? Because I don't normally go around flirting and being handsy with random people, Jace." Alec warned. "It's obvious, the way Clary looks at you. I'd tone down your 'lack of leading her on' before she gets the wrong idea."

The doors shut suddenly, causing Clary to flinch, and Alec storms off down the hall, leaving Jace to think over his words. The more he thought about it, the more he tried to deny it.

Jace opens the door, "The Silent Brothers are ready for her."

When Clary and Jace set off for their next location, she noticed a new companion had replaced Alec. It was the girl from before. The girl that Jace liked.

"I didn't expect you to be joining us..." She tries to make conversation, but Y/N barely acknowledges her.

"I admire your attempt, but she won't talk. Not unless she's comfortable with you." Jace smiles at the girl in question, who smiles to herself but stays quiet.

"How long would that take?"

"Patience is a virtue, Clary." Jokes Jace. "I suppose I was the first person who ever really tried, so there's not much to go off of. She's coming with us because I asked her too."

The redheaded girl can't help but glance between the two every now and then. She isn't sure whether she feels jealous or wants them to be together, but she can say one thing for sure; The tension was nauseatingly strong.

"Why didn't Hodge come with us?"

"He hasn't left the institute in years." Jace shrugs as he continues walking. "Some say it's a spell."

"He's agoraphobic." Y/N giggles at Clary's bluntness, leading to the ginger giving her a small smile. One she returned. They stop and turn, Jace crossing his arms while he waits.

"Is that him?" Clary asks.

Jace follows her gaze and shakes his head. "No, that's Harold, the groundskeeper." He tilts his head, leaning in a bit, "that's him."

She looks up a little and feels a small shiver of unease crawl up her spine. A comforting hand is felt on her shoulder, and she's met with Y/N's smile when she turns her head. The action leaves her wondering how obvious her discomfort was, but she still is thankful.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Clary looks to the two as though asking for help, but nods regardless. "We will help you to remember."

The trio follow the tall robed man, Clary a little more hesitant. Y/N turns, kind smile still standing, and lifts a finger to the middle of her lips. Clary nods and follows behind.

Along the way she trips, "Ow!"

Jace turns his head instantly, shushing her. "You'll wake the dead."

Clary rolls her eyes. She catches Y/N giving her an apologetic shrug, the girl nodding with her head to continue.

"I can't believe this place is just outside of the city..."

She follows the duo to the window like ledge they looked through. Jace's voice catches her off guard, "Welcome to the City of Bones." His breath is right next to her ear, sending her hairs to stand on their ends.

"This is where the Silent Brothers draw their power, from the bones and ashes of Shadowhunters."

"All of them are buried here?"

"Yes." Jace looks to the wall, "One day," he taps a skull, making Y/N giggle, the sound eliciting a smile to slide upon his pink lips, "that's gonna be me."

Clary stops to look at the skeleton. Sensing her unease, Y/N urges her forward with a light touch. Clary stops a few steps forward, inspecting the room from entryway.

"This is as far as we go." She looks at Jace, and he assures her, "You'll be fine."

"So you've done this before?"

Y/N and Jace exchange a glance. She dawns an apologetic look as shakes her head and Jace replies, "No."

Clary decides to continue to try and talk to Y/N, "Have you ever met Magnus Bane?"

The girl only shakes her head.

"You know... I'm quite jealous of you." Clary admits with a laugh. Y/N tilts her head in confusion, prompting Clary to continue. "I thought Jace was into me, and if I'm being honest, I'm really into him but... I'd be stupid to stand in your guys' way."

Her brows furrow, even more confused than before. Clary's hopes range from high to doubtful, there's a chance Alec was wrong, that she didn't have feelings for him, but she saw the way the two looked at each other. She might've been naïve and clouded in her conflicting feelings, but she wasn't blind.

"Jace likes you too. And honestly...you should go for it." She looks away, ashamed of her own assistance in helping the guy she liked be with someone else. However, she doesn't have time to mope, when a voice she hasn't heard before causes her to snap her eyes back to Y/N's face.

"Is it that obvious?" A shy expression, laced with a little embarrassment, greets her.

"You-"

"I talk, yes." She chuckles. "Jace wasn't lying. I mostly talk to him, but after I realized my feelings for him, I started to confide in Alec. My only problem was that I didn't realize Alec also had feelings for Jace... But, Alec saw how much I love Jace, and told me that he had found interest in someone else. Whether that's true or not, I don't know, but, my feelings for Jace have always been around since then. I'm just...not too sure what to do about it."

Clary nods understandingly, and places her hand atop Y/N's. "Talk to him."

Y/N thinks about it for moment, and then nods. "Thank you."

"Hey. Can we talk?" Jace turns, nodding when he realizes it's Y/N. The blond looks around the infirmary, making sure Simon and Clary are accounted for one more time before he returns to facing her. He follows her to the study, sitting beside her on the piano seat.

"What's wrong?"

Her fingers press into the keys, a slow recollection of a piece by Bach. "It's nothing... I spoke to Clary-'

"You talked to Clary?" Y/N giggles at his dumbfounded expression. "M'sorry, that just caught me a little off-guard, you don't normally talk to anyone else."

"That's fair. Basically, she gave me some advice to a problem I have, not that I asked her for it- she actually noticed it- anyways, after Simon and the vampires and everything- I guess- my point is, Jace..."

"Yes?" His eyes were laced with concern, no longer amused by her sudden socializing.

"I like you. Like, really really like like you." She bit her lip. "Like...I'm in love with you."

Y/N stared at Jace, waiting for his answer. She grew nervous as time started to feel slower. The seconds felt like they were snail's paced, so close yet so far away. Sweat dripped down her forehead and her heartbeat rang in her ears. It was all so overwhelming until-

"I'm in love with you too."

"You what?"

Jace smiled shyly. "I'm in love with you too. I've been for a long time now." His eyes trace over her lips, the distance between them closing gradually. He hovers above her lips when his eyes meet hers again.

It's all in slow motion and superspeed at the same time. She lets go of control and lets her instincts take the reigns. Her lips crash into his and he lets out a surprised groan. Their eyes both close as they kiss one another, their lips partaking in a dance they somehow know. By the time they pull apart, they're out of breath and their eyes are blown.

"How long?"

She blinks. "Pardon?"

"How long have you been waiting to do that?"

"If I'm being honest, a month or so after we met. What about you?" Y/N giggles.

"Since we first met."

Clary leans against the door, heart half broken and half full, yet content with herself. Maybe she should look into what Simon's benefits are.

[cheresha]

While I was working on my last drawing I thought it would be fun to make a post explaining my process like the one I did for my digital art! This is mostly an excuse to gush about copic markers because they are my absolute favorite medium and I feel like working with them has helped me improve a lot in a short period of time! It's also really fun to take something that isn't made for realism and try to adapt it to my style.

This is in no way a tutorial because I still have a lot to learn and improve upon but I will be sharing some tips that have made my drawing process way easier!

I'm putting the rest under a read more because I'll probably end up writing a novel length post lmao

Now, let's start from the basics - this is the sketchbook I use because it's made for markers and allows you to blend the colors smoothly while giving you a glossy finish.

Please ignore its sorry state, it's relatively new but it fell apart almost immediately 🙄 Not to sound like a grumpy old person but my old one I got a few years ago was of much better quality but it is what it is I guess. I'll still continue using it because it's still the best I've tried. It's also really good for color pencils.

Moving on to the markers - I have quite a few, mostly skin tones and pinks because that's what I need for the result I'm looking to achieve but if you're just starting or are not interested in drawing realistic portraits, this set is pretty much all you need to draw people and you can get whichever other colors you see fit. I have a few bright colors I use mostly for backgrounds.

About the price - they are expensive, yes, but if you are like me and use them 2-3 times a month they can last for a really long time. The one I use the most lasted me for over 1 year so in my opinion they are worth giving a try if you have the budget for them, especially because you can easily mix the colors to create new shades instead of buying new markers.

Moving on to the process itself - I try to make my drawings relatively small, as you can see here.

That's because copic markers dry really fast and you have to work quickly if you want your colors to blend properly 🥲 The smaller the drawing, the easier your life will be (his right arm was pretty stressful to draw ngl). Also since the paper is really thin be careful with your eraser because if you damage it, the marker ink will turn that spot into a weird looking splotch that you won't be able to fix 🥲

I have to admit that lineart is not my favorite thing to draw because I have shaky hands and tend to make mistakes but I think it makes my drawings look better so I try my best to practice more and always do warmups before I start. I got these fineliners from my local art supply store and like them quite a lot since they don't smudge easily. I use the 0,2 one for the drawing itself and the 0,5 one for the 'frame'. I like to wait for at least 30 minutes for my lineart to dry before I start coloring. Also, most of the time I don't ink the eyebrows at this point but prefer to draw them on after I'm done with the rest of the face because I will go over them so many times with my markers that I might end up smudging them pretty badly.

After my lineart has dried, I like to get the background done first because if I leave it for last, it can smudge the hair and stain my marker which will alter its color and that annoys me a lot even though it's fixable. Also, this is probably the only time I use the broad tip of the marker because it's perfect for bigger areas. Otherwise it's not very precise so I use the bush tip for everything else. I usually go over the background twice to make sure it looks as smooth as possible.

Okay, moving on to the face! I like to start from the midtones because it helps give structure to the face from the very beginning. After that I go in with the palest shade I have - pale fruit pink (E000). I use it mostly for blending and for the highlights since it's barely visible and really helps you achieve a smooth look. I like it way more than the clear one they sell specifically for blending, it's such a waste of money and leaves weird discolored spots all over your drawing 🙄

Here we make a pretty big time jump because I was fighting for my life (trying to blend the shadows). I recently got the cool brown (E71) and love it so much, it's perfect for the darker areas, also the hair and eyes! But you can achieve a pretty similar color if you go over E11 or E93 with BV31, I use it a lot because it makes the transition between the different shades way smoother and I feel like it gives extra depth to the face!

And the rest of his face is done! For some reason mixing a decent lip color is not easy for me because they tend to end up looking really cartoonish/unnatural but I feel like these 3 colors gave me a pretty okay result! Fortunately his eyebrow turned out okay too, I went in with the cool brown (E71) first a couple of times to establish the basic shape and later added the eyebrow hairs with the 0,2 fineliner.

I used the same colors and technique for his neck - nothing new to add here.

Same with his arm, except I used only the lavender color for the darkest parts - you can't really see it from the picture but irl it looks almost the same as the cool brown.

Time for the hair! This is probably where I need to improve the most since it always looks the most cartoonish out of the whole drawing and it really doesn't look that good compared to the more realistic skin. Black hair is especially difficult for me since you can't really blend the black marker and trying to go over it does nothing but stain my lighter markers. That's why currently I start from my higlight color - it also doesn't have to look neat since it will get covered by the black later and the uneven strokes help add some depth to the finished hair :))

I think I did a decent job overall and going over some of the highlights with this darker gray helped, too. Sometimes I like using a white pen to add a few more details but here I decided against it since I wanted to keep things simple.

I loooove adding stray hairs but I think I went a bit overboard here ahah I also need to get a 0,1 fineliner for them since this one seems a bit too thick.

As I mentioned before, his other arm was pretty hard because I had to work extra fast but I ended up liking how it turned out! I especially love drawing the small details on the hands so I had lots of fun, too. Also, I used the same colors for his pants minus the pinkish one (E93).

And now it's time for the final boss - the cardigan. I've never drawn such a detailed outfit before but it was pretty simple in terms of colors so it wasn't that difficult in the end and I got to practice drawing two very different types of fabric. I also forgot to add it here but I went over these 2 colors with a light warm gray (W-1) a couple of times to give it a softer look.

Here's the finished cardigan - I also added the black details with my marker instead of a fineliner because I didn't want it to look too precise/neat.

I also added the shadows under him with these 2 colors.

And finally I used these 2 for the sheets!

Thank you for reading this whole thing (if you're here you deserve a prize fr), I love talking about markers sm so if there's anything else you're curious about please don't hesitate to let me know!

[oreosmama]

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: nothin’ much to say, except I like writing with an accent for Atsumu. That shit’s bomb. Enjoy!

Word count: 2339

Tetsurou Kuroo:

“Hey YN,”

He starts off so strong. His voice has that ever present lilt in it, like he’s trying to bait you closer. 

���I-” he breaks off into a breathless, short laugh, “-I’m not really sure why I called… I guess I was hoping to catch you before I went to practice but…”

He swallows, and you can almost imagine him rubbing the back of his neck. “But I guess I missed you. I mean–not like that.” He sputters. “Not that I don’t miss you! I do! I-”

Kuroo pauses, a bitter chuckle traveling through the phone. “God, I’m a fucking wreck. Did you know that? I’m a fucking trainwreck after us, and I can’t even pinpoint why.”

There’s shuffles in the background before the phone thumps, and Kuroo’s voice is distant but still audible. You figure he’s put you on speaker for whatever reason while finding a seat somewhere. He huffs as he settles in. 

“Sometimes I think it’s because of the way we ended things.” He sighs, tone growing thick like his throat is stuck with something. “I yelled at you, so loudly, and I’ll never forget that look on your face when you left. I relive it every night, you know that? Asking myself what I could have done better and whatnot.” A loud hiss, like he’s sucking on his bottom lip harshly. “What I could have said or done to make you stay.”

“And then it’s not even the breakup that I can’t stop thinking about. It’s those moments we used to have, those goddamn memories I’ve got seared in the back of my brain that I have to repress when someone even spins a goddamn pencil like you did.”

Another thump, and suddenly his voice is much louder than before, the phone pressed back against his ear. “That pillow, you know the one that’s got your perfume all fucking over it. I tried to throw it away yesterday.” He scoffs. “And that failed. So I woke up fucking cuddling it this morning, as if I didn’t already feel like a loser.”

“And I know you still have my sweatshirt,” he inhales then exhales deeply. “I don’t want it back. I can’t–please don’t give it back, I don’t want it. Consider it yours, or whatever. Maybe you’ve already gotten rid of it, I don’t know.” So wobbly. His voice has slowly grown shaky over the last few seconds. “Whatever.”

A long pause drags out for at least a minute, and the only thing that stops you from checking if he’s still on call is the short breaths that are barely audible. 

“Just,” he finally breaks the silence, voice cracking. “Please, I gotta know. For my sanity, please, do you miss me?... Miss us?”

“‘Cause God YN I miss every second of us.”

“One of the guys yesterday asked me what happened between us. I don’t even know why, I just got so mad so quick I wanted to sock him in the face for even bringing you up.” A quiet slap against his skin, like he’s brought up his hand to run it down his face. “I just… I had spent all day trying to keep you out of my head. I saw you in the halls that morning, but I know you didn’t see me–you had your head down reading that fucking book you love so much–and for the rest of the goddamn day I tried to keep you out of my head. And then he brought you up, and I just… God, I don’t even know, I just fucking lost it.”

“The coach sent me home after that, said I needed to clear my head. Not that it worked, ‘cause look where I am now.” He released a self-deprecating laugh.

“Sitting on the damned school steps all over again, crying like an idiot for who knows how long.”

A voice, distant and hesitant, calls out to him. “Kuroo.” It’s Kenma.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m coming, just give me a sec.” But he’s quiet all over again, maybe deep in thought.

But then you hear a ruffling of clothes and a small sniff. Kuroo clears his throat. “I-I have to go. I’ll… just–call me back. Please. I wanna hear your voice, I-... I miss your voice.”

Silence.

“I miss you.”

“I love you.”

Then he hangs up.

Wakatoshi Ushijima:

“YN.” As usual, his tone is deadpan and succinct. If he’s calling you, there’s a reason for it. 

“You’ve left some clothing at my house. Please let me know when you have time to pick it up. I’ll have it prepared for you.”

“There are also the gifts you’ve given me there as well. I don’t know if you want those back or not, so please let me know before your arrival so I can get those packed up as well.”

“Regarding the gifts I’ve given you, you can keep them. I will not be needing them back.”

“If... if you have the time, I would also like to talk to you. I feel we have some things to discuss regarding our breakup.” The line falls silent, but when you pull the phone back, the voicemail still says it has five minutes left.

“I do not like the way we ended things,” he speaks up after a minute has passed. “It was… you’re wrong. You were wrong.”

“You said I didn’t care about you, but you’re wrong. I do. You said I never think about you, never spare you any thoughts, but you’re wrong.”

“The truth is, I hate how distracting you are. I find it hard to focus on practice now. In games, I feel myself losing my edge. You’re always just there. My mind is always on you. So much that I don’t know how to stop it.”

“So when you said I never cared about you… I was frustrated at how wrong you were.” A scraping is heard, dull and barely audible. He’s gritting his teeth, clenching his jaw in what you’ve always recognized as a hint of his growing irritation. 

“How you can take over my mind and still say that I don’t ever spare you a minute of my time, it angers me. You’ve taken so much away from me, and then you go and say that I haven’t given you enough…”

“It’s not fair. I don’t accept it.”

“Tell me, YN. Have I taken over your thoughts the way you’ve taken over mine? Do I have you as wrapped around my finger as you do me?”

“Or have I just become one of those lovesick fools I’ve always despised, chasing after something they can never have?”

“I deserve to know, YN. You owe me that much.” There’s such certainty in his tone. It’s impossible to think of his words as anything else other than absolute truth. Speaking through your phone was a man not only desperately heartbroken, but also completely, utterly confused. To draw such an emotion out of a man like Ushijima…

“Tomorrow, before school, I will find you.” His words held no threat, softly spoken so as to only sound like a promise. “I want you to be honest with me tomorrow, so I can have some semblance of closure.” 

Once more he’s gone silent, as if waiting for your response. Every breath he takes now comes out as a huff more than an exhale. He’s so wound up by now you’re almost positive this attitude will drag on until your conversation tomorrow. 

“It’s what I deserve, YN. You can’t take away from me the one thing my mind has run on for months now and expect me not to want answers.” There’s a squeal of a chair against tile flooring, and a beat later you hear the rustling of clothes as he takes a seat.

“What more you want from me, I’m not quite sure. Yet, somehow, I still feel myself yearning to give it to you.”

“Tell me, YN, is that fair? You’ve taken yourself out of my life, and I still feel as though I’d do anything for you. Give anything for you.”

“At the very least, I must know if my actions were not in vain; if you feel my absence even a little bit in comparison to the hole you’ve left in me.”

“Did you really love me? You said it before you left that night, but if you did, then I don’t understand why you left. I need you to enlighten me, YN. I just don’t understand.”

A pause. “Goodbye, YN. I look forward to our talk tomorrow.”

Atsumu Miya:

“YNNN!” The shout of your name is so loud you yank the phone away from your ear in shock.

Hesitantly, you draw it closer when everything quiets down again. 

“Oh God, someone grab his phone!”

“Atsumu, hand it over now!”

“He’s calling her, isn’t he? Dumbass.”

However remote, you can still hear the groans of your ex’s teammates along with the dull thumping and buzzing of far-off music. You figure he had been at a friend’s house or maybe even a club, and he’d probably locked himself up somewhere like the bathroom with his phone in tow. 

There’s a slam, then a click followed by the muffled shouts of the voices you’d heard earlier. Then a gulp as Atsumu downs the rest of whatever alcoholic drink he somehow got his hands on before calling you.

“YN, how dare you!” Accusatory, and extremely slurred. He’s drunk off his ass, and his accent is so thick you struggle a bit to understand him. “Yer such a meanie for breakin’ my heart like that, darlin’!”

“All I ever wanted was to love you an’ give you the world; why’d ya hafta go an’ take it all away from me?”

Another gulp, and now he’s sniffling. “I just… I just don’t know why you did it. It was gonna be us two forever, darlin’. You said you’d never leave me. Why did ya have to…?”

“I know it’s hard for you to be alone for all that time, darlin’, an’ I ain’t gonna act like I never saw how you felt. But you said you could do it–you promised that ya'd do it for me.”

“What happened to all those promises? You said you loved me so many times, and now every time I think about you sayin’ those words, it hurts so bad. I know I’m gonna regret this later, I ain’t stupid, but I want you ta know that I’m broken now, darlin’, and it’s because a’ you.”

“The nights are so unbearable, YN. I can’t stand ‘em. You wouldn’t believe how cold that bed is without you in it. And yer fuckin’ pillow–goddamnit that thing–so many times now I thought a’ just throwin’ it out rather than smell it for one more second. That fuckin’ perfume ya always wear is just everywhere on that bed though, so I say to myself, ‘What’s the point? It’s still there no matter what I do.’ And do ya know what’s really sad?”

The slurring, the wobbling, the stuttering. At this point, he’s an incomprehensible mess. Long ago you’d heard a concerning bang, but that bang had caused the end of his unsteady footsteps so you figured he’d finally just collapsed to the ground. 

“Two days ago I took down all the pictures we got hung up all over the apartment. Every single one I took down and put ‘em all in a li’l pile on the couch. An’ on the coffee table I had this stupid trash bag, and I had this fuckin’ lighter in my hand. For an hour, I sat there, lookin’ at the first damned picture I took from that pile. The stupid lighter ran outta gas ‘bout halfway through, and I still didn’t put the picture down. It was like I was stuck lookin’ at us, at how good we were. So many times I asked myself what the hell went so wrong that you up and left me outta the blue.” A choked up laugh snuck through the speaker. “It was that picture of us when we graduated. I was holdin’ you in my arms and you were smilin’ and hangin’ onto me so tight and—fuck-” Atsumu broke off in a breathless whimper, a muted sob slipping through. 

After about a minute of silent weeping, he cleared his throat, though it was scratchy rough when he spoke again. “All those pictures–they’re back up on the wall, darlin’. Never did nothin’ with ‘em, never hid ‘em away.”

“I just… I just don’t wanna get rid of ‘em. And ya wanna know why? It’s the most pitiful thing yer ever gonna hear.” He heaves a shaky sigh. “It’s ‘cuz I keep hopin’ one a’ these days yer gonna show back up at our door, that li’l look of confusion on yer face when ya see I got rid a’ all our pictures together, and then you’ll get all sad and pouty and beg me to dig ‘em outta the trash for ya.��

“I’d do it. Ya know I would. I’d do anything for you.”

“S-so can you come back, darlin’? Please?”

“‘Cuz I need you, bad. I can’t stand it anymore.”

“That damned house is too quiet without you singin’ and dancin’ all over it. An’ I can’t ever figure out where you got those scented candles from–the ones that smell like yer perfume. I can’t find ‘em, and the ones you left behind, they’re all burnt out. All used up.”

“I miss you, darlin’. Fuck, I can’t stand another second without you.”

“Please, just come back to me. I need you.”

And in the background his friends have finally jimmied the door open. There’s a strangled cry as one of them tackles Atsumu to the ground, ripping the phone from his grasp. “Fuck, guys, look, he is calling her.”

“Oh, ‘Tsumu…”

And the call ends.

[wornoutmouse]

Look I wrote this for my friend but i popped the hell off with this one so if you don’t mind reading a name inbetween a few dialogue points pls read

You ran hurriedly through the halls of the school as the third bell finally rang. You had overslept and had barely made it onto the bus. Skidding to a stop, you slow down when you get to the door, catching your breath before entering. Just as you annoyingly expected, eyes dart towards you as soon as you entered, effectively catching the teacher’s attention.

 “This is the second time you are late young lady, one more time and I will have no choice but to write you up.” You smile awkwardly, “Sorry Miss, it won’t happen again.”  Ms. Bustier clicks her tongue disapprovingly as she watched her student walk to her seat, head hanging low. You sit down in your chair with a soft sigh as Ms. Bustier spoke about today’s lesson.

For the most part, you pay attention to the lesson being taught, that is until your attention is being interrupted by a pencil poking your side. From your peripheral vision, you see fluffy blond hair swaying gently to get your attention. You mutter under your breath, swiping the pencil with your hand, “Quit it Adrien I’m already in trouble.” The boy huffs but the playful aura still hung around making your skin buzz with excitement.

 Shifting in your seat, you squint your eyes at the smartboard, writing down notes every so often. Looking down once again, you notice a small piece of paper folded, You look at Adrien who boredly watched your teacher speak. Opening the paper you roll your eyes at the note inside. 

A - Late again are you Miss Mia? One more time and I might have to wake you up myself

Nibbling the tip of your pencil you write a note back, crumpling the paper before tossing it at Adrien’s head with a smirk.

You- Well maybe I wouldn’t have been so tired if you hadn’t interrupted my study time with your modeling rants

The paper is tossed back at your head, catching in your curly hair, making Adrien snort.

A- Well I can think of other ways to keep you up at night...

You cough loudly at the message, eyes darting at Adrien’s laid-back figure. You scribble down a quick snarky reply with shaking hands. You go to pass the paper but the sound of a throat clearing interrupts you. You turn to your left and are forced to look up, gulping when you notice your teacher’s signature white blazer. She holds her hand out and you reluctantly place the ball of paper in her hand.

“While I will not embarrass you by reading out your hidden messages, I will embarrass you by writing you up for detention.” Sputtering, you point an accusing finger at the smug boy behind you, “He started it first I was just..” You are hushed by a firm hand on your shoulder, “Well if that’s the case, both you and Adrien can join each other at study hall.” Adrien groans behind you and you throw a glare his way, one that he responds with a teasing wink. The sound of the bell ringing grimly reminds you of the dreadful time awaiting you in study hall after school.

 When you get thereAdrien is already there and waves you over to him. You narrow your eyes at him but sit next to him anyway. “Aww don’t look at me like that Mi, it’s not my fault you aren’t stealthy enough to pass a simple note in class.” You roll your eyes, “Well if you weren’t tossing notes like a child, we wouldn’t be here either.” Adrien laughs loudly earning a sharp look from the detention monitor. 

He mutters a silent apology as you busy yourself with a notepad and pencil. The study hall is silent and boring and 11 minutes feel like 11 hours as the clock ticks by. Adrien watches your small scribbles turn into different shapes and sizes. Before long, he notices you drawing a rather familiar face. “Whatcha drawing?” You shrug, watching your pencil make the shape of cat-like ears.

You continue drawing, briefly recognizing Adrien’s body heat as he watches over your shoulder. “You like Chat Noir huh?” Your precise pencil strokes outline the lean frame of one of Paris’s heros. While it is undoubtedly Chart Noir in a heroic setting, the way his eyes slant a little more than his mask allows and the way one of his hands rested on his chest did give way to a more seductive undertone. 

“Yeah, I think he’s pretty hot not gonna lie.” Adrien hums, the feeling of his short breaths blowing against your shoulder makes you shiver. “Really? Well, he can’t be hotter than I can he?” Adrien fluffs his hair pompously as he stretches his body lazily. “I don’t know maybe a little.” Adrien sticks his tongue out at you.

Your monitor stands up and walks towards the door before turning around, “Listen you two, I am going to get lunch, and I better see you two here when I come back or you’ll get worse than detention.” The teacher fixes you both with a long look before leaving. “They are a little stiff in the ass.” You chuckle resting your head on your palm. Adrien slouches in his chair to play on his phone, giving you the perfect opportunity to observe him. Your friend is attractive, that is something you’ve come to terms with a long time ago, hiding your crush away deep in your mind. 

“You like to stare at me when you think?” His tenor voice startles you out of thought and you realize you now have his full attention. Your face is warm and for once you are glad you couldn’t visibly blush. 

“Hey, Adrien? What did you mean by that last message you passed me in class?” You tried to pass the question off as casual but you could feel your heart racing as the room filled with daunting silence. “What do you think I meant?” 

Suddenly Adrien felt too close and the room felt smaller. When you made eye contact with him, his eyes were slanted just like Chat Noirs on your drawing. “You tell me.” You said boldly. Adrien pondered for a while, green eyes observing your features, going from your eyes, down your nose before finally resting on your plump lips. “Well, I think it meant exactly what it said.” Adrien placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh in his palm. “So tell me why you like Cat Noir?” You stare at nothing, unable to compute the absurd request that came seemingly out of nowhere.

“What?” Adrian’s hand doesn’t stop moving on your thigh, heating your skin through your jeans. “Come on Mi, humor me for a moment.” You hum softly in an attempt at calming your heart rate. “Well, I like how he seems to enjoy what he does,  saving people...” As you speak Adrien takes the time to scoot closer to you paying a sparing glance at the door your teacher left out of a moment ago. “What would you do if you met him?” His hands got closer to your inner thigh fiddling with your belt loops.

The urge to clench your legs together was immediate as the fire within you grew stronger. “I would thank him for his service and-” Adrien shushes you with the sound of your belt clinking a loose. “Let me rephrase, what do you want him to do to you?” Before you had comprehended your predicament, Adrien’s hand had found itself inside your pants.

You were sitting rigidly in your chair, lips parted in a silent exhale. Slender fingers focused themselves on your swelling bud, pressing soft circles on it in an effort to coax it out of its hood. Noting your tensed posture, Adrien tries to distract you. He’ll admit even to himself that this was a bold move on his part and he was surprised you hadn’t pushed him off at this point. “I can stop if you want me to?” You feel his fingers stop their ministrations and you quickly grab his wrist. “No!”

His concerned demeanor is quickly wiped away by a broad smirk as his fingers resumed their task. “Okay then.” He places a kiss on your shoulder through your shirt making you shiver. “You didn’t answer my question.” You nod and try to speak in a stable manner. “I would want him to- oh god!” Adrien’s fingers began to work overtime as they went down to your lips, now wet with your arousal. “I would want him to touch me there! Please.” 

Lips latched lazily on your skin, sucking hard enough for you to feel it but not hard enough for marks to be left behind. “Where is’ there’ Mia? Use your words.” Your back arched in your chair when you felt his slick index finger playfully dip inside of you before returning to your clit.  “Adrien~” Your soft moans were audible now, and every small whimper made his cock ache at the thought of being the cause of your sweet noises. Adrien mockingly hummed, “Oh I see now.”

“You want him to fuck that pretty pussy of yours don’t you?”  You make a strange noise that is a mix of surprise and a moan. You’d never think words like those could leave Adrien’s mouth. “Y-Yes!”  Adrien nodded moving to use both hands now, it was an awkward position but it was worth it seeing you fall apart by his hands. “I bet you think of him at night, kissing you slowly, while his hands roam your body.”  Adrien sinks his teeth in your shoulder blade making you jerk as a particularly hard burst of pleasure racks your body. “You look so damn sexy like this kitty cat.’

You lean forward, holding yourself up by your desk as Adrien’s fingers move faster on your clit. “I can feel how fast your heart is beating, you gonna cum?” The teasing tone in his voice ignited the smallest ounce of competitiveness within you. You grit your teeth and shake your head, “Don’t get so full of yourself Agreste.” Your eyes clenched shut at the feeling of a finger finally entering you. Adrien looked at you with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t a fan when you got competitive, especially when you were obviously bluffing.

There was a thin layer of sweat forming on your skin as your orgasm got closer. Adrien focused on the way your walls quivered around his finger. Your choked-back moans cut the air as he pumps his finger faster. Your wetness was dripping onto your underwear and around his palm making squelching noises. “Are you sure you aren’t going to cum?” Adrien whispered close to your ear taking glee when a tremor passed down your spine. Your orgasm was too damn close for him to stop so you decide to swallow your pride just this once. “F-faster, Adrien, I’m close.” Those were indeed the wrong words to say. Adrien slowed his finger down to slow pumps while his thumb pressed harshly on your clit. He laughed as he could practically feel it throbbing, “I thought you said you weren’t going to cum?” You try to grind down on his hand, bucking slightly as his rough palm stimulated your sensitive lips. “Don’t be an ass ah-fuck!”

You grip the edge of your desk as you finally cum on his hand. Your eyelids flutter and Adrien marvels that the feeling of your cunt that was squeezing him so tightly he could neither tell if it was pulling him in or pushing him out. 

You grunt as he removes his finger, when you look over at him, he is preoccupied with pulling his cock out while licking his fingers clean of your cum. Adrien whimpered around his fingers as his other hand jerked his cock sharply “Ah, you taste better than I thought.” Your eyes travel down his chest to meet his junior. It was thick and surprisingly long. You couldn’t help but feel sorrow for the angry red it was at the tip. But the vein traveling up the side made your mouth water.

His hips bucked to meet his hand desperately. Curses left his soft lips as he tossed his head back in pleasure. A deep warmth flooded your gut from the vibrant imagery of him fucking you with it. “Mia-ah shit.” You raise your head up to meet his eyes, your heart skipping a beat at how the green of his eyes was almost completely drowned by his pupils. “It’s not fair if I helped you get you off, but you won’t help me.” You scootch forward a little bit, swallowing your saliva, “What do you want me to do?” Adrien spread his legs with his hands holding the sides of his chair, “Come on Mi, I haven’t even fucked you yet and you’ve already gone dumb?” 

A hand comes on your shoulder and gently coaxes you down to your knees. You feel small as Adrien peers down at you,  gaze disrupted as his cock begins twitching in front of you. Nervousness enters your head as you quickly come to the realization of how large his dick actually was. “What, are you afraid Mia? Or do I need to get you into the mood?”  Adrien sits up straighter, “Claws out.”  Your tilt your head curious as he combs his fingers through his hair, revealing...cat ears? The sight of a green glow slithering around his body was almost as unnerving as the sight of his outfit changing right before you. 

In little as no time flat, Paris’s neighborhood hero sat in front of you in all his leather glory. His eyes seemed even greener than before, and his personality seemed to change right before you. “Adrien you’re Chat Noir!?” The blond shrugs nonchalantly, gripping his cock and slapping it against your cheek. “Mi I am all for the formalities, but I am so close to fucking your brains out right now, that I think it would be in your best interest to start sucking.” While still being conscious of your hairstyle, Adrien...Noir, pulls your head closer to his groin.

You resist the urge to scrunch your face at the feeling of precum being smeared on your mouth and chin. This resistance only makes Noir chuckle, “Stick your tongue out for me.”  As if it was routine, you do as he says and moan softly from the feeling of his tip tapping your warm muscle. “So fucking perfect for me.”  The praise makes you clench and gives you the courage to open your mouth wider. You suck on his member making him release a pleased growl. His hand laid limply on the back of your head as you take the lead.

The salty taste while slightly unpleasant, wholly addictive. Feeling your growing comfort, Adrien begins thrusting to meet your mouth. The tip of his cock goes all the way to the back of your throat making you choke before dragging back but the sounds of you struggling doesn’t dissuade him. The feeling of your tongue grazing over his vein just before your throat constricted around him drove him wild. Your tiny whimpers made his balls vibrate as he moved faster.

You place your hands on his thighs in order to stable yourself as his thrusts got more brutal. Slob collected around your mouth before dripping down your chin and finally collected by his balls every time they hit your jaw. “Fuck I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum!” Adrien’s voice pitched higher as his claws scratched into the wooden chair of his seat. His head tossed back violently as his thrusts became sloppy, legs shaking. Loud sobs left his mouth as you bright him closer to the edge each thrust is accentuated by filthy words. “Your mouth is so. fucking. Tight. Fuck Mia!”

You felt cum shoot down your throat as Adrien holds your head painfully against this crotch. He weakly thrusts into your mouth a few more times before realizing you. Gasping for air, you wipe your mouth of saliva and look up at Adrien as he catches his breath.  Rough hands grip your chin making you look up at him. “You looked wrecked Mi.” Adrien laughs as he wipes cum off the corner of your mouth.  You stand up wobbly and albeit a bit light-headed, Adrien stands with you and kisses your lips, enjoying the taste of himself in your mouth.

“We are going to finish this later.” Before your brain could even prompt you to ask, the bell rings signaling that detention was over. Adrien deactivates his miraculous before grabbing his backpack and leaving detention hall.

[mooniefics]

— personal punishment

pairing : nanami kento / fem reader

word count : 1.8k

tags : pnp, degradation, authority kink, office sex, semi-public sex, boss / secretary, nanami literally being the sexiest man to ever live and breathe

warnings : nsfw, power imbalance

summary : He couldn't expect you to be perfect—but he could definitely expect you to pay for each imperfection in more ways than one.

notes : thank u so much to @suna-reversed for hosting the incredibly creative jujutsuhub collab and allowing me to participate !! much love (୨୧•͈ᴗ•͈)◞*♡

you couldn't exactly say you weren't proud of your performance today.

for one, you'd come into the office late, knowing that your penalties would be formally waived by your boss but well aware that you would have to face his own personal punishment. it was just your luck that this very day was the most busy the office had been all month, leaving you running papers back and forth from your boss' office for hours, nearly tripping over your own heels three times too many before you even reached your lunch break, praying that you weren't screwing anything else up in your frantic rush.

but before you could even think about escaping the confines of the office building to make up for your missed breakfast at a cafe nearby, your boss was already calling back into his office. you already knew exactly why he was requesting your presence, fear and anticipation immediately tangling into a heavy knot in the pit of your stomach. but still you went, obediently as you always did, keeping your head low as you passed your coworkers in the hall.

your fate had been sealed the moment you made a mistake, the same outcome that had been repeating for months now each time you made an error, whether it was as small as not taking the trash out from the waste bin when it was too full for his liking to something as grievous as spilling his morning coffee all over one of his pristine white button-ups. for any and all errors, you were certain to face this punishment.

the position you were in wasn't unfamiliar, bent over nanami's desk, pencil skirt hiked all the way up to your waist with your underwear around your knees, completely at the mercy of the man caging you in with his body from behind.

"if you keep making all that noise, you're going to end up getting us both fired." he growled, voice low in your ear, one hand still pressed firmly over the center of your back, forcing your chest down onto his desk. the other was occupied between your legs, two thick fingers plunging mercilessly into your needy cunt as you struggled to hold in every whimper and moan each snap of his wrist drew from the back of your throat.

"'m s-sorry, s-sir..!" you barely managed to breathe out, nails beginning to scrape at the edge of the wooden tabletop, teeth digging almost painfully into your bottom lip.

"'sorry' doesn't even begin to fix everything you've fucked up today," his stern tone persisted, ribs aching between the pressure of the heel of his palm and the hard desk, "you know just how much stress i've been under and yet you went out of your way to make it worse."

"no, n-not that..! p-promise!" you whimpered, breath coming in pants, struggling to not rock back into his hand with the knowledge that he'd stop entirely if he noticed you doing it.

you had no choice but to keep your eyes trained on the door in front of you, thighs trembling with anticipation, muted gasps and mewls managing to find their way out into the open air despite your efforts. you knew he didn't mind the noise as long as you were making a conscious effort to keep quiet, only loud enough for him to have the pleasure of hearing, only expressing the pitiful broken attempts at showing remorse that seemed to arouse him to no end.

he curled his fingers to rub at spot inside you that made your knees weak, barely chuckling when you writhed under him. "enjoying your punishment like this... you're just a pathetic slut. That's all you'll ever be, isn't that right?"

Your head hung low as you came over his fingers, shuddering, biting firmly at the inside of your cheeks to hold back the whine threatening to escape your heaving chest. you knew you should be ashamed to be so excited in the face of his cruelty, but when it was his voice and hands—discipling you harshly but still paying such good attention to you and your body—you couldn't help yourself.

before you had enough time to begin catching your breath, you could already hear the clinking of his belt buckle as he pulled it free from the belt loops of his pants, the warmth of naked skin as the length of his cock met the back of your thighs, already hard. the hand resting at your back slid up to rest at the base of your neck, fingers working their way into your hair to firmly grasp, holding you still while he eased himself between your thighs.

"please, s-sir.." The words spilled out of you before you could even think to maintain your obedient silence, earning a tug at your hair harsh enough to jerk your head back, arching your body further.

"snd who are you to be making any demands?" He muttered scornfully, the head of his cock now rubbing directly over your dripping pussy, making no effort to do anything more than painstakingly tease.

"i'm not, i j-just—" You sucked in a quick breath as you felt a sharp sting over your ass, certain there was a reddening welt where his hand had just struck it, "i pr-promise i'll be better..."

"and how can I be certain that you actually will? you say the same thing every damn time, and you still have yet to show me any improvement."

your eyes watered as you searched for a proper response, stammering over your words for just a moment too long—long enough to reignite the anger you'd found a momentary mercy from. you just barely pressed your hand over your mouth in time to muffle your own cry as he slammed himself inside of you, the desk shifting across the ground with a harsh squeak, insides struggling to accommodate his size all at once. he found a quick, ruthless rhythm of thrusting almost immediately, paying your quick gasps and pitiful whimpers no mind, almost painfully deep.

"is this is really the only thing you're good for?" he huffed, groaning lowly despite his apparent ire, "just taking cock and nothing else?"

"n-no!" you protested, barely able to hold your voice steady enough to respond, swallowing down each hiccuped breath interrupting your words, "this is the l-last time, i swear..! p-please sir, please—"

he shushed you harshly before you could continue, large hand rubbing over the aching flesh he'd previously slapped in a silent threat to repeat the action. you wouldn't be entirely opposed to feeling his large hand strike you again and again, leaving prints of red across your skin that wouldn't fade until hours after you'd left the office for the night, but you knew that you still had the entire second half of your day ahead of you to pretend as if he hadn't completely ruined you just meters away from the rest of his hardworking employees.

"at this point, i might as well just be paying to fuck you." he muttered callously, the speed of his hips slowing the slightest bit, each thrust still hitting deep enough for you to feel in your stomach, "then what does that make you, hm? a prostitute? my personal little plaything.."

you strained to vigorously shake your head side to side, fingers aching from how tightly they were clenching around the edge of the desk, your own arousal trailing down between your trembling thighs, hot tears dribbling down your flushed cheeks. you should've felt more inclined to deny his assertion, to prove yourself to be more than just a toy for him to used whenever he desired, when he needed to take out the pent up frustration he saved for your errors and your errors only—but you knew in the back of your mind that you were perfectly content with your position, as immorally lucrative as it was. you would embarrass yourself everyday for the rest of your career if it meant you could experience this at least once more.

"sorry, s-sorry..! oh fuck, sir, 'm so sorry!" the apologies you knew he loved so much spilled from your lips in a pathetic, broken moan, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as you held out for a few more mind-numbing moments before cumming around his thick cock.

you barely registered his hand grasping your hair painfully tight as he grunted a few low curses beside your ear, shakily exhaling a sigh when he emptied himself inside you, finally letting you rest back against the hard surface of his desk while you both caught your breath. it was all over far too soon, the intense intimacy that never lasted longer than the half-hour of your lunch break, even though you were sure he could steal you away for far longer without anyone daring to question him.

you wiped at your damp under-eyes with quivering hands, trying to not further disturb your already ruined mascara, swallowing down a whimper when pulled himself out of you and tugged your underwear back into place, readjusting your skirt for you before moving away from your body entirely.

he had already tidied up his own clothes by the time you pushed yourself to stand, that familiar expression of cool indifference having already resettled onto his handsome features. he barely ever let you see his face when he was disciplining you, always making sure you were facing away from him, or that you couldn't lift your head enough to get a good look at his face. it made it all feel so impersonal, inspired something that felt like sadness in the back of your mind, despite how you tried to remind yourself that what you had wasn't true intimacy, and that he could really replace you any day if he felt so inclined to do so.

"go clean up in the bathroom." he said without looking at you, straightening his tie back into place and checking the time on his watch, "you will need to take a call from a new client soon, and it is imperative that you give them the perfect first impression of our company. i expect you to be back here within the next ten minutes." his brow furrowed, the look of someone who'd just thought of something unpleasant flashing across his features when he finally met your gaze. "no more exceptions today."

"yes, sir." you replied obediently, voice hoarse, quickly turning away before the weight of a sudden sadness could show, advancing towards his door as briskly as your state allowed you to. you didn't look back on your way out, even though you so desperately wanted to, maybe deliver a genuine apology now that you knew he was genuinely irritated with you.

but you didn't, and the day continued as it always did, phone calls and document filing keeping you occupied for the rest of your shift, not receiving another word from your boss regarding anything. you tried not to take it personally when he didn't bid you farewell before leaving the building, reminding yourself that it was most likely just the pressure of a busy quarter, cursing yourself for screwing things up and enjoying your momentary bliss before the true consequence of genuine disappointment from nanami anchored you back to the somber reality of your situation.

it was foolish of you to think you'd be anything more than a secretary in his eyes.

[cornfarm]

summertime cicadas

saiki kusuo x reader

word count: 1.6k

synopsis: you go to saiki’s place to play some video games. saiki learns a bit about your dirty laundry.

cw: suggestions of past sexual abuse. it’s not explicitly stated but it’s heavily implied.

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

reader is gender neutral!

===================================================

notes:

i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for a few weeks now, but i was never happy with it.

it’s implied that you and saiki are in week 2-4 of dating;;;

i have some other stuff in the works but im tired so notes r boring today

enjoy waaaaaa

===================================================

When Saiki and you were left alone together, the tension that hung in the air was fun and playful. Coy glances, the heart jittering brushes of skin, and the almost knowing smiles you two would shoot each other. This time around, it was heavy, and it weighed hefty on both your shoulders.

It was your first time over at his place since you had begun dating.

You had texted him: can i come over? i bought a new game i wanna play it with u

He was very happy you decided to make the first move, he didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. 

Immediately, the “devlivered” at the corner of your text changed to “read”. He hastily typed back: Sure, let me know when you’re here. My parents aren’t home.

You saw letters on your screen, but you squinted your eyes shut upon them entering your field of vision. You had thrown your phone across the room, too nervous to look at his response. Tentatively picking it up, your heart nearly exploded at his words. You quickly respond: okay! be there soon :)

Saiki suddenly felt a bit on edge, realization finally striking him that you were about to be in his presence. In his bedroom. Alone. 

Saiki Kusuo never really felt things too intensely, so to feel it strike at his heart and stomach was almost a bit too much for his liking. 

Saiki wound up sitting patiently at the dining room table, using his telekensis to pick things up, rearrange ornaments and fine china, and clean up trash. The last thing he wants is you coming over when the place is a mess.

The doorbell rang, not that he needed it to know you were here. Beckoning you in, you pull out a small disc box from your bag. 

“I heard really good reviews from it. I was interested in it since I liked the art style but I wanted to wait until people played it and reviews came out before I committed.”

He takes it from your hands to inspect it, “I’m not super interested in recent games, I like older ones a bit more. Indie ones too. I’ve heard that the gameplay is really compelling.”

“That’s okay, we can still play together, right?” You almost look a bit nervous. Saiki gnawed at the inside of his lip.

“Sure,” you don’t look satisfied, “I don’t mind, doing things with you is nice.”

The content expression on your face satisfies him. You follow him upstairs.

Then the tension settles. You’re so close, the pleasant floral scent from your detergent lingering where you walk. He peers behind you as you take in his room: simple, clean, minimalistic. It’s painfully in character. You smile, flopping face down on his bed.

“I’ve only ever been here with everyone else, it was so lively then, but it’s so different when it’s quiet!” You situate yourself so you’re sitting at the edge of his bed, legs dangling off the side.

“It’s the same room.”

“Yeah but, now it’s just me and you.”

“I suppose so.”

You watch as he peers to the wall, a bit away from you.

“What, you’re not nervous are you? Do I make you, THE Saiki Kusuo nervous?”

He clicks his tongue, and begins stalking towards you. He stops right in front of you, shins nearly touching the mattress of his bed. He looks down, expression deadpanned like usual. Perhaps thats precisely why you got so flustered. Your hands coming to clasp politely in your lap, you look up at him, determined to hold eye contact.

“Mhm,” he smirks, “you do. What will you do about it?”

He watches as your lips part into a small ‘o’, before you turn your head down and begin to pout. He’ll spare you this time. The small proximity between you settles in; he should get out of here, nervousness is finally catching up, it’s a bit too much for him to handle. For such a cocky one-liner, he really can’t keep it together. He exits his room for a moment with a brief “wait here”.

He hears you let out a sigh down the hall. Taking the chance to inspect his belongings, you peer under his bed, nothing suspicious there, before making your way to his desk. There’s his computer, a nice leather desk chair, a lamp, and a small empty mug that holds pens, pencils, and highlighters. You thumb through them.

He re-enters his room, quietly opening the door, but just enough so where you hear. Outstreching his arm, he hands you a bottle of iced tea.

“This is,” inspecting the label, “you don’t usually drink these, right?”

Saiki stays quiet.

“So you got it for me? You remembered I liked it?” 

He nods.

You beam at him, mutter your gratitude, and pull out the games box.

Placing the disc onto the disc reader, and pushing it in, you start up the game, and watch the intro animation. 

“Yeah, the graphics are really nice,” he comments.

You adjust yourself, sitting on top a cushion on the floor, he moves a bit closer. 

Skipping though dialog, tutorials, and the first few levels of the game, Saiki controller finally begins responding. 

“I’m sorry, I thought the multiplayer feature would be available from the start.”

“It’s okay, you can pick first”

“Hmm...” you pause, brows furrowing in focus as you look through the different player avatar options. Finally, you turn to him and smile, “this one! Your turn.”

Saiki bites at the inside of his lip, again, moving his thumb over the joystick, he picks his avatar.

It’s nice, it’s quiet, the sound of cicada’s chirping outside his bedroom window, and the soft hum of his fan are gentle. Neither of you are talking about grand things like aspirations and inhibitions, but you didn’t have to. The soft, casual tone of conversation is something Saiki’s making sure to cherish. The game’s fun, Saiki is enjoying himself, he enjoys you. 

But tension still looms heavy overhead. You aren’t the only one who was thinking about it, how close you two were, how your elbows kept bumping, the small,and the way you both tried to get just a millimeter closer.

Saiki knew what you wanted, but he couldn’t pull himself to take initiative. Why? Was nervousness just another curse set out to plague him?

He’s reading your mind, he knows without a doubt you want to, so why is he so nervous to reach out and touch you? He wants to run away.

“Saiki?”

Your voice broke his thoughts, he turns to you. “Are you okay?”

He does it without thinking, slowly placing the controller down and putting his palms on your shoulders. 

“I’m just not used to this,” he finally says, “like, dating and all that.”

You wrap your fingers around his wrists, “that’s okay, I’ve never dated anyone either, we can just take it slow. We have time.” You reassure, “I’m nervous too,” voice smaller than before. He lifts his hands off, hovering them in front of you, debating on where he should put them. Should he put them back on your shoulders, or would that be weird? Maybe it’s okay if he takes your hands into his, but right now your hands are...

His vision finally focuses, and he looks at your hands, defensively positioned in front of your chest with your palms facing him. You’re looking at him with a half smile, but your brows are pursed down. You’re watching him very carefully.

Your thoughts still, pausing until he moves again, taking your hands in his own. He’s confused, why do you look so skittish?

You look visibily confused that he takes your hands. He’s granted one thought:

He’s not gonna do anything, see? He’s just holding my hands, that’s it. He’s not gonna do anything.

Do what? What do you mean? Do what?

“What do you mean?” He blurts out, voice ringing through your head.

Astonishment paints your face. Shit, you didn’t think you said anything out loud. Could he read your mind? He chooses not to say anything.

You shake your arms, he retracts his hands.

“I’ve just had bad experiences with people in the past, I got nervous, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

Oh. Your internal dialog isn’t as pleasant as the words you choose to say. 

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it more in the future,” you still have the strength to smile at him?

He reaches out to touch you again, but never connecting. He hesitates this time, fingers hovering over your forearm. 

“I’m not really interested in that sort of stuff. I wouldn’t do that to you. I won’t do that to you,” he corrects.

With a smile pained with melancholy, you shift yourself forward, wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your face into his shoulder, legs finding their way between his. He wastes no time wrapping his own arms around your back, pressing your chest closer to his own. Your hearts pound against each other, breathing syncing as you both exhale a sigh. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know,” your voice is muffled. 

You stay like that for a few moments. Cicada’s chirping, fan blowing, there’s nothing to say- the silence is comforting in it’s own way.

You finally pull away from him, voice much brighter, “but I’m not ready to kiss you yet, I think my heart would explode!” He flushes red. Adjusting to sit back onto the cushion, you lean your weight onto his side. He tension has finally settled, and Saiki sighs contently. 

Saiki only uses his powers in ways to convinience himself. Fortunately, keeping you safe was more than convinient to him: it was the bare minimum- an absolute necessity. 

As soon as you leave, he’ll find the bastards that did it. 

[bubblywriter0]

I’m your biggest fan! Bakugou x reader x Todoroki

Word count: 2.6k of filth 

Warnings: non-con, smut, degradation, double-penetration 

tagging: @twynity @tommy-braccoli​

You were his secretary. Katsuki Bakugou, the hot-headed, incredibly stubborn, and undeniably handsome Ground Zero. Being the number three Hero's secretary had its perks, as well as its (rather exasperating) responsibilities. Which consisted of late nights, piles of paperwork, and plenty of arguments with the short-tempered Hero. 

But you loved it. 

You couldn't deny that it had you completely stressed most of the time, or that you were up till ungodly hours of the night more than once a week cleaning up his messes. But there was something charming about the snooty blonde, however hard it was to admit, and you could proudly say no one could match his outrageous temper the way you could. 

Your manager could confirm this first hand, as she had been caught in the midst of one-two many yelling matches between the two of you and always silently thanked you afterward for being able to keep him in his place.  

You held your own with the number three Hero, and though he would never admit it out loud, you were one of the very few people that could get him to see reason when his temper took over. You were a strong, independent woman. Which is why you never imagined yourself in this position, at least not in this way. 

—

Katsuki Bakugou was undeniably attractive. And an insatiable tease. He could (to your annoyance) read you easier than you anyone, and he had made your knees go weak too many times with his low-tone remarks or "accidental" intimate touches. But, you never gave in. 

You never took action on the desires that bubbled right underneath the surface. Not when you were fuming, inches away from each other from some dumb, long forgotten argument, the tension so thick anyone who walked in would slam against it. You even humored the thought of going out on a date. Just two colleagues going out for a drink after work, if not only to scratch the itch of something more. 

But the blunt hero never took the bait, couldn't seem to ask you out like a regular person. Instead, he had to drive you insane with teasing touches and suggestive remarks, that damn smirk and low voice carrying into your bedroom late at night when you were by yourself. Yet, being the responsible little secretary you were, you never gave in.

And then today, he finally seemed to snap. 

It started in the middle of your meeting. Some bastard was going on and on about some dumb policies and Bakugou couldn't be less interested. He internally groaned as he checked his watch just to find that he would have to sit through twenty more agonizing minutes of this. Tch. If this shithead pulls out one more Venn diagram I'm gonna fucking lose it. He fought the urge to prop his feet up on the desk, instead letting his gaze lazily wander to you. 

Aw. Look at you, such a good little secretary. His good little secretary, his brain added possessively. He chuckled quietly to himself, noting the way your pencil was tucked behind your ear, your brow scrunched in concentration as you scribbled down notes like a diligent student. He smirked as his eyes wandered down to see your pretty little skirt hiked up those cute thighs of yours. He licked his lips as he watched you bounce your foot gently, your thigh slightly jiggling from the movement. God, he just wanted to sink his teeth into you. 

You barely caught the movement in the corner of your vision, too busy watching the presentation to pay attention to Bakugou -besides, you were more than used to him getting antsy during these long meetings. So it was safe to say you didn’t take note of the large hand making its way towards you. 

You almost squealed when you felt the warm palm slide into your lap, your mouth dropping open in surprise. You practically burned up on the spot, immediately panicking and trying inconspicuously to pry it off. This only encouraged Bakugou, prompting him to squeeze the plump flesh, his thumb dragging slow, precise, and agonizing circles into your inner thigh as you squirmed, his teeth flashing as he grinned manically. He was going to enjoy this.

You couldn't focus on a word said after that, which was rather inconvenient considering you were supposed to be taking notes. The warm blush on your face hadn't left but your heart finally had slowed to a normal pace as the meeting came to an end. 

You stood quickly and smiled at the men and women leaving, unsettlingly aware of the metal chair scraping away from the table and the flooding warmth as Bakugou shuffled across the room to stand next to you. 

He grunted out less friendly goodbyes, echoing you lazily, and your eyes flew wide as you felt a hand sliding up the back of your thighs to your ass. You tried to swat his hand away but he caught your hand easily, pinning it against your back, clicking his tongue disapprovingly in your ear as he stepped up behind you. You let out a small whimper of protest and his grip on your wrist tightened painfully, pulling you with it so your back smacked against his chest, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. 

He didn't even seem to care that the last man who was about to shake your hand flushed almost as bright as you, and you squirmed helplessly as Bakugou glowered over your shoulder at the hand that was still held out. The dumbstruck man didn’t move, Bakugou’s patience wearing thin as he bared his teeth and let out a low growl, 

“Are you just gonna stand there shitty extra? You waiting for a damn show, wanna watch me fuck her real good or something?” Bakugou taunted cruelly, a hand wrapping around your neck as he leaned down to you. ‘Wadya’ say princess? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Bet your fuckin soaked right now, thinking about this shitty loser watching me bounce you on my cock, bet you’d like that, Hah” But all you could do was whine pathetically, trying to hide your red face, looking anywhere but at the flustered man. 

“Oh?” His crimson eyes narrowed at the man who was still standing there. “So you do want a show? That’s fine with me, but let’s make sure that princess here is okay with it,” he grinned again as you were suddenly thrown forward, bent over, the blood rushing to your head as you felt rough hands traveling up the back of your thighs curiously. “Let’s take a little peek and see if I’m right, hm?” 

But the poor man was already backing away, practically tripping over his feet and muttering apologies over his shoulder as he burst out of the conference room, his face bright with embarrassment and arousal judging from the obvious tent he was shielding in his pants as he made a bee-line for the bathroom. 

As the clear door swung shut you were suddenly picked up from the waist, and it took a moment for your spinning head to adjust before you started kicking your legs out in an attempt to escape. “Tsk, such a fucking brat,” Bakugou growled as he swatted at your ass, a painful sting following as you let out a yelp. 

“Stay fucking still slut.” You felt a tear drip down your cheek as you gave up your attempt to evade his grasp, your small body not standing a chance to the pounds of muscle you were up against. 

Bakugou flopped your body onto the glass table, pulling your ass towards him and flipping up your skirt onto your back so he had access to your plump behind. His heated fingers traced the exposed skin and you bit back a groan as he ran a finger down your slit. Your body automatically shivered when he yanked your panties down, hiding your head in your hands as you felt cool air tickle your dripping folds. He was right. You were sopping. 

“Aw, look at this,” you wined with embarrassment at his coos, his husky voice going straight to your exposed heat. “All wet and needy for me, huh baby?” You practically sobbed, your head nodding with shame. “Don’t worry pretty baby, I’ll take care of this mess” He pulled your legs apart and cooed again at the way your messy cunt dripped down all over the table, running a finger up your leg to collect some of your juices, popping the finger in his mouth and groaning at your taste. 

“I’ll make it all better, yeah?,” he hummed, chuckling at your incoherent mumbles and sobs. He leaned forward so his hot breath fanned against your ear, smirking as he growled in a low voice, “I asked you a fucking question slut.” You gulped at his harsh tone. “You know how to use your words, right bitch?” You nodded violently, terror making your voice tremble stupidly as you tried to answer in between hiccups, “m’s-sorry, I c-can-” He clicked his tongue, cutting you off. “I-I I’m s-sorry,” he mimicked you, sneering at the way you trembled. 

“Sluts who can’t follow simple orders don’t need to talk, do they?” You shook your head no shamefully, your cute little sobs and whimpers going straight to Katsuki’s already tight pants. “Good girl,” he cooed at your obedience, smirking as he undid his navy tie, pulling you towards him roughly. He reached around to your face and grabbed your jaw, his thumb prodding at your bottom lip. “Open,” he demanded, and you complied. 

He smirked with satisfaction at how good you were being, how easily you were letting him handle you. Such a good little slut for him, he repeated the thought again as he coaxed the handmade gag all the way into your open mouth, drool seeping down onto your chin. “There.” He grinned at the image of you looking all fucked out, cunt all messy and oh so needy, throat stuffed full, with mascara running down those pretty cheeks. “Isn’t that better baby?” He rasped as he kneaded your hips, grinding his clothed cock slowly against your dripping sex. You whined around your gag as you squirmed, fresh tears running down your stained cheeks as your body begged for more, begged to be filled by something, anything.     

Luckily for you Bakugou seemed to understand, fingers attacking your swollen clit as he humped against you lazily. “Need something pretty baby?” He laughed at your silence, but made quick work of unzipping his slacks as he pulled himself out of his pants, jerking himself once before spreading your cheeks. He groaned at the sight of his fat cock slipping between them as your needy cunt sucked him in, your body finally relaxing a bit as he slid inside you fully.

 He gave you no time to adjust, pulling out halfway just to slam back in, making you squeal around your gag. You rocked yourself back and forth on the table, chasing your much needed release as Bakugou used you, pulling your hips back to try and fit more of him inside you, your eyes rolling back at how good he felt. He almost didn’t notice how close you were, focusing on the way your weeping cunt kept sucking him in, squeezing around him whenever he growled filthy obscenities into your ear. 

But when you started babbling mindlessly around your gag, pushing back against him, he caught onto what you were doing, smirking at how quickly he’d reduced you to this. “Gonna come for me pretty baby? You gonna come around this fat cock?” You nodded, sobbing at how close you were.  “Go ahead, make a mess slut,” he growled against your ear, teeth grazing your skin as his warm tongue slipped out and prodded at it. You shivered uncontrollably as your body convulsed, giving into the intense pleasure as you focused on the heat between your slick thighs combined with the way Katsuki’s mouth was working down your neck, your orgasm racking through your body in euphoric waves, your cunt squeezing around Bakugou's dick as you came. 

You trembled as you slowly came down from your high, your sticky fluids sliding down your cheeks as Bakugou continued to pound into you. Everything felt so sensitive and suddenly the immense pleasure you were feeling mixed with something else and it was, “too m-much Katsuki, please s’too much,” but your cries were muffled and there was no way in hell he was letting you go now, grabbing your hips tighter as he thrust in and out of you, the lewd squelches from your dripping pussy making him feral. 

“Aw, you can take it princess,” he grunted with a sick grin as you tried to crawl away from him, squirming hopelessly on the glass table. “You’re not going anywhere, you’re gonna stay here and take it all like a good girl, you hear me?” He slapped your ass hard, emphasizing his point while his hips drove forward to meet your messy hole, groaning at the way your cheeks tinted pink from the impact, spanking you again to hear to feel you squeeze around him even tighter. “You like that slut?” He sneered, “Of course you do.” 

But you were too distracted by the flash of red and white that caught the corner of your vision. 

You raised your head slowly, only to be met with the inquisitive gaze of- You gasped. Shouto Todoroki. The Shouto Todoroki, the number Two Pro Hero you’d watched on TV for years, fawned over, and now... 

Bakugou could only assume your small gasp was from how good he was making you feel, and he smirked at this, driving his hips into you wilder with a new sense of inspiration and pride feeding to his unbelievably large ego. But how wrong he was. 

Your breath caught in your throat as curious blue and grey orbs traveled along your form, his gaze cutting through the glass and heating your whole body up till you were almost positive it was on fire. You felt so exposed, so humiliated, and so utterly turned on. 

His eyes slowly raised back to meet yours and you swallowed nervously. His pink tongue darted out to lick his lips and his mismatched orbs held yours with such intensity and curiosity, it was so..dominant. 

And it was making your legs feel weak. It made you feel all hot and bothered as he watched the Ground Zero fucking into you without hesitation, shamelessly watching every move. And it didn’t take long for Bakugou to notice. 

Bakugou was observant, and the sudden reactions your body was having to him was a pleasant surprise, but a little random, and it didn’t take long for him to realize your attention was focused outside the room, which annoyed him. “Oi, shit head whadya..” he trailed off as he caught sight of the red and white boy standing outside of the room, and he suddenly remembered he had a meeting with him scheduled for this afternoon, in this room. 

He had half the mind too cover you up and go tell the icy-hot bastard off but, what was this? You certainly seemed to be enjoying the way the dual-colored Hero was watching you get fucked. Did this.. Get you off? A shit eating grin spread across Bakugou’s face at the realization, the wheels already turning in his head. 

So his pretty little secretary wanted to act like a whore, huh? Then he’d treat her like one. 

You hear Bakugou chuckle darkly, yanking your hips back to gain more leverage, sneering at the heat rising to your face. Lips brush against your ear and a raspy voice whispers, "Oh look, it's your favorite little hero, Shoto Todoroki. Wave to him, princess"

—

Hope you enjoyed! Part 2 coming soon:) 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Order

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, fingering, breeding and mentions of forced pregnancy.

This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this drabble request: Lee Bodecker + “Why are you crying?” + breeding/forced pregnancy + y/n is a waitress and the sheriff is obsessed with her, and what better way to make her his 4ever than put some babies on her.

“He’s here again,” Mandy said as you loaded up your tray.

You didn’t need to ask who, you heard his gruff response as he came in and was seated in his usual booth. He was always alone but insisted on a whole family-sized table to himself. You sighed and gave Mandy a look.

“I’ll just get this taken care of then see to him,” you promised as you turned carefully.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t dealin’ with him no more and he won’t deal with no one but you,” she whined and put a ticket in the window.

“Yeah, I know,” you made yourself smile, “stubborn man that one.”

“I ain’t know why he prefers you,” Selma said as she loaded the coffee machine, “probably ‘cause none of us got the patience for that.”

“Patience,” you scoffed, “not what I would call it.”

You swept over to the family of five and set out the plates one at a time. You finished up at the table and replaced your tray on the stack. You looked at the sheriff and he stared back expectantly. He did that, just watched until you came over.

You went over with a sickly sweet smile and took out your notepad. You tapped your stubby pencil on the paper.

“And what are we gettin’ today, sheriff?” you asked in your sugary tone.

“Ah, now don’t be usin’ that voice with me, honey,” Sheriff Bodecker said as he fiddled with the menu.

“You need to start treatin’ the other girls nice,” you retorted.

“I don’t like the other girls,” he read his menu and frowned, “I never tried the… onion dip.”

“Uh huh,” you said unimpressed, “well, I’ll just warn you, sheriff, I can’t and I won’t stop Mandy from spitting in between the bread.”

He frowned at you and put the menu down. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I’m tryna be rude, honey--”

“What did I tell you about callin’ me that? I’ll overlook it once or twice but I’m not one to put up with your gull, you know that,” you lowered your brows at him.

“I’m not tryna be rude, miss,” he corrected himself, “I’m only… I only prefer you is all.”

“Sure, sure, is it my sunny smile or my breezy demeanour,” you teased, “the onion dip then?”

“Club sandwich, extra bacon… miss,” he folded up the menu, “please and thank you.”

“I’ll have Mandy bring it right over,” you said, “now you don’t make me come back, I got other customers.”

👮

When the diner closed, you took your usual route home. Your tips were tucked deep in your old purse and your scuffed soles padded on the pavement, then the dirt path that trailed off to the old country house. You lived with your ma on her father’s ancient farm, your pops long dead.

As you turned up the hill that led to the long drive, a flash of lights stopped you in your tracks. You looked up at the distant house, a single window lit by the old oil lamp your ma still used. You sighed and turned to face the cruiser parked in the shadows of the beech tree.

You recognized the silhouette as he stood straight behind the driver’s door. The sheriff fixed his hat as he came around and looked you over in the early twilight. He didn’t spend much time in town, often riding around the county and only stopping by to sit down at Sal’s and terrorise the waitresses.

“Sheriff,” you greeted, “whatcha doin’ around here?”

“Whatcha think?” Bodecker asked as he leaned against the hood, his large stomach sticking out from his open leather jacket.

“My ma’s waiting on me, I brought her leftovers from the diner,” you waved the paper bag.

“They already cold,” he lit a smoke and flicked it, “I wanna see ya.”

“Now, sheriff, we had our time--”

“I always thought I tip you well considerin’ the mouth on ya,” he took a long draw on the cigarette, “ain’t you?”

“Of course, sheriff, but I’m not on the clock right now and ma be expectin’ me,” you said.

He took another drag and threw the half-smoked stick away. He stood straight and reached to his holster. He unsnapped the small strap but made no move to free the pistol. You took a step back, terrified, and swallowed.

“Sheriff,” you said cautiously.

“Honey, please, you know I don’t be wantin’ to hurt you now,” he ran his thumb along the butt of the gun, “so you come put down those scraps and let me get a good look.”

You stared at his hand on his pistol. You took a deep breath and stepped closer. You set paper bag on the hood of his car and he slid your purse from your other arm. He tossed it beside the leftovers and trailed his fingers down your arm.

“I always thought that was a nice colour on ya,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you against him, your ankles twisted and you collided with his round stomach.

“Thank you,” you looked past him as you smelled the bacon still on his breath.

“Look real nice, honey,” he undid the top button of your dress and you flinched, biting down as you stared at the beech bark. He groped your chest and you closed your eyes. When you opened them, they were wet. “Why are you crying?”

“Can I go now?” your voice wobbled despite your effort to hide your distress.

“We ain’t even started, honey,” he undid another button, and another, and exposed your cleavage above your brassiere “Look at you.”

“Please, sheriff, I want to go home,” you caught his hand and he grabbed your jaw. You choked on your fear as he turned you and pushed you against the bumper.

“You’ll be home soon enough,” he snarled, “you put your hand down my pants and make me let you go.”

You shook your head in disgust. You looked him in the face, all the light drained from his eyes as his jowls lined with malice. He squeezed your jaw and you cried out in pain. You reached to his belt blindly and fumbled to undo the buckle. You felt how hard he was through his pants as you pushed down his fly.

“You’re hurtin’ me,” you whispered as you pushed beneath his briefs.

“I could do a lot worse,” he threatened, “ah that’s it, honey.”

You wrapped your fingers around his dick. He was thick and hard against your palm. You stroked him and he shuddered as he leaned against you. His hand slipped down to play with your chest again. He had you pinned to the car as you kept your wrist moving in the confines of his pants.

He groaned and trembled as he urged you faster and you obeyed, turning your head to look at the farmhouse just up the rise. He grabbed your face again and leaned in. His hot breath grazed your lips and he pressed his mouth to your cheek.

He edged you back onto the car and stepped between your knees. Your skirt rode up as he forced your legs wide around him. You pushed on his chest with your free hand and he flung you onto your back with a vicious shove.

You sprawled across the hood, your bags falling to the ground as he grabbed your hips. He ripped your hand from inside his pants and rolled his briefs under his dick. You kicked out as he reached under your skirt and wrestled off your underwear. You cried out as he ripped them free of one ankle.

“No, please, don’t do this. Sheriff, please--”

“You can keep callin’ me sheriff,” he purred as he bent over you again and searched for your entrance with his fingers.

“How long’s it been?” he asked as he caught his tip and poked it along your hole, “Two years, you think I’ll wait forever.”

“I don’t-- Get off of me,” you sank your nails into his leather jacket desperately, “get--”

You gulped as he sank into you all at once. It hurt and sent a pang up your spine. Your wet eyes began to leak as you realised you couldn’t stop him. He thrust and sent another agonizing bolt through you.

“Two years, honey, you think we got time left?” he rutted between ragged pants, “‘bout time you get a baby on ya.”

“Wha-- oh, please--” you gasped as he kept you pinned to the cold hood of the car.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of ya,” he rasped, “you ain’t gotta keep pourin’ coffee.”

“Stop,” you whispered and closed your eyes, “please..”

Your pleas fizzled and you let him get on, praying it would end. He fucked you harder with each thrust, fueled by your pathetic cries and the sound of him inside of you. He cradled your head as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His breath singed your skin as he spasmed and spilled inside of you.

When he stopped, you couldn’t move. He pulled out of you with a grunt and his cum dripped from your cunt. You nearly slipped down the hood and barely got your feet under you before you could crumple. You rubbed your fingers through the sticky cum on your thigh and refused to look at him.

“Look at the mess you made of me, honey,” he purred, “the mess I made of you.”

You wiped his cum on your skirt, revolted by the cooling slickness. You pulled your dress straight and left your underwear in the dirt. You glanced at him but he didn’t make a move, only watched you with delight as his hands rested on his open belt.

Numb and unsure, you turned and grabbed up your purse and grease-stained paper bag from the ground. He chuckled and you heard his belt clink. You stumbled through the dirt as he let you go.

“I be seein’ you tomorrow,” he called after you, “I’ll make sure to take a long lunch.”

👮👮👮

Please reblog and like! Let me know what you think.

[koocycle]

play thing | drabble series (i).

pairing. basketball player!jungkook x female reader

summary. jungkook is aware of the fact that you’re not his to love, yet he’s eager to show you what you’re missing out on.

wc. 3065

warnings. none

taglist. if you’d like to be added, please send me an ask!

previous | next

‘‘You look really pretty today.’’

A hint of a barely visible flush creeps up your already heated cheeks upon hearing the words leaving his lips. You don’t want to show your vulnerability at such an everyday compliment, yet the act seems a bit too hard when your lips break into a grin you’d rather keep to yourself today - completely losing your focus under his heated gaze attempting to meet your own.

‘‘Thank you, Jungkook.’’

He tries to hide the smile that’s making an appearance on his face, but he finds your flustered state way too adorable to not be entertaining on this fine afternoon. He can tell you’re not used to getting compliments by the way you innocently play with the heavy fabric of your dress, pretending to dismiss the existence of the wet haired man in front of you, but he knows better than that. Better than this simple act of innocence you’re putting up for him. 

And he’s not making it any easier on you — not when he is looking at you like this. His entire figure is casually leaning back against the heavy door of the men’s locker room and his backpack hangs lazily over one of his shoulders as you can suspect that there’s nothing more in there besides a total of two pencils in desperate need for a new grinding.

‘‘You can look at me, you know?” He’s mumbling this time, words barely audible before his gaze shifts to his feet, his head tilting and the grimace not yet visible on his face. ‘‘Barely complemented you. I don’t bite.’’

His words make you shoot an eyebrow up your forehead, giving you the final strength to look him in the eye this time. You know exactly what he’s doing.

“I mean — unless you’re into that?”

There it was. The boyish grin just begging to show up, the hint of pure mischief continuing to gleam in his eyes — the kind he wouldn’t be able to hide even if he wanted to. You had expected it to come to this point already, had been waiting for it, actually.

You straighten your back, composing your posture in front of him. And he oh so desperately tries to not avert his eyes down your slightly pushed out chest. The lightweight fabric of your nude colored blouse is allowing him to catch a glimpse of your bra, but he won’t let his guard down.

“I’m not, actually.” You manage to answer smugly, a load of confidence washes over you as you already have a feeling as to where this is heading. This surprises him as well, the sudden hint of a tease clearly audible in your voice.

“Hm, no?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

Your friend dramatically rolls his eyes at the obvious lie, a glimpse of a pretty smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  He shifts his weight on both his feet now as he disregards the locker room door by itself, prepared to make his way over to you now – and you can already feel the beat of your heart in the base of your throat with each step he takes. Because he’s looking bolder than the days before. More daring – defiant, almost. Ready to take on the challenge and not willing to lose anytime soon.

His entire aura screams fuck me in the janitor’s closet five minutes before your next class starts.

No.

No.

 ‘‘Tell me what you are into then.’’ His eyebrow cockily raises up on his forehead as his head just slightly tilts, knowing he’s got you stuck in place. The confident expression you had written on your face completely dismissed.  

 You can’t handle him.

You clear you throat, announcing your defeat. “You know I got you guys take out?’’ The high pitched undertone in your voice betrays you – but what else do you have in your power when he stands in front of you like this? The warmth of his body this close to you, you’re actually able to feel him? ‘‘Chinese.. take-out..’’

Both of his eyebrows raise up this time, the surprise coating his features perfectly. ‘‘What?’’ as his gaze shifts to the barely open bag hanging on to your fingertips, you feel a little less intimidated before him. “Seriously?” his tattooed fingers curl around the shoulder straps of his backpack, “I love Chinese take-out. You’re an actual angel.”

When he’s right in front of you, his gaze feels heavy on your shoulders. You tell yourself he’s only interested in the food, but there’s too little space between your bodies for that to be true. His cologne is even stronger this time and it makes your mind all cloudy.

“Uh.. It’s just,” you immediately stop talking as you feel yourself grow hot under his presence, stumbling over your own words before you attempt to gulp your nerves away. “Just some sweet sesame chicken with fried rice and egg rolls.. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Still an angel.” He smiles down at you, pinching the tip of your chin just slightly before taking his backpack off and hastily rummaging through it. “Let me pay you back.”

“Oh no,” You immediately try to reassure him, “Absolutely not, Jeon. Over my dead body. You guys trained for over 5 hours, this is the least thing I could do. ”

You watch him pull an eyebrow up, a small smile appearing on his features. As if asking you why you wouldn’t want the money. As if you’re the crazy one here.

“___” He goes, the stern warning in his voice not being dismissed. “You just bought an entire meal for a team of fifteen hungry men. It’d be disrespectful not to pay you back, honestly.”

“You’re not paying me back. End of conversation, Jeon.” You point an accusing finger his way, a cute smile on your face.

Nonetheless, your finger gets dismissed by him as he shakes his head in disapproval before rummaging through his backpack yet again.

Pulling out a rather small wallet, he opens up and goes through it.

“This should be enough.”

He holds the money in between two fingers in the air, pretty pink lips turning into a knowing smile when your eyes widen at the paper in his grip.

“That’s way too much, Jungkook.” A snicker leaves him when you cup your smaller hands over his bigger ones, pushing the 50 dollar bill back to his chest. “Way too much. Are you out of your mind?”

“Are you?” He challenges, eyebrows raising as he waits for you to say something, “I honestly don’t mind paying you back, ___. If anything, it would make me feel better knowing I paid for my own lunch.”

“I mind, though. We’re not doing this.”

“Come on,” He whined, tilting his head slightly but still remaining eye contact with you. “You bought me food, this is the least thing I can do.”

“I bought all of you food, not just you.” You correct him, pointing a long finger at him. He thinks it’s such an adorable act and can’t stop himself from wrapping his entire palm around your pointer finger. “You’ll treat me on Mexican next time, won’t you?’’

When your hand moves in its place to intertwine your fingers together, the last thing Jungkook does is protest. He proudly accepts your soft hand to take place in his own. His thumb gazes over the smooth skin as he can’t help the grin from appearing.

“You win.” He states in defeat, voice lowering a few volumes down until he goes mute, you almost don’t notice the “for now,” he mouths after.

Beats of silence pass between your figures. Your hands are still intertwined and there’s too little space between you to be seen as two average friends with platonic intentions only. The silence hanging in the air isn’t uncomfortable, but rather peaceful. 

You don’t see Jungkook that often, and that’s partly due to both of your packed schedules, growing stack of assignments, and his unending amount of training sessions in basketball court. Nevertheless, he is a great friend to you, and you’re grateful to share this friendship with him. You’re comfortable around him, and you’re sure it’s the other way around as well. That’s an obvious fact considering the way you’re standing here with him. Holding hands with giggly expressions on your faces. 

‘‘Stealing my girlfriend, Jeon?’’ 

It’s crazy how fast the distance between you and Jungkook enlarges within a second when the heavy locker room door comes to an abrupt open. You feel as shocked as you look like with the sudden change of atmosphere, eyes slightly wide when a startled, and rather uncomfortable smile finds its way on your lips.

That’s right; Jungkook kind of seemed to forget about this dude.

‘‘Oh I- uh.. we were just.. talking.’’ Jungkook manages to blurt out, fingers reaching out the scratch the back of his neck. 

‘‘I know. Don’t sweat it, man.’’ The new figure that enters the scene dismisses Jungkook somewhat faster than needed after his attempt on reassuring him, now centering his eyes on you. He stands in between you as if creating a shield around you – as if creating some sort of barrier between you. His hands are slightly up in the air, presumably ready to embrace you in his arms.

‘‘Minho..’’ His name trails off your lips in a rather hesitant manner, Jungkook can’t help but notice. ‘‘How did training go?’’ Your tone is so soft and delicate, filled with affection. 

The larger male takes a few more steps towards you, invading your space as his hands slip around the small of your back. You almost don’t notice the rest of the guys walking out of the locker room as well with him filling your sight, allowing them to have a front row seat on the scene unfolding in front of them. 

‘‘It went fine. What’re you doing here, hm?’’ His words are slightly mumbled before he pushes your body more against his own, his smell overtaking you. He barely gives you some time to process the question before his lips slam against yours, taking you in a hungry kiss. 

The guys watch the scene expand in front of their noses, a few ‘‘oohs’’ thrown in there when your boyfriend deepens the kiss even more, causing you to be thrown off guard a bit. 

‘‘Minho,’’ You try to speak in between the kisses, but he won’t budge. Nervous laughter manages to escape you, ‘‘We’re not alone.’’

Jungkook wants to look the other way a little too badly, but his eyes are somehow still glued on the show you’re currently putting out. He would rather not call the heavy feeling in his stomach something along the lines of disgust, but it’s hard for him not to with the way his insides are turning upside down.

“Better find a room for those two or we’ll be stuck here all day.” It’s Min Yoongi who snickers beside the damp haired boy, nudging his side with his elbow. But Jungkook can’t seem to laugh at the attempted joke. Instead, his fingers are tightening around the straps of his backpack once again, trying to collect his cool.

Your hand is carefully placed on your boyfriend’s chest in attempt to calm the kiss down before he finally quits the whole act all together.

‘‘Can’t even kiss my girlfriend now?’’ Jungkook wants to wipe the grin that's slowly but surely growing on his face off. And the feeling is only starting to increase when the large male turns back to his teammates, a disgusting smirk visible on his features. 

Such an ass.

Jungkook can’t help but scoff at the sight – and visibly so. He’s just using you to show off. 

‘‘I uh..’’ You start but trail off the rails soon enough, making the attention turn back to you, ‘‘I brought you guys some take out, you texted me that you guys have been training all day and I figured out-”

“You brought us take out?”

You don’t get to finish your sentence when Kim Namjoon speaks up from behind, eyes bulging out of his head before slipping past his teammates’ bodies. And even when he eventually stands before you, trying to peek inside the plastic bag in your hands, you can’t help but note the huge amount of height difference between you. No wonder his coach never let him rest on one of the benches during all the competitions played so far - he’s easily one of the tallest players on the field.

It doesn’t take a lot of peeking before a gasp escapes his lips, “Dude - she got them egg rolls, I’ve been craving those all week.’’ Eyes buckle out of his scalp, ‘’All damn week.”

Jungkook can see you shooting a warm smile at Namjoon from afar, content with the way it seems to light the male up – pretty dimples making an appearance as his nearly perfect set of teeth shine brightly in your view. He can almost compare you to a child who just gave their parents the perfect valentines gift, looking all bubbly and excited over this.

‘‘I got some chicken as well.’’ You thrillingly whisper to your side, another set of giggles escaping you once Namjoon, once again, is ready to attack that plastic bag in your grip.

‘‘I didn’t expect you to come with take-out, though.’’ Minho sighs heavily, catching your attention almost immediately as you look at him with a huge set of eyes. The tone of his voice is disgustingly sweetened up as he swallows you back into his embrace, hands dissolving around the small of your back, not caring about the remaining players gauging at the two of you from the other side of the hall. ‘‘We already made plans, babe.’’

You don’t hold on to him the same way he does to you, Jungkook notices. The bright gleam in your eyes from before has already disappeared, now replaced with a frown between your brows. And he hurts for you.

‘‘You can’t reschedule?’’ You ask hazily, almost afraid to ask the question. ‘‘I know Joon would like some take-out.’’ Your hair falls out of your face when you spare Namjoon a pretty glance from over your shoulder.

Yet your boyfriend shakes his head, ‘‘Not this time. You should’ve told me before you went all out to please my teammates like this, love.’’ He titters at his own joke, thinking he’s funny. Still, a few guys besides Jungkook seem to snicker a bit at your rosy-looking cheeks. But he can’t bash an eyelash.

If no one is going to say it, he will.

‘‘Of course we can reschedule.’’ Jungkook speaks up, catching the eyes of your boyfriend immediately, quickly followed by your own. ‘‘We can go for some fast food any other day.’’

When Minho raises a cocky eyebrow up his forehead, the question already written on his features, Jungkook heaves out a tired sigh.

‘‘Come on, man. She bought us an entire meal.’’ His open palm points to the bag, which is still hanging around your curled fingers, reddening the tips completely.  

‘‘It’s not like I asked her to.’’ He bites, almost as if what he had said offended him. ‘‘Right..?’’ He’s looking back at you now, fingers playing with the strands of your hair as he hides them behind your ears. An irky smile visible on his face.

‘‘Right.’’ He confirms once he sees you nodding, placing a hasty kiss on the soft surface of your cheek. ‘‘I’ll call you after. Promise.’’

You’re not worried about him not contacting you – that’s the least thing on your list you’re concerned about. But he doesn’t care. Will not now, will not ever.

‘‘Okay..’’ You manage to say, your voice coming out softer than you had expected. And even though his embrace hadn’t really done anything to warm you up, the void sweeping up to you once he leaves you in place feels a little heavier right now.

‘‘I’m out of here.’’ The guy states, convinced the other guys will follow after him when his hands are raised besides his head. As he turns around without a second glance your way, your eyes follow his figure until he’s out of sight, heading for the exit.

Namjoon, the one whose mouth was watering at the idea of take-out just a minute ago is the first one who breaks the uncomfortable silence. ‘‘Next time, little one.’’ He pats your head gently, making backwards steps to disappear in a second. ‘‘Thank you, though.’’ He’s shooting you an apologetic look before big steps follow your boyfriend’s down the stairs.

Min Yoongi is the next one who leaves the scene to what it is, followed by a few other guys. But unlike Namjoon, these guys don’t do much other than gifting you a few uneasy smiles — ready to leave as soon as possible. And for some reason, it makes you feel even worse.

The silence that follows when it’s just you and Jungkook standing in front of each other hurts more, though. You’re embarrassed, he can see that much.

“Come here.” Your friend spreads his arms for you to jump into, yet you don’t make a move to do exactly that. “We’ll get out of here and eat it together. It might be a little much—” He embraces you in his warmth when you don’t attempt anything, “but do you want to see how many rice cakes I can stuff in my mouth?”

You only glare at him, not having it in you to laugh at the attempted joke when your boyfriend’s irritated expressions occupies your mind.

“I know you’re tempted.” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows at you, close to succeeding in cheering you up. And it nearly makes you want to give in and have just as a good time as Minho is about to have — but you don’t have the heart to do so.

Instead, your heart is seeking for validation.

Hence you decide to push him away. Only for you to doubt your previous actions for the upcoming few hours.

“It’s alright, Guk.” You smile at him, hand on his chest as you push him away. “I was gonna share some with my roommates anyways.”

The excuse sounds weak to the ear, even to you. But it’s not stopping you from making your way out of the hall before he seems to progress it, mind occupied with your insecurities.

[bcdwhcre]

hello love !! i absolutely adore your writing, i find you do the characters so much justice <3 i was wondering if you would be able to do a piece where the reader, a mewly appointed captain of the regiment, has a talent for drawing that no one knew about. she suddenly finds time for this hobby and commences drawing portraits of her fellow comrades, mainly of levi, and picks up the habit of leaving all the sketches under the door of erwins chambers once a month, thinking it would be a great anonymous gift or at least, some fun. levi does not see it as fun and instead is convinced this is a threat to him directly and that someone is watching them, making it known that they can attack at any time. everyone hunts for the culprit in secret, the reader doesn’t know bcs she’s in the capital delivering something. levi finds out it was the reader and they fight physically about it, accusing her of treason etc... until reader confesess it was her and that she had feelings for him, he says he likes her back but she should’ve brought a different approach , fluff in the end <3 much love <33

“Works of Art,” Levi x Reader

Why can I see Levi being dramatic like this over some drawings🤧💀

Summary: You’re secretly an artist that draws your fellow comrades (mostly Levi) and secretly leave it under their door but Levi takes it as a threat.

Warnings: none

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You had sat in your room, pencil in hand and a piece of paper laid out in front of you. You didn’t know what to draw at first but your mind settled on your previous Captain.

You’ll admit that most of your drawings has been Levi and you couldn’t help but feel the urge to draw him, he had the most perfect facial structure- at least to you and it was much better to draw out on paper.

Of course you’ve drawn your other comrades from time to time. You’ve even slide the drawings underneath their doors at odd hours so nobody knew it was you.

It’s not like you didn’t want them to know but a scout spending their days slaughtering Titans just to come home and draw wasn’t exactly an ideal topic you wanted to get into.

As time went on, the more you paint and draw out Levi on the canvas in front of you, your stomach would flutter, being able to admire his face without staring him down from across the room.

You admired Levi more than anything, he really inspired you in ways he doesn’t even know about. The first day you saw him riding down the town with his horse, coming back from a expedition and you were standing off to the side just a teenager.

That day, that look on his face, the way he carried his team and was the most popular for his skills- you wanted to be like him and after convincing your family (more like telling them you’re not taking no for an answer) they finally let you go off to the training corps.

Now years later, you’re here. You were under Levi’s team for well over two years before you got pushed up to be a Captain but you missed the moments being under Levi’s team- you enjoyed every moment. You missed the days he’ll willingly train you and push you towards success and that was the main reason why you were so great at being a scout, why you were pushed up as a Captain.

You looked up to him, you watched his work and you trained yourself into oblivion to be as good as he is.

Now you’re sitting here on your day off painting his face. You were embarrassed thinking too hard about it, if he were to walk in right now- it’ll be over for you. You wouldn’t be able to look at his face again.

Months went by quickly, the more drawings you had left under your comrades door- the more Levi started to see it as a threat as he looked at the piece of paper with his face on it.

He even called a meeting with Erwin to discuss about the drawings, he felt as if he was being targetted- that the scouts were being targetted and he didn’t take this lightly.

He was more determined to find out who it is and even told a few close comrades to search in secret. You didn’t know this- only because you were in the town doing some work.

Levi noticed you didn’t come to the meeting and walked inside your office, his eyes looking around and he didn’t want to be nosey but out of the corner of his eye- towards the back of the office tucked in the corner was some paint.

This interested him enough to walk over, flipping open the sketch book and seeing the pages, the drawings and even found a few of his face. This immediately boiled his blood, you were a traitor- you were targeting him- that’s all he could think of.

He stormed out of there, grabbing his things and walked outside to try and find you. It was absolutely the worst timing for you- you stepped inside the land where the base was at while fixing the uncomfortable gear you wore around your waist until unexpectedly Levi had charged at you with his sword.

You were thinking this is his sick way of testing out your ability and training- he usually did back when you worked under him.

You slipped your blade out with ease and blocked his attack that near struck your face.

“Levi?!” Your eyes were wide at how close the blade was, he could’ve easily killed you and he didn’t seem phased.

Instead he used his leg to trip you on your back, wincing at the impact of the ground and he held his blade towards your throat with his foot rested on top of your chest to prevent you from moving.

“What the hell are you doing? Is this some sick training exercise?”

“Why have you been sending threats to my office, brat?” He stared at you with a look of disgust on his face and you froze, what threats?

“What are you talking about?”

“The drawings. Are you a traitor? Are you threatening to kill me?” He pressed the blade down more, the tip of it just barely touching your skin but from how sharp it was- it was made a cut.

“They’re just drawings, Levi!” You gave him a crazy look, he was acting completely insane, who acts like this over drawings of them? Shouldn’t he feel special?

“Why is your sketch book mostly my face then, hm? Explain that before I slice your throat here.”

You opened your mouth to say something but quickly shut it. You didn’t want to openly admit your feelings towards him and you sure felt violated for him snooping around in your office. But you also felt completely embarrassed- he’s seen your sketch book.

A lump formed in your throat, your eyes looking away from his as your cheeks started to grow hot and he got impatient, grabbing the collar of your shirt and yanked you up on your feet.

Now you were face to face with him, the dirty look he was giving you could instantly kill you if it was possible and you felt intimidated and terrified.

“Use your words, brat! I’m running out of patience.”

“Okay! Okay.” You put your hands up in defeat, your eyes connecting with his and your hands started to get sweaty.

“I- uh... how do I put this? Most of my drawings are... of you. Only because I admire you, you’ve inspired me to join, to train harder than most and I also.. like you.” You rushed the last part out, your cheeks red as a tomato and he stared at you in disbelief at first.

“So, you draw me because you like me?”

“Yeah, exactly.” You stuttered, biting down onto your bottom lip and he let go of you collar, making you stumble back.

“Why be so secretive about it then?” He asked, putting his blade away and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re not the easiest person to open up to, Levi.” You admitted, scratching the back of your neck and he gave you a unamused look.

“Look, Y/N.” He started off, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Honestly, you could’ve just done it in a different way instead of acting like a spy. Maybe if you would’ve been straight forward, I would tell you I like you just as much.” He looked up at you again, making your heart stop for a quick second.

Did he just admit feelings for you after holding a blade to your throat? You were stunned, you didn’t even know what to say about his confession but it made butterflies fly around in your stomach and your cheeks were turning a shade of red again.

He noticed how flustered you were, chuckling to himself and reached over to place his hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the warm skin and your eyes stared into his.

“Oh- sorry, I guess I should’ve done a different approach.” You said quietly, your hands starting to get shaky as his eyes burned right through you.

“Yeah, you should’ve.” He rolled his eyes, gesturing him to follow you inside and you were quick to follow behind him as he went straight for your office.

Once both of you were inside, he was quick to grab your sketch book and open it back up again. He turned more pages and looked at the drawings he didn’t bother to examine earlier.

You felt shy being in here and watching him go through your sketch book at the many drawings of his face- you even had a drawing of his hands and that made him laugh under his breath at the sight of it.

“You’re talented, I give you that.” He closed the book, setting it down and walked to where you were as you leaned back against your desk.

“Oh, thank you.” You gave him a shy smile, your heart pounding in your chest the closer he got to you.

“Now what if I actually killed you because you were being so sneaky?” He asked quietly, the sarcasm in his tone made you tilt your head as you thought about it.

“Guess I would’ve died an idiot.”

He rolled his eyes again, standing in front of you and even leaned forward to trap you between your desk and his body as he gripped onto the edges of the desk, his eyes staying on yours.

He tilted his head, almost admiring your face and you stayed quiet as the tension grew between the both of you.

“How bout you draw me right here, right now.” He offered, making you raise your eyebrows at his suggestion.

“Really?” He nodded his head, a smile coming across your face as he stepped back and grabbed one of the chairs.

You were quick to grab your sketch book and sit down in front of him, the excitement running through your veins as you grabbed a pencil and opened up to a empty page.

Your eyes moved up to meet his, watching the smile on his face only grow and it made your heart flutter considering it was rare to see him smile and it was rare for him to even agree to do something like this.

But he sat in front you, intrigued and wanting to watch your work up close and how it’s done. He was also very intrigued in you and the hobby you loved so much.

During the time of you drawing him, you had finished up his face before he had leaned over and grabbed a hold of your chin in his hand.

The sudden contact caught you off guard, your eyes staring into his before he had planted his lips on yours in a short but soft kiss.

When he pulled away, he had licked his lips and leaned back against the seat, urging you to continue on as your shaky hand tried to finish off the work of art named Levi.

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Woooooooo hello

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

[13uswntimagines]

Always Have a Place (Preath x Teen!Reader)

Request: learning to love part 2 with reader being super attached to Chris and Tobin then someone coments about it and reader starts to feel insecure about it again and Tobin and Chris has to reassure her again

You pulled the blankets tighter around you, padding through the chilly apartment towards the sound of your mama’s voice. The cold Manchester weather wasn’t quite agreeing with you, and paired with the holidays, you had been a bit on edge for the past few days. 

You never understood what the big fuss around Christmas was (as you had never been visited by Santa when you were younger), and Christmas Trees kinda freaked you out (Forster father number 3 had sent one through a window on your first Christmas with them). Though Christen and Tobin tried to show you some holiday traditions, you just didn’t understand why making cookies and drinking hot chocolate were supposed to put the world in a more giving mood. 

You rounded the corner, glancing to the left where Christen was sitting on the couch, and Right where Tobin was talking at the dining room table. You thought it was strange they never did video calls from the same room, but if it made them happy then who were you to judge. 

You sighed, deciding that Christen looked more cuddly, and began shuffling in her direction. She glanced over the top of her laptop at you, opening her arms to invite you in as she took in your tired form. 

“Hmm, you’re warm,” You mumbled, wigging into the woman to find your favorite spot. Christen giggled, wrapping her arm around you and pulling you closer, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. The two of you had grown close (almost as close as you and Tobin) in the past few months, and while you and Tobin bonded over art, you had become her cuddle buddy. Plus with the bad feelings the holidays always dredged up, you had been a bit more clingy than usual (not that her or Tobin were complaining) and her calming figure had put you at ease. 

“I’m glad baby, just a few more minutes and then we can all go to bed alright?” Christen asked softly, running a comforting hand through your hair. 

“You don’t have to rush, I’m comfy now,” You mumbled, allowing your mom’s scent to relax you. Now that she was here to ward off your nightmares, you were finding it difficult to stay awake. 

“Awe, is our favorite designer in training tired?” Megan jested from the screen, and you stuck your tongue out at her. 

“In training? My design sold out in less than a day,” you grumbled. You had been honored to work with your Ma on the popsicle capsule and were super excited that your work had done well. It was nice to know your art was appreciated, even if it wasn’t the typical portraits you did. 

Megan laughed, nodding in concession, glad you had warmed up to her. You were making amazing strides with not only the women that had become your moms but with the team as a whole. 

“The time change is a little much for us all I think,” Tobin said, glancing over at the two loves of her life from the kitchen table. God, you had come so far, had grown so comfortable coming to them when you weren’t feeling alright. 

“We all know the truth, that kid is just super attached to you, and probably can’t even sleep by herself,” Kling laughed, not noticing how you flinched slightly. You didn’t know Kling as well as you knew Megan or any of the other members of the USWNT and you weren’t quite sure how to take her teasing. 

“I can attest that Y/n is pretty cuddly. I don’t know how you detach her to train sometimes,” Pino shrugged and your eyebrows furrowed. Did Pino think you were too clingy too? Did she think you were holding your mom’s back? If they couldn’t train, they couldn’t be the best. They wouldn’t want you anymore if you were hindering them. 

You twisted slightly uncomfortable, pulling away from Christen’s comforting embrace. 

“I’m gonna go back to bed,” You mumbled, tucking your Batman blanket tighter around you. 

“You sure babe?” Christen asked, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes. 

“Hmm,” You hummed, shuffling off to go and cuddle Roary. Hopefully, he could keep your nightmares away (not missing Tobin’s “Nice going, Kling,”). 

****

You woke with a start, sitting bolt upright and clutching your blanket tightly to your chest. You gulped down the bile that rose in your throat. You ran your hand across your forehead, pushing the sweaty strands of hair from your clammy skin. 

You blinked at the red number of the clock, the little 2 mocking you. It was the 4th time this week. Every part of you longed to go find the comfort your Mom and Mama always offered when you had a nightmare. But you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb them. Kling was right, how the hell were they supposed to play well with you bothering them every time you had a little scary dream. You were 14, not 4. 

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and smoothing your thumb over both of your closed eyes in an effort to chase away the images that plagued your sleep. You were never going to get back to sleep now. 

You leaned over and grabbed your trusty drawing pad, before quietly tiptoeing out of the room, and down the hall. You paused as you passed the slightly ajar door to your moms’ room. They never complained about your frequent visits to their bed or pushed you to tell them which ghost from your past had made you end up there. 

You shook your head, taking a second to convince yourself that not going to them was going to benefit you in the end. If you stopped bothering them, being so clingy, they wouldn’t get tired of you. They wouldn’t get rid of you. 

You continued down the hallway, bypassing the kitchen in favor of turning into the living room. You stared out the bay windows, wishing for a minute that you were back in Portland. That you had the balcony to stand on and collect your racing thoughts, and the cool night air to ground you back in reality. Alas, you were here in the UK instead. 

You sighed again, curling up on the little window seat, staring listlessly at the drizzly night sky, and flipping mindlessly through the pages of your sketchbook. 

You settled on a blank page, mindlessly tapping your pencil on the paper. Your thoughts wandered, taking in the skyline as though it would tell you what to draw, how to set your mind at ease. The movement of your reflection in the window caught your attention, and suddenly you knew exactly what to draw. How to get your brain to stop obsessing over them leaving you. 

****

Tobin sighed as she entered the living room. It was the 5th time this week she had walked into the same sight of you slumped against the living room window, your pencil paused over your coveted sketchbook, which was balanced precariously on your knee. 

“She’s out here Chris,” Tobin called quietly down the hallway. How they had gone to waking up with you almost always cuddled between them (or on the foot of their bed) to you virtually pulling away entirely they weren’t sure. It hurt to see the brick wall around your heart rebuilding itself in front of their eyes. 

Christen padded up next to her, wrapping her arms around Tobin's waist and resting her head on her shoulder. “Again?” She asked, the sadness evident in her tone. They thought they had gotten over the hurdle of convincing you to come to them for help, plus she was starting to miss her cuddle buddy. 

“Hm, we need to get to the bottom of this,” Tobin mumbled, leaning back into her wife. It wasn’t healthy for you to be awake all night, even if you were processing your emotions through art, if for you to be pushing them away. They tried not to push you too hard, tried to let you come to them, but you clearly weren’t. They were going to need to intervene soon. 

“I’ll make the coffee, if you want to wake little miss up,” Christen murmured into her neck, placing a soft kiss before heading off towards the kitchen. 

You may have been her cuddle buddy, but you always had an easier time opening up to Tobin. Her chill demeanor set you at ease. 

Tobin nodded making her way over to you, making a mental note to put an extra blanket on the window seat in case this was going to continue. 

She crouched in front of you, carefully maneuvering the dangling sketchbook out of your hand, barely glancing at the still open page as she set it on the coffee table, and placing a gentle hand on your knee. 

“Hey kiddo, it’s time to wake up,” she said softly, rubbing your leg to rouse you. 

“Hm, what time is it,” You asked, pushing your forehead against the cool glass and blinking sleepily at the woman. 

“Just after 8. What time did you come out here?” She questioned softly. 

You shrugged, yawning loudly. “Like 1:30. I couldn’t go back to sleep after my dream so I decided to come out here for a bit,” You lazily gestured towards your sketchbook “thought I could work through it and I guess I fell asleep,” 

“Why didn’t you wake Me or Mom up, we would have hung out with you until you could get back to sleep,”  The woman pressed, cupping your face and running her thumb over your cheek, brushing the dark circles that had grown more prominent under your eyes. You leaned into her touch, allowing it to ease your fears for the moment. 

“Didn’t wanna bother you. Your both starting today,” you said. 

Tobin squinted at you, her head tilting to the side. You were more important to them than any starting position, they thought you knew that. It was a piece to the puss me that was this change in your behavior, but she couldn’t seem to put her finger on the rest. She couldn’t quite see how it fit. 

“You could never be a bother to us babe, we love you and want to help you. And you’re our priority, never worry about soccer when it comes to stuff like this. If one of us has to sit out, it’s no biggie,” She said, looking you in the eye, repeating the words that had become their mantra to you. 

You hummed noncommittally, abruptly pulling yourself out of her grasp, looking away from her piercing gaze. That was too close, and you didn’t want her to make a promise you knew she wouldn’t keep. It would hurt less later if you didn’t believe her. 

“Is mom making pancakes?” 

*****

Christen was worried. Very worried. She hadn’t meant to go snooping, but the sketch on the page of your open notebook had caught her attention, and once she started she couldn’t stop. 

It was a striking image. The drawing of the view from their apartment was nice, but what really caught her eye was the reflection of you in the glass. There was something about your expression that tore at her very soul. 

You drew what you felt, and if you had this much disparity, then something was very wrong. 

“Have you seen this,” She asked her wife breathlessly. Tobin glanced at the page, nodding once. It had been the same sketch 4 days in a row, the only thing that changes were the expression. The eyes growing emptier, the shadows getting bigger. She bit her lip. 

“We have to let her come to us, babe. All we can do is try to be there for her,” 

And try to be there for you they had. They increased their touches (trying not to feel hurt when you pulled away), Tobin scheduled extra time for the two of you to work on the capsule together. Hell, Christen even started leaving hot chocolate in the window seat for you. But nothing seemed to be working. You were slowly slipping away and neither of them knew why. 

Christen sighed, glancing back at the sketch, so beautifully haunting. “I just want her to let me help,”

“She will, you just have to let her sort through whatever it is first,” 

*****

Your moms were on their feet mere seconds after your first shriek, racing across the hall and into your room, searching for the threat. They released a breath they didn’t know they were holding when they saw you alone in your bed until another strangled cry left your lips. 

“No, I’ll be good, please don’t leave,”

That was all it took for them to jump into action, Tobin flipping on your bedside light, and Christen crawling into bed beside you. 

“Hey baby, wake up, it’s just a bad dream,” your mom said, wrapping you up in her arms and rubbing your back to rouse you from sleep. 

“Mom?” You asked disoriented, trying to fight the gentle hands keeping you from accidentally hurting yourself. 

“Shh, I’m here, you’re ok,” Christen said, pulling you into her lap. You buried your face in her neck, gripping her nightshirt so tightly the cotton was straining in your grasp. 

You sobbed into her neck, your tears making the skin sticky. “Don’t leave me please,” You begged, the words garbled by tears and your adamant refusal to pull away from your favorite hiding spot. Christen shushed you, rubbing your back with one hand and cradling your head with the other, sharing a worried glance with Tobin over your head. The other woman stood next to your bed, her hands opening and closing, shifting foot to foot unsure how to help you. 

“Never baby. We’re not going anywhere,” Christen soothed, gesturing for Tobin to take your other side. She did, hugging you from behind to let you know that she was there too. 

They held you as you cried, whispering sweet nothings over your unintelligible whimpering. 

“I’m sorry I’m too clingy. That you can’t practice as much as you used too,”

“No baby, we don’t feel that way at all. We love you, and we want to be here for you,”

“But Kling and Pino-“ You protested, only to be cut off by Tobin solemnly shaking her head. “Were joking, they didn’t mean anything by it. They’re both glad that you are opening up to them,” 

You stared at her in disbelief (and Tobin made a mental note to murder her friends for being assholes. They needed to learn that even though you felt comfortable, your fears and insecurities were not something to be picked on, even with the best intentions). 

“And so are we. We’re glad and honored that you’ve opened up to us, and let us see your goofy side, and your amazing art,” She added, brushing a wild curl from in front of your eyes. 

“Really?”

“Absolutely. We love how cuddly you are- it makes up for the 13 years we didn’t get with you,” Christen said, squeezing you tighter just to prove her point. It had taken you a long time to let them in, and though it was still a work in progress, they were honored you trusted them. That you had let them in further than anyone before. 

“Will you stay?” You asked in a small voice, almost afraid of the answer. 

“Always,” Your moms answered together. Tobin pulled back the covers, allowing Christen to maneuver the two of you inside before joining you. You sighed, reveling in their safety. Here, wedged between the women, you knew you would always have a place. 

[spencersawkward]

I love your ff first of all, I'm obsessed and second of all I would ask you a suggestion, idk if maybe is that too much and you're totally free to not do that but you ever thought to do something in the line of the knive kink? I think it will be awesome

i'm so sorry this took so long! big thanks to my guardian angel @voidsfilm for giving me inspiration bc i literally struggled with this one more than i should have. never written a knife kink but i’m glad i tried lol.

summary: reader finds an antique knife that Matthew's kept in a drawer.

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), knife play (no blood drawn), Soft!Dom MGG, degradation and praise.

word count: 3.6k

masterlist

if there is one thing I absolutely despise, it's working out. getting sweaty, running until my legs hurt and my lungs are burning for air... not really my thing.

but when Matthew brought up the idea a couple months into our relationship, I couldn't say no to him: he had a goofy smile on his face and the kind of look in his eyes that made me relent and ask what kind of stuff he wanted to do.

I think that I've found the one thing that Matthew can't make fun.

"I'm gonna pass out." I bend over and set my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. Matthew slows to a stop a few feet ahead, turning around and making a strained expression.

"oh, come on." but his voice is pretty breathless, too. he gently guides me off the path so that we don't get in the way of the other people out enjoying the day. a couple walks by us with their dog, strolling calmly, and I feel a rush of envy. if our workout routine had consisted of a few pleasant ambles around the city, I would have been totally willing.

"Matthew, I wanna go home." I whine impatiently. the only nice thing about this is that he's got one of those stupid sweatbands on his head to keep his hair out of his face, and it makes him look like a 1980's housewife.

"we can go home in fifteen minutes." he smiles, puts his hands on his hips, stretching in an exaggerated way.

"do you promise?" I brush a piece of hair out of my face.

"promise," he's lucky he looks so cute in his workout outfit. "we can even get one of those fancy juices for you on the way back."

"seriously?" I light up. this might actually be worth it; they have this amazing mango and lime combination that I can't ever manage to recreate with our own blender.

"if you beat me to the rock, then sure." he references the enormous boulder in Central Park that we both gawked at on our first date-- ever since then, it's been the end point for our runs. my lips curl into a grin.

"you're on." I take off, making sure to push him out of the way in order to gain a head start. he lets out something of a protestation but is quick to follow. I can feel his feet pounding behind me, trying to catch up.

I may not be good at running long distances, but I'm sure as hell faster than he is.

...

it's quiet when I step out of the bedroom, drying my hair with the towel and wandering into the living room. Matthew is sitting at the table with his sketchbook, drawing god knows what while he waits for me to finish up.

"what are you up to?" I ask softly as I plop down across from him. my head is slightly tilted while the towel rubs my scalp.

"I'm not really sure." he shrugs, frowning and holding up the notebook from a distance as if that'll help him figure out what to do.

"can I see when you're done?"

"of course," he sets it on the table again, then runs a fingertip across his chin. "actually, can you do me a favor?"

"sure."

"I have a set of colored pencils in the desk over there," he points to an old piece of furniture under the window. "would you mind getting them for me?"

"yep," I reply, getting up and leaving the towel on the table. "least I can do after kicking your ass."

on the walk past him, Matthew grabs my waist and pulls me into him, attacks me with tickles. I squeal and hit his shoulder.

"stop!" I laugh.

"you barely beat me!" he gives a dazzling smile and finally lets me go. I lightly smack him upside the head and head over to the desk, rifling through the drawers for the colored pencils he wanted.

as I push around various art supplies, glue sticks and random paintbrushes that look to be on the brink of falling apart, my fingers pass something cool and metallic. I grab the thing and pull it out.

it's a knife; like, a fancy one with an intricately decorated handle and what seems to be a pretty dulled edge. before he can notice what I've found, I start to move the thing between my hands curiously. there's a nice weight to it, but it's definitely old.

"hey, Matthew?" I ask warily.

"yeah?" so unassuming and sweet.

"why do you have a knife?"

there's a scratching as he gets up from the table to walk over to me. I lean against the desk. Matthew doesn't seem too bothered by what I'm saying at all, only gently taking the weapon out of my hands and examining it himself.

"oh, yeah!" he lets out something like a laugh. I raise an eyebrow and wait for him to continue. "do you remember when we went antiquing in Cape Cod, like, a month ago?"

"yeah." I nod at the memory. he'd been lucky enough to get some vacation days and we'd spent them sitting by the water with glasses of wine and nothing but time to talk. it really was a great trip, now that I think about it.

"I found it there." he still hasn't looked up and I realize that there's something he's not telling me. I don't know what I'm missing, but I start to get nervous.

"...why?"

"I was gonna ask then, but I guess I just forgot." his tongue darts out across his bottom lip as he lifts his face to meet my gaze. my heart thuds when he opens his mouth again. "I kinda wanted to try something."

"like?"

"I've been thinking about maybe using knives... in a sexual way."

"what?" I frown, confused by his wording. Matthew seems to realize that he's phrased it awkwardly and shifts his stance. he keeps glancing between the object and my face like he's worried about scaring me away.

"I don't mean I'm gonna stab you or anything," he laughs. "I just mean I think it sounds fun."

my hand finds his, brushing my palm over the steel to touch it myself again. there's a curiosity that burns through me now, something I'm a little unsure about but not enough so to deny the possibility of trying it.

"what do you wanna do with it?" I peek up at him. he bites his lip. we're speaking in gentle tones and I notice that our bodies have gotten closer within the last few moments. a warmth, a tension.

"like, pressing the blade flat against your skin while I fuck you." he takes the thing and demonstrates. the cool silver rests on my neck, too dull to really threaten a serious cut if he were to move too quickly. a shiver runs down my spine at the sensation of the metal.

I gulp, feel the curve of my throat push against it when I swallow. it's nice.

"oh." is all I say. Matthew is watching me intently, but he doesn't make any motion away from it. like he's entranced by the sight of me with a knife to my throat.

"are you interested?" he asks.

I mull it over. on the one hand, weapon play is something I've never considered in my sex life before. Matthew and I aren't vanilla, but this hasn't crossed my mind. that said, now that I can really feel it, there is a desire forming in my stomach. it would be a strange, new sensation.

"yes." the confirmation makes him smile a little. he lowers the thing and instead wraps me in his arms, kisses me passionately until our tongues are dancing over each other. I love how he holds me, our torsos against each other while my body leans slightly back to accept the weight of his touch.

he goes to my head like alcohol. and it's even more surreal when I feel the blade move under the hem of my shirt to rest against my back. I smile into his mouth. he doesn't do anything with it, just leaves it to remind me.

he starts to rut his hips against my lower stomach, getting aroused at the proximity of our bodies and the heated nature of our kiss. there's an urgency to all of it, like he's holding back. I don't want him to hold back; I want him to give me everything he has, everything beneath the surface.

my fingers twine in his hair and tug on the ends, causing him to groan into our embrace. there's no way we're going to make it all the way to the bedroom with the way he's grabbing at my body, so I stumble backwards towards the couch until the backs of my thighs hit the arm of it.

"you're horny." I giggle slightly when he pushes the hem of my shirt up my body, his nails dragging over my ribcage and trailing the object along with it. I feel the excitement growing.

"I'm just glad you're willing to try this." he murmurs the words, holds our foreheads together before his lips eagerly seek mine out, again. somehow, even with a weapon leveled against me, I can sense the love in every single action. I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't trust him to treat me with the utmost care.

I work at the buttons of his shirt, pushing it over his lovely shoulders and arms as he unclasps my bra. we're fervent, greedy in our movements, trying to kiss despite the attention needed to remove our clothes. mostly we just tangle up in each other until there's nothing left but my shorts for him to shove down my legs. he keeps his pants on.

"c'mon, beautiful." he mutters, pushing my legs open so that I'm sitting on the arm of the couch. he tilts my head and leans closer to suck on my bottom lip, and then starts to massage my tits. I can feel the handle of the weapon against my nipple.

when he reaches to slide his finger between my folds, I hiss out a breath at the cold sensation of his skin.

"is this because of me or the knife, baby?" he asks, corners of his mouth twitching up while I moan into his mouth. he starts to rub my clit with the collected wetness, teasing me too much. I want to fall back, but I can't. I won't let myself.

"both." I find myself turned on by the way the blade sits against my ribs again. the edge is just sharp enough to elicit a reaction from my body.

"feel that?" he angles the thing the slightest bit. I exhale and nod.

that isn't the response he's looking for, however, because he moves it so that it's under my chin. goosebumps on my skin while I pant uselessly against the weapon. I can feel it press harder with every breath out of my lungs, and I love it. I love the risk it brings out of me.

while Matthew dips his index inside my pussy, I writhe against it and tilt my head even more so he has better access.

"look at you," he lets out a dark chuckle, thrusts into me to the last digit. "you want more of this, don't you?"

"yes, sir." I breathe. my neck is actively moving against the metal. I glance down at his body and see his erection straining against his pants, craving release but finding none as he plunges his fingers in and out of me. I can hardly breathe from sheer focus on the sensations he's giving me right now.

"what are you looking at, sweetheart?" he quickens the pace of his movements and uses the object to make me focus on his face.

"you're hard." the words nearly die on my lips. he stares darkly at me, lifting his brows just enough to make me question whether I should have spoken at all. I bite my lip in anticipation.

"and what are you gonna do about it?" his voice is raspy as he stands back, removes his fingers from my pussy, and lets me drop to my knees. I'm weak both from the stimulation and from the loss of it, but I make quick work of undoing his belt, pulling the pants down his legs until I'm face-to-face with his cock. it sits against his stomach, throbbing impatiently while he watches. he uses the metallic point under my jaw to angle my face up to his.

"are you gonna suck me off, baby?" he smirks. I nod rigorously with wide eyes and an open mouth, dragging my tongue along the underside. Matthew's nose scrunches up for a moment at the shock of contact when I tease the head. all his concentration is on watching me wrap my hand around the shaft and pumping him gently. "spit on it."

I obey and spit right onto the tip before rubbing my thumb over the top to gather the precum. as I start to swirl my tongue and move my lips onto him, he throws his head back, lets out a wanton noise. it urges me on. I take every moment with a deliberate attention to the veins and sensitive spot he has.

"that's it, that's it." he rasps while knotting his hand in my hair. the other keeps the knife pressed to my throat. he lets me move on my own for a bit, gauging my desires from the way my eyes attempt to memorize the sight of his face above me, that jaw dropped in licentious craving. I can tell that he wants to fuck my face, but I go slow just to draw it out a little. it makes the soreness of my jaw worth it when he gets all impatient and flustered.

I hollow my cheeks and bob on his dick, bat my lashes, pull myself off him for a second just to kiss the tip.

"can I use your mouth?" he asks through a restrained groan. I open it and nod, sighing at the feeling of his fingers twining through my hair again before he pushes back into the opening. now that he's got full control, he starts to develop his own movements, sometimes meeting his thrusts by pressing my face against him.

he gets deep in it, never losing his grip on the knife, until my nose is pressed to his stomach. my throat closes instinctively around him even more tightly, and he lets out a guttural moan.

"such a cute mouth when I'm using it." he thrusts until I gag and then he's smiling. "get up."

he removes himself so fast, my eyes water at the sudden lack of blockage in my throat. I gulp air while he hooks his hands under my arms and hoists me up. I'm about to turn around so I can lift my leg and give him better access, but he sits me on the arm of the couch and parts my thighs.

"I wanna see your pretty face." he leans down and pecks my cheek. I smile at the surprising tenderness-- although it doesn't last long. steel sits against the space between my neck and collarbone. it's only a moment before he positions himself between my legs and slides his cock into me.

my back arches and I look him in the eyes, gasping.

"fuck, baby." he drags out the first word as he inches inside. I mewl helplessly at the way he stretches me out, my pussy clenching every few seconds. he keeps one hand on my lower back to support me and bring me closer to his pelvis, and then we're staring into each other's eyes as he finally settles in it.

his hips start to thrust into me, hopeful for any kind of contact while I accustom myself to the shape of him. it happens every time, despite the amount of times we've done this. and I'm bad at patience, but he's worse. his body stutters against mine.

"is it good enough, sir?" I ask quietly. he tightens his grip on my back and on the blade, the edge threatening my skin the perfect amount. I suck in a breath at the way it stings a little.

"you're doing perfectly." he recognizes what I want to hear as he finds my sweet spot and begins to hit it repeatedly, smoothly works my body. I swear there are planets in my eyes when I stare at the expressions on his face, both of us so wrapped up in each other that every other thought becomes obsolete.

he moves the knife to under my chin to rest on my throat.

"feel that?"

I nod so the edge bites more. he smirks.

"just to show you who you belong to."

my hips push up to meet his thrusts, needing more stimulation, more friction. what I want is for him to be relentless, to slam into my body with the kind of hunger I know he has. there are sounds, movements, that he's made before that make me want him to use them. but he's withholding, probably hesitant about the dangerous object on my pulse point.

"I belong to you, sir." I egg him on. he likes the sound of that, grunting and starting to pound into me.

"yeah? you're my dirty little whore." he speaks through gritted teeth. I shiver.

"mhmm."

"I use you how I want, when I want." his fingertips dig into my skin and he yanks me closer so that he can hit a new angle. I let out a surprised noise when he brushes my g-spot. it's otherworldly and I expose more of my neck to him.

"my little slut likes pain, huh?" he nudges the weapon harder into my skin. it doesn't draw blood, but I can sense the mark it'll leave. I love it.

"yes, sir." we're both getting needy, but we can't hold each other the way that we want to in our given positions. my palms are occupied on the arm of the couch to hold myself up and one of his hands is too busy holding the object for us to fuck as deeply as we need.

"are you gonna take it like a good girl when I cum in it?" he mutters. he runs his tongue over my jawline and the weapon nicks my skin. I moan at the mingling of sensations that's building all across my body.

"yes, sir." I plead. it's nearly unbearable, how much I want him. we're chasing our orgasms and I know what will finish me off. he knows, too.

Matthew drops the knife. it clatters to the ground, but there's no time for me to register it with the way he grabs my hips and lifts me into the air, my legs wrapping around his waist while he keeps fucking into me. he maneuvers us with shocking ease, laying me on the couch and positioning himself at the right moment so that I can drag my nails over his back and keep my thighs locked around him.

"mmm... baby, I'm gonna cum." he drives into me recklessly, both of us finally able to cling to each other. the angle is just enough to stimulate my clit and I nod, using the leverage of my legs to pull myself to him and roll my hips for friction.

Matthew slams my body into the couch, grunting in my ear as he finds his climax inside me. it's so deep, I have to work to keep the yell inside, but he's not done. he rides it out and plows into me while I reach the edge.

"tell me how it feels." he orders in my ear. I sigh.

"so-- so good, sir." my voice is thin. "I'm close."

"show me." he leaves bruises on my hips with his hands. I feel the knot finally snap, every muscle in my stomach spasming chaotically. I finish with a loud moan, begging him to drag it out further. my vision nearly goes black at the tide that threatens to overtake my body.

"Matthew--" I gasp. he moans quietly at the way I say his name, still rocking his body into mine while I come down from the shocks of orgasm. it's nearly overwhelming, the pleasure running through my body.

slowly, we come to a stillness and he drops his head into my shoulder, panting. he doesn't let go at first, but then he withdraws from my pussy and lets me take a rest. I lay there on the couch while he kneels between my legs, pressing gentle kisses to my neck.

"I love you." he repeats it over and over.

"I love you, too," I hope he can feel the meaning, despite the sheer exhaustion in my tone. he runs his fingertips across the red marks where the thing went a little too deeply, but I'm not worried about it. "we should try that again, sometime."

"you liked it?" he smiles brightly. I love the lines by his eyes.

"definitely."

he lets out a cheerful noise and buries his face back into my throat because he knows how much it tickles. I screech and giggle, my legs kicking wildly around me. more contented than ever before.

[rose7420]

Art Games

Request from @laurenandloki

When Y/n is an admirer of Loki's and falls ill. It's up to him to save her.

Y/n was dying. She was used to it.

Living with an incurable disease and standing at two and a half inches tall meant that you were practically screwed in healthcare. Her life wasn’t miserable though as you might think. Her momma was her best friend and took care of her to the best of her ability. She was there on the good days where they could scavenge the walls and explore to their heart’s content. But she was also there for the bad days where her heart couldn’t pump enough blood leaving her weak and stranded in her bed.

Today was a good day for Y/n as she crept through the pathways of her walls to reach a hole. She climbed out of the wall and walked silently onto the desk. Sitting there was none other than Loki. His black hair hung down from his face, blue-green eyes scrunched in focus as he stared down at the game he played.

Y/n had found the activity odd as she had watched him time and time again. Now, she was intrigued. Each little piece connected to the others to form a masterpiece of art. Each time he finished one of these ‘art games’ he would hang them on his wall using magic. Her eyes had bugged out of her head the first time she’d watched him. Green enveloped the finished piece of art and kept itself together as it plastered itself to the wall. She always loved to see the accomplished look on Loki’s face, like he was proud of himself.

He tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear as he fiddled with a piece of the art game between his fingertips. Y/n sat quietly down behind the cup of pencils, effectively blocking herself from Loki’s view. She squinted to see what piece Loki held and then tried to figure out where it went on his board. Her eyes roamed the already set pieces before finding the correct spot. She had to stop herself from standing and going to help Loki out.

Momma forbid her from ever revealing herself to him. She knew of her whereabouts when she ventured off these nights; only allowing her to go as long as she promised to keep hidden. And Y/n did just that. Loki rubbed his eyes wearily before she watched him rise to his great, intimidating height. Just the sight of him standing so tall reminded Y/n of why borrowers kept to themselves and never approached humans.

After stretching his long arms and legs he walked away and settled himself into his bed. A click turned the lights out and left Y/n in darkness. Y/n stood and made to climb back into her hole but a sudden urge stopped her. A burst of courage surged through her and she turned and sprinted to the piece Loki had given up on. She gathered the unique shape in her arms and walked to the spot she knew it went. Kneeling, she set the place to the right spot and relished the satisfying feeling as it slid into place. Her heart was bursting with accomplishment and happiness as she walked away.

However, when she got home and pulled back the curtain they used as a door her body began to feel weak. Her heart felt fast and slow all at the same time. Her lungs demanded more oxygen that she couldn't supply and blood that her heart couldn't deliver. She didn’t make it another step as she crumpled to her knees.

“Honey?” She faintly heard Momma call. Footsteps rushed towards her and her vision blurred as she tried to peer up at Momma's knelt figure and worried face. The last thing she felt was the shaking hand upon her clammy forehead.

Loki looked down at his puzzle in confusion. He swore that piece wasn’t there yesterday. He could only chuckle as he realized his little admirer had helped him out. He plucked another piece up and set to work. Minutes later his sensitive hearing picked up on hurried footsteps and rapid breathing. One set of footsteps and two sets of breathing. One fast and the other slow. His eyes slid to the hole he knew was in his wall and stared in confusion and awe as a positively tiny lady emerged breathless carrying an even smaller unmoving girl.

He squinted to see them better. He didn’t recognize the woman but the girl…

It was his little friend.

The mother; he presumed, took tired and cautious steps towards him. He straightened in his seat, unintentionally making his shadow swallow both little forms whole.

“Please… you must help me. She’s sick… and dying.” The woman sobbed.

Loki nodded and held out a hand. The mom approached and laid her daughter down on the row of fingers. Before the mother could step on he raised the tiny girl to his eyes.

Her complexion was pale with sickness, and he felt the clamminess of her skin upon his own. And her breathing… it was so shallow and infrequent that he prayed the little one wasn’t too far gone.

“W-wait! What are you doing to my baby girl?” The mother cried from below. Loki broke from his trance to offer her a comforting look, he lowered his face so that it was somewhat level to the mother. He could see the dark circles of her eyes, and the paleness of her own face.

“I assure you, miss, that I only want to help. Can you tell me what’s wrong with her?” She did, making sure that Loki knew she had a heart condition.

“She will die? Even if I can save her now?” He said with a shaky voice looking down at her in his palm. How small and fragile she looked there. `

Her mother nodded.

“She admires you, you know?” The mother says.

Loki looks up confused. “Why on earth would she admire someone like me?” He asks.

“She’s interested in those puzzles you do… see’s that you’re smart. Her dad left us when she was only a babe. I’m glad she has a male figure to look up to in her life.”

Loki couldn't accept that this little one had just barely started her life and soon it was about to end. He thought hard, back to the spells his mother had taught him as a child. She was an achieved healer and knew much about the properties of mending wounds and fixing illnesses. Perhaps he could do the same for the dying life in his palm. His mother’s magic had always been a buttery yellow, kind and generous to anyone who needed it.

Loki’s was cunning and sharp. Meant to inflict harm rather than stop it. He gathered all those lessons in healing he could remember and set to fixing her heart.

Y/n awoke slowly. Her eyes blinked open trying to clear the blurriness away. And when they did she screamed.

She found two blue-green eyes staring right down at her.

“Momma!” She cried frantically looking for her mother. She had been caught by Loki, a giant. The gigantic fingers around her curled in effectively trapping her. Her heart was rapid and she feared she’d pass out from the exertion. But before she started freaking out too much the giant had laid his hand down onto the table and flattened his palm.

Without thinking she scrambled off, tripping from the height. She fell into a pair of sturdy, soft arms.

“Momma!” She said relieved.

Momma wrapped her arms around her and kissed the top of her head, then her cheeks. She hugged her so tightly that Y/n couldn't breathe anymore.

A gust of air tossed her hair.

Y/n turned around to face the giant...Loki again. His chin rested on the desk, closer than ever before. She buried herself into Momma’s side.

“It’s okay...He’s a nice giant. He helped you feel better. He saved you.”

Y/n looked at the giant man again, questioning.

“You saved me?” She asked.

He nodded and offered a warm smile.

“Tell him thank you Y/n,” Momma said firmly and gently at the same time. A tone only mothers could master. Since Momma trusted Loki, it made Y/n a little less nervous.

“Thank you, mister.” She said shyly and walked to his face watching him go cross-eyed to see her better. She giggled and hugged his nose.

“It was my pleasure Little Miss,” Loki said softly.

Loki grinned from the sudden embrace. He kept his voice low, afraid of hurting these tiny people’s ears. After learning that Y/n admired him and didn’t have a father he had unwittingly adapted to being sort of a father figure to her. Perhaps he could show her there was good in this world. He watched as Y/n retreated and latched herself to her mother’s side again.

“You can come out you know,” Loki said with a grin on his face. He had spied Y/n lurking in her usual spot behind the pencil container. He had always kept it filled for her, making sure she felt comfortable enough even if she didn’t want to reveal herself.

He watched as she stepped out and looked up at him, a red tinge on her cheeks.

“I’m having trouble figuring out where this piece goes… I need your help.” He held out the tiny puzzle piece to her. She hesitantly approached his fingers and he nodded to encourage her. She took it in both arms, heaving it up. In a matter of seconds, she had ambled over to where the piece belonged and set to place it properly.

“It seems having a different perspective helps.” Loki admired it out loud. He imagined that up here, the puzzle was just well… a puzzle. But to her, it must’ve been an entire landscape, a world of its own. No wonder why she was so skilled.

“So you like puzzles?” Loki asked.

She looked up at him confused.

“Whats a puzzle?”

Loki quirked an eyebrow and leaned in closer.

“What we’re doing… what do you call it?”

“An art game.” She said crossing her small arms.

He laughed and threw his hands in the air, surrendering before they could get into an argument.

“So you like art-games?” He corrected.

She smiled and nodded.

“Good. Because I have plenty more. Perhaps you would like to help me?”

And he swore that in his many years, he had never seen the sun shine brighter than that giddy, joyful smile he received.

[gureishi]

blue sky, falling star

Here is the first fic I wrote for the @mysme-rbb​! It’s pretty different from anything I’ve written before, and I’m really excited to share it. I had such a wonderful time collaborating with AlyValery, who made this beautiful artwork. Check out her post here.

one

Zen falls in love with her first. For him, it is like leaping into cool, clear water.

There is something about her, from the first time he speaks to her (and she is just words on a screen then, voiceless and non-corporeal): something about her reels him in, makes his heart eel fizzy. It is only when she’s in his home, though—sitting so calmly on his couch, hands clasped neatly in her lap—that he realizes just how deep underwater he has fallen.

“Sorry,” he says to her—and for what? For his small, underground apartment, when she deserves a palace? For bringing her here, or for the danger he didn’t know she was in, or for the strange thickness he feels in the space between them?

She shakes her head, and a lock of hair falls into her eyes. She brushes it away with careful fingers and Zen feels that his heart is trying to fight its way out of his chest.

“You’re like my knight in shining armor right now,” she says—and in spite of it all, she speaks with a certainty that makes his head spin. For his whole life, he has been searching for the sort of sureness that seems to radiate off her. He feels dizzy as he sits beside her—leaving space between them, still (because she feels untouchable to him—because she is too wonderful for this world).

“That’s me,” he says, giving her his best attempt at his usual sparkling smile. He wonders if she can sense how nervous she makes him.

“It’s okay,” she says, patting the space beside her. “You can sit next to me, silly.” She knows: he sees it written in the resplendent smile on her face. Zen feels his cheeks flush. It’s never been like this before: he has worked so hard to learn how to smile, and change the timbre of his voice, and angle his head just right so the light bounces off his jaw. He is not used to being caught off guard. Ah, but he finds it impossible to pretend when she’s around: he is rubbed raw, like she has stripped him of his skin, leaving him utterly exposed.

“If you want me to, babe,” he says—but he knows that his voice is stiff and he can feel the way his body tingles as he shifts closer to her.

“Hey,” she says. She peeks up at him from underneath her lashes and there is a determined look in her eyes. A moment passes in which the world outside the window could burn to the ground and Zen wouldn’t see. She takes his hand.

And this is it: this is the moment. Oh god, he thinks. I’m done for.

She’s smiling up at him, tilting her head to the side to draw his attention to their intertwined fingers—as though he needed a reminder.

“Is this okay?” she asks him. He realizes he’s staring at her—is afraid, for a moment, that he looks like a fool, that she’ll toss her head and laugh that heart-stirring laugh and take her hand back. She doesn’t, of course.

He squeezes her hand. Finds he can breathe underwater.

Zen always knows what to say. But here, on his too-small couch, in his too-small apartment, he doesn’t have the words—doesn’t know how to tell her that his heart, and his head, and his whole life belong to her; ah, but the sparkle in her eyes tells him that she already knows. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course it is.”

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two

Yoosung can’t sleep. It’s something about the way the stars are shining outside his window: too close, like he could stick out his hand and pull them from the sky. He’s never wanted to believe the adage that lost loved ones look down on us from the stars—it’s too sad, he thinks, to leave behind your friends on earth and exist forever in the night sky, all alone. He doesn’t want to end up stationed in the sky for living people to gaze at as they philosophize about life; he wants to be right here, where it’s warm and he’s real and he can hold the people he loves in his arms.

The people he loves.

Normally, he’d give up on sleep—throw a blanket over his shoulders and open his game, where there would be friends waiting for him: strangers who know him just well enough to ask how he’s doing but not well enough to really listen to the answer. He used to think this sort of relationship was safe—natural—ideal.

But he doesn’t think that way anymore.

He calls her, instead.

She answers right away, and she can’t have been sleeping, because her voice sounds too clear.

“You’re still awake?” he laughs, and she giggles. He wishes she were beside him, head on his shoulder as he looks out through the smudged glass window.

“So are you,” she says.

Yoosung tells her about the stars. He tells her that the stars he sees are really in the past—that they’re long gone—that the past and present live together in the sky. A voice in the back of his mind tells him that he’s being dramatic again—that he’s wasting her time, her precious sleep, with these thoughts.

But she doesn’t think so.

“I’m looking out my window now too,” she tells him. “I wonder if the stars will carry my message to you.”

Yoosung finds that he’s smiling. He tucks his knees up to his chest, wiggles closer to the window—puts a palm on the glass, thinks again that perhaps he could catch a star in his hand if he just reached far enough.

“What’s your message for me?” he asks. His heart races.

“I’m going to tell the stars,” she says. She whispers something, and he hears her exhale, like she’s blowing on a dandelion—scattering her words into the night sky.

“Not fair!” he says. “I wanted to hear the message, too!”

“You will,” she tells him. “Just wait.”

So he waits, hand on the glass, listening to the sound of her breathing through the phone. He counts her breaths: one, two, three… He wonders how it would feel to fall asleep to this beautiful sound; he hopes, with all his heart, that one day he will find out.

One of the stars seems to glimmer brighter, catching his eye. It’s getting bigger, he thinks—moving closer to him. And perhaps it’s his imagination (too active, he’s been told) or just a projection made by his desperate heart, but he feels a warmth wash over him—like stepping outside and lifting his face to the sky on a bright summer day.

“Did you get it?” she whispers. His heart feels shimmery, like she’s taken it in both her hands and sworn to keep it safe.

“Yes,” he whispers back. “I feel it.”

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three

Jaehee is never afraid—but today, she is terrified.

The key digs into her palm and she clutches it—too tight—in her sweaty, shaky hand. She can’t remember the last time she felt this way—like her stomach is tied in a knot. As a child, perhaps, squeezing her pencil, waiting for a test to start—never as an adult; never like this.

Oh, and she is every bit as beautiful as Jaehee had imagined. When she was just a voice over the phone, Jaehee felt so much safer to say what she felt (even if what she said was such a tiny bit of what she really meant). But now she has a body, and a face, and these perfect, confident eyes, and Jaehee is certain she is going to lose her nerve.

Do it, she tells herself. Do it now.

“Will you be my partner?” she asks—and her voice sounds so much quieter than it did in her imagination. And in spite of everything that’s been said, Jaehee half-expects her to shake her head, declining the offer with a perfect, polite smile. Why would she uproot her whole life, after all, for a woman she’s known for just a few days?

Jaehee hardly dares even think beyond this: about the question she’s really asking; about the answer she really wants.

“Yes,” she says. Ah, and she says it with such conviction: like she’s simply been waiting to be asked. Jaehee feels like a thousand tiny little fires have ignited inside her chest. She holds out the key with a trembling hand. This is it, she thinks: the moment to tell the truth. And by my partner, of course, I mean…

She opens her mouth but the words are stuck in her throat. She hates herself for it: she is strong, she thinks. She can go to work with clear eyes after a sleepless night; she can defend herself with her bare hands. But this—the you are my everything, the I want you, the please be mine—it is impossible.

The key is gone—she has slipped it from Jaehee’s hand with remarkable deftness—and she is moving closer, closer, and Jaehee is frozen in place as soft arms encircle her. She smells like the first buds of spring.

“I mean—” Jaehee tries to say, feeling that the world has turned sideways.

“I know,” she whispers. And there is an intimacy in her tone of voice that Jaehee has never heard before: the ballroom around them dissolves, and they could be in bed together, or on a plane carrying them thousands of miles away, or in a void consisting of nothing but their voices and breaths and bodies and hearts. “I know what you mean.”

“Do you?”

She doesn’t say anything, but she shifts in Jaehee’s arms, and Jaehee realizes what she’s going to do right before she does it. She tilts her head and—and—with almost unbearable tenderness, brushes her lips against the corner of Jaehee’s jaw.

The sideways world rights itself. The air hums. The stars fall from the heavens.

“Friends don’t kiss each other like that,” she whispers, and her breath on Jaehee’s ear sends sparks shooting down her spine. “Right?”

Jaehee gathers her breath, the fragmented shards of her courage.

“No,” she murmurs. “They don’t.”

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four

It is a cool April day, and the trees seem to sing a song of impending summer.

She gets home late that night. Her mother, who is seated beside her in the car, is telling her a story she can’t quite follow—some friend of the family got some score on some test, and apparently this means that her mother is now disappointed in her. She sighs heavily; her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she leaves it alone, reluctant to get in more trouble than she seems to be in already.

The car pulls into the driveway.

“You need to make sure you get some sleep tonight, okay?” her mother says—and her voice sounds far away, like it’s coming from underwater.

“I still have a lot of studying to do,” she says, feeling stubborn. And it’s true that she has studying to do, but it is true, too, that it is almost midnight—the right time to start over again tonight, if she wants to.

And she does: oh, to slip back into that world where she is beloved and everyone’s salvation is at her fingertips.

Her mother looks back, halfway to the door; she’s still sitting in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, one hand unconsciously cupping the phone inside her pocket.

“Are you coming inside?” her mother asks. She opens the passenger side door; the night air is biting on her bare arms.

“Yeah,” she tells her. “Yeah, just a minute.”

And her mother is walking ahead; tugging open the front door (too forcefully), keys jangling in her hand (too loud). She pauses in the garden; tilts her face up to see the sky.

Her muscles feel stiff and sore from nights of poring over books, eyes aching as she tries to make out the letters that swim around on the page. She feels like she’s been running a marathon barefoot, gasping as she struggles to keep up.

In another universe, though, she is already at the finish line. In another universe, she has the power to mend broken hearts, soothe fears, save lives.

Are you out there? she asks the empty night sky.

A star falls.

Oh: and it feels like an answer. She pulls her phone out of her pocket: midnight exactly. Phone in one hand, she lays her other hand over her heart.

She makes a wish.

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five

It is when the car door shuts behind her that Jumin realizes he is no longer afraid.

For ages, he has been on the very edge of the abyss of solitude. It would have been so easy, he thinks, to bury himself in that gaping emptiness where no one could reach him—to fall deeper and deeper until he was untouchable.

But she wrapped a rope around his waist and said if you’re going, I’m going too. He knows that she felt it: the peril of standing on the edge; the understanding that one wrong move would have catapulted them both over the cliff—hidden them away together where no one could find them. She knew; she could have run away at any time. 

She didn’t.

And now he is alone in the garage, and the car that’s carrying her away from him is fading into the distance, and—for perhaps the very first time in his life—he has no doubt that she will come back.

He’s always believed that leaving means never returning—that once someone is gone, they are gone forever. But she has driven away, and he finds that he doesn’t feel scared.

He calls her, of course—almost without thinking, fingers pressing the buttons before he’s realizing what he’s doing. She laughs as she answers.

“Did you miss me already?” she asks. Her voice is weightless; he realizes that it’s been days since he’s heard her voice without actually standing beside her. She feels so much less tangible now that she is just a voice over a phone again—and still, he does not feel afraid.

“I did,” he tells her. “I miss you so much.”

Honesty: so bright it almost burns him.

He tells her that he wants to grow into a more mature man for her, and she listens—and it is this, perhaps, that he loves the most. She doesn’t offer him platitudes, as the people around him have done his whole life: she doesn’t say oh, but you’re fine the way you are; she doesn’t dismiss him or diminish him or paint him a false picture of the way his world should be.

She listens.

She tells him that she’s glad to have met him and he knows that she means it.

Her voice, Jumin thinks, is like crisp autumn air; he wonders if he’s ever been truly honest with anyone before.

“There’s something I want to say to you right now,” he says. He finds that he needs to know how the words will taste in his mouth—needs to know if he’s capable of saying them at all.

“What is it?” she asks, and he smiles because he can tell she already knows.

He’s not standing on a cliff anymore, staring down into the abyss. Before he realized what she was doing, she led him away—guided him to this new place, where he is warm and his feet are on solid ground.

“I love you,” he tells her. It tastes like sweet chocolate on his tongue; it is the truest thing he’s ever said.

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six

It is far too late to turn back by the time Saeyoung looks at her sleeping face and realizes the magnitude of what he has done.

He is driving on an empty road that seems to stretch ahead infinitely. It is the space between him and his other half—and the distance separating them is measurable for the first time in so many years. She has fallen asleep in the passenger seat, his jacket spread over her lap, her face perfectly serene. Her lips form a tiny, placid smile—as though she’s content to be walking into fire with him. As though she doesn’t have any doubts.

I am a monster, he thinks (not for the first time). What sort of despicable person lets a someone like her get entangled in their nightmare? She shines so bright that his heart aches.

She wakes (of course she does), and he drags his eyes from her face back to the road, pretending not to see. He wonders if there is still time to deposit her somewhere safe, to leave his heart in her care as he goes on alone.

If anything were to happen to her, that would be the end of him. He’s sure of it.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, keeping his voice light. But she knows better, of course—sees through him the way she always has. She frowns and leans over to brush his arm with her fingers; his whole body shivers at her touch and he is ashamed, knowing she can tell.

“What’s wrong?” she asks him. He gives her his most convincing smile, but he knows it’s lopsided on his face. What has happened to him? She has shattered all his defenses; she has plunged headfirst into the dark pit of his fears.

“Nothing,” he says; and she makes that clicking noise with her tongue that always disarms him, almost like she’s saying shhhh, now tell the truth. “I shouldn’t have brought you,” he says (hating the way his voice sounds, like he might just burst into tears).

She sighs.

“Do I have to tell you again all the reasons why you’re wrong?” Her sternness makes him smile—he can’t help it. He glances at her and her eyes are hard, glittering like the afternoon sun on the windshield.

“Please do,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse. She shifts, sitting cross-legged, tucking her arms into the sleeves of his jacket. She’s so cute like this he’s afraid his heart will burst.

“I’m going to help you,” she tells him firmly. “You may be the smartest person in the whole world, but you’re no good at staying calm.”

She’s right, of course—he never has been.

“You’ll do your best work with me beside you,” she says. “You get us in and I’ll keep us safe. If you want to save him, you need me there, too.”

Saeyoung’s hands—normally so steady, because he’s trained them to be that way—shake as he grips the steering wheel.

“I’ve never really cared about staying safe,” he tells her. She huffs, frustrated, refusing to let him wallow. And then she reaches for him, brushing his hair off his forehead; though her fingers are cool, he feels that she’s set his whole body on fire.

“Too bad,” she says. “I care about keeping you safe, Seven.”

Oh, and that name feels hateful to him when she says it: he can hardly stand the thought of her believing, even for a moment, any of the hundreds of thousands of lies he’s told. He wants her to see him for who he really is.

“Thank you,” he murmurs; she smiles, a hand on his knee, and he feels that she is the brightest star in all the galaxies.

It’s time, he thinks.

When they make it out alive (and in that moment, he decides that they will)—whether it is today, or tomorrow, or the next day—he is going to tell her his real name. Because Seven is a conglomerate of pretense and brightly-colored lies; because Saeyoung is a version of himself that he’s hardly dared to dream about: a person who’s loving, and honest, and good. 

He can become that person, he thinks, for her. He wants to.

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seven

It is May. She counts on her fingers the number of exams she has left, feeling the shivering promise of time passing on her very skin. She can see to the end of the long, dark tunnel now: the delightful hollowness of summer afternoons, the wonder of falling asleep at night without a thousand anxieties dancing around on her pillow. She sees, too, the plane she will board in the fall—the one that will carry her far away from here.

She sits at her desk, notecards stacked perilously high around her. Her phone buzzes; she checks it. Her head pounds.

“You aren’t playing that game, are you?”

Her mother’s voice from the doorway is harsh and she jumps, upsetting a pile of papers covered in nearly incomprehensible scrawl. She feels tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snaps, throwing her phone onto her unmade bed.

“Just checking,” her mother says stiffly. She buries her head in her arms.

I wish they could see me now, she thinks wildly. Her room is a mess; there are dark circles under her eyes; she hasn’t brushed her hair. This house is a pressure cooker: the looming stacks of notes, and her mother’s stern voice, and the calendar of exams taped above her desk. She can’t see straight anymore.

It is a sense of control, she thinks, that she needs. Here, she has none at all: every moment of her day is monitored, every ounce of her energy expended to prepare for these tests that feel meaningless—that will earn her numbers on a page and a ticket out of her hometown.

But in the other universe, she is strong, and she is confident. Perhaps most important of all: she is cherished.

And they are cherished, she thinks; she wishes she could tell them as much.

Do you know? she thinks at them—hard as she can, heart racing, knowing it is foolish (wanting to believe, anyway). Do you know how much you mean to me?

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eight

When Jihyun wakes in the small, sterile room, the moon has risen, and the first thing he thinks of is her face.

In his mind’s eye, he pictures her as he saw her last: slipping from the room with a determined smile, waving as if to reassure him that he’d see her soon. Groggily, he tries to think: this was hours ago, of course, and it must be evening now. His body feels heavy; he tries to open his eyes, and finds that he can’t.

He lifts a hand to his face, feeling like he’s moving through thick liquid. Ah: there is a bandage over his eyes. He can feel it now: stiff and scratchy against his closed eyelids. 

From somewhere in the room (which he can no longer picture clearly), he hears a quiet voice.

“V? Are you awake?

It’s her—and he is somewhat surprised by the way his heart races. He didn’t expect her to wait with him this whole time—he didn’t realize that she was nearby.

“I’m awake,” he says—and his voice sounds strange to him, like it’s coming from someone else. He hears a rustling—someone is moving closer to the bed. Oh, and he catches a whiff of her scent; he’s never been able to quite place it, but it is absolutely intoxicating: like a garden he walked through once, long ago—or perhaps a flower that only grows in another world.

“I’m going to call the nurse,” she says. She is so close that he can feel her breath on his face. He reaches out—catches her hand.

“Wait just a moment?” he asks. He wonders if she can hear his heart.

How strange, he thinks. He is barely awake, and yet his heart is racing as though he’s just run a hundred miles.

“They said it went really well,” she says. He doesn’t miss the anxiety in her voice; he wonders how many hours she’s been here, watching him sleep. 

“You didn’t have to wait with me,” he says. 

“Of course I did.”

Jihyun realizes that he is still holding her hand. His head feels so foggy from the medicine that made him sleep, but his body is waking up now, and he’s painfully conscious of how small her hand is in his—tiny and almost unbearably tender. He wishes he could kiss every one of her sweet fingertips; he wishes he could see her face.

“Thank you,” he says. He means thank you for staying here with me—here in this room that smells strongly of disinfectant—but he means so much more than that, too. She sighs in the way he’s often heard her sigh: like she wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. He wouldn’t mind if she did.

“How do you feel?” she asks instead. She’s being careful, tiptoeing around him; he’s not sure how to tell her that she doesn’t need to.

“A little tired,” he admits. “But otherwise I feel well.” He hesitates. “Better than usual, actually.”

She laughs quietly; he feels he might do anything—anything in the world—just to hear that laugh again.

“You’re so strong,” she tells him, squeezing his hand. She is the one who is strong, he thinks. 

There’s a noise in the distance: a gentle knock on the door. The doctor is coming back, he supposes; suddenly, he feels not at all strong. He holds her hand tighter—finds that he doesn’t want her to go.

“Will you wait for me?” he asks, despising the way his voice sounds. He does not sound like a man who is worthy of her attention—he knows he is not a man who deserves to be waited for.

But she holds his hand to her cheek, and her skin is so warm. Jihyun wonders if she understands what he is really asking: not stay with me now but wait until I become someone who can love you the way you deserve.

“Of course I’ll wait for you,” she says. She speaks slowly: each word seems to hold enormous weight.

She knows, he thinks, exactly what he means.

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nine

Hand-in-hand, they look up at the sky.

Saeran sees the endless expanse of freedom extending in all directions around him, and feels that she is the very center of it all.

“Are you nervous?” she asks. He laughs; just moments before, he had felt that way—when he was typing (fingers aching as they fell into their habitual pattern of worrying over the keys—eyes burning and throat itching as he tried to breathe the cabin’s stale air). But now that he is outside—and she is standing beside him—he feels that he has the power to do anything: to run till his feet give out; to see his brother again; to build a life for himself.

“Not anymore,” he says. She moves closer, her arm brushing against his, and he turns to press his lips to her hairline. She squirms at his side, making a delightful sort of purring sound; Saeran feels that he could hold onto her from now until forever and it wouldn’t be enough.

He breathes in the mountain air: it smells like pine and grass and wind. He’s never felt like this before—like he is as strong as the earth itself.

“I’m happy,” she tells him. He feels her eyes on him and turns; oh, and she’s more beautiful than the sky, he thinks, brighter and more expansive than any fantasy his fevered mind could have dreamed up.

“What are you happy about?” he asks. She takes his other hand; he wonders if she knows that he wants to scoop up the whole world in his arms and lay it at her feet.

“I’m happy you’re here with me,” she tells him. “I’m happy that you’re free. I’m happy that you’re smiling the way you are right now.”

He is smiling, he realizes; he feels almost as if he could levitate off the ground. As if he could become the wind. As if he could cross into another universe to hold onto her heart.

“I love you,” he tells her, because it’s all he can think about. She catapults herself into his arms and he laughs, holding her close.

“I love you so much,” she says. “I just want…”

He knows. He brushes through her hair with his fingers, thrilled by the way she sighs as she snuggles closer. This is it, he thinks: the feeling of freefall that he has been seeking (and running from) all his life. The rhythm of her breathing against his chest ties him to the earth; he feels an absolute certainty in the sublime power of the universe. 

Over her head, he looks at the sky. The clouds whisper to him: she’s here, they seem to say. She is. She is.

Her body feels so solid in his arms, so real; and her love for him shimmers in the air all around him.

“Thank you,” Saeran whispers into her soft, sweet skin, “for being under the same sky.”

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ten

Summer comes.

She finishes her tests—bids goodbye to her friends and family—is startled by how much she cries.

She boards the plane with her ticket crushed in her sweaty hand. She sits by the window, palm against the glass, staring hard into the clouds.

In the distance, she can see the city she’s leaving behind: the buildings blur into the mist, and she is crying again. For years, she’s waited to run away from this place—now, it feels so strange to be leaving it behind. She pictures her room in her old house: the books stacked in neat piles now, the clothes laundered and folded into her suitcase, the bed made. She wishes she could pull out her phone and open the door to the other world—the one that’s offered her greater clarity than anything she’s ever felt in her own.

But she can’t, of course—not here. And at the end of this long plane ride will be another airport—and a car ride—and then the university she worked so hard to get into: the promise of a future that’s shimmering and full.

She holds her phone—powered off—in both hands. Here in the sky, she feels she could be in any world at all: her past, or her future, or their world, which still shines in her heart (perhaps brightest of all).

I’m okay, she thinks—and she knows that she is. She has confidence in the future she’s building for herself—in the person she’s becoming—in her own little corner of the universe.

She hopes that they know this. Their world feels both far away and wonderfully, impossibly close: inside her and all around her. She hopes that they are okay, too; that they are eating; that they are taking care.

Oh, she thinks—realizes, in a moment of sky blue clarity. I’m not going back.

She is moving on—as she always knew she would. And they knew too, of course. They must have.

But…

I love you, she thinks—thinks it hard, phone in her hands, face pressed against the window, eyes reflecting the faces she thinks she sees in the clouds. I love you all.

From her universe to theirs—connected only by lines of code and fervent feelings and a wish made on a falling star—she hopes (wishes, prays) that her message reaches them.

The clouds shift: love, love, love, they seem to say. The plane carries her higher. The sky stretches around her in all directions: infinite. Expanding.

They feel her.

She knows it.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

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[thefirstamazonalexa]

𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑹𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑻𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 : Tsukishima Kei

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 : slight cussing, angst

The rain poured down on the roof of the gym making hard clanks as the grey clouds filled the sky. Feeling the humid and cold breeze brush through my hair I took a deep breathe taking in the smell of the rain. Walking inside the gym, I found the familiar figures of the karasuno boys practicing. “Hey I’m sorry to ask you for so much help” kiyoko came up to me giving me an apologetic look. I shook my head giving her a warm smile’ “no worries! I don’t mind.” She smiled back in return gaining the attention from both Tanaka and Nishinoya. I had always found myself trying to help the manager and the volleyball team in any way. After all being Tsukishima’s girlfriend, it felt like I would bother them if all I did was watch or awe at Tsukishima and his blocks. I was happy to help and the team seemed to be warming up to me over time. I was finally starting to feel like a regular rather than some outsider. It was a warm feeling until I caught Tsukishima’s glare. I know he wasn’t necessarily happy about my being here but we never spent much time together and this was the only way to somehow be with him more. “ you can go home now” turning around to see the face of the cold voice Tsukishima glared piercing through me. Tanaka chimed in, “Hey Tsukishima! What the hell are you saying to your GIRLFRIEND” Hinata was seen behind him agreeing with Tanaka’s words. Tsukishima just gave them a glare that made Tanaka more pissed and Hinata shiver. To try and calm down the tense atmosphere I smiled, “guys calm down now, Tsuki was just being worried about me since it’s raining outside.” Once the words came out of my mouth it was too late. Tsukishima’s anger was felt by everyone as he looked at me. I flinched realizing my own words and he began to speak in a calm tone’ “y/n, never call me that again.” I looked down embarrassed that his team was here to witness this moment and hurt that he would be so offended by things that should warm his heart. My throat hurt and I felt like crying and yelling at him at the same time. “Hey-“ Daichi was about to tell Tsukishima off when I looked up with a smile “sorry about that Tsukishima, actually I do have a decent amount of homework so I’ll head home now.” I grabbed my bag as quickly as possible trying to get out of the gym that seemed to be strangling me.

Leaving the school I began to run in the rain, as if I was trying to run away from all the issues we had. We had been going out for 8 months now and yet there was only once when we held hands, he would never let me hug him, and I had yet to meet his family. All these things created a big pile of issues that I so desperately was trying to avoid. The fact that he had never once said he loved me, the fact that the rare times he would touch me it never felt like love. Were we even in love? Was there ever love in our relationship? Tears that blended with the rain began to fall from my eyes as I ran in any direction I could. The rain only worsened and my shoes could no longer run in the water. Losing my balance after sliding on a big puddle of rain I fell. I sat there looking at nothing in particular lost in thought as the cold rain continued to numb my skin. How did it turn out like this? This wasn’t what I wanted. Suddenly everything I had shoved away with a smile began to come to surface. All the glares and cold comments, pushing my hand away from his. It all came in a loud sob. I didn’t know what to do. If I went home I would be bombarded with questions and have to explain what happened. I couldn’t go back to the gym since I still have yet to figure out how to face him. I decided on calling my friend “hey can I stay at your place? It’s been....” my voice cracked as I suppressed the urge to remember the hurt I was feeling “pretty sucky” texting my parents that I wouldn’t be home tonight, I made my way to my friends house. She was sweet and didn’t ask any questions except if I was okay and if I wanted to talk about it. The way she looked at me told me she was dying to know but I couldn’t. I could barely handle letting myself feel the emotions from the issues that came from me and Tsukishima’s relationship.

The weekend passed by in a flash and we were at school. Walking into class I felt myself growing more nervous of what he would say. Tsukishima and Tadashi talked as Tsukishima walked up to my desk “wow don’t you look great today” he smirked making a snarky comment. I froze. So what? Was he going to act like nothing had happened? Or maybe he felt like it was nothing worth remembering. I felt the heat rise in my body and my eyebrows furrow. I didn’t spare him a glance and grabbed out my textbooks. It must have surprised him when he stood there speechless for a minute. Tadashi was seen wearing a worried look on his face from me to Tsukishima then me again. “Hey what’s wrong with you?” Oh this set me off. I slammed my textbook down looking up at him with a glare “I’ll leave that to you to figure out which of the shitty things you’ve done to me pissed me off the most” I then grabbed a pencil from my bag and continued to ignore his presence. Before he could say anything the bell rang and he was forced to return to his seat.

While I didn’t feel like going anywhere near the gym after the last incident, I promised Kiyoko I would help her. Walking in, I made a smile in hopes to try and make the atmosphere lighter. Everyone seemed to be normal except for the fact that Tsukishima never took his eyes off me from the second I walked in. I was setting the chairs up when I heard his familiar voice “seriously y/n. I need you to tell me what I did otherwise I’ll never know” I laughed at his oblivious comment “what you did? You wanna know what you did? You treat me like I’m a bother all the time, embarrass me in front of your teammates and get upset any time I try to touch you or call you by any sort of nickname.” His honey eyes widened at my outburst. The whole gym went silent and everyone was staring at us. At this point I felt my care fading away. I had so desperately tried to keep it together. The facade that I was ok. That we were ok. It was slowly breaking. “Y/n I-“ “Save it Tsukishima. I don’t want to hear your excuses or fake apologies. If you couldn’t tell how much you hurt me or how much I cared-“ I felt myself growing numb as I continued to speak, “then maybe you don’t deserve me at all” perhaps this was the moment that Tsukishima had finally realized things were done. Any inkling of love had now turned into sadness and regret. Did he regret it? Maybe he was relieved I was the first one to do it. I’ll never know but one thing I did know for sure was the look of despair he was wearing as I walked out of the gym for the last time.