#mad dog oneshot

[13a07s]

Nail Appointment

(Kentaro Kyotani)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to 27kira_dax27]

Requested by: Myself :)

Word Count: 3,570

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

I know it's common that people think Mad Dog is a distance lover but I disagree. I think he'd be a clingy, 'always proving what's his' kind of lover

Choking

Biting

Hickeys

Kentaro having no PDA shame

Mentions of Social Anxiety

This is not a Oikawa hate account; love the man, he's just an ass in this fic, okay? :,(

———————————————————————

"Puppy?" I mutter, my focus on my nails. My polish chipped at some point today, leaving a gap in the honey-colored paint I got to match my boyfriend's eyes.

Instantly, Kentaro is behind me, his chest to my back and his hand around my throat. The rings decorating his ring and pointer fingers are pressed into the skin of my neck, gentle enough to indent the flesh but light enough not to leave a bruise. "Don't call me that," he grumbles, tone harsh but his head dipping down to be closer to my voice. "What do you want?"

"Kyotani!" My pup's teammate - Yahaba - yells with a stern look on his face. "You shouldn't grab at your partner like that. Would it kill you to act like a gentleman?" Kentaro ignored his teammate, a soft growl and a tightening of his hand around my throat as he rolls his eyes.

"My nails are chipped," I mutter, his attention instantly on my hands.

His free hand jumps up, gripping my fingers. Kentaro holds it up to his eyes, forcing my fingers to spread wide as he looks over my nails. "You're expensive. Stop being such a goddamn klutz," he groans, rubbing at the chipped nail.

That sends Yahaba into another lecture, chewing my boyfriend's ear off about lacking respect for me and talking down to me in 'such a degrading manner'.

Again, Kentaro ignores him, dropping my hand to tug his phone out of his pocket. His thumb rubs up and down my neck, his fingers routinely flexing against my skin as he taps away at his phone. "Shut up, Yahaba. Your voice is obnoxious," he finally grumbles, showing me the screen of his phone.

As I look over the screen, the two second-years bicker back and forth. Kentaro scheduled me a nail appointment for after school; four-thirty to be exact. It's Monday, which means it's an off day from practice, so he'll probably come with. Usually, he takes me to get my nails done on Fridays; his other off day of the week.

The fact that he just paid three days ago to get done is what he's mostly irritated about. Maybe I'll be able to convince him to let me pay for the redo. "Hey, Puppy?" Instantly, his attention is on me again, dropping the fight he's in the middle of. He lets out a grunt, squeezing my throat in acknowledgment. "I'll pay for my appointment."

Kentaro lets out a grunted laugh, all five fingertips rubbing against my throat now. "Over my dead body. I pay for your nails, end of discussion."

"Kyotani!" Yahaba yelps again, face reddening the longer the bickering goes on. "Stop being so rude to your partner. You're such an ass. You deserve better, you know that?" He asks, focusing on me as he rambles on about my boyfriend's 'lack' of softness.

"Ken-Chan is perfect." The nickname gets me a huff, a turned-up nose, and a tighter grip from Kentaro.

"Disgusting," he grumbles, his hand finally falling away from my neck. It lands on my shoulder, gripping me as his head lowers. "Have you eaten?" He husks out lowly, his grip tightening on me. I shake my head no, a low grumble filling my ear after I answer. "Did you eat breakfast?" Another head shake and disapproving growl. "Dumbass, no wonder your stomach has been upset all day."

I'm let go, my little bulldog storming away to find me some food as he grumbles about my lack of eating. Yahaba shoots after him, another lecture warming up as he trudges after my boyfriend.

I'm not left alone for long, not that I'm really alone. Kentaro's teammates are littered around the lunch table, a few of their partners mixed in as well. "Less Mad Dog-Chan!" His captain's voice rings out, pulling my attention away from my phone. The playboy is beaming in front of me, his favorite fangirl of the day wrapped around his arm. "Where's the Og Mad Dog at?"

"Probably sticking his foot up your ass," I mutter, sending the captain a strained smile. I don't have a problem with anyone that has an issue with my boyfriend. He comes off as mean, has a bad attitude, and can be quite intimidating, so I get why most people don't get along with him or have bad vibes around him. Despite that, I can't help that I don't click with Oikawa. He annoys me. His ego, his player vibes, his cockiness, his ego again; I just can't overlook how he acts.

"Oh La La, you little poodle. You got teeth too, don't you?"

"Ya, and she uses them on my neck every night," Kentaro growls from behind me, the suddenness breaking my defiance instantly. I can be a hard ass now and again, but he's a hard ass ninety percent of the time. "Jealous much?" He grumbles, his hand back around my throat, squeezing it enough to cut off a bit of my airway.

"Knock it off," Kentaro's ace and arch-rival butts in, smacking the captain upside his head. "You knock it off too," the older boy adds, shooting my pup a glare.

Kentaro grumbles, head bowing down again to nibble on my neck, his teeth sliding against the skin right above his fingers. "Dumb shitty-kawa. Sizing up my baby, calling you a damn poodle, dumb ass little," he cuts off his ramble with a soft growl, snipping at my skin a little harsher.

"Ken-Chan," I whisper, tugging my head away from his teeth.

He grumbles a sorry, his tongue quickly lapping at the sore spot before he jerks away from me; no more teeth and no more fingers pressed into my neck. "I got you a salad - don't start bitching," Kentaro cuts himself off, ending my pouting fit before I can start it. "I got you a chocolate bar and one of those stupid cold coffee things you drink."

The food is laid in front of me, my pissy boyfriend sitting sideways on the bench as he continues to simmer over his fights with Oikawa and Yahaba. Reluctantly, Kentaro rests his head on my shoulder, shooting glares toward his captain.

I pop the salad open, working on opening my utensils and mixing the contents and sauce of the salad. Every few bites, I hold a fork full toward him. Kentaro grumbles during everyone, insisting he 'doesn't need that rabbit food' but eats every bite I offer.

Slowly, his simmering ends, my pup loosening a bit as things settle down. When Kentaro is finally settled, his head shifts, chin on my shoulder so he can stare at my profile. His arms stretch out, one in front of me and the other one behind my back. His joints pop and crack as he stretches, the front arm resting across my hips as the back one toys with my skirt, fingertips balling up the material of my waistband so he can cling to me.

He uses the hold on my skirt to pull me closer, the leg closest to him being shifted onto his lap. Kentaro's mouth is attached to my neck again, a bit of teasing rising but quickly shot down by a glare. He sucks gently, his canines sliding against my skin now and again as he enjoys himself.

I swear my boyfriend has an oral fixation, the hickeys coating my thighs, chest, and stomach being proof of that. If Kentaro wasn't worried about ruining my perfect school record, I'm sure my neck would be littered in proof of his mouth too. "Talk," he orders, snipping at my neck again, careful not to nick me like he did before.

"I think I'm going to do teal for my - "

"No."

"- I suppose I can do the honey color again. Maybe I'll get yellow with black stripes on my ring fingers to match your hair," I ramble, doing what my boyfriend wants. Kentaro isn't much of a talker but he enjoys listening, so our conversations are usually me talking nonstop with him offering grunts or short answers in response.

He happily settles back to gently sucking and nibbling on my skin, one hand clinging to my skirt tighter as the other one starts toying with my waistband. Clingy, moody, pooch of mine.

————————————

A long huff is pushed out of Kentaro's nose as he holds the salon door open for me. A salon isn't his place, my edgy boyfriend standing out like a sore thumb surrounded by so many women, the soft music, and the pastel pink vibe of the place.

Despite the space unofficially being a 'women only' place and relatively safe, he's still attached to me. His hand is loosely settled on my stomach, opening me up to be enveloped by the rest of him, head on a spiral, and his usual resting bitch face present.

"Welcome... in," the receptionist greets, starting cheery but the tone quickly falls when her eyes slide over to Kentaro.

Her eyes jump around my boyfriend, taking in the piercings littered across his eyebrow, his nose, and the dozen or so punched into his ears. She doesn't know - I sure do - about his tongue being pierced too. Outside of school and volleyball, Kentaro is always decked out in black and gold. Gold piercings, gold rings, and his gold chain necklace.

The jewelry paired with his eyeliner, his full black outfit of a hoodie and ripped jeans, his perfectly polished combat boots, and the dyed blonde hair give off an irking vibe. One that is making the receptionist nervous.

Instinctually my hand shifts backward, fingertips wrapping around the chains hanging out of his pocket, one keeping his wallet clipped to his pants and the others being his 'edgy' jean chains. His hand slides off my hip, wrapping up in the chains so his fingertips can rub against mine.

"We have a four-thirty nail appointment. It should be under Kyotani," he grumbles, jerking me closer to his body. Despite his hardness, Kentaro is pretty good at calming down my social anxiety.

"Um... the... the appointment is for... one person?"

"Ya," he grumbles, bitch face shifting into more of a 'you're dumb' expression.

"You should get your nails done with me," I murmur, yanking on the chains as I turn my head up to look at him.

"I'm not doing that pussy shit," he rumbles, flicking his eyes at me before settling on the receptionist.

"Please?" I try pushing, adding a hint of a whine to my tone. "We could get matching nails. You could do black with yellow strips. It would be cute."

"No."

"Pretty please?" I repeat, adding more of a whine to my voice. I drop the chains from my hold, my arms wrapping around his neck to tug him closer to me. A growly sigh rumbles in Kentaro's throat, a pissy look stamped on his face as one of his eyes twitches. "For me? Please?"

He jerks a bit, standing up straight but leaving my arms wrapped around his neck. "Could I change the appointment to a double manicure?" He mumbles, gently dragging me forward so we're closer to the desk.

"Sure," the receptionist peeps out, clicking at the computer for a few moments. "It'll be a few moments until we can take you back," she whispers, tone super soft as she motions towards the waiting chairs.

I'm jerked in the direction of the chairs, Kentaro dragging me toward the waiting area. He settles into a chair, full man spread going on as he tugs me backward. I'm left between his legs, sitting in his lap with the wallet and phone in his pockets being pressed into my ass. He has no shame, hands shoved under my shirt and rubbing just above the waistband of my pants.

It doesn't take long until his mouth is attached to my throat, sucking just below the start of my jaw. His fingers jab into one of the hickeys poking out above my waistband, small waves of numbing pain aching from the force. My nerves are on edge, glances and judgmental looks being aimed our way. All of which are shot back a glare from Kentaro.

"Mr and Ms Kyotani?" A voice calls after a few minutes, another long huffy sigh flowing from my boyfriend.

He stands up, pushing me out of his lap as his hands push on my stomach, stopping me from any possibility of falling over. "That's us," I chirp, waving at the masked lady as I try shoving down my anxiety and the soft buzz of being referred to by my boyfriend's last name.

The lady nods, motioning us forward. Kentaro leads me, his arms tightening on me when we pass a male nail tech. He shoots the uninterested man a glare too, as jealous as ever. "Damn jerk, can't keep his eyes to himself," he grumbles, nipping at my earlobe.

"Maybe he's just staring because you're trying to crawl into my skin," I coo, trying to loosen his hold on me. Kentaro gives in, letting his arms hang loose on me as we finish the walk.

"One here, one here," the lady orders, tapping the spot in front of her and then the spot in front of the nail tech next to hers. We settle into our chairs, my hands instantly jumping up to lie on the small table. Kentaro's eyes flicked toward me before he repeats the action. "What are we doing to your nails today?" The lady asks, settling into her chair before she snatches my hands, looking them over.

"I want them a sort of pale yellow, as close to his hair color as possible," I start explaining, nodding toward Kentaro. "Then two horizontal black lines on both my ring fingers. He wants black with the same ring design but in the yellow of my nails," I finish explaining, turning toward his nail tech to fill her in on his request. Both ladies nod, leaving us long enough to fetch the colors I asked for and whatever else they need.

"This is dumb. I'm going to get so much shit from the team," Kentaro bitches, slouching in his chair with his hands still pressed flat to the table.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to. It's fine, puppy," I hum, shrugging my shoulders. It would make me a bit sad if he bowed out now after agreeing to get his nails done with me, but I want Kentaro to be happy. Bickering and teasing from his teammates over his nails being painted won't make him happy.

"It's not fine," he barks, glancing around when heads shoot our way. "You asked me to do it so I'm going to do it," he grumbles, tone a lot softer this time. "And stop calling me that."

"Would you prefer asshole?" I tease, a smile crawling on my face.

"Don't call me that either," he pouts, slouching in his chair more with his arms crossed over his chest. "Puppy is fine," he grumbles, sparing me a glance as he keeps up his half pissy half pity party act. "I can't believe I'm doing this dumb shit."

"Then don't do it."

"I already told you I'm doing it," he barks again, his tone still a lot softer than before but as bitchy as ever. "I have a gross want to make you happy. If making you happy looks like dumb cheesy ass matchy girl nails then that's what I'll do."

"It will make me happy."

"Good," he grunts, some of the tension in his body loosening at the knowledge that his actions are bringing me joy. The tension isn't gone for long, the tightness of his shoulders reappearing when the nail techs make their way back to us. "This is so dumb," Kentaro mutters, straightening up and placing his hands on the counter again.

"Thank you," I murmur, sending him a soft smile. He sends me a grunt in response, a twitch of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

————————————

I'm in a bad mood as soon as my baby's classroom door closes behind me. I hate school, I hate Tuesdays, I hate my teacher, I hate not being in my baby's class, I hate having to wait for break to see my baby again, and I hate that Yahaba and Shitty-kawa are waiting for me in the hallway.

"So, it seems our Mad Dog went to the groomers yesterday," the team's captain teases, his phone waving around in his hand. He has my baby's Snapchat pulled up; more specifically the annoying finger heart picture she had me take with her after our nails were done.

Maybe it's not that annoying. It was un-annoying enough that I saved it and set it as my new lock screen. Okay... maybe I didn't find it annoying at all. Maybe I didn't even find the nail appointment annoying. Maybe the nail appointment was so un-annoying that a tiny, teeny piece of me wants her to ask me to get matching nails next week too.

Oikawa on the other hand is the most annoying thing in the world. But, I don't see Iwaizumi anywhere so maybe the situation isn't all that bad. "So what if I did? Pissed off you don't have a girl to get your nails done with?"

"Oh, Mad Dog-Chan, your naiveness is adorable. I could ask any girl in the school to go get her nails done with me and she would," he gushes, a mix of condescending and fake sweetness lacing his words.

"Really?" I ask, a grin crawling on my face. I have him beat out on this one and I don't even have to get physical. My baby is going to be proud of me for handling my obnoxious captain 'maturely' instead of 'physically' this time.

"You know it, Kyo-Chan," he chirps, a mirrored grin on his face.

I let out a "hmph" stepping backward to push the door to the classroom I just left open. "Hey, baby?" I call, turning sideways so I can see her. My baby's head perks up, full attention on me instead of getting her supplies out for her first class of the day. "Do you want to go get your nails done with Oikawa?"

Her nose curls up instantly, eyebrows pushed together in a 'are you fucking serious' sort of expression. "Ew, no, gross," her answer spills out, covering some of the mixed excitement and jealous chitter chatter of Oikawa's fangirls.

"I didn't think so," I mutter, stepping forward again and letting the door swing shut behind me. "I guess you won't get a yes from 'any girl in the school'," I taunt, sending the cocky setter another snug smirk before I start walking away. Yahaba quickly joins next to me, muffling his laughter.

"Your nail polish looks streaky. Maybe stop being a cheapskate and go to a better nail tech," Captain yells after us, a bit of huffiness in his tone.

"A cheapskate doesn't spend sixty dollars at a nail salon, dumbass, they just do it themselves," I yell over my shoulder, flipping him a perfectly black painted bird.

That makes Yahaba's laughter spill over, filling the hallway with the joy-filled sound. It wasn't that funny but I do have to admit, I like proving Shitty-kawa wrong. "I swear," he pushes out between chuckles, "the captain and you could fight over what color the sky is. You just don't know when to walk away from a fight, do you?"

"No, I don't, especially when he wants to be an ass about something I did with my baby. It made her happy, why the fuck does he have a stick up his ass about it?" I grumble, shoving my hands into my pockets. Once I noticed what I did, I tug them back out, not wanting to hide the matchy girly shit I did for my Baby.

"Maybe he just likes getting a reaction out for you. Have you ever thought of that?" Yahaba asks, his laughter done but a smile still on his face.

I shrug my shoulders, Oikawa's teasing still rattling around my head. I have thought about it, I know he only does and says shit to get under my skin, and I know I fall for it every time, but it's his fault. He pushes every button possible until I snap. Pressing a button about my Baby instantly makes me snap, so that's on Shitty-kawa, not me.

"He just needs to leave shit alone. So, what? I went to a nail appointment with my baby. It doesn't affect his life any, so he should just leave it alone." Yahaba shrugs, his smile growing on his face. I don't know why he's so giddy about my Baby and me. It was one dumb nail appointment, who gives a shit?

Me. I give a shit, because she spent the whole afternoon smiling, because her eyes were glued to our hands anytime they were wrapped together, because it made her happy, and that's what I live for. To see her smile, to make her happy, to her hear scream my name after a successful spike. It's almost gross, but I can't help the calm feeling that washes over me when I remember how damn smiley she was when she first saw our matching nails. Next week I'll have to remember to schedule a two-person nail appointment.

[amethystina]

i hope youre doing well 💗i will always support you, regarding your recent post whtd helped me through probably the most trying time of my life and was one of the only things that bought me happiness at one point so im really grateful for you writing it and bringing it to life :) thank you so much. I’ve been rewatching tdj and in ep1, theres a schene where yohan is comforting a victim; he yawns and then his eyes start watering. I was wondering, do you think it was for show like gaon did, and he yawned to stimulate tears, or do you think it was genuine as he won the first case, making him a step closer to avenging isaac and isaacs look alike was standing there the whole time?

Id love to heard your insight and im so excited for chapter 42 thank uu ^^

I'm so glad that I could bring you happiness and help you through a difficult time 💜 I never set out to do that with Who Holds the Devil but, from what I've heard, it's become a source of joy and stability for a lot of people. Which is honestly amazing.

And, knowing that, I'm so happy that I started posting it when I did. Usually, I will try to finish a fanfic before I post it but Who Holds the Devil became one of the exceptions because I was afraid that if I didn't start posting, I would never do it (because I was so scared of fucking up) or, alternatively, never finish it. And it's kind of dizzying to think what would have happened (or hadn't happened, I guess?) if I hadn't done that.

So yeah. One of the best choices I've made, clearly, considering where it took us all xD

As for your question, I think that it's all fake on Yo Han's part. It's true that it's the first trial towards avenging Isaac, but even if that's big, I don't think it would be enough to make Yo Han genuinely cry? Not to mention that there are still so many steps left and he's probably already focused on the next one.

To me, it looks like Yo Han was faking compassion towards the crying woman. As she's telling her story, they make a lot of eye contact so it makes sense that Yo Han would go: "A normal person would cry now" and start faking his eyes getting watery. Because they're already shiny from tears before he embraces her. And then, as he's hugging her, he yawns — because he's not actually that invested — and a tear just happens to fall.

So, in some ways, I guess the tear itself wasn't planned and just more of a side effect of him trying to appear compassionate towards one of the people he's trying to trick? He needs to sell himself as the people's judge so, naturally, he needs to be seen caring for them. But the moment the woman wasn't looking at him anymore, he yawns. The tears he faked remain, though, and, eventually, they'll spill over like tears tend to do.

And then Yo Han realises that Ga On is watching and, because Yo Han is an asshole, he looks all smug and challenging. So the initial show was for the woman but Yo Han seized the opportunity to unnerve Ga On, too, for... idk, shits and giggles? xD

That's what I think! :D

And chapter 42 is up now! I hope you enjoy it 💜

[merakicharm]

(Takes place after the attack on Mr Choi Gang-u by Lee Yeong Ho in place of Kim Min Joon in episode 16)

"But why did Lee Yeong Ho have Ko Jin Cheol's cellphone with him in the first place?" Ha-ri wondered aloud.

"I think... he was planning on finishing me and turning himself in, saying Joo Hyeongi instigated him to do it" Kim Min Joon rose from his seat with a sombre expression.

Ha-ri's heart stuttered at that.

"Is he insane?" she thundered, springing up from her own chair, startling, Nu-ri, Cheetah and Kim Min Joon himself. "Is he so loyal to Chairman Cha?? Even if that man tells him to kill himself he'll do that also? Arghhh!! This is so annoying!"

The three men around her looked at each other and then back at her. Kim Min Joon cleared his throat, and Nu-ri and Cheetahsshi gave each other sly glances. But Ha-ri was too worked up to notice either of them. Striding forward with clenched fists, she threw a punch at the wall, scrunching her eyes shut and expecting the grating pain and ready to welcome it. Pain could distract her from this crazy guy and his even more crazy plans. And perhaps the rush of some other emotions she felt too.

But the hit didn't cause even the remotest feeling of pain. Instead, she felt something soft around her hand. Opening her eyes, she found her fist trapped within Kim Min Joon's larger gentler hand. Cheetahsshi and Nu-ri were staring at the sight with barely suppressed grins.

"That's enough Ha-ri-ssi. I thought I told you not to hurt yourself?" Kim Min Joon was staring into her eyes, eyebrows quirked. She scowled at him. "Yahh! Let go of my hand!"

"Not unless you promise me you won't hurt yourself again"

She scowled even more harshly at that, trying to stare him down. He stared right back at her, unflinching. It was probably when they exceeded more than a minute of staring at each other that Cheetahssi spoke up.

"Uhhh Pentium-ssi, I am exhausted after all that action and drama. I think I'll crash. What about you, Pentium-ssi?"

"Ahh, yes yes, me too. Cheetahsshi, I think I'll sleep too. It's been a long day for me. Not resting won't do my wounds any good either"

In her peripheral vision, she saw them slinking out of the room, quiet and subtle. But really, she was more focused on the man in front of her than the two leaving.

In a very low voice that oozed threat and danger, she enunciated each word.

"Kim Min Joon. Let go of my hand. Right now."

Kim Min Joon simply stared down at her. And that infuriated her too. He was so tall and handsome with lips that looked so kissable and eyes which held so many promises. They were staring at her right now. Ha-ri saw love and worry in them. His eyes were always worried when they found her in a tough or vulnerable position.

Finally relenting, "It won't hurt me all that much", she said in a softer tone. Kim Min Joon had not moved or spoken yet. He was eyeing her silently, hand still clasped within his. Ha-ri stepped closer and closer, watching him for any reaction. His eyes simply followed her. She came right up to him, the tip of her nose almost touching his chin.

"Min Joonah," she whispered.

He inhaled sharply at that.

Now that she was so near him, Ha-ri felt that undeniable urge to touch him, hug him, pat him, anything which allowed her to be ensured of his physical presence and most of all, safety.

Self control Ha-ri, self control. Self-control Ha-ri, self-control, self-control, self-control she chanted in her head.

"Min Joonah" she whispered even more softly if possible. Kim Min Joon gulped, bringing her attention to his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Some primal thirst in her flared and she ended up gulping herself. Kim Min Joon looked down at the movement and then raised his eyes to her eyes and then back down to her lips. He slowly loosened his grip on her hand, letting go altogether. Ha-ri rested her hand on his waist.

"Ha-ri"

There was warning in his voice.

"That sounds nicer" she observed.

"You like it when I call you by your name? Without any honorifics?" he questioned her.

"Ah ahh," Ha-ri gaped. She hadn't realised she was talking aloud. Pursing her lips, she stared mutely at him. A smirk was fast making its way onto his face.

"It's not like that! Yahh!"

"Ha-ri. Ha-ri. Ha-ri."

"Kim Min Joon!!" she huffed.

"Ha-ri. Ha-ri. Ha-ri. Ha-ri. Ha-"

Min Joon's chanting was abruptly brought to an end when Ha-ri with both her hands pulled at his collar, dragged him to her level and pressed her lips against his plush ones. For a few moments, there was really no response from Min Joon.

"Min Joonah, if you didn't like that, I am sorry" she apologized rapidly, stepping back and away from him. All along, she had thought this whole thing was mutual and for all his flirting, Min Joon was just as invested in them as she was. She didn't even know if the kiss had been the problem. Maybe he hadn't come around to trusting even her when it came too close to his liking. As ten thousand thousand and more thoughts rushed into her head, she felt Kim Min Joon's eyes on her. It made her feel sad and anxious now, after his blatant refusal of her.

Just as she was about to turn away, a pair of strong hands grabbed her waist and pulled her to Kim Min Joon. Startled, she stared up at him. He was breathing deeply, eyes fixed on her alone.

"Ha-ri"

The teasing was gone. In its place was barely concealed urgency.

"Min Joon?" she sounded unsure.

Hands still clutching her waist, he held her impossibly close to him. Bending down, he laid his forehead on hers.

"Ha-ri"

"Min Joon" she whispered back.

"Ha-ri" he raised his head and stared at her lips.

"Can I?" he stared into her eyes. She nodded. Very slowly, Min Joon closed the distance between them, until he was an inch away from her lips.

"Ha-ri-ah" he murmured and then they were kissing.

To be kissed by Kim Min Joon made her feel as if she was in the seventh heaven of delight. Fireworks went off and off in the back of her head. Ha-ri closed her eyes tightly, and grabbed at the hem of his shirt, fisting it hard. The way he did it so flawlessly, so perfectly irked her.

Am I not the first woman he's dated? she thought angrily to herself. The thought made her nip harshly at Min Joon's bottom lip, causing him to pull away and stare at her, confused.

"What's wrong?"

Apparently, her face practically announced that she was angry.

"Nothing" She was still clutching at his hem but looked away in embarrassment. One hand still on her hips, Kim Min Joon used his other hand to guide her face back to him

"Tell me what's wrong" Kim Min Joon's voice was soft and gentle. That made her even more embarrassed. She kept mum.

"Please?" he whined softly, palm flat against her cheek now.

"This was not your first time, was it?" she asked, somewhat petulantly.

Whatever Kim Min Joon had been expecting, this definitely had not been it.

"Huh?"

"What?" she shot back. Min Joon's eyes widened at her tone.

"Ok ok, I did have a girlfriend or two back in Germany, but never a serious relationship with any of them, alright? I didn't love them"

It was on the tip of Ha-ri's tongue to ask her whether they were pretty. Prettier than her. But Min Joon beat her to it.

"And before you even think about it, they were nowhere near as beautiful as you" he smiled at her

"As if!" she scoffed.

Min Joon laughed softly. That irritated Ha-ri. She lunged for his lips a second time, kissing him so fiercely he almost lost his balance and stumbled. Once again, she nipped at his lips.

Min Joon broke off laughing loud and like bells chiming.

"You really are a fierce lady Jang Hari-ssi!"

Ha-ri smiled an annoyed smile at him and then wrapped her arms around him, embracing him softly. His gentle arms wrapped around her slim built in a minute, pulling her closer. She rested her head against his chiselled chest, comforted and comfortable.

[fictionismyreality3]

Jealousy is my Best Friend (18+)

Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: Smut, jealous!jason todd, protective!jason todd, possessive!jason todd

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, penetrating sex, hair pulling, choking, spanking, sir kink

Notes: am I.. a whore? MaByE🤪 I would certainly let Jay do anything mentioned in this oneshot 🫣and OMG ANGry SeX

When you got invited to the Wayne Christmas Party you knew Jason would be livid.

It was almost a year since you’d been together and you grew to know him inside and out. Once you got past the edgy, broody and overly aggressive personality, he really was a sweet guy. But he got jealous.

Really jealous.

Since you had moved in with Jason a few months ago, you had gotten to see his more possessive side almost 24/7. He was rarely ever out of touching distance, always keeping a hand on you, especially if you had company over. The few times you met his brothers, he was practically acting like a viscous guard dog.

That’s why you knew he wouldn’t be happy that Bruce had invited you without him knowing. But, in defence of Gotham’s Dark Knight, everyone knew that Jason didn’t want you involved with his family.

So, obviously you accepted the invitation.

Yes, you knew he would be mad when he found out and when you insisted on going, but you wanted to be a part of all aspects of his life.

So, here you were. Standing in the living room of your apartment, all dressed up and ready to go, with Jason sitting fuming on the couch.

“You’re not going.” He murmured.

“Why? Do you know how bitchy I would seem I didn’t show up?” You said exasperated.

Jason ran a hand through his hair in frustration, letting out a long sigh as his eyes drifted up and down your outfit again.

“You’re not going in that.”

You were reaching the end of your rope. You had been arguing with Jason for the better part of half an hour and he hadn’t budged. The dress you had picked out for the party was one of the few times you let yourself splurge. You looked hot. You knew you looked hot and Jason knew it too. That’s why it was so impossible for him to sit with the fact that other men would be seeing you.

Jason’s eyes roamed your body again. The red fabric of the dress hugged your hips, making him want to reach out and grab you. His colour. He knew you chose that dress just to get him worked up and he loved how well it was working.

Not knowing who was going to be looking at you was utterly infuriating, even more so since he knew exactly what they would be thinking. A gorgeous girl like you? Fuck, if he wasn’t already with you he’d be eye fucking you along with the rest of them. Not that he wasn’t already.

“Are you even listening, Jay?”

Your voice broke him out of his lusting thoughts and he felt the sour pang of jealousy creep to the forefront of his mind once more.

“I’m not gonna waste this dress! Do you know how much I spent-”

“Shut… christ, shut your pretty little mouth and let me talk for one fucking second.” He growled.

Your mouth hung open, floundering for a second before it closed. Jason’s fists were clenching and unclenching. You watched that vein that only popped out when he was angry beginning to pulse with blood. His head was in his hands as he ran his hands through his hair.

With a predatory speed, his head raised and his gaze snapped to yours. His eyes pulsed green.

Before you could figure out what was happening he was striding across the room and pinning you against the wall, his hands on either side of your head.

“Jay, I didn’t-” You tried.

The rest of your pleading sentence was cut short as Jason’s hand slipped from the wall to wrap around your throat, squeezing slightly. He really wished you would just be quiet. Every time you opened your mouth he just wanted to fill it with something other than words.

“Do you know..” he inhaled sharply, “how fucking hard it is to let people seen even an inch of your skin?”

“I can-” You began to say, but Jason’s grip on your throat tightened and the words stopped at your lips.

“Stop. Talking.” His jaw ticked.

With a tortured sigh, he dipped his head down to the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin. He was utterly enraptured by you, and the thought of anyone else having you made his skin crawl.

“You’re not going to the party.” He said, his voice a little softer as he placed a gentle kiss to your neck.

“Jay, please. I need to meet your family.” You protested.

Your continued pleading was interrupted by your phone ringing where you had put it on the kitchen counter. Squinting your eyes, you just made out the caller ID. Dick Grayson. Thinking he could talk some sense into Jason, you used the distraction of the noise to break from his hold and run to the kitchen.

Grabbing the phone, you answered as quickly as you could. But, before you could get a word out, Jason snatched it right out of your hand.

“We’re not coming.” He said darkly, and hung up before Dick could say a word.

Okay, now you were fucked.

You took a step back and retreated all the way into the kitchen until the back of your legs hit the counter.

The taste of jealousy Jason had tried to push down was rearing its ugly head more than ever. Of all people, you were going to get his brother to help? He was fine when strangers tried something with you, he could always break a few arms. But his brother? Fuck no.

Jason prowled towards you. The sound of each step on the kitchen tile reverberated through your bones. He consumed your field of vision as he trapped you between him and the kitchen counter. You bit your lip, knowing better than to say anything. You knew that you had earned a rough punishment.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep a lid on his temper, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

He kissed your forehead.

“Knees.”

Your legs clenched together as a rush of heat flooded your core. The dark eyes of your boyfriend looked at you expectantly, and it was all you could do not to melt on the spot. Not wanting to earn a harsher punishment, you lowered yourself to the floor.

Jason’s eyes drifted to where your skin met the hard tile. He took off his suit jacket and bent down to put it underneath your knees. The only marks on your skin would be from him.

Your heart swooned at his actions. Even though he was gonna fuck you silly, he was still treating you like a princess.

“What should I do with you, huh?” His fingers found your chin and he tilted your head up to look at him.

Seeing those pretty doe eyes of yours staring up at him was almost enough to make him cum in his pants.

“Should I fuck your bratty mouth?” He said condescendingly sweet. Your head was swimming as your panties pooled with desire. You loved how he reduced you to a speechless mess with just a few words.

“Answer me, sweetheart.” He rasped.

“Yes, please Jay.” You whined.

Your begging was only met with a sharp tug of your hair, and you realized your mistake.

“Sir! Yes please, sir.” You corrected quickly.

That was more like it. Jason smiled down at you proudly, almost smug with the way you went from angry to eager for his cock. With torturously slow movements, he undid his belt and placed it on the counter beside him. He usually liked to please you first, but he was too riled up to go slow.

His hand came to hold your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he undid the zipper of his pants. Most of the times he made you take him out, but he didn’t want to look away from your pretty eyes.

Even if you wanted to move, you couldn’t with the way he was holding you. The head of his cock brushed against your lips, and he finally let go of your chin.

“Show me how sorry you are, baby.” He said lowly.

Your previous anger had evaporated into a haze of desire, and you greedily took him into your mouth, earning a deep groan from Jason. One of his hands threaded into your hair as it had done a hundred times before, and you twirled your tongue around the head of his cock.

The familiar heat of desire thrummed through your veins, and with each lick you felt your pussy dripping with arousal. Jason murmured praises under his breath, his quiet groans filling the room.

God, he loved your mouth.

So hot and wet. Perfectly skilled at drawing all sorts of noises he didn’t know he could make from his lips. And your hands were even better. As soon as you started to roll his balls in your hand, his head tipped back in ecstasy.

“Dirty girl.” He gasped out.

Seeing how much you affected him filled your heart with pride, but before you could make a bratty comment, he had both hands in your hair and was pushing his cock to the back of your mouth.

You gagged instinctively, and your hands shot out to his thighs, pushing weakly against him. You moaned around his cock, only making him press himself deeper in your mouth until your nose touched his pubic bone.

“Oh, fuck baby.. just a-” His cock pulsed, heavy in your mouth. “Just a little more.”

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes and your pussy clenched on nothing. God, he loved making you cry on his cock. He barely held back his orgasm as your little hands started to hit against his legs.

“Oh.. okay. Shit, princess you’re so.. whiny.” He mummers.

You try your best to take all of him down your throat, but he’s so big that it makes it hard to breathe. Wanting to please him seemed to be the only thought in your head as your core burned with the anticipation of the pleasure you would receive in return.

You sucked hard once, then twice, and had him gasping. Taking his cock from your mouth, he pulled you up from the floor.

“You want this cock so bad you have to be fucking brat?” He growled as he bent you over the counter top.

The cool air suddenly rushed across your skin as he ripped your dress off, throwing it to the floor without care. You were left bare apart from your bra and panties, which were red to match your dress.

“That was expensive..” You complained.

“I’ll buy you another one.” He said as he kept you pinned to the counter with a hand on your back.

And you knew he would.

He loved seeing you like this. Bent over, legs spread, your pussy dripping so much your panties already had a dark patch. Your red panties. His colour on his girl. He took a breath in through his nose, his hips jutting forwards and brushing against your clit.

“Jay-” A swift spank had your ass blooming with stinging pain.

“Sir! Sir, sir, sir.. M’sorry.. please, sir.. please.” You whined, repeating the title over and over again.

Jason got to his knees, pushing your legs apart, and pulled your panties down, throwing them with your discarded dress. His hands ran up and down your legs, the calloused skin of his palms making you shudder with impatience. Sensing your desperation, he decided to take mercy on you. You had been a good girl so far.

Without warning, he licked from your clit to leaking slit, moaning at the sweet taste his girl on his tongue. He could eat you for days and never need to come up for air.

��So needy..” He whispered, the air from his words brushing your clit and making you whine.

With one hand on the back of your thigh, and the other on your ass, he began to eat you from behind. His movements were aggressive like him, and he licked and sucked you without abandon. He had your hands flailing against the countertop, only to find nothing to hold on to.

He felt your thighs shaking where they were around his head, and pushed two fingers inside. You cried out in pleasure, your eyes squeezing shut as he curled his fingers to hit that perfect spot over and over and over and-

“Don’t you dare fucking cum.” He hissed, his words muffled by your cunt.

Strings of moans and high pitched mewls fell from your throat as Jason worked you up to the edge, only to pull his fingers out or take his tongue off your clit. You couldn’t even lift your head anymore, your mind too dizzy with pleasure as he pumped his fingers into you.

“I’m gonna.. need to.. oh, pl-please-” You words came out choked when when Jason suddenly added a third finger, stretching you out.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” He said pulling his head back, leaving you missing his tongue.

“Y-yes..” You mewl breathlessly.

Jason hummed in consideration, his fingers slowing down almost to a stop. You felt painfully empty as he pulled his fingers out of your needy pussy, your walls squeezing around air. Jason stood up, still behind you, and leaned down. His chest pressed against your back and all of your senses were consumed by his weight on top of you.

“Who gets to touch this perfect little pussy?” He whispered into your ear.

“You, sir.” You gasped.

“Hm.. and who gets to decide if you get to cum?”

“You, sir..” You words came out breathy.

“Good fucking girl.” Jason rasped.

Far too soon his weight was off of you, but your mind was quickly calmed as you felt the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your entrance. You sighed out in bliss, your mind running through all the other times he had you screaming.

“Gonna take me real good, huh?” He muttered and slammed his cock into you without a moments notice.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry. Tears pooled in your eyes as your breath caught in your throat.

You were so full.

Everything about Jason was large, including his cock, and you felt like you were fucking him for the first time all over again. You could never get used to his size.

After letting you adjust for a moment, ever the gentlemen even when blowing your back out, he began to lazily roll his hips into you.

The teasingly slow pace was incomprehensibly difficult for Jason to maintain. As soon as he was inside of you it took every ounce of willpower to resist fucking you so hard that your brains leaked out of your pussy.

But he wanted to see you fall apart even more.

You whimpered and whined, making such pretty noises for him. His large hands gripped your waist easily, allowing him to prevent you from getting greedy and bouncing back on his cock.

“Oh g-god please.. I can’t handle it..” You said in what felt like part moan, part sob.

Jason stilled his movements and you thought you might cry, but then he tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you up so your back was flush against his chest.

“Who owns you, princess?” He said as he wrapped his hand around your throat.

“You do, Jason.” You mewled.

“That’s fucking right, baby. Good girl.” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

And before you could ask he was already bending you back over, your chest against the cool marble countertop as he began to pound into you relentlessly.

You cried out at the sudden roughness, your walls clenching around his cock, earning a strangled moan from Jason. If it wasn’t for the hand he had on the back of your neck, you would have been pitching forward with each thrust. Your hands shot out to press against the white tile backsplash, needing something to ground you. Every time he pumped into you the tip of his cock would brush against your cervix, the delicious pang of being full of Jason had you screaming.

“You’re okay. You can- oh fuck..” He gasped out as your pussy tightened around him. “You can take it, pretty girl.”

He rasped out the reassurance, but he didn’t know how much longer he could stop himself from cumming. Every time he fucked you he only got more hooked on your body. The sounds you made, the noises and little breathy whimpers always had him harder than he thought was possible.

And you really were doing so well.

He knew he had been rough with you, but when your sweet little cunt was so fucking tight around him, how was he supposed to go slow? With every thrust he watched your eyes roll further back into your head. It felt like he was molding you from the inside out. Shaping you to fit with him and only him.

All you could do was lay there and take it. Tears had begun to fall down your cheeks, and Jason reached down to brush them away.

“You.. jesus christ, you’re mine, sweetheart.” He gasped out.

You nodded, your wanton moaning answer enough. You looked over your shoulder at Jason and his resolve snapped.

His hips were suddenly pistoling into you with a speed only reachable by a man like him. Your jaw hung open as a string of curses and groans bubbled past Jason’s lips.

“Need to..” You begged incoherently.

“I know, I know.. shit-” His cock twitched inside you. “cum with me, sweetheart.”

As soon as the words of permission slipped from his mouth your body reacted before your mind could process it. You cried out as your eyes rolled back in your head, your legs quivering so much you were grateful to be bent over the counter. Jason was cumming just as soon as he felt your cunt squeeze around him with a vice like grip. His thrusts became erratic and sloppy as he gasped and groaned out in pleasure.

Your head was hazy as your legs twitched with aftershocks. The only reminder that you were still on earth was Jason leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your neck.

“That’s it. Deep breath. Did so good for me, baby.” He cooed soothingly and pulled out.

You whined at the loss of him, feeling empty, but he quickly silenced you with a searing kiss. He watched with a proud grin as he leaked out of you, dripping down your inner thigh.

After you had calmed down enough to remember how to breath, Jason picked you up easily and began carrying you to the bathroom, his eyes on your face the entire time.

“Maybe I should make you angry more often.” You giggled.

He rolled his eyes at your remark, giving your nose a little kiss.

“Don’t even think about it.”

[grinsgrimmy]

Ｏ Ｎ Ｌ Ｙ Ｙ Ｏ Ｕ .

ㅤᯓᡣ𐭩 𝖢𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖲 𝗑 𝖠𝖥𝖠𝖡!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

TURNING THE MAD DOG INTO A GENTEEL LORD

๋࣭⭑ֶֶֶָָָ֢֢֢𖹭 oneshot ~ . (1267 words)

sum. ceres hates it when someone gets close to you, then sulk when you scolded him for it.

follow-up ceres drabble.

ㅤ⪩⪨ m.list

“that's enough, ceres!”

an exclamation out of sheer panic and worry left your mouth as you held back a behemoth-sized man from pouncing onto the artist.

to say that ceres was angry would be an understatement; he was furious. usually he would listen to you if you hugged him and told him to stop. however, at that moment, ceres intently wanted to murder that man on the spot.

for what?

well, because that particular artist, who was assigned to paint a portrait of ceres, had oh-so graciously complimented your beauty. while you found it flattering, ceres found it as a threat.

ceres being incredibly protective and possessive of you was definitely a fact that you were more than aware of.

hell, a part of you found it oddly cute. and that tiny, tiny part of you had pride in being the quell to a beast like ceres.

in other words, you were aware that the artist was making him jealous.

which was, of course, cute. on your end, though.

not so cute when ceres was about to (and really wanted to) trample and tear that man limb to limb. you could hear ceres breathing heavily from anger, his hands twitching and aching to crush that man's mouth.

however, he thankfully did not use one hundred percent of his strength since you were hugging him as tight as you could to prevent him from attacking the artist.

at least ceres was a little bit obedient by standing at his spot and did not pounce at the artist yet.

regardless, you tried your best to hold him back from going at the artist, who was utterly terrified.

the artist was backed to a corner, mouth agape, but no noise came out, but he definitely looked like he was begging for mercy.

“ceres!” you yelled out with exasperation as you used a different method— cupping his cheeks and bringing his furious gaze to yours.

you gave him a wobbly smile. “it's just a compliment, ceres. what he said is nice, okay? nice,” you stressed out to him.

ceres' shoulders slowly faltered, his furious expression melted. he let out a huff before his hands wrapped around you.

surprised by the sudden hug, you patted him in the back with confusion. “ceres?” he did not respond, but you could understand what he was feeling— he was sulking.

ceres deflated, just because you denied him from 'protecting you'.

ceres was now smuggling you into a hug. though the position was a little bit uncomfortable, you did not make any move to protest about it.

his head was dipped to your shoulder, and your cheek was squished against his chest (if you were honest, that was a pleasant feeling).

regardless, you let out a sigh of relief. you managed to stop him from a rampage again. your head turned, or tried to turn to since your head was pressed against ceres, the artist gave you an apologetic smile.

“we'll continue this tomorrow, yes?” with breathless laugh, you allowed the artist to leave for the day.

you continued to smile at the artist as the artist hurriedly left with his belongings, muttering a quick and fearful 'thank you' before leaving.

once the doors of the room closed, you let out another sigh, “it's okay, ceres,” you patted his cheeks with a huff, then moved your hand to pat his head, “seriously... you scared the daylights out of that man,”

meanwhile, ceres was not happy that a man had the gall to 'flirt' (that man wasn't, but ceres believed he was) with you.

ceres would never be delighted to see any male near you at all. he never liked it when your attention moved away from him.

you were meant to pay attention to him and him only, after all.

ceres pouted, then gave you those puppy eyes that oftentimes swayed you to give mercy to him. he reminded you of a dog the majority of the time due to this.

a very big one too.

one that seemed intimidating at first but was actually a fluffy and attention-seeking dog.

you staggered at the sight of his very convincing puppy eyes.

so much for scolding him. you relented, “just don't... do that again,” ceres only gave a slow huff. he continued to smuggled you into an engulfing hug, “don't like,” he gruffly mumbled. 

he would never like anyone near you, let alone compliment you. appreciating you was only for him, he believed.

“i know,” you stressed out, trying to figure out how to quell ceres's sulking attitude. without thinking twice, you placed a quick kiss on the tip of his nose.

ceres blinked out of confusion.

blink. blink.

ceres's eyes practically sparkled at the notion after processing what you did. his cheeks flushed red as he looked at you with admiration and awe. “again,” he asked— no, demanded. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

you could not help but let out a laugh at his reaction.

how adorable.

entertaining his demands, you pressed another kiss to his nose— “again.” ceres demanded again. you kissed his nose, “again.”

it went on and on, but you did not have the heart to tell ceres it was enough since he was staring at you with adoration. like a puppy receiving treats for the first time.

thankfully, after a while, ceres had his fill with the kisses and buried his head onto your lap. he had his usual resting face, his arms wrapped around your legs, he was sitting on the floor.

you absentmindedly stroked his head. despite how difficult it was to control his emotions, it was just as difficult to disagree that he is a cute man.

ceres turned his head, to look up at you from your lap.

ceres wanted to thank you. you had always been there for him. at his worst and at his best. you were a part of his world, or, well—

his only world. his entire life revolved around you.

he never knew how to thank you; words were beyond him unlike you. he wished to love you just as much as you did for him.

after a lot of thinking, he had finally decided on how to thank you.

he wanted to give those kisses you did to him because if he loved it, you would too. 

ceres had been staring you for a strange amount of time in silence. so, you stared back at him with confusion, wondering if he wanted something. was he attempting to telepathically say it?

“what's wrong, ce—”

smooch!

huh?

ceres kissed you. on the lips.

flustered, you were frozen still. you processed what in the absolute aether realms he did. and once you did, you could not find any words to express yourself.

meanwhile, ceres looked at you expectantly with sparkling eyes, as if wanting praise.

you could only look at him with disbelief, too flustered to say anything.

after that, you had to figure out what the kiss meant through your flustered state. it took quite some time, but you managed to understood what the kiss meant after asking ceres.

you even had to explain what kisses on the lips were actually for. explaining it made ceres equally as flustered.

'those kisses are for those who you really love!' you lightly scold ceres about what he did. a little confused, he tilted his head as he thought about your words.

but...

he does love you.

so, he concluded that he can kiss you like that.

therefore, ceres ended up with the habit of thanking you with kisses after that day.

only for you because he loves you.

・❥・consider supporting me or commissioning in ko-fi !!

[illubean]

Ok this is a bit hyper specific but I saw someone else request another writer to do this and I wanna see your take!

Do you this you could write a GN Reader who’s friends with one of the zoldyck kids (most likely Killua or Illumi) and while at the manner they pass by Silva/Zeno and Reader makes a remark like “damn… your dad/grandpa kinda fine…” and they hear?

Sorry if this is too specific….. ignore this if you don’t wanna write it!! <3

D.I.L.F.

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck, Silva Zoldyck Type: Crack, Short Oneshot, Gn!reader

Illumi is sick of your shit

Warnings: none

Being friends with Illumi was...interesting to say the least. No one actually understands how you guys came to be acquainted, aside from the fact you both work in the same business. But somehow, you had gained the cold assassin's trust enough to go on joint missions with him and be invited over to his home.

And boy, were you glad that was the case.

Currently, you were sitting at the Zoldycks' grand dining table, discussing a potential ally-ship. Well; more like listening to Illumi and his father discuss it.

To be honest, you could care less about the technical side of things. For now all you could pay attention to was Illumi's absolute beefcake of a dad.

You were leaning against your arm that was propped up on the table with a smitten look on your face. Oh the things you would do if he wasn't married.

Glancing over at you, Illumi noticed the spacey look on your face, your eyes glued to his dad who was seated across the table.

"So Y/n, what do you say?"

Your brain didn't really comprehend the words spoken to you by the albino man, but you just nodded.

"Huh, yeah, whatever, that sounds good."

All that mattered right now was that he was looking at you.

You were snapped out of your daze at the feeling of Illumi kicking you from under the table. You jumped out of your slouched position and snapped your head to look at your companion, who was giving you the most dubious side eye you have ever seen.

After dinner, you and Illumi made your way down the corridor, about to leave the estate.

"Damn Illumi...you never told me your dad was so fine," you sigh, thinking back to the man you had just met moments ago. Your friend narrowed his eyes at you as the pair of you kept walking.

"Don't say that."

"Aw, come on, he's a total DILF! Do you need another dog? I can bark. Seriously, if he's interested in another spouse tell him to call me."

Illumi stopped walking, one of his eyes twitching slightly in annoyance. You took a few more steps before noticing he had stopped. You turned around to look at him as a beat of silenced passed.

"...What?"

The black haired man swiftly and wordlessly turned you around by your shoulders and began to push you down the hall.

"Hey! Let go of me- I can walk on my own y'know!"

After a while of being shoved towards the front door of the main estate, Illumi swings it open and throws you out before you hear a loud 'SLAM' behind you. You land with a quiet 'oof!' before getting off and dusting your pants. You huff before turning around and raising your fist to the door.

"You're just mad you got your looks from your mom!"

[hughiecampbelle]

Malignant (Homelander Oneshot)

((TAKES PLACE IN S4E4))

Character/s: Homelander

Word Count: 1,468

Warning/s: gore, sort of all the basic warnings The Boys typically has

Requested: Hii! I’ve just found your blog, read some of your works and loveee them! Especially The Boys Preferences and imagines! May I request a platonic Homelander x reader with the prompts: Fury, Shooting Stars, “Get away from me” ? Thank youuu! - anon

A/N: Y'all when I tell you you're not ready!!! When I say I love this I mean I cannot stop smiling!!! I am Victor Frankenstein and this is my monster lol. Thank you for requesting my love! I hope you like it!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Get away from me. The words come out as a whimper, barely above a whisper. His features contort: insecurity, rage, struck dumb by your reaction. Despite himself, he smiles, trying make sense of it all. This is what we’ve always wanted. They deserved it, all of them. Why can’t- why can’t you see that? He takes a step closer and you react by moving further back, through the doorway. Your shoe makes a squeaking sound. Beneath the sole something squelches, wet and gummy. You don’t have to look down to know what you’ve stepped in. It’s splattered across the walls and ceiling. The entire room painted red. Faceless, headless, limbless bodies dropped across the floor. You’ve stepped on someones intestines, their insides strewn across the floor like shooting stars. Here and there are articles of clothing, a shoe without their twin, a name tag or Vought issued ID. You don’t recognize them. Many of them new hires. They weren’t around all those years ago. They took no part in what happened to you, to either of you. Bile rises in your throat. It’s the smell that’s the worst. Metallic. You can taste the iron on your tongue. Not just that, though. The heater was still on. Though the body was ash, the stench of burned skin and hair lingers. It’s thick, and hot, and disgusting. The warmth radiates off it, seeping into the rest of the lab. It leaves you fighting your nausea, your hatred, the two churning in your stomach. Why, why are you mad at me? He’s drenched in their blood. It’s dried across his face, his suit and in his hair. How long has he been with the bodies? You killed them, John. You killed them all. 

Despite what the media portrayed, your childhood wasn’t baseball games and apple pies. There was no mother to rock you to sleep or father telling you you were a great kid. There were no little sisters to play with or teasing from big brothers. No white pickett fence or a sweet, yet obedient, dog running around. There was sterility. There were test tubes, and locked rooms, and tests. There were knives, and guns, and fire. You and him, you were invincible. They wanted to test that. They wanted to see just how far you could be pushed before you broke. Your skin was impenetrable, but that didn’t mean it didn’t burn every time they shoved you into that chamber. You’d pound your fists against the door, begging and screaming, every inch of you engulfed in flames. Sometimes it still felt like you were burning. In dreams, maybe when the weather was warm. You were just a little kid. You thought (feared) this time would be the last time. This is how you would die. Your tears evaporated before they could fall. You’d call out for them, for the pseudo father figures. When that wasn’t enough, when they refused to move from their charts and lazy game of paper ball, you’d cry for John. Your companion, your brother, your friend. He’d be enclosed in his own hell. Eventually you learned to be quiet. Eventually you learned you would survive. No one was coming to save you. No one was going to stop this. You’d watch, day in and day out, first your skin, your muscles, until the fire kissed your bones. You’d come to hours, days later, completely healed. Not a single scar carved into your flesh. No evidence except your memories. 

If you were good, if you were well behaved, you might be rewarded. Taught a new game or trick. Tic-tac-toe had been an exciting discovery at the time. You’d liked playing O’s. John liked X’s. Hangman was another. Always with a dull pencil, just in case. You’d be sniffling, hiccupping, leftover from the sobbing, when they’d sit you on the lab table and ask you to guess a letter. They weren’t the kinds of words children should have heard, but how could you have known? Psychopath. Indestructible. Malignant. You didn’t know the meanings or, for a long time, how to spell them, but you heard them a lot. They were household names. If they were feeling generous, kind, they might give you more chances: add a face, a hat, a bowtie. Through tears you’d laugh at the ridiculousness, pointing out that the hanged man could not possibly be as accessorized as they were making him to be. You never liked when the game was over. Win or lose, it always meant the same thing. One man, much older than everyone else, would lift you up and carry you back to your cell as if you were his own. You’d cling to him, his shirt, clutching tight with your chubby, dimpled hands, watching over his shoulder as someone else would discard the pieces of paper, throwing them away. You wanted to keep them, have them to laugh at the silly stick figure when it was dark and you were all alone, but you wouldn’t dare ask. If not the man, then a young woman who’d lead you back, hand in hand, full of promises you both knew she would not keep. Talk of real games, with boards and pieces and cards. But when the time came again, when you did as you were told, all you were allotted was a piece of paper and pencil. 

Her body was the first you recognized. Faceless yes, but you knew her as well as you knew yourself. Barbara. She was like a mother to you. Albeit, a terrible one. A cold, uncaring, aseptic woman who studied you, who created you, made you the person you are today. Wasn’t that all mothers? She’d hush your cries, ask why you were so upset. You didn’t have the words, the vocabulary, and so she’d grow tired. Bored. When you could articulate yourself better, then you would be worthy of her time. Truthfully, you weren’t all that sad she was dead. She must’ve known what was going on. She must’ve seen or heard something. At night, when they came into your room. When they made you promise to keep it secret. Couldn’t she tell? Couldn’t any of them? Armies of psychologists couldn’t get the truth out of you, not that they were trying to. Their alliances rest elsewhere. Fear of abandonment had been ingrained into you. You’d cry even harder, begging her not to leave, not to go. She’d pretend she had no other choice, that it was your fault. You were a crybaby. A sissy. An imbecile. If you could not pull yourself together and act like an adult, she would have no choice but to get up. Beneath the hurt was a fury, a burning, but they had you trained well. Instead you screamed, begged, throwing yourself to the floor, into walls, harming yourself for an ounce of her attention. Affection. Circles of red stained the walls where your head had been bashed. Your clothes ripped and torn. Your tantrums were spectacular. Fantastical. Eventually you’d grow tired, exhausted. Bloody, you’d sit very still and breathe and wait for her to come back. Then, and only then, would she grace you with her presence.

You hoped the bitch suffered. 

Marty rests limp, his face crushed in, a hole lasered through his groin. You knew the story, the nickname. He tried to get you to call John that peculiar name, too. Try to get you in on the joke. You never did. He had names for you, too. Just as vulgar and perverted. No one ever stopped him. No one ever said it was inappropriate. You guessed when you were being gutted, sliced from collarbones to pelvis, turned into a living autopsy, harassment wasn’t such a big deal. You stepped over his body without a second though. Footsteps to follow from his skull (what was left of it) to where John stood. This is very bad. You find your voice again, inspecting the lab around you. The cake sits melted in it’s pink box. The lights flicker. There is an unsettling silence. But I, I did it for you. His eyes are wide, his pupils dilated. His grin is hysterical. John, you start, but the rest of your sentence clatters to the floor. He watches you, desperate for your approval, your appreciation. They did terrible things to you. They let terrible things happen to you, unspeakable things. Why should you be upset? Why should you mourn them? Why should their gruesome deaths fill you with anything but satisfaction? They deserved it. They were asking for it. You slide away the mans large intestine, wiping the blood from your shoe.  Thank you, you say finally, placing your hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. He breathes out a sigh of relief. Thank you, it means a lot.

[guiltyasdave]

joel miller - oneshots - part 2

fic recs masterlist - please check the tags and warnings on each fic! if you enjoyed a fic, please show the writer some love <3

into the deep end by @magpiepills

you're poison but a good kind by @northernbluess

only need ten by @pascalpvnk

creep it real! by @swiftispunk

leopard print & stuffing by @toxicanonymity (featuring tommy miller)

devour by @jksprincess10

trick or treat by @tieronecrush

a quiet storm by @ozarkthedog

boo by @pascalsbby

i put a spell on you, and now you're mine! by @5oh5

i wanna show you off & best kept secret by @joelscurls

innocent trouble by @velvetmud

punishment & safe and sound by @joelsgreys

trick or treat? by @morallyinept (featuring dave york & frankie morales)

checkmate & nobody does it like you do by @honeyedmiller

#1 girl by @joelhoney

i found the door by @tinycozycomfort

animals, tell me more, forget, use me & thankful by @endlessthxxghts

good to be home by @hearteyesforjoel

i hope you're happy by @blissfulbarbie

obedience by @wintrwinchestr

home for christmas & bunny tails by @sweetercalypso

a promise softly sung by @agentmarcuspike

five of joel miller's birthdays by @bastardmandennis

lover's rock by @tinygarbage

lonesome and mad by @hyzer34

all three dogs, wish you were here & walking through fire by @macfrog

shopping by @notjustjavierpena

strawberries and cream & a villain's monologue by @aurorawritestoescape

birthday surprise & the burglary by @aurorawritestoescape (featuring tommy miller)

ivy by @dancingtotuyo

apocalypse by @tremendum

sticky by @ezrasbirdie

told you i'd be back by @palioom

leftovers & the kind of love we make by @katiexpunk

please, mr miller? by @auteurdelabre

silent night by @javiscigarette

the stranger by @nala2811

full by @morallyinept

no soul to sell & in the next room by @atticrissfinch

i'll fix it for you by @bi-writes

for a good time call... joel & wrong until you make it right by @missredherring

tangled triumphs & our little sheep by @planet-marz1

fire walk by @motherofagony

stress by @joelsflannel

still sleepless, christmas after all & good with my hands by @mrsmando

distracted by @psychedelic-ink

rough day by @pedge-page

the art of breaking by @corazondebeskar-reads

the most wonderful time by @always-andromeda

[buckrecs]

Hi I was wondering if you had any recommendations for lumberjack!bucky

Lumberjack!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Hero Next Door by @jobean12-blog

You and your dog Winter have recently moved to the quiet of the country and you love it then you meet your new neighbor...

I’m yours by @peteyprecious616

soft lumberjack Bucky drabble

Safe Heaven by @world-of-aus

I’m Sorry by @wh0reforoldmen

Dark!Bucky You made Bucky mad, and he makes you apologize for your "wrong doing"

ooey gooey by @thornsnvultures

Every morning, Bucky comes to your store for terrible coffee and maybe something a little sweet on the side.

SERIES

Undisclosed by @pellucid-constellations

Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either.

Sturdy Roots, Strong Hearts by @rookthorne

Life in your small town could not have gotten any better, you had sworn. That was until you started to call a handsome, brooding lumberjack your best friend, and you developed butterflies at any mention of his name, or thought of him. Sure, it was going to be fine, you could do this. What could go wrong?

Through Sea Mist and Shadows by @archive-obsess

after years away, (Y/n) returns to the small family farm on a remote Maine island that was once considered her home. things are different now, her family bears her sad smiles, the fisherman's boy is quiet and reserved, and she herself has changed beyond her own recognition.

Lumberjack AUs by @angrythingstarlight

Lumberjack!Bucky Masterlist

Lumby and Bunny by @sweetdreamsbuck

Bucky's never been so scared of a feeling in his life. there are too many what if's– too many fears bubbling deep within the parts of him left broken and hollow, untouched for far too long. but he never envisioned finding you– and he's entirely too impatient; entirely too certain no one's ever been more infatuated with something than how he feels for you.

[dogbites-puppylove]

Hello! I hope you're well.

Can you do a Damian Wayne x Male reader oneshot? Based on the song "Stacy's Brother" by Mad Tsai.

Damian finds out that Male reader is the little brother of [Big! Sister].

Then Damian decides to approach [Big! Sister], in jobs, projects, etc. All this to get closer to Male reader.

Maybe a sporty, extroverted and clumsy Male reader?

I can't get it out of my head that Male reader is somewhat nervous about being around Damian due to Damian's personality and the fact that he is taller than M!r doesn't help.

Also, Can I be anon 🛸?

Male! Reader x Damian

TW: description of yandere mentalities and actions (obsession, possessive tendencies, stalking, etc)

Tags: Yandere! Damian Wayne x Reader

Solitude is preferable to irritants for Damian, so to prove useful enough to be a contact of his is difficult. He’s an heir first and a human second,this is fact, every thought he has is spent towards a goal, and every goal to another's gain - this is the natural state of his operations. Much like a king's pristine puppet he is a glorified prize that must maintain itself. If he meets his darling through a sister or really any family member not of his own, the darling has no backing to stand. Simply and utterly he is beneath nothing to Damian - and maybe that's how he got trapped. 

Contacts from his mother provide lethal abilities, contacts from his father are useful and cut throat -expectation and criteria create his world brick by brick - everything has its place of necessity. A contact form outside this world is easy to push off - it's useless and creates nothing but problems for him - but his Darlings sister is needed and to maintain relations he must come to know Darling - so he takes to this as a bat. The Darling is a lesion, a bleeding pus addled wound in his world of rules and he must get you to heal - it's a clinical and medical perspective. He is his own greatest triumph and Darling are the termites that are picking at his puppet strings. 

Diagnosis comes from close observation- and he needs to be perfect to complete his tasks. You are stalked and detailed without mercy - without decorum, for the first few months you aren't even human. Damian takes a while stalking him, perching on the ceiling and staring through windows - devouring every image with curiosity. Like a dog lapping at its bleeding wounds - Damian tends to him with hypothesis and obsessiveness  - laving over him with his tongue until he’s all that he can taste. Every detail is crucial - every twitch of his muscle under his skin and every time his drops of drool on his pillow in the throes of the Darlings sleep. 

It begins with details and ends with praises and reverent prayers - what used to be details of something he needed to heal became the height of his worship. Damian slips from the king's grasp and becomes a tumbling mess of flash and singing blood  - the para social relationship nurses itself into an infection. 

Sporty? Good, keeping himself in shape is the least of the training that his Darling needs to do in order to stay safe in Damian’s own shadows. Not to say he’d ever let anything touch his darling but it's crucial to keep him in good shape. Paranoia runs in his blood - it's how survival is formed, it's passed on heirloom. 

Extroversion is hardly a trait he is foreign to - in fact it's perfect that his Darling seems to seek out others in social situations. As his other half, his humanity given flesh - it's obvious he would have the skills to express it. 

So what if he’s clumsy? It's simply the innocence of untarnished life showing through - Damian has none left - not even in the hollows of his bones - but his darling can make up for it. To him it's an even trade - like heaven and hell to the spirits that pass. 

After sufficiently gathering all he can from the window - it's only so long before he reaches in. He needs you - from the wound is born an infestation and Damian is sick with it - it fills his orifices and body and mind until Darling infect his brain. He won’t blame you for it - how could he - but you’ll have to take responsibility. 

Your sister is a means to an end - from the beginning of her contact to the time he uses her as a ticket into your life. He blows up her phone, her email, her everything - it's intensive and consuming and he won’t stop even if she answers. He needs you awfully, horribly to the point he might bleed out if he doesn't have his hand on your skin. She tries once to pull away - for her youngest brother's sake - she wakes up with a katana and a whispered warning to her ear. She does not try again. Sometimes you can see her eyeing you from the other side of the room with something like an apology on her face. 

Sharing a gender orientation gives him easier access to you - into bathrooms, locker rooms, and a sort of social intimacy that society gives leeway. It's not overly suspicious as he leaves an arm on you - seeks you out - it's what friends do. You're both boys so there's nothing to be shy about Darling. 

Of course he makes you nervous - ha can’t blame you - he's a trained assassin and you're all but a civilian but he’d never harm you. Never dream of it, even, to harm you would be his death. But it doesn't stop his eyes that are far too familiar for a stranger, nor the offsetting way he accommodates you so easily - as if he knows you better than yourself. As if he’s a worm in your brain and was wriggled so far it's made its home - a parasite. It sets you on edge - pulls at your skin until your organs and bones and he still needs to go deeper. 

Author's Note: Hi anon! I don’t actually have a cohesive list of anons but if you want to identify yourself with emojis i'm all for it :)). Also - my writing in general doesn’t incorporate gender a lot but I hope this is ok. 

[yoongihan]

Not Friends - HJS - OneShot

(i've had the above gif for so long, i have no idea who the creator is. credit to them and if they see this and wish me to take it down, please let me know. i thought the effects of the banner were pretty cool)

pairing: jisung x female reader

genre: angst, coming of age, fluff, romance, friendships

romantic trope: boy next door (inspiration from this reel)

word count: ~8k

rating: T

warnings: language, kissing, arguing, mostly the trials of middle and high school, drinking underage (nothing too excessive), sneaking out, abandoned places, mc is stubborn af

there is mention briefly toward the end of something that might be triggering, it is not praised or belabored. it's something characters disagree with, i'm choosing not to list it as it is a bit of a spoiler. if you are concerned, please message me off anon and i will let you know what it is.

a/n: fic #3 in skz as romantic tropes collab with @jl-micasea-fics. i have to admit, this is kinda a weird one. not really sure what people will think. however, it seems hella fitting to post jisung's story after getting so much of him lately (the song '13' is beautiful) and his curly long hair might be my death. hugs to you readers, you have been so lovely.

----------

There isn’t a time where you don’t remember Han Jisung being there. He’s always just there. 

His family moved into the house next door when you were only a year old (so you’ve been told, it’s not like you have any memories of that time) and he was a year old. Your moms started talking over the small fence that lay between your two backyards, so somewhere in your infantile mind, there is an image of one chubby-cheeked Jisung, probably falling over from his seated position then crying loudly because his balance was always circumspect, especially during the dreaded middle school years.

So when in school, someone asked if you knew Han Jisung, you said yes. 

Friends?

No. Not friends.

Boyfriend?

No, ew. He’s just the boy next door.

Yes, you hung out with him when you were both infants and toddlers. When school started, you were sometimes in the same class, but not always. He tended to keep to himself during recess and you had enough trouble trying to find friends who were interested in the same things you were. 

Namely, vampires.

Perhaps expecting other six and seven year olds to be as fascinated by vampires was asking a bit too much. But you were listening to Dracula, a radio performance, at six years old (begs the question of why your parents didn’t do anything, but they weren’t around at that very moment) so why weren’t other kids interested?

Well, they weren’t. 

Maybe your parents thought you’d grow out of it. Most kids grow out of things; horses, wanting to be a fireman, superheroes, etc. 

So many times that your parents tried offering you Barbies and My Little Ponies, on which you painted fangs and blood on.

But you don’t grow out of it. And no one grows into it.

Jisung himself seems to integrate okay into middle school. He finds Felix and Seungmin, and the three of them pal around, playing video games and probably other things that you were and are unaware of.

“You’re going to join the dance team?”

You’re in your backyard, attempting to weed the garden because if you do, your mother might not get as mad about you failing your math test. Jisung comes out to let out his dog, Bbama, and the two of you, though again not friends, aren’t unfriendly; so you chat. 

“Felix wants to,” Jisung explains as Bbama comes to the fence to press his nose to your waiting fingers. “And well, he likes when we do things all together.”

You eye him with skepticism. “Can you dance?”

You’re both newly turned thirteen and puberty is a bitch. Jisung is all limbs, and you’re sure you resemble an egg in physique and color. 

“No. But they aren’t expecting Lord of the Dance or anything.”

Jisung getting sassy with you isn’t new. Though quiet a lot of the time, when it’s only the two of you, he seems to be braver. 

“They want us to do extracurriculars, you know, to get ready for high school.”

“Yeah?”

“So, what about you?”

“What about me?” What you just pulled up out of the ground is definitely not a weed, so you plop it back in and cover it up with dirt. Hopefully, your mom won’t notice. 

“You should join the dance team too!”

You look up at him before watching Bbama run in circles behind him. “No.”

“Maybe robotics?”

“No way.”

“Art club?”

“Jisung, you’ve seen my stick figures.”

“What are you going to do then?”

“What I want to do doesn’t have a club or team, okay?”

You can hear his soft sigh as you dig out an actual weed this time. 

“Vampires?”

You bristle at the implications. “I’m just…” You huff and sit back in your kneeled position. “There are too many accounts for it to be fiction, okay?”

“But what do you do with that?” He asks just as softly. “I mean, if they are real, they want to drink your blood and kill you. So like…you should avoid.”

“Do they? Or is that just Dracula and other novels telling us that?”

He points out a weed you’ve missed. You grumble, but grab and pull. 

“Kids at school–”

“I don’t care what kids at school say or think, Jisung.” 

“Yes, you do. We all do.” He swallows. “You think it doesn’t hurt when they make fun of my braces or glasses, or the fact that I can’t walk without running into something?”

You wince. Jisung isn’t a friend, but he’s familiar. He’s annoying as most boys are, but he isn’t mean. Not usually. You and he have had fights over the years, but most were when you were little and toys were involved. 

“You shouldn’t care what they think.”

“But I do.” 

“That’s why you’re joining the dance team, and I’m going to work on the ultimate vampire hunter kit.”

“Where are you going to get holy water?”

“Amazon.”

He sighs again, calling Bbama to go back inside. “I’m joining the team because Felix is my friend and it matters to him. That’s what friends do.” When he stops at the back door, he calls back. “Seungmin is really good at math if you need help for the next test.”

You don’t answer, not for the first time considering how you don’t have friends. There are some kids you sit with at lunch, but they mostly congregate together because there is strength in numbers, not because there’s any common interests or amiability. 

–

~Ninth grade~

You wonder if maybe you should have tried out for softball or something because each pebble you throw at Jisung’s window actually hits 75% of the time. Who knew you had great aim?

The window opens and he looks down and you can see more than hear his heavy sigh.

“Why don’t you just message me?”

“I don’t have your number.” Why would you?

There’s another heavy sigh and he disappears into his room after closing the window. Your cell phone vibrates in your back pocket. You pull it out.

>> now you have it.

<< can i borrow your car?

>> what?

The back door opens and he comes out in pajama pants and a huge sweatshirt. He’s shoved on his glasses and his hair is tufted in chunks. 

Was he really asleep at 11pm?

“You wanna borrow my truck?”

You nod, tugging on your scarf, a bit too tightly wrapped. “I’ll be careful. It’ll be back in the driveway by the time you wake up in the morning. I could probably hotwire it if I studied for a bit, but I figure, I could just ask.”

He runs a hand through his hair, eyes unfocused. “Why?”

“I don’t have a car.” Your parents don’t think you’re responsible enough to have a car. Something about still living in fantasy, blah blah blah. 

“I know…” He looks both annoyed and amused at the same time. “Why do you need it tonight?”

“Oh. I need to check out a place. There’s been rumor of vampiric activity.”

He actually takes a step back. “You’re going vampire hunting. Tonight. In my truck.”

“Yes.” I hold out my hand. “If you’ll give me your keys.”

“Do you even have your permit yet?”

You drop your arm. “No, but I’ve practiced.”

He turns and stares at his house. 

“So…Jisung…is that a no?”

“If I say no, will you hotwire it?”

“I mean, maybe.”

There’s a lot of muttered curses before he turns back around. “Yes, but I’m going with you. I’m driving.”

“What? No. No way.”

He walks right up, a foot away from me. “You let me go, drive, and you come to see the dance team at halftime; or you’re shit out of luck, Van Helsing.” 

You open your mouth to tell him where he can stick it, but then don’t. You actually need his vehicle. The area that online people have had sightings and encounters is only an hour away and this was the only night that your parents had wine before dinner which would definitely keep them so deeply asleep that you can get away with a nightly venture. 

And maybe it would be fun to watch Jisung, Seungmin and Felix perform. Not that you’d ever admit that.

“Yeah. Okay. But you have to do what I say, okay?”

He nods. “Give me like five.”

An hour and a half later, he shifts next to you as you hold a position in a cluster of trees. “Like…I don’t think they’re here.”

“Shh,” you hush him, half-heartedly hitting his arm. “They don’t billboard-announce it.” You move quickly and as quietly as you can toward the old abandoned cabin.

“Pretty sure it’s just serial killers who do that.”

You spin around to glare at him, but he’s grinning at you. You’re irked, but you can’t help but smile. It’s a little fun to have someone with you.

“Are we really going in there?”

You hand him a flask and move again to another gathering of foliage. 

“Are we drinking?” he whispers once he’s followed successfully. He’s still skinny as a rail, but still provides a little warmth at your back. 

“No, you dummy, it’s got holy water. It’s to protect yourself.” 

“Oh.” You can almost hear his smile. “Thanks.”

It takes a few more minutes of covert movement before you get to the house. You circle it, looking for any tell-tale signs of vampiric activity (corpses or animal remains, displaced or unusual soil, etc), but there’s nothing except overgrown weeds and some tricycle that has been taken over by said overgrown weeds. 

You test the back door. 

“Shouldn’t we get a flashlight?”

“And announce our arrival?”

“They can hear better than us, don’t you think they’d already know, with how you nearly tripped over that root before the gate?”

Yeah, that was embarrassing. You glare at him again. 

“How do you know all that stuff? About their hearing?”

He rolls his eyes and rewraps his scarf around his neck. “I’ve known you all my life. I listen…duh?”

You shake your head and enter the run-down cabin. As you test the rotted wooden floors, making sure to tell Jisung to step where you step, you think about that. There’s no reason why Jisung would just know how good a vampire’s hearing is rumored to be. Unless he listened to you, and remembered.

That sticks with you, even as you find that the abandoned cabin is full of dust, cobwebs, questionable wallpaper choices, with no sign of life…or unlife. 

He never says anything like ‘I told you so’ on the drive back, nearly four and a half hours after the initial request of his car. 

“That was kind of fun,” he says, sneezing when you both get out of his dented-in-weird-places truck. 

“You screamed three times and squeezed my arm so tight, it’s gonna bruise.”

“Those weren’t screams. They were….yelps. Exclamations of surprise.”

You can’t help but smile at him. “Sure.”

He tugs his beanie so it covers his ears. “I’ll do it again with you, if only so you don’t steal my truck.”

“Maybe…” You don’t promise anything. Yes, it was nice to have someone with you, but you don’t put your faith into it. Jisung is on the dance team, goes to pc cafes to game, and actually hangs out with his friends. You do just this. 

You know you’re the weird one here. 

“Maybe I’ll finally get my own car.”

“You could get a job.” He offers, leaning against the grill of his truck. 

“At fifteen?” 

He shrugs. “You could babysit?”

The both of you start laughing at the mere idea of you being in charge of vulnerable little humans. 

“I mean, you could.”

“The world is a better place without me protecting a toddler from the electric outlet.” 

He shrugs and shoves his hands into his coat pockets before pulling out the flask. “I dunno. You protected me pretty well.” He yawns. 

“Go sleep.” You take the flask back. “Thanks.”

He nods, already looking like he might fall asleep leaning against his SUV like that. “Not going to say ‘any time’. Maybe once and awhile.”

You press your lips together to stop smiling at him. “Sure. Night.” 

–

Jisung reminds you of your promise to watch the dance team at one game’s halftime, so you show up to a basketball game, sit and watch a sport that makes the people around you yell at the referees, the other team, and the home team with such passion that you think you must have something wrong with you because you do not get it.

But the half ends, and most people get up to grab concessions or hit the bathrooms while the co-ed dance team comes out in black and red outfits. You find Felix easy enough in the crowd, his vibrant blonde hair bouncing as he finds his position, talking excitedly to another dancer. Seungmin with his characteristic nonchalant expression is behind Felix, seeming unbothered that there’s an audience in front of him, waiting to judge and assess him.

Jisung is near the end of the second line, bouncing on the balls of his feet as everyone gets into place. He glanced up at the crowd, eyes scanning. He sees you because your eyes lock and you give a little wave of ‘see, I came’. You think he smiles, but you are on the top row of bleachers, off to the far side. 

The dancers all drop their heads when the music starts. Felix leads off and the rest fall into sync with him. You try and watch the group as a whole, impressed with how they move together, how the choreography seems like a mix of hip hop and contemporary.

It’s honestly pretty good for a high school group. You have YouTube and you’ve seen the occasional viral embarrassing dance rendition of whatever hit song is popular. 

Your eyes fall on Jisung the most. He’s the only one you know on your side of the gym (most of the time, there are a few formation changes). 

For being all limbs (though admittedly, he’s less like a stretched-out stick figure these days), Jisung is a good dancer. He’s on beat with his moves, and it doesn’t look horribly awkward.

You’re surprised. 

The song isn’t more than maybe two minutes and the applause at the end of it is not the same as the passionate yelling of spectators for some ���bogus call, ref’. You clap though because you are impressed, and because if you had friends, you think it would be Jisung and his two compatriots. 

You start to head out of the gym into the lobby to go home; you are not sitting through more yelling at where an orange ball travels to. You’re almost home free, but you hear your name and turn to see Jisung running up to you. He’s grinning, face flushed, hair ruffled. 

“Thanks!”

“I mean, I promised.” You glance around to see schoolmates watching the two of you conversing and you wonder if Jisung worries about it. Because if you were less on the fringes (you’re not going to call Jisung popular, but he’s not ignored), you might worry about who you’re seen with. 

“Did I do okay?”

His question interrupts your musing on high school hierarchies, and you look at him in shock. 

“I…I don’t know anything about dance, Jisung.”

He nods. “But you are honest. Sometimes painfully. So, tell me. What did you think?” He crosses his arms and waits. You blink a few times, your mind going back over the memory of their performance, him specifically. 

“I think you’re good. I didn’t see any obvious mistakes or like you didn’t fit in.”

“But?”

It’s unnerving how he seems to know that you have more thoughts, even when you weren’t completely aware of them yourself. 

“I think you can extend more?” You swallow, lifting your arms so they stretch out. “Like your arms don’t go out all the way and I think it looks better when you do?” You shrug and drop your arms. “Also, your shoulders are up when you dance. Makes you look tense.” 

He nods a few times before smiling. “See, I knew you’d be honest.” He drops his arms from his chest. “Thanks…Are you leaving?”

You nod emphatically. “I cannot handle the screaming any longer.”

He laughs. “Yeah, fair.” He watches you for one more second. “We’re gonna go out for burgers and shakes later…you can come?”

“We?”

“The dance team mostly, I think.”

You’re already shaking your head. “Uh, thanks, but no thanks.” You start to walk backward, a little on edge being this close to Jisung and how he kinda sparkles all sweaty and red-faced. “I’ll see ya.”

He waves as you practically trip to get out of there.

–

~Tenth grade~

He warned you. He said that with both sets of parents going for a weekend trip together that he might have a party. You didn’t care because you had homework and research to do, and a party with Seungmin, Felix, and Jisung didn’t seem that concerning.

Since when did sophomore Jisung know enough people to have a rager? Because that’s what it sounds like next door right now.

You look through the kitchen window. There’s a lot of people, bodies silhouetted in the windows of his house, people in the backyard. Music loud and pumping. 

He invited you. You could go over.

You sigh and look in the refrigerator. There’s a six pack of beer. You could bring it over. Your father would probably just think that he’d already finished it. Or maybe he’d be thrilled that you snuck alcohol like a normal teenager. 

That’s what you’ll do. Just bring the six pack over, say hi to Jisung and remind him that the rest of your neighbors might not be as tolerant of the noise level.

And to be careful. 

You tug slightly on your turtleneck as you walk over. It’s not cold enough to warrant it, but it’s night time and you aren’t stupid.

Easy access to arteries is a dumb move.

You decide to step over the fence between the backyards, hearing a few ‘who is that?’ comments as you do from the outdoor party-goers. You will stay thirty minutes. That’s enough to get the high school party experience, right?

You see Felix the moment you walk in the back doors. He is sitting on a counter laughing at something someone is saying. He sees you, eyes light up and he slides off the counter to come greet you. 

He’s so bright sometimes he makes your eyes hurt.

“You came! Jisung said you wouldn’t!” There’s a hug, enthusiastic on his end, less so on yours. No one dislikes Felix; it’s impossible, but he’s definitely good in small doses for you. “You brought beer?”

You nod and he takes it from you, leaving your hands empty with nothing to do.

“Come, come, have a drink.”

“Uh, I just brought that and wanted to say hi to Jisung.”

He hands you a bottle of something pink with a peach on the label before gesturing toward the middle of the house. “I think he’s in there somewhere.”

Did you mention you don’t love yelling?

The music and the din of human voices is a lot to your head, so you sip the drink to find it’s not too gross and the cold of it is welcome amidst the heat of bodies. You enter into the sea of people, some dancing, most talking, a few touching in ways that makes your skin crawl.

Seungmin bumps into you and greets you with the same apathy that makes you always think that you and he might be good friends if either of you tried. 

“Where’s Jisung?” you ask, wincing as you have to yell it to be heard.

Seungmin smiles and it makes you question everything. Because it’s too wicked to just be a smile brought by an innocuous question or even alcohol. 

“I think he’s over by the stairs. You should definitely say hi.”

If Felix is too bright to take in more than just a bit at a time, you’re more wary of Seungmin. You kinda hope you never see him smile again. It’s too unsettling.

You nod and move on through the house, avoiding touching people as much as possible because they smell of liquor and sweat and so many pheromones. 

It takes a few minutes to get to the stairs, but you do find Jisung who is staring into the crowd that is writhing in the living room. You quietly sidle up behind him (him unaware) to see what he’s seeing.

Ahhh. 

“Mi-sun, huh?”

He jumps and turns, almost knocking heads with you. You step back to give him space. He says your name, eyes wide and then quite delighted. He hugs you.

He hugs you.

Jisung doesn’t hug you. That’s not a thing between next door neighbors. But you can smell the mix of fruit juice and rum on him, so you think that it’s probably not surprising that intoxicated Jisung is affectionate. 

He is friends with Felix after all. 

You pat his back during the hug, but he doesn’t let go quickly. You feel his nose brush the fabric covering your neck before he draws back. 

“You’re here.”

You shrug, a little undone by how damn smiley he is. “I’m here.” You wait but he’s still staring and smiling at you, so you look away, pointing back toward the crowd. “You like Mi-sun?”

He follows your hand then looks back at you. “Uh, I mean…she’s pretty?” His brow is furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“You were staring at her.”

“No, I wasn’t.” There’s a pout added to his words, so you just shrug because why would you debate this.

“I just came to bring some beer and say hi,” you tell him. 

“What?”

God, do you have to yell everything?

“Come on,” he says when you shake your head. “We’ll go upstairs.” He takes your hand and leads you. You are so dumbfounded that you follow, half-stumbling up after him. 

He leads you to a room and hits the lights before pulling you in and shutting the door. You look around.

“There’s no way this is your room.” You have very vague recollections of his bedroom from when you two were in elementary. 

“It’s my brother’s.” His older brother is already in college. “Why isn’t it mine?” He plops on the edge of the bed and lays down. 

“Doesn’t feel like yours.” You assume that his room looks different from when you were kids, but maybe there are still Alvin and the Chipmunks sheets. 

“Valid.” He sighs. “There are so many people here.”

You sit next to him. “Yeah. I was gonna warn you that I think Mrs. Park has looked out her blinds at least three times.”

Another sigh as he looks up at the ceiling. “Fuck. I really thought it’d be like ten people.” He sits up and looks over at you. “You’re drinking.”

You look at the wine cooler and offer it to him. “I think I had three sips.”

He takes it and drinks it, eyes on you when his mouth touches the rim of the bottle. You tilt your head to the side, then decide not to ask about it. 

“So…a high school party…is it as great as the movies told us?” you ask, looking at his brother’s swimming trophies decorating one set of shelves. 

“Dunno. It’s my first legit party.”

“Same.” You doubt birthday parties from third grade when Doyung had to invite the entire class counted as ‘real’ parties. 

“It’s not horrible,” he says before saying your name. You turn to look at him to find that he’s only a few inches away. 

“What are you doing?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You freeze before jumping off the bed. “What?”

He makes a face before looking at the half-drunk bottle in his hands. “I know it’s weird, but it’s my first party. This’d be my first kiss.”

“There is probably someone down there who’d do that for you,” you stammer, trying not to look at his lips because that’s what the word ‘kiss’ has done to your brain. “I think Felix would.”

Jisung laughs before grinning at you. “He probably would, but…” he trails off, looking at you. 

“But…” You cross your arms, so he doesn’t think you are interested. Then it hits you. “Wait, is this because I always tell you the truth? Like you want to make sure you don’t suck? I wouldn’t know. I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“Okay, maybe there’s some of that…” That shouldn’t be as disappointing as it is to you, but he continues, “But also…” he swallows nervously. “I want to kiss you.”

Your brain has stopped computing. 

“You…want to kiss me?” You are surprised you can even speak. “Why?”

He cocks his head to the side. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You move back to sit on the bed, a foot or two between you and him. “I…” You meet his gaze. “How drunk are you?”

He shrugs with an embarrassed smile. “Two drinks? I mean, I won’t lie, I definitely probably wouldn’t have asked you if I was fully sober, but I’m not…impaired or anything.” He scoots a little closer. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I might cry about it later, but–” He laughs when you punch his arm with no force. 

It’s hard not to stare at him. Whether it’s the alcohol or something else that makes his eyes all sparkly, he’s turning into someone quite pretty. His nose still doesn’t quite fit his face and he’s more of a toothpick than human. 

But he’s pretty.

And probably the only person you know who you could kiss and not be worried as much about the aftermath. Maybe growing up with him just means he isn’t so scary.

Maybe it just means that he’s safe.

“Okay.”

His eyes widen at your admission. “Yeah? Oh. Okay.” He turns more toward you. “So, you have to be honest. I really have a lot of overcome in the romance department, but I think being a good kisser could like be my chance to outweigh the rest of it.”

You laugh, you can’t help it. “You’re pretty great as is, Jisung.”

His mouth parts, eyes boring into yours. “Thanks.”

You shake your head at the near mesmerizing effect of his big brown eyes. “Rules though.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Hands nowhere that bikini covers .” Even saying it outloud makes you cringe, but you really have no desire to find out if you like being groped or not. 

“Uhhhh, same?” He covers his hands over his chest like the cups of a bikini top and you giggle because he’s funny and cute and you’re going to kiss him. You lean closer. His eyes drop to your mouth, his hands falling from his chest to the mattress. “Anything else?” his voice is pitched high and you wonder if your voice does something to give away your nerves too. 

“I don’t think so?” Yeah, your voice doesn’t quite sound normal. 

He reaches out, one hand touching your cheek while the other rests on your thigh. He lets out a shuddery breath. 

“Soft,” he whispers before his eyes close which reminds you that you should close your eyes, too. You feel his lips brush yours hesitantly before settling with a bit more confidence. His hand cups your face as his mouth moves. 

It’s nice. It’s interesting.

He draws back, but his hands linger. Eyes open, and he gazes at you. 

“Okay?”

You nod, curious because you feel like it should be more. You aren’t sheltered. You’ve seen kisses on screen, in real life, but it’s not like you’ve studied. Kissing for any length of time requires movement. So you move.

You press your mouth to his, hands pushed down on the mattress as you edge ever closer. His index finger traces the shell of your ear when you open your mouth so your tongue can touch the seam of his lips. You feel him visibly jolt, but he gives you no time to question or apologize for that as he returns it. 

Oh…ohhhhh.

As his tongue slides along yours, his hand on your thigh clenches. It’s like a chain reaction; his hand on your leg draws you more to him, your hands finding his waist and hips. He makes a sound that spurs on his tongue so much that you pull back.

“No.”

His eyes flutter open. “What?”

“I mean,” you feel dazed yourself. “Not so much tongue.” You brush back his hair when his hand drops to your shoulder. “No lizards.”

He winces. “Sorry.” The flush on his cheeks catches your attention and you lean in to kiss the heated skin. His breath catches. 

“What about me?” you ask, fascinated at the give of his cheeks. You press another kiss. “Any tips?”

“No.” It’s more of a groan and you raise your eyes to his. “You…you’re very good.” He doesn’t elaborate, but kisses you again. You feel the intrusion of his tongue, but it’s slower…like he’s savoring. 

It’s so much better. 

You’re unaware of much beyond the kissing, your hands having a mind of their own as one slips under his t-shirt to trace the slope of his back. You’re not quite conscious of maneuvering him so he’s lying back on the bed and you are straddling him on your knees, reluctant to break away from his mouth. You do though, you draw away and look down at him; his swollen lips, red and shiny. His dark eyes and flushed skin. How his fingers wrap around your waist, gripping tightly. 

“Better?” he questions, breathless.

“Much.” One more kiss, this one soft and he whines when you pull away again. “I think you’ll be just fine, Jisung.”

He sits up as you move off of him. Reality comes back, your brain returning to its normal functioning. You stay on the edge of the bed, staring anywhere but at him. 

He fills the space next to you, so quiet. He says your name, and you dare to glance over. 

You kiss him again, the urge strong. He cradles your face in his hands, kissing you back. It’s more sweet than heated.

There’s a loud crash sounding from downstairs, and he jerks away before looking at you with wide eyes. 

“Shit.”

“You better go.”

He glances at the door then back at you, his hands leaving your face. “Yeah…are you going home?”

“Yeah. I think…I think I should.” You miss his hands already.

You both stand and you slide your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. He reaches out to touch where your neck is covered by your shirt. You freeze, staring at him. He shrugs, not saying anything. 

“I’ll…I’ll see ya.” He disappears through the door, shutting it behind him. You don’t move for a minute, trying to feel like you have control over your body before you leave. 

As you make your way through the party-goers, you’re almost out the back door when you hear someone (Seungmin you think) holler “Cops on their way!”

It’s a mad dash that you make in front of the departing crowd. You step back over the fence, hurrying into your house before watching the people and the cars all race off. You wait several more minutes once everything has gone quiet to realize that the cops aren’t coming. 

Pretty effective way to end a party, though.

Your phone vibrates.

Night.

—

If you had friends, especially female friends, you might have talked to them about it. Might have discussed the whys and hows and what to do now of it all. But you don’t think your mom is the right person to tell about the party at the Han’s house, and the few kids in high school you do interact with aren’t exactly interested in anything about your life. Your conversations consist of retelling what assignments someone missed and how high school is hell. 

You definitely don’t talk to Jisung about it. 

When you see him at school the following Monday, he smiles at you, but is distracted by one of his dance team members. You maintain the status quo which is little engagement with anyone at school, even Jisung. 

What is there to talk about? It was a kiss (several) and just two neighbors experimenting. It’s not anything else.

It definitely doesn’t mean you like Jisung or anything.

It’s two months later that you see him talking with Mi-sun by the lockers, her hand on his arm that you reiterate to yourself that you don’t like him.

Because that would be stupid. 

—

~Twelfth Grade~

High school is hell, but you weather it well enough. You pass your classes, you get a decent score on the SAT even though you think university is a pointless experience. It appeases your parents that you do apply and do accept going to a school in state, but farther away than you’ve ever been. 

You’ve been working a part-time job at a bookstore for the last two years, finally earning enough for a used car. Which means you don’t text your neighbor for any late night excursions. Even though he’s asked at least twice. 

He’s easy to avoid if you try. 

But not at the graduation bonfire. It’s tradition. The powers-that-be in your small town look the other way when the graduated seniors set up a party on the outskirts, in the woods. Bonfire, drinks, very little food and somehow it’s okay as long as no one drives home. 

You go because you’re curious. You’ve been to maybe three parties since Jisung’s because it makes your parents less annoying when you do ‘normal’ teen things. You haven’t stopped your research and exploring, but you hide it better. 

It’s the last high school thing you’ll ever have, so you go. 

It’s not about Jisung.

But you do see him once you grab a beer to keep your hands occupied. He’s laughing with Seungmin and Felix and other schoolmates that you know by sight. You know that he did date Mi-sun for probably a good year or so because even though you are a nobody in your school, it’s small enough that dating rumors and truths get to everyone, even the outsiders. 

You force yourself to look away from him when he smiles because it’s still bright and happy and it hurts. 

The bonfire crackles and burns bright in front of you as you fiddle with your open bottle. 

“Hey, you came!”

Apparently he saw you too.

You force a smile to your lips. “Hey Jisung.”

He steps in next to you, clinking your bottle with his. “Happy ‘we’re done with this hellhole’!” He seems a little intoxicated, giddy from the ceremony of the day. 

“Sure.”

He turns to you. “Your mom said you were going to Southern?”

“Yeah. And you’re going to State with Seungmin and Felix.” You take a sip and make a face. 

“Yeah.” There’s a pause. “Guess we won’t be neighbors.” 

Why does he have to sound bummed about it? What does he care?

“Yep.”

“What does an aspiring vampire-ologist major in?” His smile hasn’t faded, but you realize that you’re just not in the mood for his teasing. Even if he’s one of the only people who’s never mocked you for your life-long preoccupation.

“What do you major in when you just do everything your friends do?” 

You can see him still in the corner of your eye. The smile drops, the easy and open manner closes off. 

“What?”

You turn to him, angry for reasons you can never tell him because it’s probably not his fault that you went and developed a crush on the boy next door, but you convince yourself if he hadn’t kissed you, you wouldn’t be like this. 

You wouldn’t like Han Jisung.

“Just curious if going to college with your best friends from high school is such a good idea. I mean, will you ever figure out what you actually want to do if you keep following them?”

The bonfire paints flickering light over his face, shadowing the entirety of his expression. But you can see enough. 

You’ve hurt him. You’re not friends but you never wanted to hurt him. 

“At least I don’t live in a fantasy because I refuse to deal with the real world and actually interacting with humans. I don’t prefer mythological creatures over actual people.” He spits out words like they’ve been festering inside for far too long. “At least people know I exist.”

He holds your gaze, your glare for as long as it takes you to let his words settle in your mind. It’s a direct hit. And only he knows you well enough to do it so keenly.

You hate that you just now realize how well he knows you. 

“Have a nice life, Jisung.” You toss your bottle into the bonfire, watching the mini explosion with disinterest before walking away. 

—

~First Year at University~

When you see Jisung in his backyard during winter break, you pause in your thoughts about going out to look at the stars. You haven’t spoken to him since graduation night. You saw him load up his truck and leave about three days before you left for your college. There has been no contact in any way. You almost made a profile to see if he posted on tiktok or instagram or anything, but school takes over as it always does, and you don’t want to feel weak. 

Even if you wish you could apologize. 

You don’t go back home until winter break. Your parents check in with you, but you’re convinced that they’re just grateful that you’re finally out of the house. As the semester wears on, you don’t blame them. 

It’s three days before Christmas when you see Jisung in the backyard with Bbama. You were about to walk out, look up at the stars and soak in the wintry quiet. You hesitate in seeing your neighbor, wondering if you can actually do this. 

You go out anyway.

In a tufted beanie and big puffy jacket, Jisung spins around at the noise of the sliding doors opening. Even from this distance, with the back door lights illuminating, you can see his eyes widen.

You wave. “Hey Jisung.”

His shoulders drop in relief. “Hey.”

You walk over to the fence, pulling tighter on the hood of your sweatshirt. You squat down to pet Bbama over the fence. 

“So…” you begin, looking up as your neighbor walks over. “How was college?”

He half-smiles and squats down too, eyes on Bbama. “Is it strange to say life-changing?”

You stare at him as he rubs Bbama’s hindquarters. You need to know. You need to know if getting away from home, from the drama of high school, from everything of before also irrevocably altered him and the journey he thought he was on. 

“No,” you say. He looks at you then and seems to understand that there’s a lot you’re not saying. “Wanna tell me about it?”

The half-smile stretches into a full one. “Yeah, okay.”

He drives you both out to the woods, to a very large clearing so you both can lie in the bed of his truck and stare up at the stars, unpolluted by light. He throws a blanket over you before adjusting an old hoodie under his head for a makeshift pillow.

“I’m sorry.”

You still look at the stars, but you can feel his gaze. 

“You are?”

“For what I said at the bonfire. I was…” One of the reasons you never apologized was that you weren’t sure how to without revealing how angry you were and that the source of your anger was your silly crush on him. “I was angry and I took it out on you. I’ve always thought your friendship with Seungmin and Felix was really nice.”

He lets out a soft breath. “You could have been friends with them too.”

You snort. “Yeah, I wasn’t really about that.”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry too. For saying what I did about you living in fantasy and–”

“I don’t think you were entirely wrong,” you interrupt. “I think there was some element of avoiding life.”

“Did you have to take Psych 101 too this semester?”

You laugh, turning your head to look at him. He’s looking up at the sky, giving you a picture-perfect view of his profile.

He’s grown even more, in just five months. 

“I did.”

“Me too. So, I think you weren’t completely wrong either. About me.” He moves and sits up, leaning back against the cab of the truck. You do the same, wrapping the blanket around you. “It’s easier to be what others what you to be than to figure out what you really want.”

You’re both quiet for a few minutes, hearing the wind whistle through the bare and needled trees. 

“Did you? Did you figure out what you want?”

He nods. “I…I started writing.”

“Writing?”

In your peripheral, you can see him swallow nervously. 

“What kind of writing?”

“Lyrics. Music. Poetry.” He turns toward you. “I had to take a writing class to get it out the way and only one was available…poetry. I shouldn’t have even gotten into it, it’s a 300 level…a total glitch, but it was so good and I liked it so much and–” He cuts himself off, looking away and even though it’s dark you can tell he’s blushing. “I think I’m pretty good at it.”

“Are you going to like…be a song-writer?”

“Maybe? I’m taking two music production classes next semester. It might be awful. I might be awful at it.”

“But you might not be.”

He looks back at you and does that half-smile again. “Yeah. I might not be.”

“That’s really awesome, Jisung.” You reach out and squeeze his arm, which really is just you squeezing the puffy jacket. “I’m happy you found that.”

“What about you? You made it sound like…like college was life-changing for you too.”

You take a deep breath.

“Still researching?”

“No.”

If you were in a drama, he would have gasped with such a reveal. But it’s just quiet. Cold and quiet. 

“Why not?”

“Because they’re not real.”

Maybe that’s when a gasp would happen. 

“I…um, really?”

You laugh at how he’s trying to sound surprised. 

“I mean I noticed you aren’t covering your neck like you usually do at night, but–” 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he noticed that.

“I know. I know. I was so adamant about them being real. And who knows? Maybe they do exist. They’re just really good at hiding.” You sober up. “There was this flyer-poster thingy on the bulletin boards and on the community website for extracurriculars and clubs and stuff. It said something like “Find out about real vampires’ or whatever. I thought maybe I’d found others like me.”

You look back up at the sky.

“But you didn’t.”

“No. It wasn’t a big group. In some tiny classroom in the history building. The person who spoke was an activist.” You feel your voice break. “About sex-trafficking.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah. And like, went on about the statistics, and how it happens here, not in some country a million miles away. I almost cried in the meeting. These kids, people our age and younger are being enslaved and assulated on the daily and…” You trail off. “I mean, we’ve all heard about it before, just something about then, that moment. Here I was, trying to write a manifesto about some fictional character trope and there were children out there, being…” You press your lips together and take another deep breath. “It was eye-opening.”

“I can imagine.”

You swallow your emotions a little, wondering if you would ever become jaded when you thought about it. 

“Anyway. I finally picked my major. I’m doing sociology and criminal justice. I don’t know what that means really, except…”

“I think that means you know what matters to you.” 

You turn to him. “Yeah. I guess so.”

He smiles. “Well, my lyric-writing turn feels really underwhelming right now.”

You laugh and lightly punch his shoulder. “I bet your words are really wonderful. Thoughtful. Powerful.”

He cocks his head to the side. “You don’t know that.”

“Well, no, I don’t. But you were always a good friend to me…You’re really empathetic which I bet comes out in your writing.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve admitted that we’re friends.”

You huff and punch him again before crossing your arms to look back out into the dark night. “Whatever.”

“I think your obstinacy will serve you well in what you wanna do, Van Helsing.” 

You smile at the nickname. 

“Hey.”

You turn again toward him. He’s moved closer. 

“I’m excited for you.”

You can’t help but soak in his warmth from being closer and that smile of his. “Thanks. I’m terrified.”

“I think that’s good. I’ve never seen you scared.”

“I’ve seen you scared.”

He makes a face. “Well, that’s what I get for having a girl like you next door.” He meets your eyes for a couple seconds. “I’m sorry too.”

“About?”

“The party at my house.” 

You can actually feel your heart speed up. 

“We were kids.”

“But I liked you.” He shrugs. “And I got to kiss you but did nothing about it. Which feels both dumb and spineless. You didn’t seem to be interested so I just kinda decided to not bring it up again.”

You can’t take looking at him in the eyes for this, so you stare at the trees in the distance. “You liked me?”

“Of course. So I’m sorry I kinda made it about it being my first time and like, practice when it was definitely more than that. I took your first kiss too.”

“I agreed,” you say softly. “I agreed because it was you.” You reach out and smooth the wrinkles in his forehead from his worry. “I didn’t bring it up either. Even though it mattered.”

He doesn’t look away from you. “Yeah. It mattered.” He links his hand with yours. 

You stare at your connected hands because it’s almost as unfathomable as you pursuing something that wasn’t vampires. 

“Jisung.”

“Hmm?”

“You said you ‘liked’ me. Past tense.”

“I did.”

“Well, I like you.” You force your eyes back to his. “Present tense.”

“Yeah?” If there’s a trace of knowing in his voice and expression, you can forgive him. Because he’s always been perceptive and observant. Maybe your crush wasn’t as unnoticed as you thought. 

“Yeah.” You laugh in self-reproach. “I mean, I think you’re the only thing outside of my research that I even thought about.”

He doesn’t say anything, but he’s grinning, still holding your hand.

“Say something.”

“That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

You roll your eyes, but don’t move away. “Are you a better kisser now?”

You can see and hear how his breath catches at your question. “Um…I think so. I got really good advice from a friend, once. Not too much tongue.”

“That is a good friend.” You aren’t sure which of you is moving closer to the other, or if both of you are doing it simultaneously, but his lips are definitely nearer. 

“Yeah. I like her.” 

“Still?”

He nods, so close his lips brush yours just from that movement. He lingers, before kissing you more firmly, his other hand coming around to cup your face. 

Maybe you don’t remember it that well, but you think he has improved. His tongue touching yours sends shivers through you that have nothing to do with the cold. But he notices. 

“I better get you home. It’s freezing.”

You protest, and he kisses you on the lips in response before dropping his head and pressing his lips to your neck.

“I wanted to do this that night,” he whispers against your skin, then looks up at you. “Kiss you here.” 

You cup his face in your hands, mouth meeting his, your fingers sliding into his hair. The way he kisses, the changing rhythm; his hands trailing under your hoodie and up your sides; all of it just causes your fingers to tighten in his hair, relishing the silky feel and hearing how he shudders at the slight pull. 

He drags you closer, almost into his lap, but the wind picks up, blowing through the both of you so you simultaneously shiver. He chuckles against your lips. 

“I better take you home. Getting sick on winter break would be the worst.” 

You agree, but not without wrapping around him, kissing again. He eventually draws away, but lets your noses brush.

“The image of you above me, kissing me that night. Seared into my brain for eternity.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he climbs out of the bed of the truck and holds out his hand to help you, but you throw the blanket over his head before climbing out on your own. He’s laughing when he gets into the driver's seat to drive you back. 

When he parks in his driveway, it’s quiet again. And your mind wanders.

“So…what does this mean, exactly?” you ask carefully. 

He takes your hand in his, turning his body toward you, eyes soft and warm. “Means whatever we want it to.”

“We go to different schools.”

“True.”

“We are just now figuring out who we are and what we want to do.”

“Also true.”

You huff at him. “Long distance, even two hours or whatever rarely works.”

His smile grows. “You looked up how long it takes to drive between our schools?”

It’s beyond embarrassing so you pull your hand out of his, and get out of his truck. He follows soon after, wrapping his arms around you in a hug, his mouth pressing against your temple. 

“It’s cute. You’re cute.”

“Whatever.”

He draws back, not letting go, but so you can look at each other. “Two hours is nothing. We drove almost that far to look at an empty house.”

It reminds you again. That he pays attention. That he cares so deeply about his friends that he does stuff with them. Even hunting something that doesn’t exist. 

You kiss him before drawing back to say, “True. Two hours is nothing.”

His answering smile fills you with so much affection, you wonder if it was inevitable; falling for the boy next door. 

---

(c) yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans.

[lizzy06]

Kyoutani Kentarou x Reader Fic Recs!!(Tumblr/AO3/Wattpad)

Haikyuu! Fic Rec Masterlist

Aoba Johsai Fic Rec Masterlist

Collaring the Mad Dog✨✨ by Amoralyn (fluff). One day, staying late to clean up the classroom for a classmate who didn’t want to, you pass by the gym and happen to look in as the volleyball team is practicing…and you see a boy who changes everything. [COMPLETED]

Happy Birthday, Kyoutani~✨ by Amoralyn (oneshot, fluff) Kyoutani's first birthday with a girlfriend, who's determined to make it special for him. With a little help from a very special person, she just might succeed in a way she hadn't imagined… [COMPLETED]

tell me again✨ by laurus_nobillis (oneshot, fluff, smut at end(skippable for sfw reader!)) You accidentally admit to your best friend that you love him - and he wants to hear it again. [COMPLETED]

Growl |Kyotani Kentaro/Reader|✨ by Jayce_Writes(fluff) It all started with a growl……Which was odd considering it came from a human. [COMPLETED]

All Bark No Bite by @jesswritesthat (oneshot, fluff) Mad Dog is known for being scary, but the tables turn when a date gets turned into babysitting. [COMPLETED]

Tame by @jesswritesthat (oneshot, fluff) Playing Volleyball with Mad Dog outside of school forms a friendship of sorts, not that he’ll ever admit to that. [COMPLETED]

Exchanges✨ by @jesswritesthat (oneshot, fluff) Seijoh know there’s something between Mad Dog and yourself, but that doesn’t make his unique behaviour toward you any less shocking. [COMPLETED]

Angry confessions by @d0llpie (oneshot, fluff) You’ve tried everything to make Kyotani realise you like him but he thinks you’re joking. [COMPLETED]

Kyoutani Kentarou (Maddog)x fem! Reader by @cutietobio (oneshot, fluff) kyoutani and reader on a date and the rest of aoba johsai end up seeing them. [COMPLETED]

Snow by @jesswritesthat (oneshot, fluff) Being at war against Seijoh is bound to be tough, but fortunately you’re not alone in this battle. [COMPLETED]

Mad Dog has a Girlfriend by @pan-fangirl-345 (oneshot, fluff) No one expected Kyoutani to have a girlfriend, much less one that loves physical affection as much as you do. They also didn't expect you to be from Tokyo or that you would stop by to see your boyfriend while you're home from the US. Surprise! [COMPLETED]

Kyoutani Kentarou x Reader by @chimielie (oneshot, fluff) Just you and your friend at the grocery store. [COMPLETED]

Volleyboy Blondie✨ by @pan-fangirl-345 (oneshot, fluff)There’s a boy that you set to at the community center. Your brother and his best friend are overprotective. You don’t have many friends. You’re about to find out how these three things correlate.

Every Season - Kyoutani x Reader / tumblr by @mimi-cee-hq/mimi_cee(oneshot, fluff) Kyoutani finally introduces Y/n to the team. When they all comment on how he got such a sweet and innocent girlfriend, Kyoutani lets out a snort. A cute and funny getting together story of different kisses throughout the years and seasons. [COMPLETED]

we look good together by @howisavedtheworld (oneshot, fluff) kyoutani ruins your pictures. [COMPLETED]

CUTE CAT AND MAD DOG by @iwaizumisbabe (oneshot, fluff) in which you are Ken's girlfriend and nobody on the volleyball team knows. [COMPLETED]

Once Upon A Dream✨✨ by ThisNoodleWrites(oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) For almost 3 years, Kyoutani had seen glimpses of your life in his dreams. It was his favourite part of the day. So, when you move to Miyagi, he's far too excited to meet you. Only, he doesn't know your name or your what you look like. And what's a soulmate supposed to do when you go silent at school? [COMPLETED]

the art of (not) screwing a routine by orphan_account (oneshot, fluff) kyotani wakes up and decides he wants to screw the routine by confessing to you. it’s not as easy as it sounds. [COMPLETED]

Of Enemies And Lovers by ThisNoodleWrites (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) In a world where soulmates exist, but people have different soulmates identifying things, you are stuck with arguably the worst: on one wrist is your enemies name, on the other is your soulmates name. The catch: you don't know which is which. So when you happen to meet the owner of one of these names, how're you meant to react? [COMPLETED]

Call him by his name by HowlingKnight (oneshot, fluff, iwa's sis! reader) You meet Kyoutani Kentarou, the broody boy Oikawa dubbed as "Mad dog". You realize that Kyoutani might not really be fine with this nickname, and it slowly and unexpectedly brings you closer. [COMPLETED]

Little Fighter by Sk3tchkidd (oneshot, fluff) Being the wife of Kentaro Kyotani the former 'Mad Dog' is now a father with another baby on the way. [COMPLETED]

Jerk by QuitaQuita5 (oneshot, fluff) He irritates you for so many reasons, mainly because he is always being a jerk to you, but also because you really like him. [COMPLETED]

If you can't believe in others, atleast believe in us by @koushisatori (oneshot, hurt/comfort)In the beginning, you weren’t sure why your boyfriend is ignoring you. [COMPLETED]

Insecurities by @polarbearaone (oneshot, fluff with pinch of angst) Kyōtani insecurities fuel his jealousy. What happens when he finds out you’re the new baseball team manager.... [COMPLETED]

[cloudyyoimiya]

Forced Photography; Nikolai Gogol

Format: Oneshot

Possible warnings: Yandere content, dark themes, unhealthy relationships, violence, manipulation

Click!

The sound of a professional camera pierced through the normally quiet atmosphere. For some reason unknown to you, today was special to Nikolai. The clown never voiced why it was special to him, but he seemed adamant on staying with you the entire day.

Click!

The camera shuttered once more, leaving a slightly bitter taste in your mouth. You always hated it when Nikolai took pictures of you. It made you feel antsy, twitchy, discombobulated… many negative emotions.

Click!

You were currently dressed up in a rather fancy outfit. You would have never worn something so… expensive in your old life, but because of your captor constantly stealing from high class stores, your wardrobe only consisted of classy clothing.

Part of you thought it was a nice gesture, but the other part of you argued that it was disgusting that he’d just so casually commit a crime for your sake. Your internal debate was surly going to drive you mad sooner or later.

Click!

You forced yet another smile as you sat still on the bed you were situated on. You didn’t dare more in fear of angering your captor.

Click!

“Oh! This one has to be my new favorite!” Your captor exclaimed to you as he looked at the camera screen. “You look stunning, dove!”

You remained silent as Nikolai fawned over your appearance in the photograph. One of the many lessons you learned while staying with Nikolai was to remain quiet when he was gushing about how much he loved you.

If you ever told him to stop or told him that you found it weird, then you would be punished. You unfortunately found this out the hard way.

“Ah, can’t I just take one more? Please? Pretty please with sprinkles on top?” Nikolai asked, giving you puppy dog eyes.

You looked at him and gave him a fake smile. “Yes, of course. Take as many as you want!”

Your words made your captor smile rather largely. You could see majority of his teeth, his canines sticking out to you the most. They were sharp and on the bigger side, but they were nowhere near the size of a certain vampire’s you know.

…Click!

The shudder of the camera sounded once more. Nikolai looked at the picture of you on the screen with the same sickening smile on his face.

“Ah, you look so lovely, my little birdie! I wish you could look like this forever and ever!” Your captor exclaimed in a slightly chilling tone, insinuating something sinister.

Was he going to kill you?

No, no. Nikolai has stated that he could never bring himself to kill you.

He said that the feeling of guilt would be far worse than the feeling of love.

…But could he have lied to you?

You weren’t sure.

You doubted that you would ever be sure.

“You already have me, so you might as well doll me up as much as you want. I’ll stay lovely, just for you, Kolya,” you spoke with a sickeningly sweet tone of voice.

Nikolai suddenly wrapped both of his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your neck. He then started to giggle like a schoolgirl. It honestly disturbed you to think that despite everything he has done to you, he can still laugh. Maybe he’s not as sane as he says he is.

“Ah, thank you, thank you! You’re so sweet, my little birdie! I love you so much!” He said, continuing to giggle into your neck.

“I love you too,” you murmured.

Nikolai practically squealed at your response. “Really?! You love me back?!”

You nodded, forcing a fake smile onto your face. “Of course I do. You’ve done so much for me.”

“Ah, that makes me so happy!” He exclaimed. He then started to pepper your face in soft butterfly kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you! Oh, please never leave me! I would never forgive myself if I ever let you escape my grasp! My wonderful little birdie, never leave my side!”

“I would never leave you,” you spoke in an almost robotic tone.

Nikolai never did like it when you lied, but he did like it when you lied about your love for him. Maybe it was some sick way of him feeding into his delusions of you loving him back, or maybe it was because he thought he could condition you into loving him. Either way, it was still off putting.

Nikolai continued to giggle and press small kisses all over your face. “You’re so sweet! My sweet little dove, I cannot wait for the day the both of us become free! Nothing will stop our love from blossoming even further! Oh, I’m so excited!”

You stayed silent. It was best to let him bask in his own delusions.

Your captor kissed your cheek one last time, then pulled away. He looked at you with his same old large smile, and let out a small giggle.

And then he stopped.

He put a stern expression on his face.

It was chilling.

“Hmm… I think my birdie lied to me!”

You tensed up. “What? No, I would never lie to you…!”

“You lied again!” He sighed. “Haven’t I told you about how I absolutely loath lying? I can’t stand it!”

“I know you hate it. That’s why I don’t lie to you,” you spoke, trying to keep a level head.

“You’re lying yet again! I thought I taught you better than that, my beloved!”

You gulped. You knew what was coming now.

“I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!” You started to plead. “Please forgive me!”

Nikolai sighed and put his hand into his overcoat. He then drew out a knife that he had placed across the room earlier.

“Hm… Do you deserve it?” He said as he pointed the knife to your face. “I don’t think you do. My little birdie has been trying to butter me up so I can lower my guard. Then you’d escape from me! We can’t have that, now can we?”

“That wasn’t my—“ you stopped yourself for a moment. If you lied again, it most likely wouldn’t have ended up pretty. “Yes. That was my intention. I’m sorry!”

Nikolai gave you a suspicious look. He then lowered the knife, putting it adjacent to his right thigh.

He suddenly smiled once more.

“You’re learning! Good!” He spoke as he threw the knife away to the other side of the room. It now rested by a nearby boarded up window. “I’m so proud of you!”

You stayed silent as your body shivered. You could feel your breath getting shallower and shallower, most likely from you starting to panic from his sudden mood swing.

Nikolai took note of this and continued to smile at you. You knew he was a clown and a terrorist, but you were starting to think he was bipolar as well. No normal person could suddenly change their mood so quickly.

“Oh, is my dove scared?” He asked you as he hugged you. You could feel his muscular arms squeezing your body. It made you feel sick. “Im so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you! Or maybe I did! Who knows…”

You stayed silent. Nikolai sighed as a result of that.

“No more lies, okay? I don’t like it when my dove lies to me. It makes me really sad!” He said, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Understand?”

“…I understand.”

“Good! Now, can I get back to taking your pictures?! They make me so happy!”

“Fine. Go ahead…”

Nikolai giggled yet again and grabbed his camera once more. He then put it into his overcoat and had it appear above of you.

Gold swirled around his wrists as he used his ability. It was very pretty, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to willingly compliment your captor. If he forced you to compliment him though, that would be a different story.

“Look up and smile!” He laughed.

You did just as you were told. You looked up into the camera’s lens and forced a weak smile onto your face. You current expression seemed to please Nikolai to some extent since he didn’t tell you to smile… “better.”

Click!

Nikolai brought the camera back out of his overcoat and looked into the screen of the camera. He made somewhat of a happy sound then looked back at you.

“This one has to be my new favorite! You’re so cute, my dear!”

this is unedited. apologies for any errors

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

I loved the child! Reader, you did and wondered what the characters' first response or reaction was to the fact that their guiding light was actually a kid, still under the age of 10, and still too young to be reading or watching something like Bungou Stray Dogs.

There, enjoy.

Finding out, that you are a child

Self-Aware! Platonic! BSD Characters x GN! Child! Reader

Bonus: Self-Aware! Platonic! Dazai Osamu x GN! Child! Reader x Self-Aware! Platonic! Chuuya Nakahara

Connected to this oneshot.

Warning: Soft Platonic Yandere. OOC. Mention of stalking. Two swear words. English is my second language.

Recently, you got a habit to talk with BSD Characters every time you open the app. It makes you feel, like you have friends.

Today was your birthday, so you decide to tell BSD cast about the presents, you got.

__________

In the app.

__________

Katai, Ango and Fyodor finally managed to hack the camera on your phone. Today, all of them will finally see Their Guiding Light.

All of them gather in a meeting room. The Special Screen, that they use to browse the Internet with you, was put on the wall. On this screen, they will see your face today. They were waiting for you to open the app.

The moment has come.

Their Guiding Light open the app. During the loading screen, they start talking. They sounded happy.

"Guys, it's my Birthday! I wish, you can see, what I get today!"

The Screen shines. And then they saw you.

A kid. You were a kid. No older, then ten-year-old.

With bruises on their wrists.

BSD cast were silent.

Their Guiding Light were still talking.

"Guys, look, I got a sketchbook on my birthday!"

You "show" them a cheap sketchbook.

"I already draw something there"

You open the first page.

A group portrait. A childish drawing. All of them. With you, standing in the middle. All people on the drawing were smiling.

"This is us. All of us are friends."

The Gang was silent. Meanwhile, you open the next page.

Another drawing. Dazai and You. Dazai was protecting you from three monsters. Two monsters were big. Third monster were smaller, but still bigger than you.

The monsters were named.

Dad

Mom

Derek

"This is Dazai. He is protecting me. He is my guardian even now."

You take something from your pocket and show to them.

The keychain. Dazai's figure.

Dazai himself were looking at you with soft eyes.

Then, they heard the noise. Someone was knocking on your door.

"Hey, unwanted sibling! Are you finally have gone mad? Who are you talking to? To imaginary friend, like a baby?"

That someone laughed and left.

Then BSD gang heard you mumbling.

"I am not a baby. I am nine."

_____

You spend sometime talking about your day. When you closed the app, the first few moments in the app were silent.

And then the wall was broken.

______

🐾 They were concerned, that you are too young to learn about their lives. You are too young to learn about Mafia, killers, black market, terrorists and so much more.

🐾 But, they were more concerned about your life situation.

🐾 You saw your parents and older brother as monsters. Your brother calls you an unwanted sibling. You had bruises on your wrists.

🐾 Characters, that wanted to hurt you, before hearing your voice, already feel awful. Now, after they learned that you are a kid, they were feeling absolutely terrible.

🐾 All of them enraged. Especially Dazai.

🐾 After seeing his keychain with you, he proclaimed you his child.

🐾 They need to hurry. They need to save you.

🐾 They will be your new family. Family, that loves you.

____________

Bonus.

Self-Aware! Platonic! Dazai Osamu x GN! Child! Reader x Self-Aware! Platonic! Chuuya Nakahara

__________

Before you got into their world

__________

You were watching Season 4 of BSD. Characters were sitting in the meeting room, watching it with you. They enjoyed your comments, even though, you have already read the manga, and they hear them.

You were watching the episode about ADA been chased by Hunting Dogs.

And then Chuuya Nakahara on the helicopter appeared.

"You have fucked up, Detective Agency!" said Chuuya on the screen.

The Cast heard a loud gasp. Dazai clenched his fists, he glared at Chuuya, that was sitting on one of the chairs.

"Mind your language, hat rack! There is a kid watching you!"

Chuuya snaps in return.

"Back off, Vagabond! Little Guiding Light are smart kid, they won't repeat bad words after us."

___________

Later. When you get into the BSD world

___________

You were sitting on the chair, between Dazai and Yosano. You were eating pancakes.

Meanwhile, Fitzgerald was using The Internet. He was doing something about transferring his money to the real world.

Fitzgerald growl.

"This Bank is awful. They lost the documents. Now, we have to wait another three days to try again."

You chew the pancake and asked.

"It means that They have fucked up?"

Everyone became silent. Dazai stand up with a loud gasp. He was looking at you, clutching his fists.

Oda tried to calm Dazai down.

In the next moment, Dazai was holding Chuuya down, his wrist was raised right above Chuuya's face. Dazai was still looking at you.

At the end, Oda managed to pry Dazai from Chuuya and you promised never say this word again.

[poetryandfluffycats]

OKAY. since reqs are open uhm would you write madara cucking kuro plz...

like literally fucking fem!reader getting fucked, kuro's clothed boner pressed to her cheek while he kinda js sits back in shock and doesn't know what to do while mama is fucking her rrroughhhh and is like "you like my cock that much? kuros right there you'll make him angry" and shit. idk DOES THIS MAKE SENSE but yeah 🫶🏻

-🍓anon

A/N: I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE PLOT OMG SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I hope it's too ur liking I may have gone off the rails a little bit....

Pairing: Kuro Kiryu x fem!reader x Madara Mikejima

Content: Madaras into you, everyone and their dog knows that. Only problem is, you have a boyfriend.

Warnings: NSFW, dub-con, slut-shaming, oral sex(f receiving), cuckolding, dry humping, sexual harassment(?), mentions of cheating, established relationship with kuro, ooc madara(?), they're both ooc tbh💀, porn with plot

Words: 2.1k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Have Him Watch?~

It was no secret that Madara had a thing for you. He had made his advances-both romantic and sexual alike-very obvious to you and everyone else, not even hesitating to flirt with you right in front of your own boyfriend, Kuro.

Kuro wasn't the type to let himself fall into petty jealousy, he knew you loved him and that nothing would never change that. Therefore, he hardly batted an eye whenever Madara made another stuipd comment about your body, or when his hands would linger for just a bit too long. It was better to simply ignore him and wait for Madara to get the hint. Kuro knew he was strong, but to pick a fight with Madara? Death wish.

So, he didn't aggravate him in any way, letting the bigger man do this thing until he realised he had no chance with you. Which is why he was confused when Madara cornered him in the gym one day, his teeth gleaming in his signature smirk.

"Kuro! My friend, my pal! Got a minute?" He beamed, slinging his arm around Kuros shoulders and pulling him in close, squeezing so hard you'd think he was trying to suffocate him.

"Uh, I'm a bit busy right now" Kuro pushed him off, dusting himself off and returning his attention to the weights he had been lifting. "Maybe later"

Madara smile didn't waver, if anything it only grew in size. Clearly, he had no interest in leaving anytime soon, not even when Kuro desperately wanted him too. Whatever Madara wanted from him, he didn't have the time for it. Not now, hopefully not ever.

"Ah, cmon! It'll only take a second!" He chirped, plopping down on the bench beside Kuro, crossing his legs and watching as the redhead started his reps. "Hey, working hard or hardly working, am I right? Hahaha~"

"Out with it, Mikejima" Kuro grunted, resisting the urge to smash his weights straight in the mans face. All he wanted was a peaceful workout, was that too much to ask for?

Madara laughed, waving his hand dismissively as if to clear the tension. "Always so blunt, I've always liked that about you y'know!" He grinned, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "So, you and (name), huh? How serious have you gotten with her? Is it marriage?"

Now he was just starting to piss him off. How was this any of his business? Sure, you and Madara were friends, but where did he get off asking for details about your relationship?

"She's my girl, yeah" Kuro answered, praying that his short replies would deter him from the conversation. If that was even possible.

"Right, right. And just hypothetically, if she were to cheat on you, would you be mad?"

Kuro tighten his grip on the weights, his knuckles turning white at the strain. "What are you getting at? You trying to start something?" He said through gritted teeth, shooting a glare in the brunettes direction.

Madara chuckled, putting one hand up in defence and using the other to playfully slap Kuro on the shoulder-a gesture that he did not appreciate, might I add. "Woah! Easy, I don't wanna fight ya! I'm just curious. Hey, maybe you'd let her cheat on you, I don't know what you're into!"

Kuro dropped the weights, the metal making a loud 'clunk' sound as they hit the floor, causing the other members of the gym to look over and stare at the two. Not that he gave a damn, oh no. Not when this clown was making a scene. How dare he suggest you would have an affair? Was he out of his mind?

"What's wrong with you? Of course I'd be mad, what makes you think I'd be cool with that? Get lost man" He spat, shoving him aside as he rose to his feet. The blood rushing through his veins felt as if it was burning as he sped away, not wanting to spend another second with such a fool.

What even was that? Kuro had gotten used to Madaras teasing and loud personality. Hell, he'd even grown to enjoy it to an extent. But this was just insulting. Why was he even saying those things? Did he know something Kuro didn't? Had you....

No, that was silly. You would never be unfaithful, that just wasn't you at all. Yet here he was, images flooding his mind of you tangled in Madaras arms, both of your bodies sticky with sweat and cum as you screamed his name. It was disgusting.

But so, so hot.

Shit.

/-----

You and Madara were friends. It was normal for friends to hang out alone in each other's bedrooms, even if they were the opposite gender, right?

Yeah, of course it was fine! Who were you kidding, it was perfectly acceptable.

You two were good friends, the best of friends! So it was normal for him to hug you, to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and pull you closer. He was a touchy person, after all. It was totally okay for him to nuzzle into your neck and inhale the smell of your perfume, to pepper kisses all over your jawline, to grind his erection against your ass-

Wait a minute.

"H-hey! What are you doing?" You yelped, squirming around in his grasp in a feeble attempt to escape his hold. It didn't matter how close you were, there was no way you'd be comfortable with this!

"What's wrong?" He cooed, your wiggling only seeming to excite him further as he continued his humping. "Friends cuddle all the time! Or are we not friends anymore?"

"This isn't cuddling! This is-ah! This is, oh fuck! This is sexual harassment, you perverted fuck!" You cursed yourself for allowing your voice to crack, letting those dreaded moans spill out like you were some whore who enjoyed this. Which, of course, you didn't! You didn't like it, right? Dammit!

"Sexual harassment, huh? If that's what floats your boat" Madara chuckled, pushing his hands past the hem of your skirt, groping the soft flesh of your thighs.

You squirmed around, hitting at his chest and clawing at his arms. It was no use, damn him and his muscles! In this position all you could do was stand there and take it, because in all honesty, you knew that no amount of protesting would get him to stop. Even of you did get away, it wouldn't be for long, Madara was as stubborn as ever and you knew for a fact that he wasn't afraid to use force to get his way.

You just didn't realize that part of him would ever show itself to you.

"Kuro. Kuro will be home soon, and he'll-ah! He'll kick your ass!" You threatened, snapping your head around to glare at the man behind you. Using Kuro as a form of defence probably wasn't the best idea, but it was your last resort. Begging and trying to fight back certainly didn't work against Madara.

He just laughed. "Maybe we can have him watch"

"What do you-"

A sudden knock at the door cut you off, the familiar voice of your beloved boyfriend coming from behind it. "Uh, (name)? Do you have someone over? Why's the door shut? Can I come in?"

Oh fuck. No!

It suddenly dawned on you just how horrible this would look to Kuro, you pinned against another man with his hands up your skirt? Anyone would think you were a cheating whore! No matter how much you tried to explain the situation, it would still look the same. You had dug your own grave by even letting Madara come over!

Madara pressed his lips to your earlobe, nipping on the soft flesh and whispering lowly, "Do you want me to stop?"

Yes! No! Maybe?

God, why did it have to feel so fucking good?

"Babe? I'm coming in"

"Wait-ah-no! Don't-"

Too late.

The door swung open, the face of your wide-eyed and shocked boyfriend sending a wave of guilt down your spine. He looked at you, then Madara, then you again, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out, only surprised mumbles and stutters.

You honestly couldn't tell if he was angry, sad, confused, aroused, maybe a mix of all three? And it didn't help that you were unaware of what emotions you should have been feeling either. Should you scream for help, or moan in pleasure? Push Madara away or pull him closer?

"Kuro... this isn't..." You started, trailing off when you glanced over the very obvious tent in the redheads jeans. Oh. Oh shit.

So he was aroused by this? What even was this? Some twisted form of roleplay? A fetish that the two men discussed that you didn't know about? Did Kuro actually like this, or was his body reacting subconsciously?

Either way, you didn't have much time to think about it before Madara picked you up from under your thighs and tossed you onto the bed like a ragdoll, wasting no time in climbing in between your thighs and nuzzling his nose into your panties.

"Mm~ You smell so good" He purred, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of pleasure to your core, a gasp mixed with a whorey moan leaving your lips at the feeling.

The redhead in the doorway cleared his throat, footsteps echoing in the room as he made his way over to where you lay on the bed. He sat down beside you, a hand coming out to gently stroke your cheek. It was a soothing action. One that might have made your heart melt if there wasn't another man currently lapping at your panties like a starved dog.

"Is this okay? I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it first.." He apologised, his face flushed pink and his lips turned upwards into a small smile. "Just tell me if your not enjoying it and I'll kick him out, alright? That's okay?"

You gulped, then nodded, bringing your own hand up to hold his as you squirmed around on the mattress, your mind slowly but surely becoming goo at the pleasure spreading through your veins.

"Ah!- I don't know"- Madara looked up at you with those big brown eyes, choosing that moment to flatten his tongue against your clothed clit, making a show of slurping and smacking his lips together -"f-fuck yes! Oh god, please!"

With consent finally granted, Madara hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down in a second and diving straight into the heat of your pussy. He flicked his tongue up and down, side to side, round in circles and everywhere he could possibly reach inside of you.

Anything to make you scream his name, and scream his name you did. You threw your head to the side, falling into Kuros lap, as he brushed over that one spot, a spot that not even Kuro had reached before.

"Shit! Right there! Ah-ha~ Madara" You cried out, wrapping your legs around his head in a death grip, shoving his tongue even further inside you. "So good!"

He pulled his tounge out of your wet hole, opting to swirl and flick it over your clit. You withered and squirmed around on the bed, griping onto the sheets as hard as possible. The knot in your lower belly was starting to build, and both Madara and Kuro could tell. Your whole body felt as if it was on fire under Madaras touch, every inch of your body begging for release.

It just felt so good. So, so, so good-

"Ah-gonna cum!"

Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, toes curling and eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your lips parted and you were panting so heavy you barely had enough breath left in your lungs to moan or even scream. Juices splattered all over the face of the man in between your legs, dripping down his chin as he drank it up like it was the finest wine in the world.

Madara pulled away from your swollen cunt, climbing up onto the bed and hovering above you, leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

"Aren't you a little slut, huh? Getting off on my tongue while your boyfriend watched? You came so quickly, does he not treat you right?" He cooed, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes.

Kuro, who had been dead quiet the whole time, finally spoke up. "You didn't have to be so rough with her" He grumbled, stroking the top of your head.

Madara huffed, a grin tugging at his lips. "She loves it! Don't you know what your own girlfriend likes?" He rolled his eyes before returning his attention back to your blissed-out form. "Ready for more, sweetheart?"

[vasito-de-leche]

;R1999 PAVIA - "sleeping dogs"

Pavia x Reader. 2k words. fluff Pavia's eye bags keep getting bigger and bigger, so you take matters into your own hands and force him to take a nap with you.

starting the sleepytime saga about blorbos getting some good fucking rest and writing a oneshot about it everytime i get sleepy because the world could do with better naps and more zzz's

this was all self-indulgent fluffy mess to make up for the constant FMN bullying in other posts

"You'll get sleepy in no time, trust me on this."

"Like hell I will," despite his protests, Pavia dutifully follows after you. Once you two reach the edge of the bed, he makes a show out of kicking off his shoes while pouting the whole time, if only to continue rebelling against you and your ideas. "What am I? A kid?"

"You're a grown ass man, Pavia - so act like it."

That gets a snicker out of him, and he instantly seethes about it - he's meant to be mad at you for suggesting something stupid. What follows is a long groan and a roll of the eyes, but he knows you're pretending not to hear him as you climb into the mess of pillows and blankets that he calls a bed. As usual, his room is a damn mess.

"It's just a nap, it won't kill you. Promise!"

It only takes a moment for you to get comfortable, rambling about the "golden hour" for naps - according to you, it was good to leave the curtains partially drawn to allow a small amount of sunlight into the room.

You're so convinced of this that Pavia can't bring himself to remind you: he doesn't need any type of light to see, his eyes having long adjusted to being shrouded in darkness. Instead, he lets you ramble as he makes his way to close the door.

Before he can do so, however, a few dark figures stumble and slide inside, all of them a little more eager and curious at the prospect of napping than their master.

Andrea sniffs around you while Tonika and Leon claim their spots under the bed, their snouts and goofy smiles partially visible. Peter makes an attempt to hop onto the mattress, but slips off and settles for laying down at his master's feet.

Pavia, of course, glares at them as if betrayed. The only one who stands by his side is Maleficent, imitating his expression to the best of her ability.

"Are you seeing this shit, Maleficent? Traitors, all of 'em."

The wolf in question huffs in agreement, and Pavia reluctantly sits down next to you, waiting for your permission.

It's only once you pat the empty space next to you - his spot, for him and the pack only - that Pavia plops down. Unlike you, he rests over the blankets and casually clasps his hands over his stomach, idly looking at the ceiling. With his schedule being all over the place and his unusual reservations, sleep is something Pavia does out of immediate necessity. Only allowing himself to sleep for a handful of hours when his body is at the brink of collapse, and so he finds himself wondering what to do now that you're forcing him to sleep recreationally.

Even so, his body language is relaxed and comfortable, that casual and lazy air he only has whenever he's around you. This is his home, after all.

Pavia doesn't think about the basement in Piedmont, but he sure holds his breath on instinct for a second. It's an old, nasty habit - the aftermath of all of his constant screaming and begging, as there was nothing else to do but sit and wait for someone to let him out. In the stillness of the room, he can hear everything: your breathing and his own, faint voices outside in the wilderness, someone passing by in the hallway - it's that kid with the balloons, judging by sound of her skipping around. The darkness cannot hurt him, not when he's reclaimed power over it, not when he's with you and the pack.

Something shifts in his peripheral. It's you, propped on your elbows and leaning over him.

"Don't tell me you're going to sleep with your glasses on." You don't wait for an answer and reach out to gently take them off, placing them neatly on the nightstand. For some reason, Pavia feels a little naked without them. "There, much better! Is that how you wanna sleep, then?"

Your question gives him pause, and he immediately defaults to his usual antics. "Now you're gonna tell me how to lay down? What's this, some dumb pop quiz I didn't prepare for? Next thing, you'll be telling me how to snore properly."

"Alright, fine, damn! But it's sooo cozy and toasty under the blankets." To prove your point, you slide down and sink deeper into the mattress, humming with that content expression. The blankets cover half of your face, and your big, dumb, bright eyes look up at him with mischief and amusement. "You're missing out."

"And you're going to start hogging the blankets the second you fall asleep, so what's the point?"

This isn't the first and it won't be the last time you two sleep together in the same bed, he knows your sleeping habits like the back of his hand by now. Pavia makes sure to pay attention to each and every little detail when it comes to you, after all.

"Oh my god, Pavia - just get in. It's easier this way." Pavia does as told, only because you're the one asking so nicely, and he lays on his side to face you. "Perfect, now come here."

"You're awfully bossy today, did you notice?"

He leans in once your hands reach out to cradle his face, rubbing soothing circles with your thumbs and coaxing him, ever so slowly, into resting his head on the space between your shoulder and your neck. There is no resistance from Pavia's part, the way his body melts with yours is automatic - like old pieces of a well-loved puzzle that simply click together time and time again.

Pavia's arms wrap around your torso and he brings you even closer, impossibly so, as if wanting to merge with you. The content sigh gives him away, and he wishes he could see your expression once he smiles into your skin. You were right, it is much better this way. There's no way Pavia could ever get tired of touching you like this.

"Getting sleepy?"

"Not yet," he murmurs into the crook of your neck, wondering whether to leave kisses or start biting you. He settles for the latter, a way to get back at you - it's a gentle nip that catches you off-guard, if that small gasp of protest is anything to go by. "If you want me to fall asleep, you're doing a really shitty job."

For a moment, he thinks you're mad at him when no answer comes, usually you'd pinch his back or bite him back. Instead, he feels your fingers softly carding through his hair, your nails on his scalp, moving in slow sweeping motions. Okay, maybe he spoke a little too soon. Being surrounded by you felt like heaven.

Pavia shifts, now burying his face in your chest. Like this, he can hear your heartbeat loud and clear, and he closes his eyes to take in the sound, committing it to memory.

While he's far from falling asleep any time soon, the weight and stress of the daily routine has certainly left his shoulders. Everything about you is soft and welcoming, and he has to restrain himself from biting you again once he feels you lean in, just to kiss the top of his head.

Fuck it, he bites the nearest spot, unable to contain his affection for you. The way he shows love might be unorthodox, but what matters to Pavia is that you understand the thought behind each action and word - he loves with an open mouth, greedy and full of love. A big bad wolf, one hair away from eating you up. And even then, he never bites hard enough to leave any marks nor to hurt you, not unless you ask him to.

Your laugh resonates in your throat and he keeps you from squirming away just to feel it vibrate in your neck.

Between this and your heartbeat, he doesn't know which one to pick as his favorite sound. The way you say his name behind closed doors, so softly and so gently just for him to hear, is definitely up there with the others in his personal ranking.

"Stop biting and start sleeping, idiot." There's a happy tone in your voice, one that urges him to continue bothering you.

"Easier said than done, stupid."

Taking your free hand, the one that tried so rudely to push him away in protest, Pavia presses his lips against your knuckles, one by one. You seem to like that, as hinted by the way your legs tangle up with his, locking him in place.

"I swear I'm doing my best here to get you to stop moving. Try counting sheep? Or wolves, I guess. Speaking of..."

You make an attempt to look for the pack, only for Pavia to pull you back down. He doesn't need to count the wolves, he knows exactly where they are - nestled together under the bed, laying down in the middle of the room with their soft, fluffy bellies on display, so drowsy and happy to exist in the same time and space as you. It's no mystery that each and every wolf is an extension of himself, a shameless display of his own thoughts and feelings, and even though this is something you're fully aware of, Pavia would rather save himself the embarrassment of admitting any of this.

"Now you're the one moving around, interrupting my precious sleep. What do you have to say for yourself?" He teases, hoping you'll indulge him and keep bantering back and forth - but you press a gentle kiss to his forehead instead.

"My bad..." Pavia knows you're not gonna last any longer the moment a yawn interrupts your words, and he's right - you don't speak anymore after this.

Your grip on him loosens gradually. First, it's the hand that kept playing with his hair, now gently petting him until it slowly comes to rest on the back of his neck. It's warm, so very warm. Next is your breathing, slow and steady, along with the rise and fall of your chest. Pavia nuzzles into it, feeling himself breathe in perfect harmony with you. And finally, your legs - he feels you kicking around, curling up and clumsily drawing the blankets towards you until his legs are exposed to the cold.

There it is, he thinks to himself, smitten and endeared by your sleepy crimes. It doesn't matter though, soon enough the whole pack comes climbing into the bed, forming a soft, black mass at the edge and near your feet. All of them unable to stay away from you, just like him.

Silence settles in and the world grows loud once again.

The soft panting from the pack, the voices outside, the constant stream of steps and life all over the house. Someone is in the kitchen, there's the telltale sound of glass against wood. Somewhere else, a door closes and another creaks open.

Pavia knows that you would never dare to ask the reason behind his awful sleep habits, and there's no way he could ever explain the totality of it- yet here you are, trying to help him nonetheless. It's annoying to have you constantly point out the bags under his eyes, but he respects you for it, for having the nerve to call him out and set him straight when needed. Part of him revels in the undivided attention and scrutiny, to have you all to himself whenever you scold him, examining his tired eyes.

He wonders if you know the power you hold over him, how impossible it is for him to tear his eyes from you. Even now as you sleep, Pavia feels himself slowly forget about the outside world in favour of your soft murmurs, those dumb little sounds you make that he can't get enough of.

You're doing so much for him, perhaps it's about time for him to meet you halfway. From his spot, he looks up at you one last time - he wants this view to be the last thing he sees before he drifts into a dreamless sleep.

"Night, vita mia. Don't let the bed wolves bite."