#otherwise you’ll burn out and that is not fun

[roses-and-elixir]

.

[sleepynoons]

alhaitham x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read

cw: omegaverse (alpha!alhaitham + omega!reader), heat, knotting, massive massive MASSIVE breeding kink, impregnation kink, size kink, slight sadism/masochism (more masochism if anything), mentions of pain + hurt, marking + biting, fingering, squirting, unintentional edging (receiving), allusions to dubcon + objectification (but none of it actually), slight nipple play, implied marathon sex

notes: sighs,,, idk how i ended up convincing myself to write omegaverse,,, but i really had a lot of fun with this,,, anyway, i love being an alhaitham fucker, and i love it even more when he loses it and can't be his usual put-together self. lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

edit: 700+ notes?? y’all :((( i’m v touched and also cracking up lol omegaverse ig checks out - but tyssssm for all the love!! reminders that requests are still open (pls read my rules), and i’d love to have moots/anons!!!!

edit x2: 1,000+ notes... y'all... this is a massive milestone for me to hit - thank you so much for all the love on this lil drabble!! there's no amount of words that can describe how grateful i am, truly.

“ALHAITHAM, FASTER!”

you’re whining, sobbing, desperately begging your lover. anything will do – he can even just lie back and let you bounce up and down on his cock. but you’re only in such a frenzied, lucid state because of your heat. alhaitham, on the other hand, is a few weeks out from his next rut, which means he is able to think about what’s rationally best for you.

you’re infuriated. you need more. you need him to mount onto you, pounding and thrusting into you until you’re screaming for him to stop, and even then, he’ll continue to push you over the edge over and over again until you’re a sticky, fucked out doll. the fire in your belly is burning so passionately, and while you would say something snarky or sarcastic to rile alhaitham up, you can barely carry a thought and can only dig your fingernails into his biceps to convey your impatience.

your lover grunts at the piercing sensation and, through gritted teeth, says, “you just started your heat. rushing through it will only hurt you and lengthen your recovery process.”

you groan at his response, overtly dissatisfied and restless. alhaitham’s response is… it’s just so typical of him. he’s detail-oriented, almost scientific in the way he takes care of you. this isn’t your first heat with him, and he’s learned from prior experiences how to ensure your safety and comfort. in fact, the two of you now follow a procedure to prepare for your heat that consists of: gathering all of your favorite snacks and drinks; washing and prepping all of the pillows, clothes, and blankets you’ll need for your nest; and most importantly, figuring out a polite way of telling kaveh that he’s getting “sexiled.”

but this is overkill, you scream in your head. in missionary, alhaitham is going at a steady pace, but what he doesn’t know and can’t feel is that he’s edging you. he’s fanning the flames of your arousal yet never helping you reach the peak. he’s stimulating you at your most sensitive spots and parts, but it’s not enough for your release. he’s torturing you, and he can’t even tell.

“alhaitham,” you cry out for the nth time. “please, please, please! i can’t take it anymore! i just - i need your cock! i need to cum! please, please, i beg you, i promise you i’ll be fine! alhaitham!”

you’re breaking down into tears. by instinct, your body releases more of your scent, and somewhere beyond your crying, your lover takes a deep inhale.

while alhaitham isn’t in his rut, that doesn’t mean he can’t lose control. he hopes you know that he’s doing his best for you, that he’s holding onto the last shreds of his willpower because, if otherwise, he doesn’t know what will become of you. he’s so much bigger, stronger, sturdier than you are, towering over you in both size and strength. he can be painfully forceful, and inflicting pain upon you is the last thing he wants to do.

but you’re sobbing uncontrollably. you’re defenseless yet pleading him to take you roughly, to break in your pussy with his heavy, leaking cock. you want him to use his force to placate your insatiable heat. you need him to overpower you.

he releases a long, shuddering sigh. he attempts to rationalize, consider the potential repercussions of giving in. but he soon realizes he can’t think. your addicting, heady scent, combined with the beautiful sounds of your moans and whimpers, are rendering his mind empty.

it’s pointless. he growls, “you asked for this.”

one second you’re weeping, and the next all of the air inside you is knocked out by a sudden, harsh thrust from alhaitham. he’s going so fast and hard now, cock head brushing against your womb while his balls and knot slap against your asshole. you feel your toes curl at the feeling of being split apart, and your mouth parts to voice salacious moans.

this is what you wanted. you feel your body relax. you just have to take it, take his fat cock bullying your cunt open, take his harsh bites and teething at your nipples, take his seed until you’re filled to the brim. in your mind, all you can think is, you’re his, you’re alhaitham’s, he wants you. the omega in you croons happily, and you’re every bit as delighted as well.

alhaitham grips onto your wrists tightly as he shoves himself into your tight, sticky walls over and over again. at one point, he flips you over, commanding you to raise your ass up higher. as he holds onto your hips, he watches your ass bounce and jiggle as he pounds into you, and he wants to lick down the beautiful curve of your back. you’re doing your best to stifle your screams because somehow, your lover is reaching even deeper, and the scraping of your breasts against the bedsheets is driving you mad.

then, you feel one of alhaitham’s hands reach down, brushing against the fat of your thighs. it’s inching dangerously close to your throbbing clit, and heat rushes up to your face.

“wait, alhaitham, no –“ 

your lover pinches your yearning bud, and you scream. wetness gushing everywhere, you’re squirting and creaming, white cum staining your lover’s cock and leaking out of your pussy. your eyes roll back, and you’ve lost all ability to control your body, which is absolutely shaking as alhaitham continue to rub and flick at your clit as he tries to squeeze his knot into your fluttering hole.

“oh, archons! alhaitham! stop! no, no, it’s too much! it can’t fit!”

alhaitham, still teasing and toying with your pussy, leans over and snarls into your ear, “you were just saying you wanted more. now you can’t take it?”

you’re wailing. you feel as if you’re being ripped apart at the seams. but the thought of alhaitham’s knot is just too delicious to pass on, so you don’t complain anymore. you just accept the waves of pain and pleasure that crash over you as alhaitham finally locks his knot inside you and bites down on your neck.

your lover groans loudly, lost in his delirium as well. after a few more shallow grinds, he reaches his own high, and you feel rope after rope of his cum fill you up. alhaitham’s cum is so warm and gooey and thick that you’re drooling and slobbering over the pillows at being filled up so thoroughly – impregnated – with it.

even as he’s still cumming, alhaitham bites on the shell of your ear and commands, “keep up, because i’m not stopping anytime soon.”

you can only whimper and fist the blankets even tighter at his command, bracing yourself for the next round.

[avelera]

Man, there’s all these little beats in OFMD S2 1-3 where people keep EXPECTING Stede to be upset or horrified about Ed’s actions and then he’s just. Not. In a way that reminded me of how a lot of fanon kept softening Stede into someone who doesn’t swear and is horrified at Ed for setting those ships on fire when imo to my eyes he was horrified for Ed because Ed was still so clearly distressed about it.

- Zheng Yi Sao asks Stede how he’s doing now that he knows Ed did horrible things to his crew and there’s this beat and Stede just pivots to, oh yeah, sometimes Ed is troubled. Like it didn’t occur to him to be upset on the crew’s behalf he’s worried about Ed.

- Izzy keeps trying to spare Stede’s feelings and cover up Ed’s spiral, but Stede clocked what was going on with Ed immediately and wasn’t the least bit intimidated or bothered. The knives brought the room together. Of course Ed’s trying to burn the world down or die trying. Duh. And I genuinely don’t think the STUFF in the Revenge mattered even a fraction to Stede as much as the signs of Ed’s breakdown broke his heart. It’s just STUFF, who cares.

- Lucius had to SPECIFICALLY call out Stede for not being surprised or bothered by what happened to him. What Ed did. Stede has to almost consciously remind himself to express polite concern. He just doesn’t actually care, instinctively or automatically, about what happened to Lucius. Part of it is he blames himself more than Ed. Part of it is he just doesn’t care, Ed is the priority.

They’re little blink and you’ll miss it pauses in some cases. Micro-expressions. The absence of a reaction. But honestly, I will scream it to the end of time, Stede is not some nonviolent creampuff scared or upset by Ed’s evil ways. He wants to join Ed in the atrocities. The man ran away to become a pirate. He asked if Lucius was taking notes during a murderous raid.

Stede’s at least a little on some kind of whackadoodle pirate comedy neurodivergence spectrum to the point where he actually really actually struggles to empathize with people, even people he cares about!, if their feelings conflict with his hyperfixation (piracy) and the love of his life (Ed Teach). He’s always, ALWAYS going to pick Ed over Lucius or Izzy or his crew or even his own feelings, if the option is there. He will literally throw himself overboard to get to Ed’s side. No pause. No consideration of anyone else or even his own safety.

Stede sometimes seems to have to consciously remind himself things like, oh yeah, the crew, I need to see to them. Not because he’s heartless or doesn’t care, but because it takes a bit of conscious effort for him to see beyond the laser-focused spotlight of what and who he does care most about, he has to remind himself of social niceties and other people’s feelings (just see him running away in the first place!) when he gets an idea in his head. It’s as if he had to train himself to consciously care about some things other people care about and as a neurodivergent person myself, that felt very familiar in a comedically writ large sort of way. I’d even argue that’s where all his aristocratic social niceties come from. They were his guidebook for how to do things “right” in a world that otherwise made no sense to him outside his hyperfixations. He practiced being a person through the aristocratic training because it was all so foreign to him from the start, including caring, actually caring, about the needs of others. Not because he’s consciously evil or consciously a jerk. The instinct just isn’t there unless he practices at it until it becomes reflex to ask how others are doing, because on his own his brain just doesn’t really notice or care.

I just… hope the fandom notes and has as much FUN as I do noticing all the little moments where even people inside the story of OFMD expect Stede to act in a normal way and instead he remains unhinged, laser-focused on Ed.

Stede’s not just an Ed apologist, he truly doesn’t blame Ed for any of it. He blames only himself. He doesn’t always voice this but he really really only cares about anyone else including the crew as a DISTANT second and he has to consciously REMIND himself to do so. He is able to rally to take action, to care about their physical needs like safety during the rescue, but he still struggles, deeply struggles, to remember to show empathy in a non-performative way for anyone except his special person, Ed.

Stede’s not a creampuff, not a nice guy, not some emotionally or morally perfect angel. He has to consciously practice caring about literally anything else but what he wants to do and his special person. And to me that’s a thousand times more interesting than shoving him in a box labeled “the blond, pacifist do-gooder good guy” in their relationship.

[izzyy-stuff]

AFTER CLOSING HOURS - CHOI YEONJUN

lifeguard!yeonjun x fem!reader

in which your friend and the boy she is seeing decide Choi Yeonjun needs to calm his hormones as soon as possible. And what better way is there to do it then show him a pretty girl who can satisfy all his needs?

wc 3.7k

warnings smut, public sex but no one is around, it happens in the pool, unprotected sex, Yeonjun is lowk a hoe ngl, but also a sweetheart, mention of lifeguard!Taehyun, Jay of enhypen mentioned as an ex, reader is implied to be shorter than yeonjun, oral (f. receiving), cum swallowing, brief nipple play, pet names lmk if I missed anything!

↪ izzy speaks... fun fact: lifeguard!Yeonjun was actually my first idea for a fic after I started writing on tumblr, so it has been sitting in my drafts since June. Somehow, there was just always a different fic I wanted to write at the moment, but thanks to y'all voting for it when I made the poll about what you want me to write next, it's finally seeing the day light 🙌

Yeonjun sat on his chair by the pool, just as he would any other day. With his sunglasses high on his nose and a phone in his hands, he did the same as any other lifeguard: absolutely nothing. 

Of course, some would say that he was neglecting his job, that it would be better to hire someone more responsible, someone serious. But the problem was, anyone else, no matter how accountable or not they were, would behave the same he did. Fortunately for him, the pool was sparsely occupied, leaving Yeonjun with little to do during his shifts. One could say that it was part of his job, sitting by the pool and doing nothing.

And, if, for whatever reason, there did turn out to be someone who wanted to drown in the five-foot-deep swimming pool after all, he was always ready to put his phone aside and jump into the water. 

Yeonjun liked the freedom of his job. Even though, honestly, sitting in a chair for six hours in the burning sun every day could also be tiring and boring. 

So boring he almost quit. 

Almost. 

Because as he ended his shift, switching with another lifeguard, and grabbed his resignation papers, so confident he would put them on his boss’ table, he found a reason to stop right in front of her office and turn around again. 

As his eyes landed on the girl lying on her stomach on her towel near the pool, he realized the pros of his job again. One of them being all the gorgeous girls he could sneak glances at. And sometimes, when he was bored enough, take them to his dressing room. 

 ♡⸝⸝  

“It’s basically law that you go to a pool during summer!” You scoff at your friend, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “The law actually is that I get to relax in my cozy apartment now that I finally have time for myself,” you state, and without waiting for her answer, you look down at your book again, re-reading the first sentence on the page. 

“Oh, come on! Please! We have to go!” She pleads, making you groan as you place your bookmark between the two pages and slam it shut, before glancing over at her. “Fine, fine, I’ll go if it means you’ll stop bothering me,” you finally accept defeat with a sigh, creating a grin on her face. “I promise you won’t regret it!” 

New things never excite you as much as others. You liked sticking  to your routine and visiting places you’ve already been to. You aren’t sure why, but you’ve always preferred it that way.

But your friends always thought otherwise, bringing you to new restaurants that opened in town, going on trips to places still unfamiliar to all of you, and now, taking you to the swimming pool they opened last year when you weren’t in town. 

“I just don’t understand why we have to go to this pool. You have a pool at your house! Why couldn’t we have gone there?” You ask her for the millionth time, making her groan in annoyance. “Just wait. You’ll understand once we get there,” is all she says before locking her arm with yours, smirking as she leads you towards the swimming pool. 

 ♡⸝⸝  

“There is your reason,” she says proudly, lowering her sunglasses as she watches the lifeguards switch shifts. You glance the same way she does, raising an eyebrow at the black-haired boy before looking at your friend again. “You wanted to go here because of a boy?” 

“Not just any boy! The hottest guy you’ve ever seen!” She exclaims, watching you roll your eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t find him attractive.” You turn your attention to the male again, examining his features. “Okay, yeah. He’s handsome,” you admit. “But still, that doesn’t mean we should–” 

“His name is Yeonjun,” she interrupts you. “Choi Yeonjun. And I swear you two would look great together.” 

“So this is what it’s about,” you scoff. “You’re unbelievable. Why are you trying to set me up with someone again?” You reach into your bag, bringing out your towel , and wrapping it around yourself  as if it could prove her anything. “I’m happy with how things are now,” you proclaim, well aware of your stubbornness. 

“Oh, come on! You’ve been sex deprived since you broke up with Jay! And trust me, he knows how to fuck,” she assures you, completely serious. “All you have to do is walk confusedly around the kiosks, and he’ll be all yours.” 

You shake your head at her, glancing toward the male again. “Well, your plan couldn’t work even if I wanted to do it, anyway” you state, nodding toward him so she would look the same way. 

He is handsome, you can’t argue with that. And you couldn’t say you would mind getting to know him either, but with his handsomeness came one con. Attractive guys were always too busy. Busy with talking to all the different girls. Busy thinking god knows what of themselves. Even now, you could see him talking to some girl in the pool, a few others surrounding him.

“Oh, hell no. We are going to swim. Right now,” she states, grabbing your hand and basically forcing you out of your chair. “You need to show off.” 

You sigh, throwing your towel back on your bag before following her to the pool, giving up on trying to talk her out of it. You knew you were stubborn, but so was she. And unlike you, she wouldn’t back down until the very end. 

 ♡⸝⸝  

You felt embarrassed. It was pathetic trying to get into his pants like this, but the most embarrassing thing about the whole situation was his stares. You could feel his eyes all over your body. On your legs when you walked out of the pool, on your ass when you walked past him, and on your breast as you put sunscreen on. 

“You have him wrapped around your finger,” your friend laughs, watching the male opposite you on the other side of the swimming pool. You feel your cheeks heating up every time you make eye contact with him, averting your gaze from him immediately. “That’s to not wanting you to set me up with anyone,” you mumble. 

“You’re welcome,” she giggles, looking at the time on her phone. “Alright, my job here is done. The pool closes in twenty minutes. Stay until the end if you want our work to be worth it. Wait until everyone is gone and then go talk to him,” she gives you instructions, and it makes you wonder how many times she has done something like this. There’s especially one question that gets stuck in your head. Was he the one that taught her all of this? 

And trust me, he knows how to fuck. You remember your friend's words, swallowing the lump in your throat as you watch her pack her things. “Wait,” you stop her, hesitating as she turns to you again with a confused look. “Did you…sleep with him before?” You watch her burst into laughter, leaving you confused this time. 

She quickly pulls out her phone, looking for something. “If you are worried about breaking the girls’ code or something like that, relax. This is my lifeguard,” she smiles, proudly showing you a picture on her phone. “Yeonjun is kind of a hoe, though, not going to lie to you. I am not sure who he did sleep with,” she adds. “It was Taehyun’s idea that I could set you two up,” she admits, pointing at the picture on her phone again so you’d know who she is talking about. “He thinks you might be what Yeonjun needs to calm his hormones and finally stick with one girl. And even if you can’t exactly change him, I thought it would be good for you to have a fun night at least.” 

You nod to her, hesitating as you glance at the male again, his eyes still glued to your body. He probably thought he was inconspicuous, too. “This is one of your worst ideas,” you sigh. “But I’ll give it a go. I can’t let your effort go in vain.” 

♡⸝⸝  

“Excuse me, the pool is closing in two minutes,” you look up upon hearing the unfamiliar voice, gulping down to swallow all the stress that brushed over you, before you look around the place, as if you don’t know it is empty by now. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologize awkwardly. 

You feel his eyes on your back as you get up to collect your things, biting your bottom lip. Thank god he couldn’t see your face at the moment. “You know, I think the front gate is locked already. So if you wait for me for a bit, you can leave with me through the back,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the place, doing his best to hold back and not let his eyes fall on your lower body. 

“Sure,” you nod, the sound of the pool filtration the only thing you heard for a while. “Alright, yeah. You can come with me,” he shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit all over the place today,” he apologized, leading you toward the dressing rooms. 

“More like a bit all over me,” you mumble, a chuckle leaving your lips. You freeze as you watch him stop before you, realizing he can still hear you. “I mean–” 

“If you noticed me, you must have been looking at me too, or am I wrong?” 

“You’re not wrong,” you admit when you notice the hunger in his eyes, looking up at him and trying your best to keep eye contact with him. But honestly, it was hard when his eyes looked like that. At first glance, it felt like innocent boba eyes that you could get lost in, but then you saw the lust, excitement, and arousal behind them, hesitating again. 

A chuckle slips past his lips, making your eyes widen. “You’re cute,” he comments, watching your cheeks turn pink. “What’s your name?” You answer him, doing your best to remain calm as he steps forward. He repeats your name, almost as if trying to see how it sounds on his lips. “I’m Yeonjun.” 

“I know who you are,” you assure him. “A lot of girls seem to know.” 

“I don’t know a lot of girls’ names, though.” You roll your eyes at him, scoffing at how cheesy he sounds. “Don’t you have places to be? I thought you still need to change so we can leave,” you quickly change the topic, knowing you had him where you wanted now. 

“That can wait, don’t you think?” You bite your bottom lip as you gaze him in the eyes again, instinctively nodding. “God and I promised Taehyun I wouldn’t hook up with another girl at work,” he muttered quietly, stepping forward again to get closer to you. You could hear your heart beating faster as you looked at him, regretting your decision immediately. You shouldn’t have listened to your friend. You should have left with her and stayed sex deprived. You should have– 

He interrupts your thoughts by pressing his lips on yours, making your eyes widen. “Was that…okay with you?” He stops, for the first time in a while, finding himself hesitating as he watches you freeze. He never had to question if a girl liked him or what she thought of him. Yet, here he was, rethinking his next moves as if it was the first time he was this close to a girl. 

“Fuck,” you mumble, your hand reaching to the back of his neck and pulling him closer to yourself to kiss him again. “It’s so wrong that your lips taste this good.” He smirks into the kiss, his hand roaming your back while his tongue explores your mouth. It feels weird having his hands all over you, but at the same time, it seems so right. 

“It’s wrong that you’re this gorgeous,” he comments back, his hand sliding under your bottom piece as he grasps your ass, picking you up in one swift movement. You yelp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist and your hands around his shoulders. Your eyes shake, mostly from excitement, as you watch him, questioning what is going on in his mind. 

He doesn’t say anything, though. His lips land on yours immediately instead as he walks forward, doing his best not to wobble and make you both fall to the ground as his eyes stay close to enjoy the kiss fully. 

When you pull away to take a moment and breathe, you’re back next to the pool, near his assigned place. “So you don’t plan on changing anymore,” you tease him, unable to hide your smile as you watch his face, scanning his features from up close. His lips are pretty, you notice. Pretty is a suitable word to describe him. “I will gladly take you to the changing room and change with you later, but for now, this will be more fun.” 

You’re not sure how it all happened, but the next thing you know, you’re sitting on the pool’s edge, your legs thrown over Yeonjun’s shoulders while his head is buried in between your thighs. You weren’t sure what to expect when he said it “would be more fun,” but after he had jumped into the water, not caring about getting his hair wet, you knew you were in for a ride. 

You pull on his hair, moaning out as his tongue plays with your clit. “Mhm?” He looks up for a second when you do so, his boba eyes making you melt. “N-nothing,” you shake, biting your bottom lip at the sight. He is no longer just pretty. With his wet hair in front of his eyes and your slick on his lips, he is beyond just that. 

He chuckles, diving between your legs again, this time sucking harder. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbles as he licks your core, looking up at you to see your reaction before his tongue makes its way into your cunt, eating you out like a starved man. 

Yeonjun lets you pull on his hair however you want, unbothered by your actions as his hands squeeze your thighs, keeping you in place as he tongue-fucks you, enjoying himself as much as you do. 

“I’m–” your voice breaks in the middle as he goes back to sucking on your clit, sending you over the edge before you can warn him. “Going to cum,” you breathe out, but by the time, his mouth is already covered with your release. “Tastes so fucking good,” he mumbles, licking his lips. He lets go of your thighs, pulling himself up to reach your lips. “So good, princess,” he praises before kissing you. 

“Alright, come in,” Yeonjun whispers softly, letting his legs hit the bottom of the pool again. His hand reaches towards you, and you gladly accept it. He helps you into the water, his hand slowly tracing from your thigh to your back, coming up until he reaches the strings of your bikini top, pulling it off in one swift motion. 

You grant him one sheepish smile full of nervousness, keeping your eyes on him. You were too scared to look away, internally terrified that if you dared to look away, he would disappear. “Is it okay so far?” He wondered, carefully caressing your waist as if he could read your mind. You nod, biting your bottom lip as your hand reaches his chest, your fingertips just so slightly brushing over his nipples. He groans, trying to keep his moans from escaping. 

His hands repeat your motion, twisting your right nipple in his two fingers while he lowers his head to your left one, leaving wet kisses all over your breast. “Jjun,” you gasp as he sucks on your nipple, throwing your head back. You open your mouth to speak again, but all that you’re able to do at the moment is moan. He makes it impossible for you to think straight, especially after you feel his knee between your legs, pressing against your naked core. 

You wrap your leg around his hips, pulling him closer. Yeonjun looks up at you for a moment, smirking when he notices the need in your eyes, caressing your thigh before he makes you wrap your other leg around him, too, pushing you onto the wall. You can feel his bulge against your cunt, and wish he would have taken down his swim trunks a long time ago. 

“You’re so impatient, sweetheart,” he teases, pressing his lips on yours again. You don’t hesitate and kiss him back, opening your mouth to give him better access. Part of you hates how easily he can get you, but you can’t help it and want all of him as soon as possible. You need him to fill you up, fuck you dumb like you haven’t been in a while. 

“It’s your ‘ngh fault,” you breathe out, grinding on his bulge. Yeonjun bites onto his bottom lip, doing his best to keep quiet. It’s safe to say you drove him crazy. “‘M wait–” his breath shakes, and his eyes shut close. He squeezes your thighs, stopping you so he can take his shorts down. 

It’s a new experience, you must admit. You never fantasized about pool sex, but now that the lifeguard was thrusting his cock into you, somehow managing to hit your g-spot on the first try and driving you crazy, you had a completely different opinion on it. You’ll have to repeat it in the future. 

Yeonjun’s hand is firmly pressed against the cold tiles next to you, his lips all over your neck and collarbone while he fucks your orgasm back into you. You tried to keep it in, wait for him to reach his climax too, and then cum together, but it was impossible to control anything when he was this good. Even though the thought of it disgusted you, you could see he had the experience as his reputation promised. 

“So perfect,” he blabs another praise, sucking onto the skin on your neck. You aren’t sure how many praises left his lips by this point, but you know he hasn’t stopped giving you compliments since he thrust into you for the first time. “Could fuck you forever.” 

You don’t answer anything. Instead, you tug on his hair, stealing a kiss from the lifeguard immediately when he looks up, whining against his lips. You feel him slowing down as his breath gets heavier, making you realize he is about to cum, too. You don’t get the chance to tell him to pull out when he pulls you in for another kiss, but you don’t even mind much, honestly. 

You let him cum inside you, thrust his cum deep into you while listening to his groans and whines, a few more praises leaving his lips before he finally pulls out of you. You whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness, your legs giving up as you fall into his arms, making him chuckle. “You were so good, princess. So good,” he coos, rubbing circles on your back. “You’d tell anyone that,” you mumble, and before you can even realize you said it out loud, he sits you on the edge again, opening your legs and placing himself between them, looking up at you. “I don’t usually talk with the girls I fuck here,” he proclaims, his eyes as sincere as they can be. “Don’t know their names either,” he says, adding your name to prove his point. 

“What are you trying to say?” You ask, your cheeks heating up. He had just fucked you, and yet, it was somehow embarrassing having him stand between your legs while you looked down at him. “I don’t tell anyone that,” he assures you. “Just like I don’t want any girl’s number.” 

Your eyes widen, and you have to avert your gaze from him. “But I am sure you make every guy feel like this,” he rests his chin on your thigh, keeping his eyes on you. “Like what?” You ask, trying not to pay much attention to the fact your cheeks are red. 

“Totally crazy,” Yeonjun proclaims, as if it was obvious. You scoff, thinking he is just making fun of you. But when you glance down at him, he seems as serious as one could be, making you gulp. “You’re the one driving me crazy,” you admit, biting your bottom lip. 

“We can drive each other crazy then,” he suggests softly, finding your hand and taking it into his. His fingers intertwine with yours, and you think you might fall for him right then and there. “I can’t possibly fuck anyone else now that I got a taste of you.” 

You don’t say anything to him, refusing to let him sway you so easily. But when you finally leave the pool and get into his dressing room, his lips are all over your body again, begging you to at least consider calling him again, preferably as soon as possible. “Fine, fine, I’ll think about it. But I probably won’t call you,” you sigh, watching him type his number into your phone. “I am not looking for sex with no attachments.” 

His ears perk up at your statement. This is his chance, he thinks. Chance to finally prove to Taehyun that he can have a serious relationship if he wants to. “Let me take you on a date then,” he offers. 

You sigh again, but the more you think about it, you don’t see a reason why you should reject him. So you nod, sharing your number with him, too, so he can text you later. Part of you knows it might be just a waste of your time. Yeonjun is kind of a hoe, you remember your friend’s words, but it doesn’t shake you. You want to give him a chance.

⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae ✶⋆ want to get notified? Join taglist here!

[jasminumdew]

Bear & Honey

Bear!Price x Beekeeper!Reader

Tag: fem reader, bear shifter John Price Word count:  638

It’s the second winter you’ll spend in this town. This one seems quite more brutal, with snow filling the ground in the beginning of November. Your beehives are all wrapped up, prepared for the bitter season. The bees started to become less active than in the warmer seasons since there were no flower fields blooming within this town in this temperature. To assist them, you mixed some sugar syrup and left it on the hive-top feeder. The beehives have been here for only half a year, so you’re not the most experienced when it comes to taking care of them. But your neighbor - John Price - was a great helper. You didn’t miss the way his crinkle eyes deepened when you asked him for help building the beehives. He sometimes stops by after work to check the frames or just to have some tablespoons of honey from you. He always offers to help you out, cause “that’s what neighbors are for, right?”. 

However, recently you’ve been quite concerned over his health. John seems to be vulnerable to the cold, you thought, for last winter you never saw him go outside. At first you thought he went out of town, but the dim yellow light of the heater through his windows says otherwise. The only interaction was that every two weeks he texted you, pleading with you to buy him some food and a big jar of wild honey. You didn’t mind driving a few extra miles to help your hot, older neighbor a bit. Poor guy, too sick to take care of himself, so you cooked an extra portion every meal then left it at his front porch. 

Last Sunday morning John went over your fences. There are bears around in this area lately, he said, though you’ve never seen or heard one, but John’s been living here for so long, so he must be right. Little did you know, the beehives are all destroyed by this early morning. All the honey was licked and devoured, even the frames were chewed and left the scattered debris all over the yard. You choked out a cry, throat tightening and eyes burning red, seeing months of your hard work dying out in front of you. It cannot be fixed, with the majority of the colony being eaten like this. The fences that John set up himself were also smashed by its massive weight. 

You immediately call John to come by, in fear of bears still lurking around. The phone keeps beeping but he never answers. Your heart was beating like a drum in your chest, since your houses were so close to each other, could it be that John has already encountered the bear and was attacked by it? You instantly grab the nearby uncapping knife and run to his house. The front door was wide open, deep scratches on the wall and his wallpaper being torn, the smell of grass and honey lingers in the air of his house exposing the presence of the unwanted intruder. Your body shivers, you slowly head to his kitchen where you heard his voice.

“John? Are you okay?”.  Before you finished your sentence, you saw John shape-shift into a giant brown bear just a few meters from you. His head snaps to your direction and runs towards you immediately. Before your head can even process what to do next, he pushes you to fall on your back, using his big furry body to pin you down. “Shh, don’t yell, calm down love”. Your lungs are burning from lack of air as you struggle to push him off of you. “I’m sorry for your hives, darling. I was starving, you’ll understand, right? You’ve been such a good girl for me. I can fix it in the spring, but for now, you’ll stay here with me”.

Note: this is my first time writing fiction so I know it's not really good, but I hope you guys had fun reading this.

[seoulmatez]

— 𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝑜𝓌𝓁 ౨ৎ

boothill x f!reader. 2k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ vaguely suggestive bits ﾉ fluff ﾉ non-canon compliant ﾉ farmhand!boothill ﾉ pet names ( darlin’ + sweetheart :3 )

previous part ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ next part

it’s late—you know so because the sky has turned to a deep navy. you can hear the crickets chirping through the open window, feel the cool night breeze whisper against your skin. beyond those telling signs, your eyelids are beginning to feel heavy. they’re screaming at you to close them but you know that if you do, you’ll fall asleep in a second. you can’t do that now, not when you’re on the phone giving your weekly update to your friend back home. 

“so,” her voice crackles over the line, “how are things in farmville?”

you snort at meg’s nickname for the little town you’ve come to know as a second home. as much as she pokes fun at the idea of having a ranch to run away to, she’s been supportive of your decision to retreat here for solace. she keeps you in the loop when it comes to the drama unfolding in the office and listens attentively when you tell her what you’re up to on the farm.

you have a feeling she might be offended that you didn’t tell her this bit sooner.

“fine.” you draw the word out, rolling onto your other side on the couch as if repositioning will give you enough time to stall. despite not being able to see her face, you imagine that the woman is wearing an expression that says something along the lines of i know you’re hiding something. even through the phone, she can see through you. “i might have gotten a concussion a few days ago.”

she gasps and you can hear her slap her hand over her mouth. you’re sure if she could, she’d reach through the phone and shake you by the shoulders before thinking better of it and rushing out a string of apologies. though, she can’t, so she settles on questioning you instead. “what happened? are you okay? why the hell are you just now telling me?”

you relay the series of events to her—how it happened, boothill finding you, your visit to the doctor, and boothill playing nurse since then. her worry seems to dissipate as you explain and by the time you’re done, she’s laughing.

“what are you giggling about?” you ask her, but a little part of you already knows. boothill’s name always seems to make its way into your conversations and since the start of these weekly calls, meg has held onto the belief that you’re harboring a crush on the farmhand. you brush her off every time she suggests that you like him but like a leech, the thought always latches on and lingers.

“probably hard to deny your feelings now, huh?” you can hear the smile in her voice. you pucker your lips in annoyance. you didn’t think telling her about the way boothill makes you feel would result in meg throwing it back in your face at any given moment. though, you suppose you can’t be surprised. she’s frustrated that you’ll admit those feelings to her and not him, that you won’t act on them. “he’s already taking care of you like you’re his girlfriend—how romantic!”

“it’s not romantic,” you tell her, shaking your head, “he’d do that for anyone.”

“even better!” meg squeals. the shrill sound makes you pull the phone away from your ear and you only return it to its former position when the woman lowers her voice. “if he’s like that with everyone, that means he isn’t trying to impress you. he’s just a compassionate, caring guy who happens to have a thing for you.”

you chew on your cheek as you contemplate her words. you’ve never doubted that he’s a good guy—you’ve seen too many instances of his big heart in action to think otherwise, though, the part about boothill having a “thing” for you is a bit harder to believe. sure, he’s called you pretty numerous times, unintentionally held your hands on a couple of occasions, but that means nothing, at least when it comes to whatever feelings he might have for you. you’ve convinced yourself that most of the things he does that make your heart flutter or your cheeks burn are simply to get a reaction out of you—a little embarrassment for the sake of his entertainment.

“ugh, when are you going to be brave and spill your guts to him?” meg’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

“never! i’m not telling him anything.” you close your eyes and take a deep breath to ground yourself. “i don’t know how long i’ll be here and, more importantly, i have no idea if he even likes me.”

“and you’ll never find out if you keep running away.”

you’re about to tell her that you aren’t running away or avoiding anything but you press your lips together before the words can hit the air. because you have been—you can recall a number of times you have in the past and you’re even thinking about it now, leaving without coming to terms with your feelings or figuring out if boothill reciprocates them.

“i’m not—” not running away? not going to tell him? not ready to tell him? you huff out a sigh, one that’s a mixture of frustration and confusion. “not now, meg.”

“that’s fine,” she assures you, her voice soft. “i just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“i know.” you nod even though she can’t see you.

she’s right. you’ll regret it if you don’t say anything, if you go home without facing your feelings head-on. the what ifs and what could have beens will follow you there, mercilessly haunting your mind.

“it’s getting late,” you tell meg, “i think i’m going to go to bed.”

“sure,” she hums. there’s a brief pause like she wants to say more but she settles on, “good night.”

“g’night.” you pull your phone away to end the call and toss the device on the other end of the couch. you should go upstairs and get in bed like you planned to but all these thoughts so fresh in your head make you feel like falling asleep won’t come easy tonight. slumping against the arm on the couch, you let out a groan, one quiet enough to not wake your grandpa and boothill upstairs but loud enough to grant you the slightest bit of relief.

though, the sound is cut off by another. it comes from the kitchen and you sit up to peer over the back of the couch to see if you’re hearing things—you’d prefer it that way. your fantasy comes to an end when you see boothill standing at the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and closing the door once he’s finished.

he meets your gaze and shoots you a smile before uncapping the water and taking a few gulps. it’s strange seeing him at this hour; he usually sleeps early so he can wake up with the sun. you rarely ever see him wearing anything but his jeans and his top of choice but the look is traded in for pajamas now—if you can call nothing but a pair of boxers pajamas.

you gasp at the sight and turn around. he just wanders around the house half-naked? carelessly risks running into you while wearing nothing but his underwear? you might not have heard him but he certainly must have seen you stretched out on the couch or at the very least heard you talking to meg on the phone.

the call.

you quickly turn around to face him once more.

“how long have you been there?” the question comes out rushed but you’re frantic to know if he was around to hear you talking about him.

he shrugs and swallows, setting his bottle on the counter before leaning against it. “i don’t know. long enough to hear you’re having some boy troubles.”

the confession makes your heart jump into your throat. you choose not to expand on it, instead reprimanding him for eavesdropping. “it’s rude to listen in on conversations you aren’t part of.”

“my apologies.” he raises his hands in mock surrender. “i just didn’t wanna interrupt.”

you stare him down in an attempt to read his expression and the look in his eyes. his perpetual smile is in place like usual but nothing else about his countenance seems knowing. he’s either very good at hiding it or he didn’t pick up on the fact that he was the one you’re talking about.

“want some advice?” boothill speaks up, tilting his head in a question of its own.

you look at him for a second before a laugh bubbles up from your chest, permeating the air. boothill’s smile slowly falls and that’s the last you see of him before turning your back to him. it seems a little more polite to laugh at him if it isn’t in his face.

he doesn’t stay at his place in the kitchen, feet carrying him to the back of the couch. you’re still laughing when he gets there. he’s never heard you laugh like this before—not at anything he’s said or done. as captivated as he is by the sound, he’s a touch more curious as to what brought it about. a cushion in between you, he leans over the back of the couch to ask, “what’s so funny?”

“i’m sorry.” you try to clear the humor from your voice but it lingers with your explanation. you turn your head to look boothill in the eye. “it’s just—what do you know about problems of the male variety?”

“hello?” he straightens up and gestures to himself and it’s only then that you remember how…undressed he is. that’s enough to sober you up from your humor. “you’re looking at a man, sweetheart.”

you don’t need him to tell you that—you’re more than aware of that. you just meant that he doesn’t seem like the type to help people out of romantic hardships, rather, he’s the one who causes them. strangely enough, though, you consider hearing his perspective. after all, he is the subject of your “boy troubles” as boothill called them.

“so, how about it?” he rounds the couch and plops down on it beside you, leaving a safe amount of space between the two of you. you hold his gaze, light gray irises glowing like stars in the darkness of the living room. “wanna hear my opinion?”

your heart rate quickens and you can’t tell why. because he’s this close to you and practically naked? because those gray eyes are boring into you, urging you to hear him out? because his advice could be the courage you need to admit your feelings or the very deterrent to keep you from doing so? 

maybe you aren’t quite brave enough to spill your guts yet but it’s time for you to stop being so scared of the what ifs. “okay, go for it.”

that seems to be the answer boothill was looking for, if his growing smile is any evidence. he doesn’t waste any time sharing his insight. “i say throw caution to the wind, tell him how you feel. and if he doesn’t feel the same way, well then, that’s his loss. because you, darlin’, are a catch. any man would be lucky to have you.”

you know boothill isn’t one to sugarcoat his words. every word he says, he means. is that the case here, too? any man would be lucky to have you—would he feel the same if that man was him?

“i’m headin’ to bed.” he groans as he stands up, stretching his arms above his head, mouth falling open in a yawn. you watch him silently, pondering his words. he doesn’t comment on your silence, doesn’t bother to tease you about your staring. all he does is offer you a wink before telling you, “sweet dreams.”

just as quietly as he appeared, he’s gone.

you let out a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding. instead of following boothill’s lead and going to sleep, you rest your head on the arm of the couch and turn your eyes up to the ceiling. your heart is still beating wildly against your rib cage but it’s not bad nerves this time around, it’s anticipation.

courage it is.

thanks for reading! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

[tac-the-unseen]

Lost Boys x Injured Reader

CW: Gang violence, guns, blood, description of unlicensed surgery, minor gore

You and David were by a small brick wall with all of the boys parked bikes. While Marko, Paul, and Dwayne ran around and had fun with each other, you and David stayed behind. David stayed because he was scouting victims, and you stayed behind because you were incredibly tired. You had to work earlier than normal which threw off your whole sleep schedule, and the headache you were sporting wasn't helping either.

Dwayne had already told you how unnecessary it is for you to work. Not only do the guys have a huge amount of money and other values stashed away, you’ll only end up burning yourself out. You however were firm with working, it gave you something to do. While sitting back to never work again sounds like an absolute dream, the sinking pit in your stomach told you otherwise. You felt too lazy. Mix that with anxiety and you swiftly found yourself a job at the local mall.

You laid on top of Dwayne’s bike, the (arguably) most comfortable bike, while humming to keep your mind busy. You cross your arms over the handlebars and use it to cushion your head. Your legs are just short enough to miss the ground, so you swing them back and forth. Your eyes slowly start to close as your mind slips away into a light nap, but that's when your body jolts itself upright. Your body reacts before your brain fully understands what was happening.

Gunshots, several of them.

The fast pops whip through the air, then are quickly followed by more. It's not rare that Santa Carla has a few idiots with guns, but what is rare is a full on shoot out. You see several people running away from the middle of the boardwalk. You watch as they push past each other and you even catch sight of the poors souls that get knocked to the floor. You know those people will be trampled to death by the terrified crowd, but you can't help but briefly think about how horrible that cause of death is. Head trauma, crushed ribs, pierced lungs, snapped neck, all happening to you in a matter of seconds. It's truly a brutal way to go.

David grabs you by the arm and pulls you off Dwayne’s bike and into his chest. David turns himself around to cover you and put you onto his own bike. That's when a sharp, burning pain hits your shoulder. By the time you know what's wrong David has already started his motorcycle and is speeding off. You hissed in pain as the warm California air hits your red, hot, open wound. While David drives you slide off your jacket and press it into the hole in your shoulder. You lean into David's shoulder and bite down onto his leather coat. The stinging pain mixed with the bounce of the trail makes you nauseous, but before you know it, your home.

David wastes no time parking his bike and grabbing you, pulling you into the cave. He runs past the common room, kicking shit out of the way, and sets you into the nest. David is fast, his movements show panic, But oddly enough not his face. He's stone cold, you'd be almost offended if you didn't see the way his pupils are blown wide open. He is panicking, he's just not showing it.

In his haste he grabs some old clothes of his from what you can assume was the 1800’s. Lucky that old thing is clean, you know because you're the one that washed it. He presses the white cotton button up into your shoulders, your body reacts by trying to pull away, but David doesn't let you get far. “Hold still love.” He pleads gently.

You hiss at the touch, Your shoulder burns and stings with a dull throbbing pain. Your heartbeat throbs in your ears while David does his best to stop the bleeding. You're lurched back into reality as someone pulled you into their chest by the waist. You look back to find Paul pulling you in and hastily kissing the back of your head. You look around to see Marko and Dwayne finding more cloth to stuff the wound.

By the four shirt the bleeding slows and your vision is swirling. Dwayne holds your hand and presses kisses into your knuckles while Marko and David are setting up supplies to dig out the bullet and sew you shut. You see them using a lighter to disinfect a pair of tweezers and two needles. Your tears blur you vision so much there's no point in keeping them open.

“I know baby, I know.” Dwayne tries to reassure you, but they all know that's not going to work. You hear footsteps and open your eyes to look up. David is crouching down with the sterile tweezers and you catch the look in his eyes. He's clearly anticipating your reaction, they all know it's not going to be fun.

Paul grabs your other hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, Dwayne is quick to do the same. Another wave of panic shoots through you, while this is an act of love, they're also holding you down.

“Ready?” David says in the most delicate voice you've ever heard from him. You sob out and brace yourself, David knows you're never going to be ready, but has to do this either way.

When he begins digging you're met with what is now the worst pain you've ever been in. Being shit was one thing, this was 10 times more intense. You feel every jab and poke, the pain is nearly indescribable. You seriously would have rather been stabbed.

While you violently sob and scream, Paul and Dwayne hold you down tightly. You legs twist and almost kick David, but Marko was quick to swoop in and pin them down too. With all this chaos David is apologizing with every movement he makes. He shushes you while digging into your bleeding wound until he hits metal.

He slowly drags up the bullet. When the Damned thing is dislodged from your shoulder David quickly packs the wound again. “I'm sorry love, you did such a good job.” He praises while getting up.

They wait until your crying slows and you're no longer trying to kick the air...or Marko. Marko lets go of your legs slowly and stands you. He hurries over to the cabinet and grabs an already threaded needle. “It's not over yet, love.” Paul whispers in an apologetic way. Marko sprays the wound with a disinfectant before he begins his work. David is now the one hugging your legs as Marko gets in close to sew you together. “1…2…3!” Marko says before the needle pierces the lower part of the wound.

Your voice is hoarse from David's previous excursion, but you still manage to hiss and cry. Marko’s work is quick but not sloppy. He too is spewing apologies like a prayer. By the time he's done you've lost all your fight and lay limp and sobbing against Paul's chest.

Marko sprays some disinfectant on your wound and patches you up with cotton pads and a cloth wrapping. As soon as he's down you're pulled into a laying down position by Paul and all four boys start cooing at you.

You're surrounded by purrs and buzzing, praises and kisses, all around you. But that all combines into mindless ringing as you stare up at the ceiling. You still feel the stinging, pinching, and throbbing burn. The thumping of your heart hasn't stopped either, you're still in pain.

Finally your body gives in and your vision fades.

The first sight you're met with is the ceiling. As you blink away the sleep you catch a glimpse of fluffy blonde hair. You turn your head to see Marko asleep and more of Paul's hair. As you come too you realize you're still on Paul's chest. You look to your other side and see both Dwayne and David also asleep.

You gather that it's probably morning and that you probably missed your early work shift. While that thought flies through your head the second one to follow is ‘I’m fucking quitting.’

You slowly wiggle yourself out of your mates arms and the nest, and quietly leave the room. You're still in pain, and the wiggling around you just did wasn't helping, but it was manageable. What really bugs you right now is how thirsty you are. Your body is screaming for water like never before. You guess it made some sense, you did lose quite a lot of blood.

You shuffle over to the living area, in the corner are stacks of water bottles. You remember when you first began staying in the cave how you complained that the cave didn't have any running water. You half jokingly said you'd start bring jugs of water when you stayed over. The next day when you complained of thirst Marko busted open a large crate and pulled out a plastic water bottle with absolute glee. Bastards had waited for you to complain all day so they could show off the water they stole for you.

While making your way to the water supply you hear a similar shuffling behind you. “What are you doing up this early?” you hear Paul's groggy voice behind you. You lean over a grab a bottle, you don't even attempt to talk, you know your voice is gone by the way your throat is still raw. You just hum at him and chug your first bottle.

By the time you reach for your next his arms are around you and gently rocking side to side. You untwist the cap and chug your second bottle. “You're gonna need vitamins and shit.” he grumbles into your good shoulder.

“They’re gonna need more than that.” Another voice murmurs from the dark. You don't have to turn your head to identify David’s voice. “We'll get you plenty tonight, but for now we all need sleep.” He promises in a sleepy tone. You finish your second bottle but your thirst is still unmatched

With Paul holding onto your middle you make grabbie hands at the water stash. David grunts in response but get you your third water. “Finish that and we'll go to bed.” Paul says and kisses the side of your neck.

When you're done you're hauled off to the nest and tucked into place. Dwayne and Marko are just slightly awake and mumbles out incomprehensible words. You're put in-between them with Paul and David quickly to snuggle into your lower half.

Its uncharacteristically gentle of the, but you definitely don't hate it. Even more kisses are pressed into your hips and forehead, as they all settle back into sleep. You too fall under sleeps spell while you plan out what food you're gonna eat when night falls.

The last thing you hear are soft purrs.

Thanks for reading <3

I know it's not the greatest but I have like 5 finals to do. I'm in my last couple of days before I graduate.

[forest-hashira]

Naked in Osaka

hi friends! this is my submission for @pixelcafe-network's "challenge friday" that they do every other week! the prompt this week was a random song selected by shuffle, and my assigned song was "Naked In Manhattan" by Chappell Roan, and after a bit of debate (& some help from friends), i decided to go with shoko for this fic. it's a quick thing, but it was fun! i hope to write more for female characters in the future, and this was a good jumping off point 💜

read on ao3 | wc: ~2.6k | cw: gender neutral reader (no pronouns used, but implied fem reader based on song lyrics), alcohol consumption, making out, implied smut at the end (kinda?), implied first sapphic experience (thus the pride divider), shoko calls reader "cute", minor background stsg

“Please leave your message after the tone.” Beep.

“Hey Sho, I know you just landed, and I know you're probably busy, but I would love to see you, so call me when you can.” 

You sighed softly to yourself as you ended the call, tucking your cellphone into your pocket. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that you’d gotten Shoko’s voicemail – she’d been out of the country on a trip and had only just gotten back – but it was still a bit of a disappointment. You hadn’t been able to see her much since you’d graduated from Jujutsu High together, since you’d moved to Osaka just a few weeks later. She was good about returning your calls and texts, so you tried not to think about it too much.

Despite how infrequently you got to see your friend in person, she never really left your thoughts. In fact, you probably thought about her more than was normal. The two of you had been pretty close in school, spending a lot of your time together, especially when Gojo and Geto were off on missions or otherwise wrapped up in each other. You’d been friends with the boys too, of course, but your one on one time with Shoko was where you formed all your best memories of your school years. Around third year was when you realized your fondness for the other girl may have been more than just platonic, but you never allowed yourself to dwell on it or bring it up to Shoko, telling yourself it was no different than the way the boys felt or acted around each other, so there couldn’t be anything weird about it.

Then again, the boys had gone on to start dating after graduation, and last you’d heard they’d gotten engaged, so… Maybe it was worth revisiting those feelings again.

The sound of your phone ringing pulled you out of your thoughts, and when you saw Shoko’s contact picture – a slightly blurry selfie she’d sent you nearly a year ago while she was out getting drinks with her friends in Tokyo, her cheeks a little flushed and a soft smile tugging at her lips – on the screen, you felt your cheeks begin to burn, as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing tonight?” Shoko asked, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your conversations with her never really seemed to stop or start; instead, it was more like you’d been having one long conversation with her from the day you’d met.

“Nothing,” you told her, idly beginning to pace your room. “What’s up?”

“Figured I’d come see you if you were free. That okay?”

You bit your lip for a moment, suddenly feeling very flustered. “I-I, uh… Yeah! Yeah, that’s fine. That sounds great, actually.” It was obvious even to you that you were stumbling over your words, and you cringed slightly at how weird you sounded.

Shoko only chuckled quietly at you. “Careful,” she teased, “if you act too excited you might give me a bigger head than Gojo.”

That made you laugh. “As if that could ever happen.”

“You’re right,” she agreed, her words airy with laughter. “Does that udon place down the street from you still do carryout?”

“Yeah, as far as I know.”

“Cool. I’ll cover dinner if you’ll cover drinks.”

“Wine or sake?”

“Surprise me.”

She hung up without saying goodbye, though that wasn’t unusual. You glanced at the time, and though you knew you had a few hours before she’d be there even if she’d already been on the train when she called you, you already felt like you were running out of time for all the things you needed to do before she arrived. 

After a few moments of internal scrambling, you figured out a rough order of operations: popping into the liquor store to grab Shoko’s favorite wine, then a mad dash to make your apartment presentable, then finally a shower before she arrived. The trip to the store didn’t take very long, and you tucked the two bottles of wine you’d grabbed into your freezer to chill while you cleaned and got ready. 

Thankfully, your apartment wasn’t as much of a mess as you’d convinced yourself it was, so cleaning it didn’t take long at all, and you were able to hop in the shower within an hour of getting off the phone. The last thing you wanted was to smell when you saw your friend for the first time in over a year, and you knew you were sweating from nerves. It was ridiculous to be nervous about seeing her, you knew that, but this time felt different, somehow. Maybe it was because you’d been wondering earlier that day if you really did have feelings for Shoko.

Whatever the reason was, you were desperate not to smell like nervous sweats.

After thoroughly scrubbing yourself with your best-smelling body wash, you hurried to your bedroom to get dressed. Overwhelmed with options, you threw on some underwear and paced your room, feeling like a nervous teenager.

It’s just Shoko, you reminded yourself, sitting down on your rug. She’s not gonna care what you’re wearing as long as you’re wearing something. A soft groan escaped you then, and you flopped onto your back and covered your face with your hands.

Your pity party came to an abrupt end when your phone chimed. Pushing yourself up just enough to grab it from your bed, you saw a text from Shoko, letting you know her train was about to arrive, and that she’d be at your apartment in half an hour at most. 

The message made your heart flip in your chest. How long have I been laying here? How long was I in the shower?? Instead of letting her in on your internal panic, you shot back a simple “see you soon!” text, then leapt up from the floor, scrambling to find clothes that were comfortable but also somewhat presentable. Eventually you settled on a pair of pajama shorts and a loose t-shirt, then stepped into the bathroom to make sure your hair wasn’t a complete disaster.

You’d only just finished putting your hair out of your face in a way you were satisfied with when you heard a knock at the door. Heart skipping a beat again, you took a deep breath to steady yourself, then hurried to answer the door.

Shoko stood there with a small smile on her face, an overnight bag slung over her shoulder and the takeout in her other hand. “Long time no see,” she greeted, stepping inside as you moved aside. “Is it cool if I go change real quick?” She set the takeout on your table as she spoke, then turned to you and arched a brow slightly.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll get the drinks out and everything while you do that.”

Her smile widened the tiniest bit. “Perfect.”

She made her way to your bathroom with her overnight bag, and as she shut the door, you pulled a bottle of wine from the freezer and two glasses from the cabinet. They weren’t fancy, and they didn’t match, but you told yourself it was better than drinking out of plastic cups.

Once the glasses were out, you opened the bottle, pouring a fair amount into each of the glasses, though one had a bit more; Shoko’s tolerance had always been a bit higher than yours, so you were sure she would want to drink more than you did to make sure you had the same buzz. 

You had just started pulling the takeout from the bag when Shoko came back from getting changed, and your heart fluttered a bit when you saw her. She wore a tank top with a big picture of Gudetama in the middle and a pair of yellow shorts to match. It reminded you of the pajama sets Gojo had gotten everyone when you were in high school – Cinnamoroll for himself, Kuromi for Geto, Badtz-Maru for Shoko, and Keroppi for you – though you knew it wasn’t the same set from back then, since she wore a different character now. 

“You’re staring,” Shoko teased, bumping you lightly with her hip once she was standing beside you. “Do I really look that hot in my pajamas?”

Though her words left you feeling more than a little flustered, you just scoffed at her and rolled your eyes. “They remind me of the ones Gojo got us when we were in school, that’s all.” 

“He got me these ones, too,” she said with a small chuckle. “They were for my birthday last year.”

“Why’d he pick a different character than the one he picked when we were in school?”

“He said the penguin reminds him too much of Megumi now,” she said with a shrug, and you both laughed. You could see the resemblance too, though; both had the spiky black hair and the deadpan expression, and imagining Gojo telling the boy that nearly made you die laughing all over again, but you kept it to yourself for the moment.

Just as comfortable in your home as she was in her own, Shoko opened a few of your kitchen drawers, grabbing soup spoons and chopsticks for the both of you. “We should watch a movie while we eat.”

“What do you want to watch?” you asked curiously, carrying the takeout to your living room and setting it on your coffee table.

“What was that American movie we watched all the time in school?” she asked, following after you with the utensils and wine. “It was about those high school girls who wore pink.”

“Mean Girls?”

“Yeah, Mean Girls!” she grinned, setting everything down before sitting on the floor, gesturing for you to join her. “God, I don’t know how we never got sick of that movie.”

“Because Regina George was hot,” you replied without thinking about it.

The words drew a laugh from her, and she bumped you with her shoulder. “Glad I’m not the only one who thinks so.”

A small, relieved chuckle left you at her teasing words. “I’m sure we could stream it somewhere if you wanna watch it again.”

“Please, I could use a good throwback.” She took a long sip from her glass, then opened the lid on her bowl of udon.

With a nod, you grabbed the remote for your TV, sipping from your own glass as you flipped through various streaming services looking for the movie. Eventually you found it, not even caring that you had to pay to watch it; it was worth it to have a night in with your friend, especially when you knew it would make her laugh and smile more.

Once the movie had started, you finally got into your own food. You smiled when you saw that Shoko had gotten your order perfect without even asking. She’d memorized it in school, but it made butterflies flutter in your stomach a bit to know that she’d never forgotten it, even after so much time apart.

For the most part it was quiet as you watched the movie, only the soft sounds of occasional slurping and the faint clinging noise of glass on glass when Shoko topped up your wine glasses. Every once in a while, one of you would make a small comment or joke, or you’d quote the lines along with the movie before bursting out laughing. It felt like being back in school, huddled in one of your dorm beds, sharing drinks from a flask shoko had managed to sneak on campus.

At some point, you set your glass down after finishing the contents. It had been your second glass – or maybe your second? Shoko had topped you up enough times that it was hard to be sure – and was enough to have everything feeling a little fuzzy around the edges. Leaning back against your couch, you turned your head towards the other woman, smiling to yourself as you watched her, rather than the movie.

She’s so pretty… even prettier than when we were in school. When did she get so pretty?

“I’ve always been this pretty.”

Shoko’s words startled you a bit, and though it took your brain a moment to catch up, you realized she was responding to your thoughts. Only… you must have said all of them out loud, rather than just in your head. The realization had your face burning with embarrassment. “Oh my god, Sho, I—”

“It’s okay,” she assured you with a smile. She settled into the same position as you, turning to face you a bit. “‘M glad you think I’m pretty. Always thought you were cute, too.”

The whole world came to a screeching halt around you. “…You did?”

“Yeah,” she said easily, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her words weren’t slurred, but you could see that her movements were loosened a bit from the wine. “Thought you knew that.”

“No, I… How would I have known? You never said anything.”

“I saw the way you looked at me. Thought you’d only look at me like that if you knew.”

You blinked, confused, and more than a little worried. “…How did I look at you?”

Her expression softened at that. “The same way I caught Gojo staring at Geto when Geto wasn’t looking, before they got together.”

The words sent a mixture of shame and hope swirling around your tipsy mind, and before you could really contemplate your next move, you heard yourself asking, “Can I kiss you?”

Shoko’s cheeks flushed a bit, and she nodded, shifting closer and wrapping her arm around your waist. Your eyes widened as she came into your space, and when you felt her breath on your lips, your own finally started cooperating with you again.

“I’ve never kissed a girl before.”

“I’ll teach you,” was Shoko’s only response before she kissed you. She was surprisingly warm, and it only took a second for your eyes to slip shut and for you to melt into her, returning her kiss eagerly. As she kissed you, everything else in the world faded away, the only sensation you were aware of was the feeling of her lips on yours.

It didn’t take long for her to press in closer, tilting her head a bit to deepen the kiss. Stumbling and a bit inexperienced, you did your best to move with her. She held you closer with the arm around your waist, her free hand coming up to cup your cheek, guiding your movements the tiniest bit. Time slowed and stretched out, the moment between you endless in the best possible way. You weren’t entirely sure when her tongue came into the mix, but next thing you knew you were parting your lips to let her in. 

A small sound escaped you as she deepened the kiss further, turning slightly to press you both into the couch a bit more. Still struggling to keep up because of the alcohol in your bloodstream, the movement threw you off a bit. Reluctantly, you pulled away for a moment, needing desperately to catch your breath. 

Shoko smiled down at you as you panted, faces only inches apart. “How was that for your first kiss with a girl?”

“I really wanna kiss you again.”

She laughed softly. “Is kissing all you wanna do tonight?” She arched a brow curiously, her thumb tracing your bottom lip lightly. 

“I don’t know how to do anything else,” you breathed, “but I'd love to learn.”

“Looks like I've got some teaching to do, then. Lesson one: kissing with tongue.” She leaned in again, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss. You were more than willing to let her take the lead, though; there was no one else you’d rather have teach you everything, anyways.

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[diabolicalacid]

birds of a feather— the head and the heart

warning/s : nsfw (smut), minors DNI.

atsumu’s hand reaches for the dial to turn off the sound system of his car. the soft music in the backdrop of him and you fades as his fingers rotate the dial to zero. he puts his foot on the break, halting the car in front of the gate to your dormitory, exactly where he had parked it when he received you in the morning.

you surmise this is your cue to leave. today has been fun, not it’s time to end the day, go your separate ways. you don’t want to, but that’s what the deal between the two of you was. a day full of fun, then it’s all over.

you take a look at your cellphone, checking in the time. it’s half past ten, a little before your curfew. if you don’t hurry, they won’t let you in. you twist your body in order to take hold of your belongings from his backseat, but he quickly makes an effort to grab your shoulder. he stops you in your tracks.

“wait.” he orders, opening the door to his car.

he alights, voice fading in a distance, “i’ll get it for you.”

atsumu quickly opens the door to the backseat and grabs all of your stuff, including the bouquet of flowers he offered you this morning. he proceeds to make his way to the door to the passenger seat. he swings it opens it for you, holding out his hand for you to take. for a moment, you find yourself hesitating.

you wonder if a few more moments of proximity with this man might cost you your dignity. if you let him hold you at the end of day, you’d start thinking it’s unfair how this good thing has to come to an end, and you’d beg for him to make it last longer. you’d lose your footing, end up looking extremely desperate, but you’d want him to have you regardless. despite deductions, you’re quick to accept his offer.

you place your palm over his. he wraps his hand around yours, helping you out of the car seat. you push the car door behind you. he hands you your tote bag and the bouquet of flowers. you receive it, offering him a gentle smile. he doesn’t let go of your hand, and you find it difficult to hold everything using one hand.

atsumu notices, relieving you of your tote bag. your hand is still held by his. you gulp as he pulls you closer to him. his hand releases your own and finds your waist, and he’s smiling softly at you. he really isn’t making this easy, if anything, you think you’re about to combust into a thousand burning flames. you’ll just take the liberty to pretend you haven’t been feeling the exact way since the beginning.

he takes the initiative, “i’ll drop you off to your room.”

“you don’t have to.” you’re quick to refuse his kind offer, coming off rather impolite.

you need to consider that amane san must be on rounds right now, and the last thing you want is to get caught sneaking in a perfect stranger into your room. as far as things with tobio went, amane was well acquainted with him, so she stopped taking things seriously after one point. but atsumu is a completely new entity, and you don’t want to wreak a havoc.

his hand that is enveloping your waist, tightens it’s hold around your figure, drawing you closer to his body, and you seek support, holding onto his arm. he insists, “but i want to.”

you want to deny deny deny, but his hold on you is making you so damn weak. your heart is a gullible child not even your head can convince otherwise. then there’s also the second surprise you prepared for atsumu, staying up all night yesterday. you were planning to discard it, since you thought you overdid yourself. but in the end you surmised that it would be best to hand it over.

though you intended on making him wait by the car so that you could make your way to your room and grab the gift to bring it to him, now it seems it wouldn’t hurt to invite the man to your room. whatever follows this bold decision of yours will be purely as intended by destiny.

as much as you’d like to shift the blame on the gift you prepared, deep down you know that your heart is the full fledged culprit. you’ve never been a bold person, but right now, you’re overflowing with courage you never knew you had.

you’ve snuck in tobio plenty of times without ever getting caught, so atsumu shouldn’t be a problem either. you’ll just have to play it safe. you’ll have to make him follow your instructions to the t, and it’ll be just fine. nothing to worry about per se.

“okay.” you grant him the permission to take you to your room, taking a step away from him. you don’t mention that you plan on inviting him inside.

atsumu’s smile widens and gaze locks into yours. It’s so contagious, you find yourself smiling back at him. he chuckles, mentioning a crucial point, “not sure where you stay, you’ll have to be the one to guide me, cutie.”

he pokes your cheek, you swat his hand off your face, glaring at his action. you growl, “let me go.”

but he isn’t swayed. so you request, “please?”

atsumu withdraws the hand placed around your waist. you try to encase his hand in your own, but yours is just too small to cut the deal. you drop his huge hand in frustration.

atsumu chuckles at you. your glare intensifies furthermore. you decide not to entertain him, commanding as you start walking toward your dormitory, “follow.” and so he does.

once you reach the lobby, you find yourself at crossroads once again. whether to invite him in or not to invite him in. it’s a pressing matter that needs to be thought through.

the possibilities are endless, and you aren’t sure which amongst them is the most favourable for you, or if you’ll ever reach the ending you so desperately desire for.

you think for a moment or two. he isn’t sure what the hold up is. now that he’s safely escorted you in, the next obvious thing to do should be to say your goodbyes and go your own ways. the one day contract between him and you should officially end as of right now, and you should be treading your own separate paths, never colliding again.

you give in. your heart gives in. you decide you want to invite him to your room. whatever may be the consequences, you’ll come to face them bravely when you have to.

you muster the courage to speak up. nervously rubbing the skin of your arm as you ask him, “i’ve prepared something for you. do you mind coming to my room?”

it isn’t an understatement to say that he’s shook. you’re quite bold to bring that up, and he wasn’t expecting it. neither were you. but here you are, asking him to come over, and here he is, contemplating whether it’s a good idea to go over.

he doesn’t give it much thought. he thinks for a second, then decides to go for it, agreeing, “alright, i don’t mind.”

“but no naughty business, cutie.” he winks at you, teasing as he pulls you in his embrace, hands casing your waist, bodies hanging only a few centimetres apart.

your cheeks instantly flush a deep red shade, and your gaze drops to the floor. you mumble, rolling your eyes, “i don’t know which one one of us needs the warning more.”

atsumu moves a loose strand of your hair out of the way, and tucks it behind your ear, inching in closer to your face to whisper to you, “exactly what are your intentions with me, cutie?”

you cannot take it anymore, it’s too much. the tension between atsumu and you is far too much than your fragile heart can take, and in the moment, you vacillate, quickly taking a step back to free yourself from his grasp.

you clear your throat, breathing in a haste, clarifying oneself, “i have no intentions of doing what you’re thinking of.”

“and exactly how do you know what it is that i’m thinking of, cutie?” he smirks, cupping your chin to level your eyes with his so as to hold your gaze, “you don’t read minds, or do you?”

“because then you’d know i’m thinking no pure thoughts.” he sneers, pecking the corner of your lip, then your neck.

you tremble as you feel his heavy breath against your neck, a wise thought dashing to your mind, wondering if it’s still a good idea to invite him in. your hand pushes him away, and you separate yourself from him before it becomes detrimental for you.

you fix your eyes to the floor, relenting to spare him a look, as you’re still too nervous to allow yourself to hold his gaze. you mutter, grimacing, “i didn’t know if i knew what you wanted back then, but i do now.”

“good.” atsumu walks over to you, cupping your chin once again, coercing you to look him in the eye, ridiculing you, “and you still think it’s a good idea to invite me over?”

“i don’t want my gift to go to waste.” you hiss, grabbing his hand in order to force him to release your chin, but his grip is too strong for you to negotiate.

annoyed, you drop the effort, menacingly fixing your gaze elsewhere so that you don’t have to meet his. it would be too much for you if you stare into his eyes any longer. you’re already faltering as it is, you don’t know what consequences this will lead to. you’re sure none of them will be holy. next thing you know, you might kiss miya atsumu like there’s no tomorrow, allowing him to take you whole.

he lets go of you, asking as he looks in the direction of the entrance to the building, “where to, cutie?” he spanks you, jolting you in the direction of the entrance.

you jibe at him, “don’t get too freaky, miya.”

“you aren’t getting anything out of me.” you warn, and atsumu scoffs. you’re glaring daggers at him.

you roll your eyes, “be respectful, will you?”

“alright, lead me, my liege.” he requests, bowing down to you.

you moue at his terrible theatrics, stepping into the building, looking around for amane’s presence on the ground floor.

you confirm amane’s absence and take his hand, jolting towards the stairs to climb to your floor. you’re careful with every floor you ascend, avoiding amane like a pro. once you’re on the third floor, having successfully avoided her, you peep around to discover a suitable spot for him to hide until you can scan around to make sure the coast leading to your room is safe and sound.

“there.” you point at one of the pillers, gesturing him to take a spot behind it, “hide.”

“don’t come out until i wave my hand.” you state sternly, then inform him, “once i reach my door and wave my hand, you’re to run at your fastest speed.”

you question, making sure he’s understood every instruction that has been pushed his way, “clear?”

he nods, then raises his thumb at you, a cheeky smile painting his face. a confirmation that your instructions were clear enough, and he’s to make no mistakes until your mission is successful and done for.

you carefully tread, neck craning around to look for amane’s presence, as you actively trail in the direction of your bedroom. once you’re at your door, you’re quick to unlock, enter and wave to atsumu.

catching your gesture from where he is hiding, he rushes in your direction in response, and before amane makes it down the stairs to your floor, you quickly pull him inside your room, locking the door shut.

you breathe heavily, sighing in contentment that the two of you didn’t get caught pulling this off. you look up at atsumu who’s already looking your way, a hearty laugh ready to burst through. you both end up laughing in unison, taking in the moment, digesting whatever just happened.

then, you pause together. for no particular reason. there’s a few moments of unexplained silence. you aren’t sure what brought this on, but neither atsumu, nor you dare to speak a word. but you find him wavering his stare between your lips and your chest. that doesn’t make you uncomfortable per se, but your hand instinctively moves to cover your chest.

you’re pressed against the door, and atsumu moves a step closer to you, close enough that you can hear his heart beating faster than usual because of the short cardio session your little stunt put him through. but that’s all he does.

he doesn’t make any further efforts. you aren’t sure if you were expecting him to, and if you wanted him to. maybe it’s the way you shielded yourself that made him stop in his tracks. maybe if your hand wasn’t covering your chest, he’d have done what he intended to.

you place your hand on his chest, requesting, “please, move.”

“i need to go in.” you tell him, hinting, “the present won’t bring itself out.”

he doesn’t budge. you apply some force to move his body to the side, and enter your room. once you’re inside, you invite him in as well, “come on, take off your shoes and get inside.”

“you know, i have a gift for you.” you stretch your lips into a smile, highlighting your dimples. his eyes are instantly caught by the particular sight, prying him to stare in the direction of your lips.

“you’ve only mentioned it a few times now.” atsumu shakes his head as he sighs.

he gets rid of his footwear and walks into your dorm room, coming to stand right in front of you.

you walk up to him, stand on your tip toes to quickly peck his lips, and praise him, “good boy.”

you turn around and dally your way towards the mini refrigerator to acquire the cake you prepared for him last night. once you’ve taken it out, you turn around, holding it out to him.

“tada.” you make a sing song voice.

you approach him, while singing a birthday song, pushing the cake in his direction, hoping he’d accept your offering. you look at the blueberries and lemons decorating the cake, pointing, “it’s cute, isn’t it?” no response.

you pout, expressing disappointment, “why won’t you take my gift.”

“i spent so much time preparing it for you.” you whine, cheeks puffed out.

atsumu sighs, unsure of what he is thinking of. the more he looks at you, the more it seems he wants this night to lead the two of you to someplace he’s sure neither of you were expecting it to lead to. to think this way when he’s already made it so obvious to you is rather stupid.

he isn’t sure if he should be thinking these thoughts at all. they shouldn’t be whirring around his head to begin with. after all, this is only supposed to be a one time thing, and he was specifically warned by bokuto san not to lead you on.

he’s led you on enough as it is. he really shouldn’t take this any further. it’s bound to make things worse for you as well as for him. he knows this well, he can put two and two together to decipher the pros and cons of his unideal thoughts. his head and his heart cannot reach reach a comprise.

in the battle between the two, the head loses, and atsumu let’s go of the remains of his rationality. he takes the the cake out of your grasp and puts it on your desk, returning to stand face to face with you. you’re left swarmed by confusion.

but before you can interrogate him, he puts a lip to your finger, inching his body closer to you. once he’s close enough, he pulls you further in by the waist, until your chest is pressed firmly against his. you don’t retaliate. you just let him take control.

“the cake can wait.” he smirks, speaking in a breathy voice, wrapping an arm around your waist and resting the other against the nape of your neck.

he tells you, his lips only an inch apart from your own, “right now, this is what i want to do, cutie.”

your cheeks are burning, your body is trembling, your mind is fogged, and your palms are sweaty as they wrap around his shoulders for the balance. he can feel your body shaking against his. you’re nervous, he knows. he’s making you nervous, he knows. he’s at an advantage, and he likes it.

“you alright?” atsumu loosens his hold on you, asking out of concern when he notices the state of your body. you hum in response to him, granting him a green light to proceed.

just to make sure, he inquires yet again, “are you sure you’re okay with this?” you hum once again, confirming your agreement regarding the matter.

“great.” the corner of his lip raises as he voices, fain.

atsumu pulls you closer to him once again, clashing his lips against yours. his tongue entwines with your own, exploring around your mouth. you can taste the strawberry from his froyo swishing around your mouth as his tongue swarms around. you like whatever it is that you’re feeling. you grab his blonde hair and press his face against your own, urging him to continue further.

soon enough, breathless and quite uncomfortable, you’re quick to interfere, and you step back. he isn’t sure what warranted your reaction, but he’s willing to be patient.

he rubs your back, asking worrisomely, as he leaves a trail of kisses in the region of your neck, “did i do something wrong?”

“it’s me. i’ve never done this before.” you admit, moaning as you feel his hot breath condensing all over your neck, enticing a reaction from your end.

you mumble, embarrassingly, gripping his hair to move his face off your body, “sorry, i’m a spoilsport.”

“that’s all?” atsumu laughs, twirling his finger around a strand of your hair, playing with it.

he stoops lower and uses his teeth to pull your dress off your breast, placing a quick kiss on your cleavage through your brasier, reassuring, “don’t worry, cutie.”

“i got you, i’ll be gentle.” he looks up at you, winking, as he raises himself back up, proceeding to press his lips against your own once again.

atsumu’s frisky hands rummage around your back to discover the zip to your dress. he unzips your garment while his lips are still glued to yours. he pulls himself apart from you for a moment, swinging your body around as he presses you against a wall, the impact making your paints fall to the ground, painting the floor around you in a myriad of shades.

his hands mischievously, and quite easily undress you, completely revealing your brasier and underwear, two different colours. not a set. you really didn’t think it through before making your pick, and you really weren’t expecting to be fucked by atsumu miya on your first date.

your cheeks glow red in embarrassment, but frankly, atsumu doesn’t care if it’s a pair or not, he just wants to get those pieces of fabric off you and eat you out. he finds himself releasing his belt and loosening his pants while you stand there, hands covering your brasier and your underwear like it matters at this point.

he inches closer, finding himself pushing his lips against yours for the third time today, finding himself rock hard down there, ready to go. his arms envelope your body as he lifts you up. you cross your legs around his waist, putting your arms around his neck.

atsumu throws you onto the bed, hovering over you, with his large, throbbing cock erect underneath his loosened clothing. you’re desperate and you want him to put it inside of you this instant. he reaches out to get rid of your underwear. you can’t help it but let out a loud moan when you feel his hands prancing around your private parts in an attempt to rid you of your undergarment. you’re sure you were loud enough for your neighbours to hear, and they’ll know you’ve been a naughty girl tonight, but you don’t seem to care. you just want his cock inside of you, is all.

you’re hasty enough pull off his pants and his undergarment, revealing his large, veiny, aching cock ready to be inserted into your vagina. you throw the piece of cloth to the ground, spreading your legs wide apart for him, smirking.

“you really want me, don’t ya, cutie?” atsumu teases you, cupping your chin to catch a hold of your wavering gaze.

“too bad i don’t have protection on me.” he purses his lips, shrugging as he lays on top of you, pinning his chin against your cleavage.

his large hands cup your boobs, stimulating the nerve endings around your nipples, irking you to let out a vague cry.

your voice cracks, as you plead to him, “it’s okay, i need you inside of me.”

“atsumu.”

he commands, taking your chin into his hands, shooting a coy smile at you, “look at me, cutie.”

“hold my gaze.” he orders, assuring, “and you’ll get exactly what you want, cutie.” you nod, following his order, forcing yourself to look right into his eyes.

you’re already sweaty and he hasn’t even started yet. you don’t know what to expect from the process, but your instant reflex is the shut your eyes when you feel his cock sliding against your walls, inside of you. he’s too big for and it’s too painful. when he breaks through your hymen, you feel sharp, lancinating pain, warranting you to let out a loud moan as you bleed a little, “a-ah.”

“stop.” you speak up, huffing for air.

atsumu withdraws his cock from inside of you, caressing your cheek, inquiring, worried, “are you okay?”

“it hurts.” you cry, still in the midst of catching your breath.

you permit him, “try again.”

accepting your request, he inserts himself into your vagina once again. as you feel his large dick sliding against your walls, you scrunch your face in pain, whimpering, “o-ouch.”

“do you want me to stop?” he asks.

you refute, shaking your head, wanting him to continue pleasuring you. you scratch your nails against the bedding when you feel him thrust his cock inside you again, and again and again, making you groan and wail in pain because his size is just too big for you to take. as you feel his cock glide in and out of your pussy rhythmically, your moans get louder and louder, and the pleasure of having him inside of you intensifies tenfold. you find yourself gasping for air.

you feel yourself about to cum. atsumu drags his dick out of your vagina. his lips move away from your neck to your ear. he nibs your ear, while he inserts his fingers inside your pussy, letting your cum drips over his fingers, tainting them slimy white.

“you’re leaking, cutie.” atsumu states, chuckling, as he inserts his dick inside your cunt again, licking your ear, prying you to let out a scream when you feel the friction of his girth against you as he slides in and out.

smiling proud of himself, he kisses your neck, relieving you momentarily when he removes his cock out of your pussy, but only after he cums inside you. his fluid drips down your thighs, mixing with your own. he finds himself pressing his head between your thighs, tongue reaching to lick your walls to cleanse them of the filth of your act. as you feel his tongue brush around your lips, you can’t help but ask him for more.

“n-need more.” you stammer, breathless, overwhelmed with guilty pleasure as you grab his neck to make him face yourself, smiling tiredly at him, “tsumu, gimme more.”

atsumu lays right beside you, rubbing your cheeks as he teases you, sliding his hand down slowly and steadily, with fingers that tread over flesh, from your cheeks to your neck down to your stomach, leaving behind a ticklish sensation on your skin.

he places his hand over your mons, whispering as he bites the cartilage of your ear, “want more, cutie?”

you nod, signaling him to continue.

atsumu inserts his fingers into your vagina, curling them up and down, rubbing the area between your inner and outer labia, slowly stimulating your clitoris. you feel a pleasurable sensation wash all over your body. the motion of his fingers demands you to moan. he’s so good as he rubs your inside, you feel yourself cum all over his fingers.

satisfied with your response, and proud of himself, he inserts his fingers deeper, curling them in a come-hither motion, coercing you to whimper quite loudly. you’re sure were loud enough for your neighbours to hear you. once again. but you simply do not care. you’re too busy bathing his fingers with your cum.

tonight is going to be a long night, you think to yourself, closing your eyes shut, moaning over and over again as atsumu’s fingers twist and curl inside of you. he finds himself entertained, hearing you mewl and watching your squirm as he pleasures you. you cum over and over again, every time you’re stimulated, as his fingers move methodically within your walls, drenched in your fluid that you can’t seem to stop the flow of.

atsumu retrieves his fingers, holding onto your waist as he raises himself to hover over you. he brings his lips closer to you body, designing a trail of feathery kisses from your neck all the way down to your desperate pussy. he presses his face against your folds, inserting his tongue, licking you on the inside. when his tongue brushes past your clitoris, you whimper, cumming all over his face.

he laps it like a street dog, asking for more, “give me some more, cutie.”

you’re heaving for breath as atsumu explores your throbbing pussy with his tongue alone, hitting the spot every chance he gets, obligating you to wail over and over again. you’re profusely cumming, with his mouth covered in your fluids. he loves it, you love it. he’s too good.

“we’re about to have fun tonight.” he sneers, raising his head to look at the state of you.

atsumu shuts your legs close, giving you a break. he puts his body on to you, feeling your chest rise and fall evidently while you’re breathless. he snakes himself upwards. he kisses you on the lips, allowing you to get a quick taste of yourself.

“i- i think i want a r-round two.” you stutter, pushing him off you. your hand slides down to grab a hold of his penis. you start to fondle with his tip, doe eyed as you look at him with pursed lips and an expecting expression, “you’ll be gentle, just like the last time, won’t you?”

his eyes widen when he feels your soft hands playing around with his cock, moving upwards and downwards, stroking it. he likes the feeling of your soft skin feeling his penis, your fingers prancing around like you own his cock, and what was drooping becomes rock hard once again, aching to be slid inside of your pussy that’s clearly asking for more.

atsumu climbs on top of you, lacing his sticky fingers with your own, pinning your hand against the bed, his other hand rubbing the skin of your cheek as he prepares to enter your cunt. you grab the nape of his neck, dragging his face closer to yours.

he feels your heavy, needy breath dissipate against his cheeks as he bites your nose. with his lips brushing against yours, as he presses his dick into your cunt, he mutters, “want this, don’t you?”

you feel him cum inside of you, filling you up. as a stream of his semen trickles down your inner thigh, you shoot him a wide grin, huffing, “yes, w-want this.”

“s-so good, tsumu.” you groan, feeling his cock rub against your lips, inciting you to squirt all over his cock.

atsumu is so proud of himself for pleasuring you so good on your first time. he presses his dick deeper inside of you. you’re a wailing, crying mess as his large dick inserts itself further inside you, making you ache. but the feeling of his cock being thrust inside of you is too good to make him stop.

he chuckles at your sweaty face painted crimson, with a weary but satisfactory smile lining your pink lips, smirking at you as he kisses your lips, then your neck, “alright, cutie, it’s time we have more fun throughout the night.”

౨ৎ yn and atsumu got along too well for his own liking, and he actually ended up having a great time with yn.

౨ৎ yn lost her v card to atsumu, meaning this is the first time she even hooked up with someone.

౨ৎ the security guards saw yn sneaking atsumu into the dormitory, but they just assumed it’s tobio.

౨ৎ tobio definitely cried on his way to practice.

౨ৎ you’re going to hate me for the next few chapters.

previous : d day

masterlist | next : rebound sex

🐰 i want you to be real scared for the upcoming chapters, that’s all.

taglist— @wolffmaiden @kafkassexchoe @luna-mothii @bomjug @le000xxgrd @dazqa @ineednanami @iluvaquaphor @debussy42 @choizzn @bunninio @empress-pug-pug @karasunoya @sereniteav @yuminako @reooreo @loveelylacey @nbcvs

[a-french-coconut]

Malconnor

Nobody has ever beaten Malcolm at chess.

It's something he's quite proud of, maybe even a little too much.

But how could anybody blame him ? He won against all his challengers, the white king always falling to his flawless strategy.

So when Connor Stoll comes knocking at his cabin's door asking to play, he accepts quickly, confident in his ability in winning.

"Aren't you bored of playing chess the traditional way ?" Connor asks, lazily resting on one of the beds while Malcolm searches for the chessboard.

"There's only one way to play chess, Connor."

Malcolm frowns, still looking for the chessboard. He always put it in the same place, did he store it somewhere else after his victory against Miranda ?

"Only if you lack creativity," sings Connor from the bed.

"Fine," Malcolm sighs, abandoning his search, "what do you propose ?"

Connor smiles and gets closer to him, his blue eyes glinting.

“I suggest we play in our minds. No real chessboard, all will be happening up there,” he gives Malcolm a light tap on the forehead, “do you accept ?”

Malcolm hesitates. Connor’s idea definitely seems more challenging and fun than virtual chess but…

“What’s with that troubled pretty face of yours ?”

Connor gets even closer than he already was and with an infuriating smile taunts him :

“Scared you’ll lose ?”

For one second, Malcolm cannot get past the pretty face of yours.

Does he really mean it ?

Or is it just an expression the friendly son of Hermes uses ?

Then, he registers the taunt.

"Don't be ridiculous, Stoll." He scoffs, consciously ignoring the blush spreading on his cheeks. "I'll win either way."

"If you say so" The other boy snickers before taking a few steps back, allowing himself and Malcolm to concentrate.

He closes his eyes and visualize perfectly the chessboard and its pieces.

“Closing your eyes is not allowed though.”

Malcolm jumps at the voice’s closeness and when he opens his eyes, Connor is standing impossibly close to him, those blue eyes still sparkling and now looking right at him.

“We have to play the whole game looking in each other’s eyes. Otherwise you lose.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to those terms.”

“You agreed to play.”

With no mercy for Malcolm's heart, Connor gets even closer to him, to the point where he can the freckles dotting the other boy's face.

"You can still back out if you want."

Ah, it's nothing more than a calculated strategy then. A plot to make him flustered in order to win. Ignoring the pang of disappointment in his heart, Malcolm steels himself and looks right back at the son of Hermes.

"I'm not, now quit your little games and let's begin."

Connor cackles, allowing Malcolm to push him away.

"You take white and I'll play the black pieces, timer ?"

"Nah" Connor says with a smile, "I don't want to rush our time together."

The son of Hermes is sprawled on a chair, the definition of a cat bathing in the sun.

Except for those eyes, bright and sharp, pointed at Malcolm.

"Shall I ?"

Malcolm nods, trying his best to concentrate despite feeling so seen.

"Okay, let's see... Knight to C3".

---------------------------------------

Malcolm lost tracks of how much time they have been playing.

All that matters is that he's losing.

Terribly so.

He makes stupid moves, place his bishop in front a rook defenceless, doesn't picture Connor's queen taking his knight.

It's not his fault though, it is Connor's entirely.

It's his fault he's sweating, that his throat is dry no matter how much he drinks.

It's his fault for getting so close, his hands brushing Malcolm's and then putting distance between them, for making him suffer a brain malfunction when he licks his lip while concentrating, for

But mostly, it is the constant eye contact, the vibrant blue of Connor's eyes, the burning intensity that drives him mad, making him lose all focus.

It's a miracle he never adverted his eyes, he's sure he is blushing mess, a sight Connor seems to find particularly amusing.

Of course he would, his damned strategy is working with grandiose efficiency.

"Earth to Malcolm, do you copy ?"

"What ?" He says started, Connor way too close for him to function properly.

"I said checkmate, and I don't think you have any way out."

He's smiling, a horrible smug smirk that suits his face very well.

He tries to picture the board but all he sees are Connor's eyes looking at him with the glint of victory.

"Fine" he sighs, "You win."

Immediately, he looks everywhere else but Connor, the other boy clapping and praising his own victory.

"Well, there goes my winning streak." He plops down on his bed, eyes facing the ceiling.

Only to almost have a heart attack when Connor's face appears in his vision.

His breath hitches, his heart's rate going crazy when he realises Connor is right next to him, laying on his bed and looking at him like he wasn't actively trying to kill him.

"If it is so important to you, we can say you won," he shrugs, "My goal wasn't to beat you anyways."

He turns his head so fast he almost snap it.

"Then why did you act like that ?" He asks bewildered.

"Like what ?" Connor looks at him innocently, his face the definition of an angel. But his eyes are definitely the house of a demon, they way they shine mischievously.

"Like-", he feels his face reddens. Had he misinterpreted ? Maybe Connor was just acting normal and he read too much into it. Oh Fates, kill him now please.

"Did it bother you ? The way I acted ?"

For the first time since he entered the cabin, Connor's voice is unsure, his hands fidgeting and his voice coated with nervousness.

Malcolm's brain is going to fry and he is going to die.

Or maybe his heart will give up before his brain.

Either Connor is still playing, a frankly cruel game is that the case, or he is trying to make Malcolm understand something.

He dearly hopes it's the latter option.

"No, hum, it didn't." He gulps, his hand reaching Connor's, "Actually, I kinda liked it."

When he brushes his fingers, he waits for the cry of surprise, the "woah, what are you doing ?" but none of that comes.

Instead, Connor intertwines their fingers together.

He then props himself up with his other hand, his face hovering on Malcolm's.

He must be the colour of a tomato and Connor can probably hear his heart pounding.

"Can I kiss you ?" Connor whispers, those blue eyes looking straight into his grey ones.

"Yes." He answers breathless.

He has kissed people before.

A girl named Laura when he was twelve and it has been tasteless, only the feeling of his lips touching hers and nothing more.

The one with Rafael before the battle of Manhattan had been filled with some kind of frenzy, the one you get when you think you won't live to see another day.

But this, this is intoxicating.

When Connor kisses him, Malcolm instinctively grabs his neck, pulling him closer.

He doesn't want this to stop, he wants to kiss Connor until he can't breathe, until his lips are swollen and red, until-

"Wait, wait, I need to breathe."

Connor gently pulls himself off Malcolm, contently resting against him.

"By Athena, that was amazing."

"Please don't mention you mom just after we kissed."

"Right, you're right. But still, amazing."

Connor laughs, a sound full of mirth that Malcolm wants to hear until the day he dies and hopefully after too.

"Can I presume we will be doing that again ?" He asks, twirling a strand Malcolm's hair with his finger.

"You presume right."

They stay silent for a minute, basking in each other's presence and proximity.

"Does that mean you're not telling anyone that I lost ?"

"Sorry, can't do that."

"Why ?"

"Because I won darling."

The blush comes back with full force when Connor calls him darling, making the other boy cackles.

"Everybody know what was my goal when I entered this cabin. Right now, I think they are waiting for us outside to throw us in the lake."

He gets up, beckoning Malcolm to do the same.

"Shall we, boyfriend ?"

Connor's lightens up when he calls him boyfriend, happiness literally glowing around him.

He is the most beautiful boy Malcolm has ever seen.

"Yes, we shall."

Indeed, the second they step out they are swarmed by the other campers.

"To the lake !" Cecil screams.

"That's my line."

"Not when you're the one whose about to take a bath, brother."

All the way to the lake, Malcolm holds Connor's hand and when they get thrown, he doesn't let it go.

"Wanna ditch them and take a trip to New York ?" His boyfriend whispers in his ear, "I know the way."

"You're going to be a very bad influence on me."

"That's not a no."

"Chiron is going to be furious."

"We're not the first lovesick demigods to pull this kind of trick."

"We are both counsellors."

Connor kisses teasingly his neck and Malcolm's entire body short-circuits.

"They'll be fine. Besides," He gives him another kiss, on the jaw this time "I know a great restaurant that I'm sure you'll like."

"Okay," his voice comes out strangled and way more high pitched than usual, "lead the way."

"Excellent choice !" Connor says, excited, "we are going to have so much fun !"

When they come back, Chiron is indeed irritated, scolding them about how dangerous and reckless they had been.

Malcolm doesn't miss the fond look in his mentor's eyes when he shoos them away, letting them go without any kind of punishment.

What a better way to start Pride Month than Malconnor ?

[severedfromthesource]

Vampire’s Gift

Angelique lets Catarina play their favorite game with the unsuspecting Lucien. NSFW. Features M resus, F rescuer, CPR, conscious and unconscious mouth to mouth, precordial thumps, sex leading to cardiac arrest, sex acts on an unconscious person.

“Am I not enough plaything for you, chérie?”

Catarina playfully smacked her arm. “Don’t be so pathetic, love. You know my heart only belongs to you.” Angelique slid her long arms around her love and drew her in close against her body, staring out at the dark street of Paris. Lights burned everywhere, so Paris was never really dark, merely dimmed by night. The two of them were under the vampire’s shroud, for all intents and purposes invisible to the people of the city. They’d only be seen by those they wanted to see.

“I just think it would be fun to be the hero for once. And you don’t need a hero,” said Catarina, tapping at the beast’s chest and the long dead heart beneath. Angelique wanted to argue, but she also couldn’t be sure the organ hadn’t been eaten by worms before she returned as the undead. She went on, “You’ll take one for me, won’t you? I have one in mind.”

“How could I deny you anything?” replied Angelique.

So they walked through the nightlife in search of their damsel. Catarina adored her angel’s every form, when she took on the aspects of a man with a more rigid and bat like face, or a great black dog, or sometimes even when she was only a cloud of fog clinging to her naked skin and filing her lungs. Angelique had a better cock in some forms than any man she’d known, yet lately she had felt the ache for a living one. She missed taking a man in her hand and feeling it twitch with his heartbeat. Plus, if she got to be the hero for once, she thought it would be fun to ride someone in and out of the little deaths, the petit morte, that her beast had perfected. Their search brought them to the back alley of the perfumer’s shop.

“Lucien,” whispered Angelique, plucking the owners name from the ether, “Come down, Lucien, and let us in.” Catarina bounced a little on the balls of her toes. Ever since having seen this man on her last trip into the city, she’d thought about the older perfumer and what he would look like between her thighs, or with Angelique taking him in a masculine form from behind. Tonight though, she had something else in mind. She practically squealed with delight and clapped quickly as the bolt on the door audibly came undone and Lucien opened it for them.

Angelique could not fault her for her attraction. He was handsome and broad, old enough to be Catarina’s father, but he wore each line well. A little gray peppered his beard and temples, stark against his otherwise dark hair. His rich coffee colored eyes were dull under her spell, mouth slightly agape. The two of them entered with his permission and stood amidst his workshop.

“This is well enough,” Catarina announced. She shoved a few of his implements off his work table, which smelled of every oil and perfume which had ever soaked into its wood, and took him by the shoulder to sit on the edge. She hiked up her layers of skirts and petticoats and climbed so she sat astride him. She nodded to her beast and the beast rolled her long fingers in the air. Lucien sucked in a breath, eyes regaining their light. “Wh-What? Where…” He looked to find himself in his workshop. Upon seeing her he gasped and tried to scramble back, only to find himself pinned under her, and his strength oddly lacking. “I was sleeping, I- what’re you doing here?” Catarina pressed a finger to his lips. “Hush, dear one. You’re still asleep.”

He stared at her with wide, entranced eyes. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. With her mane of gold curls and the freckles going down her nose to the top of her breasts, rounded by her corset. Something whispered in his mind that she was right, he was still asleep. He had to be. She urged him down with his back against the workshop table and he went without complaint. He saw her eyes slide to the far corner, but he didn’t see the thing in the shadows.

“My mind has conjured a beauty,” he whispered in a sort of reverent tone. Catarina smiled, leaning over him to place her delicate fingers against his jawline and tilt his head up. Her mouth devoured his with a hunger, and she reveled in the feeling of his warm aliveness. She felt a pang of foreign sadness inside her the same moment she allowed herself to appreciate his body, and she sent a soothing pulse of thought back to her creature. ‘My heart only belongs to you’, it said without words. The shadows seemed to hum appreciatively, and the pitiful feeling melted away from her mind.

The dream woman, who felt all too solid and real to Lucien, slid her hand up over the soft down on his belly and trailed up to his chest. She shifted, and he moaned a little in his throat when he felt she wore no underthings, and her warmth and wetness soaked against him. She was already deeply excited, but he didn’t know the real reason why. He couldn’t have imagined what lay in store for him.

She coiled her hands in the hem of his nightshirt and with surprising strength, ripped the thing to the middle, then grabbed hold of it again to rip the rest of the way to the collar. Lucien tried to assure himself this was merely a dream, and the garment would be well when he woke up. Then she leaned over him and sealed her mouth over one of his nipples and he thought no more of the torn shirt.

“Slower.”

Something whispered in his mind and he jolted slightly. His heart, which had been speeding up and beginning to pound under the dream woman’s hands and warm mouth, suddenly stumbled as if at war with itself. It was as though some invisible hand had clutched the organ and held it still before it beat too fast.

Catarina smirked, still suckling at the hard bud of his nipple. She dug her teeth into it a little and rolled it between her jaws, winning a small hiss. She released it, laying her body across his to claim his mouth instead. He made a muffled noise of surprise when her tongue plumbed between his teeth, but relaxed after a moment and returned the kiss.

“Slower.”

Another stumble. This one hurt though. He felt the uneven beat in his temples and in his stomach, hissing in a breath. “Mmh,” he mumbled, pulling away slightly. “My heart… feels funny,” he told the dream woman.

Catarina circled one of his nipples with her index finger. “Oh? Poor thing. Maybe you’re dying in your sleep.” His eyes went wide and she giggled, tongue poking out between her teeth. She glanced at Angelique again, and again her angel whispered, “Slower” into the air and into Lucien’s heart. He groaned, clutching his chest with one hand. She slid down and freed him from his trousers, and despite his growing panic, he was still growing hard at her movements. His cock jumped when his heart tried to correct for another stumble and beat particularly hard.

“What is this?” he groaned, feeling the sluggish beat as his heart struggled seemingly without cause. It moved slow, he could practically feel each lapping wave of blood in his circulation. The growing spaces between tides was beginning to hurt, and more than that, they worried him.

Catarina sat back up astride him, her hands braced against his chest. She rolled her hips so her sex merely brushed against his hardness, teasing between her lips. Her aching clit throbbed with her pulse, and when she slid his shaft over the hood there, both of them moaned. Her head fell back as she continued to rut against him, feeling the flushed heat of him. Angelique, when she took on a man’s shape, would be kind enough to warm her dead flesh at the fireplace so she could mimic these sensations while inside her, but this was different. Real alive warmth. It was the only thing she really missed from human partners. That, and lying in the afterglow with an ear to their chest as they drifted back down from heaven.

Lucien was sprawled against the workshop table in a tug of war between panic and ecstasy. Her wet cunt slid up and down the length of him, and he wanted to grab her hips and spear her to stop this agonizingly slow game. But his limbs felt weak. His head was growing fuzzy. It didn’t feel like a dream, but some twisted and sinful nightmare. He expected to wake up and see a succubus draining the breath from his lungs. Maybe she was right. Maybe he really was dying in his sleep. Air was becoming harder to draw in, and his heart wasn’t contracting all the way.

Catarina tugged at the neckline of her dress, her ample breasts spilling over the hard ribbing of her corset. She lay down across the perfumer’s naked chest, her weight constricting his breathing all the more. “Shhh,” she soothed, cupping his face in her palm, her thumb tracing over his quivering lips. “You have nothing to fear, dear one.” Then she slid her hand up to pinch his nostrils, sealing her mouth over his to give him a breath. His chest rose under her and she felt his lungs expand with her air. He expelled the excess in a puff when she broke the life giving kiss. Reaching between them, she finally took hold of his stiff cock. The fear and adrenaline warring with her beast’s instructions to his heart had done little to soften him. She gave him another breath, and when she reached the end she gave him a little more than needed, his ribs rounding beneath her. Then she slid him inside her as she let go and he gave a breathy moan.

She felt amazing. Her tight, warm walls enveloped him and the aching need he’d felt waned. He bucked his hips once, twice, but his body was too weak to thrust up into her. Her arousal dripped down the crease of his thighs and cooled against his skin when it hit the air. The succubus, which he now was convinced she was, began to rock against him. His length tapped now and then against her cervix and she groaned, still holding his nose closed for respirations. He was not aware, but he was the largest cock she’d ever taken from a human. He wanted to moan and voice his pleasure the same as her. He wanted to grab her hips and drive himself into her again and again. But his breaths wouldn’t come, and his heart refused to speed up into that delirious, hammering bliss he’d always known during sex. The succubus was kind enough to give him breaths between thrusts, and all he could do was rumble in the back of his throat when he had the breath to make noise.

Catarina sat back, pressing her palm firmly against the apex of his heart. She slowed her gyrations to be in time with the slow beat she felt there. His fingers tightened against her hip, his mouth gaping without her breaths. He tapped a few times in a mute plea for her oxygen. She smirked down at him. “Angelique,” she called to the shadows. The corner of blackness chuckled as two eyes reflected in the sparse moonlight tilting from the nearby window.

The creature rolled her fingers in the air again and spoke her command to the poor trapped man. “Your lungs…” The perfumer looked towards her corner and finally saw, with wide and naked fear on his face, what lie there. “Do you feel the last wisp of air being squeezed from them?” As she said this, she rolled her fingers into her palm and tensed her hand. His chest spasmed. Then it went still as his lungs arrested.

Catarina began to buck her hips faster as his hand fell away from her leg. His head lay tilted to the side, his eyes wide and mouth hung open. His heart stumbled beneath her hand, and she kept one against his ribs and slid the other against his thigh to feel the weak swell of his femoral. Her stomach tightened, her breath quickening as her climax drew near. Hands appeared from behind and slid over the planes of her corset. Angelique took hold of the middle of her restrictive finery and tore it in one motion. Catarina sucked in a completely unobstructed breath and cried out. Arms encircled her as she slammed him into herself, smoothing over her exposed belly and dipping between her legs to her and Lucien’s joining. Her swollen clit was a raw bundle of nerves when the vampire’s claw glided across its surface. It took only a few moments of Angelique’s cool hand fingering her there before she came, screaming and bucking. She felt the perfumer’s heart, which had been locked in a sort of half death- beating, stopping for long moments, beating twice, shaking, lub… lubdublub… lub…- until finally it ceased at the moment of their shared orgasm. His warm seed spilled inside her and she collapsed back into Angelique’s waiting arms, bosom heaving. Lucien’s cock twitched inside her, the last movement of his body before he began to soften with the lack of blood flow.

Catarina swiped her hair back from her face and took a moment to catch her breath. “Ah,” she sighed, “Thank you, darling. You’ve given me quite a gift. I’ll grant you one in return.” She took his face by the chin and rolled his head back up to look at her, his eyes empty, his pupils blown wide. She chalked that up to his pleasure fueled heights before the drop into cardiac arrest. It would be a shame if he remained dead.

She laid across him again and gave him her breaths, his body pliable and yielding to her. She briefly rutted against the curve of his cock once more, shivering with sensitivity after being so thoroughly sated, then planting her hands in the middle of his chest. She shoved up into his heart, forcing his ribcage in. His shoulders shrugged inward and the force rippled out through his entire body. Her breath quickened and she grew excited all over again. She grunted as she drove another quick compression down into his sternum, watching how it rounded his toned, furry stomach, rocking his head back. Catarina had never been the one doing the saving. The rush was immediate and consuming as a wildfire. I am holding his life in my hands. I am the only thing between this man and oblivion. She found herself panting out little breaths as she started the compressions in earnest, rising up a little on her knees so she could use all the strength in her body for his sake.

Angelique slid to the head of the workbench, her eyes flickering between the dead man and her dove. There was a light in her love’s eyes that set the vampire alight. She truly was enjoying this. It gave her every sort of satisfaction to have given her this gift, something she knew her love had longed for so long. The jealousy she had harbored began to ebb as she watched her dutifully pound into the perfumer’s chest. She leaned down, her lips just brushing Lucien’s ear, her cold cheek pressed to his, which was growing paler. “My lady will be awfully disappointed if you do not live,” she whispered so only his barely tethered consciousness heard, “Your heart must beat again for her, Lucien. Come back.”

Cold lips brushed his ear. The succubus’ sex brushed warmly against his soft cock, jerking against her with every brutal pump against his heart. His heart had stopped. He really had died in his sleep, he thought. But he knew he wasn’t sleeping now. No corner of his imagination could conjure this up. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even roll his eyes in their sockets. They were planted straight ahead where they had drifted at the moment of his death, staring up at some point between the ceiling and the succubus’s face. His vision bobbed with his head, every compression forcing it to swing her face in and out of his line of sight. She really was beautiful. A belle mort. He knew somehow she had been responsible for his death. Now, she was working desperately for his resurrection. It didn’t make sense. But he wanted to do as the voice commanded. He wanted to come back.

Truthfully, there was little left in Lucien’s life worth continuing it. His wife had died last spring of the fever sweeping the lower city. His daughters had died in their cradles the years before that. He had nothing but the stinking perfume shop to fill his days. If he had died, buried inside this beautiful demon sat astride him now, currently shoving her delicate hands against his chest, he wouldn’t have complained. He would have met the devil, for surely a succubus would have damned his soul to hell, and he would have accepted an afterlife of punishment for those few moments of bliss.

She paused her rhythmic pounding and leaned over, kissing him again. Her breath was so warm. It smelled sweet, and tasted of ambrosia when her tongue briefly flicked his own. He knew then that he wanted to come back. He wanted to please her. He would dedicate the rest of his life to this vision who had stolen it from him. Beat. Beat for her, useless thing. Bats pour elle, espèce de sac inutile.

Catarina was panting by now, sweat standing out on her skin and beading between her breasts. Dread had started to well up in the bottom of her stomach. Had she really killed him for good? “Angelique?” she asked, looking over at her beast, “Is it too late? Have I lost him?” The yellow discs of her eyes in the darkness turned towards the dead man’s chest and focused on the vanishing warmth within him. His heart struggled behind his ribs. It beat once, then stopped. Half the chambers moved, but the others wouldn’t pump. “Listen,” she told her. Catarina lay down on top of him and rested her ear against his chest.

“Poor dear,” she breathed out, “You really are trying to be strong, aren’t you?” She had no way of knowing how badly he was trying. Screaming in his mind for his heart to beat, trapped in a dying body. She pinched his nose shut again, tipping his head back as she rose once more. “Then I won’t give up either, dear one. Your heart is safe in my hands.” It was a contradiction to her actions, considering she had been the one to make it stop in the first place. But Lucien believed her. She didn’t want him to die. For the first time in so long, he didn’t want to die either.

She returned to her compressions with renewed vigor, throwing her whole weight behind each measured blow. It had been about twelve minutes of struggling cardiac activity, and her arms, her shoulders, the core of her stomach, were all getting sore. Angelique never tired when she played the hero, and Catarina was on the verge of asking her to help. “You’ve got this,” her beast purred. It wouldn’t be so sweet a victory if she wasn’t the one to claw him back. Angelique tipped her face against his once more and whispered again, “Come back, little one. Focus on those weak beats and make them strong again.” As she spoke, she skated her hand down his ribs and felt them bow to Catarina’s thrusts. Her preternatural eyes watched his heart struggle, and went from unevenly beating now and then to fluttering.

Catarina let out a frustrated growl when she felt his heart stop altogether, no longer even trying to beat. The quivering was too weak for her to detect. “Please, take a breath. I won’t be able to take if you really died,” she panted. Angelique moved to the side of the workbench, easing Catarina back a little. “Just a moment, dove.”

She raised her fist up and thumped him hard between the line of his nipples. The quivering heart, jolted by the kinetic force, beat once and then descended again into fibrillation. She struck him again. This time, it beat for a few seconds, then shook uselessly again. The third time, Catarina tried. She brought up both hands, clutched together in a fist, and beat the organ hard enough his entire body jolted from the force of the blow. But his eyes closed and he drew in a rasping breath as finally, it worked. Lucien was alive. She was giddy with endorphins as she sat back, breathing hard.

“Good show,” Angelique chuckled, wrapping an arm around her love and squeezing one of her breasts, soaking in the way her heart pounded from the exertion of resuscitation.

Catarina giggled, cupping Lucien’s face. “Apologies, dear one. That was more than you bargained for, wasn’t it?” She leaned down to give him a breath and ease his rasping. She startled a bit when he lunged up and, with what little strength was left in him, kissed her passionately and with great desperation and hunger. She pulled back, a little shocked. He propped himself halfway up on his elbows, looking up at her. His eyes were manic and round, black as a deep well given how blown out his pupils were.

“My lady,” he wheezed, “I am yours.”

[halbravd]

stereotypes

pairing: sugar daddy!levi x reader.

summary: having a sugar daddy is all fun and games until you realize he’ll never fuck you if you don’t do something. you have to beg for it, to earn the right of bouncing on his cock — otherwise you’ll never get to know the bliss of being fucked by mister ackerman.

content warning: minors do not interact, implied age gap, use of pet names, dry humping, light bondage, oral & fingering (f. receiving), spitting, overstimulation, degradation, impact play (cunt slapping), hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie.

word count: 3k

writer’s note: here’s the reupload i promised! <3

Two months. Two months since it all started, and still nothing from his side. Fresh flowers brought to your apartment every two days, hundreds of dollars sent to your bank account with a little note telling you to buy this or that, dates at the fanciest restaurants… Yet he couldn’t give you so eagerly wanted — Sex. You, who were so afraid he’d ask to fuck you on your first night out, are more confused than ever, as days go by. Why would he buy you so much lingerie if he never planned to see you wearing them one day? Damn. Why was he always so polite, always so distant.

It wasn’t your place to ask him to fuck you senseless… Or was it? The more you think about it, the more you can feel your blood boil in your veins, burning your skin and breaking your heart. It didn’t have to be that personal, yet you just couldn’t help it — If Levi Ackerman was so reluctant when it comes to touch you, you must be the problem.

‘Don’t you find me pretty?’ You break the silence set between the two of you, fingers of yours toying with your fork. Suddenly, the meal in your plate didn’t look as delicious as it used to, long forgotten as the metallic tool played with it for a matter of minutes.

‘If you weren’t I wouldn’t spend a single dollar on you.’ Straight forward, as expected from him. ‘And with the amount of money I’ve spent for your pretty ass, I guess it’s pretty clear.’ Levi adds, his chin resting on the palm of his hand, elbow flush against the glass table. Of course he noticed that something was wrong. As soon as you stepped inside, to be more specific. But would he ask by himself? Surely not — He isn’t your dad or your friend. Most importantly, he thinks you’re old enough to start the conversation.

‘So why don’t you just fuck me instead of playing the cool guy?’ You spit, fork falling in your plate in a loud crash — Metal meeting porcelain. If your words weren’t enough, then it’s probably the tone in your voice that made his eyebrows furrow. Maybe you shouldn’t have raised your voice, maybe you should have tried to act like he didn’t affect you one bit. But this man always knows everything, and hiding things from him has been proven useless, many times.

‘Ah. This is what makes you so angry, after all… Hurts your ego, princess?’ The raven head mutters, a single raise of his finger enough to dismiss the few domestics standing there — He didn’t need them to hear such an important conversation after all. Especially if you decide to throw a tantrum out of the blue. ‘Beg for it, then.’

Eyes widening at his words, you almost choked on your own saliva, taken aback by the sudden change in his eyes. It took you a while to understand he was absolutely serious, silver eyes boring into you until you no longer feel safe in this damn room. It’s a matter of seconds before you feel hopelessly small and vulnerable, teeth nervously nibbling at your lower lip and eyes avoiding his piercing gaze. But there is something so arousing in the way he’s staring at you. The way he straightens his back and waits for an answer, savoring the moment — You can feel it down there, how wet and hot you’re becoming, lace panties damp and sticky.

‘Please, fuck me.’ Damn you didn’t mean to look so desperate. Whimpering like this when he hasn’t even touched you yet, struggling to swallow your own saliva.

‘Come on, be a bit more convincing. You can do much better than that,’ he snorts, and that’s enough to have tears rising to your pretty eyes. He won’t give it to you so easily, and it’s now too late to step back. Of course you could just leave this huge penthouse of his, petty and angry. But that problem sitting so nicely between your legs won’t go away so easily, and he’s the only answer to it.

Putting away your pride for the night, you’re quick to get on your feet, only to kneel right before his eyes, arms wrapped around one of his leg, and cheek rubbing against his thigh. The sight is painfully sinful. So filthy it has his cock throbbing in his pants and his heart missing a beat. Mind flooded with the nastiest thoughts, Adam apple slowly bobbing in his dry throat, he watches you grind your hips against his black polished shoe, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

‘Please Levi, fuck me,’ voice just above a whisper, your chin is met with two of his fingers, the latter lifting your face up so you could see how dark his eyes got. How blown wide his pupils are — All just because of you.

‘I want you naked on my bed. I’ll be there in five.’ Levi mutters, loosening the grip on your chin until he’s no longer holding it. Eyes of yours brighten up at his words, and you’re quick to follow his order, stuttering a bunch of thank yous on your way out.

Saying you walked to his bedroom was an understatement — You literally ran to it, just like you feared he’d change his mind. And you were ridiculously fast at getting rid of your clothes, something he would have definitely mocked you for if he was there, witnessing it all.

But you know how to be obedient when needed, and this is why you’re sitting on his bed all nicely for him, eyes focused on the closed door, painfully aware of your surroundings. Excitation rushed through your veins when you heard his footsteps getting closer and closer. Your mouth salivated when you saw the doorknob slowly rotating.

All of this was nothing compared to the blissful sight he was met with once he opened the door. If he always found you pretty, you were nothing but gorgeous. He stood there, shamelessly staring at your bare body, from your beautiful face to the birth of your breast, your stomach and your exposed pussy — Glistening under the warm lights of his bedroom. It was worth the wait. It was worth the painful rides back home, cock hard as a rock, begging to be taken care of. It was worth waking up in the middle of the night at the thought of you, stroking his hard dick to soothe the accumulated tension.

He wants to ruin you. To wreck that perfect body until it’s clear as day that you’re his. And acting calm and collected becomes more and more difficult, especially when he’s met with those two eyes — Pleading and desperate.

‘On all fours. Ass up.’ Levi orders, and you comply. Cheek buried in the mattress, hands resting from either side of your face, you arch your back oh so nicely, ass in the air and legs slightly spread.

All you can hear is the sound of his hands fumbling with his belt, his pants falling on the ground, soon followed by his dress shirt. The mattress dips under his weight, his cock resting against your ass and eliciting the sweetest gasp off your mouth. His hands trap your wrists, bringing them to the small of your back and tying them together with his leather belt — That makes you frown, mouth opening to protest.

‘You’ve been bad, you don’t deserve to touch me tonight. Be good or I’ll teach you how to behave.’ Levi hisses, not giving you any opportunity to defend yourself. So all you do is groan, a quick nod of your head in approval.

The palm of his hands find their way to your ass, spreading your cheeks to have a clear view of your pussy — Covered in slick, eager to be touched and filled. So much better than the dessert waiting for him downstairs. Hollowing his cheeks, he opens his mouth enough for a ball of saliva to fall close to your fluttering hole, goosebumps adorning your skin.

’Such a pretty cunt just for me, I’m such a lucky man.’ If Levi wasn’t very chatty, he was now the opposite side of the spectrum. Cursing under his breath, praising you for having such a nice body and degrading you for being a needy slut. But all that shame that was burning your face vanished as soon as his tongue got his first ever taste of you, licking a long stripe up your clit, flickering the sensitive bud with the tip of it. It makes you gasp and writhe underneath, eyes rolling at the back of your head and nails digging in the palm of your own hands.

He’s all over the place, and that slowly drives you insane — Pinching your clit with his thumb and index finger, fucking you with his tongue and spreading your folds, always looking for more. But as much as he loves how sweet you taste, it’s the sounds you make that keeps him going. Whispers of his name, high pitched moans when he takes care of that particular spot of yours, breathless gasps when he dips a finger inside.

He can feel your walls fluttering, two knuckles deep enough for him to rub that spongy spot that has your legs shaking and your head spinning. And when his thumb draws tight circles on your swollen clit, you feel yourself unravel right before his eyes. With one arm wrapped around your waist, he has you trapped. You can’t go anywhere, even when you’re trying to squirm away because it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

‘Levi… I’m gonna—‘ your voice breaks mid-sentence, the coil in your stomach snapping so furiously it pulls a soft scream out of your throat. You’re writhing and moaning, warm juice spilling from your tight hole only to be avidly collected by his hungry tongue. He doesn’t stop either, pumping his fingers in and out of you, lapping your folds and slapping your clit until you’re crying and begging him to stop, too sensitive to keep going.

But even in that state, you’re quick to realize he isn’t doing it for you, but for his own pleasure. Eating you out like a starved man, addicted to your whimpers and the way your back arches so prettily. It’s only when he’s satisfied with how messy your pussy looks, only when his sheets are drenched in your cum, your tears and your drool that he finally straightens his back, chin glistening and lips swollen.

You wish you could see more of him, the blurry view of his face through your watery eyes not even close to be enough for you. But when you try to speak, to ask if you’re allowed yo get on your back, all that spills off your mouth is a bunch of senseless babbles, and a pitiful hiccup. And that makes him chuckle. Evil man’s firm grip on your hip, free hand fisting his cock so the tip of it could slap your sloppy cunt. You whine and he smirks, collecting your arousal and teasing your entrance until you’re crying all over again.

‘Crying like a baby? My little slut doesn’t like to be played with? What a shame.’ And fuck how pretty it is, to hear you sob and cry because of him. That makes his cock grow impossibly harder, string of profanities leaving his lips when the head of his cock stretches your pussy. It’s so tight he’s wondering if all can fit — But he will make sure it will. There’s no way he would be satisfied with only the half of it. He needs to be balls deep in you, has to feel your walls around his cock, and the tip of it nudged against the deepest spot in you.

But there is no way you wouldn’t be good for him, right? So you take him just like he wants to, inch by inch, until he finally bottoms out with a low grunt. Heart vibrating in your chest, air stuck in your burning lungs, it’s like you can feel him in your throat, the veins adorning his cock grazing against your velvet walls and turning you into a whimpering mess. If he isn’t necessarily thick, his length makes up for it — It makes you see stars and lose track of time, pussy fluttering around him as you’re adjusting to his cock.

‘You’re so fucking tight. None of your college boys did a great job at fucking you, right?’ Levi hisses, leaning forward so his lips could kiss the warm flesh of your shoulder, messy and wet.

The grip on your hips is unforgiving, promise of bruises that are yet to paint your skin. The need to break you grows more and more intense, and the urge not to pound into you right now gets unbearable. Hurting you would be like breaking a toy he had for Christmas only a few hours after its addition to his collection, and he wouldn’t want to do that to you… Or does he?

You’re babbling again and that’s what makes his hips rock against yours, each of his thrust stealing the air off your throat, making your body jolts forward. It’s a toe-curling pace, his hips crashing against your ass fervently and with so much strength — He waited so long for this, he doesn’t find the courage to keep it slow and steady anymore. If it wasn’t for the grip on your hips, you’ll be flying god knows where.

‘Please… More…’ you struggle, but the words are there. Eyes turning white, hands wriggling in a failed attempt to get rid of his belt, all you can do is moan and take what he has to give you without a complaint.

‘Such a slut. Hopeless.’ He grunts, one of his hands flying to your hair, fisting them in a messy ponytail and yanking your head backward. He wants to see those pretty eyes of yours, the tears falling down your cheeks and staining your skin with mascara. He wants to see the disheveled look on your face and the way your mouth hangs open shamelessly, inked in his mind forever.

You don’t even know how he managed to, be he did as he’s told — Faster, deeper. How can such a small man be so brutal — That’s a question you’ll have plenty of time to think about… But not right now. Unable to think or speak, you can’t even warn him of your upcoming orgasm. Strangled moans fall off your mouth messily, gummy walls clamping down on him like a vice and making it almost impossible for him to keep going.

But when he’s struggling to chase his high, you’re too far away to care. Making a mess on his sheets, being so vocal about your own pleasure you fail to hear him groan and pant. A few more deep thrusts was all it took for Levi to reach his end, thick ropes of cum filling you to the brim and dripping off your abused cunt. It has his grip on your hair tightening, bringing you back to reality only for you to hear the prettiest sounds on earth.

There’s something about how whiny he gets when he finishes, how sensitive his cock becomes when he keeps fucking into you to make sure you won’t lose a single drop of his cum, that makes you shiver. Letting go of your hair and resting on his heels, Levi’s hands grab your waist only to bring you closer to him, your ass flush against his hips and his cock still buried deep.

He’s a sight for sore eyes — Beads of sweat rolling down his forehead and the tip of his nose, muscles flexing and wet strands of hair falling before his eyes, hips still stuttering and chest heaving. All he needs is a few seconds to go back to his usual self, but even with that, he’s not quite ready to let go of this sweet pussy of yours.

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter V: We Don’t Have to Talk About it.

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev.

songs for this chapter: cool about it by boygenius, pink pony club by chappell roan

summary: the celebrations for Chris’s return continue, this time with the first Corroded Coffin show in years!

a/n: everything i write in these chapters makes me want to write more LET’S GOOOO. keep an eye out for a new tab in coming chapters ;)

chapter tags: mean!eddie, mean!reader, fighting, weed, drinking, angst, hurt/no comfort, talks of adult content creation | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog/comment/like to support the author!

—

You are determined to have a lazy, relaxing day off. Your brother’s gone out for a job interview, so you once again have your apartment to yourself. You start by indulging in a greasy homemade bacon egg and cheese sandwich, made on a toasted everything bagel slathered in butter. You savor it with sips of coffee consumed on your front porch, hoping your nextdoor neighbors aren’t awake yet to pollute the area with cigar smoke.

When you’re finished eating, you pluck the book you’ve been reading from its spot on the couch and make your way to the bathroom. One compromise you’d refused to make when apartment hunting: you needed a bathtub. No walk in shower bullshit. You’d gotten your wish with this old duplex, the bathroom, though a garish purple color, came with a beautiful clawfoot tub.

You let the water warm before plugging the drain, peeling off your pajamas and wrapping yourself in your soft, freshly washed robe. You have a routine on days like this. You’ll take a bath, smoke a joint and sip your coffee in the tub while you read at least three chapters before the water gets cold. You queue your On Repeat playlist, not willing to skip around every song in your library. The music sets a nice ambiance humming through your bluetooth speaker as you sink into the warm water, bubbles creating a soft blanket over your naked form. You release a sigh as you slip up to your neck, relishing in the warmth engulfing you. When your muscles feel loose, you dry your hands on the towel you’ve set aside, and pluck the joint from the ashtray. The sweet smoke fills your lungs, causing a pleasant burn in your chest. You exhale slowly, grabbing your book from the makeshift side table you’ve put together.

Currently, you’re halfway through Normal People, your copy a bit worse for wear, pages water stained and spine snapped in several places. It’s already punctured your heart a few times, you can’t help but feel frustrated for Marianne. The high buzzes pleasantly in your brain as you read, creating vivid pictures in your head from the words on the page. Marianne morphs into you, and for some reason Connell has grown long, curly locks and grown an affection for silver rings. All of this, set to the musical stylings of Boygenius in your steam filled bathroom. You’re supposed to feel at ease, but there’s a coil tightening in your belly you’re not sure how to stifle, making your chest flutter with excitement.

It becomes nearly impossible to focus on the story, so you set your book aside in favor of your phone. You’re careful to hold it above the water, scrolling through your various feeds to see what your friends are up to.

Stevie (@ thehairington): i’m never letting rob aux again for as long as i live

rob (@ lilbirdie): not MY fault ur a big baby!!!!!

b (@ babybeez): … do i wanna know what song ?

rob (@ lilbirdie): pink pony club! i thot it would be fun!!

b (@ babybeez): oh ur evil

Stevie (@ thehairington): RIGHT!!!

You giggle, imagining Steve as he and Robin drive to work, breaking down as Chappell sings, “You're always on my mind / And mama, every Saturday / I can hear your southern drawl a thousand miles away, saying GOD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE,” and you wish you were with them. Maybe you’ll go bother them later, once you grow tired of being with only yourself for company. You exit out of Twitter and open Instagram, the first picture when your feed loads being the last people you want to see right now. It’s a picture of Eddie, clearly taken by someone else. He’s sticking his tongue out at the camera, standing in front of The Hideout.

@ thefreakmunson: come thru tonite, corroded coffin plays at ten.

Ugh, right. It’s Tuesday. Your mother is definitely gonna call you to work tonight, and your good mood flies out the window. As if reading your mind, your phone dings, but it’s not your mother.

Eddie (block later.): Is my favorite bartender workin tonite?? ;)

You seem to stab each letter as you reply:

god i fuckin hope not.

he replies only with :(

__

It takes another hour for your mom to text you.

mama: hi honey, i know i tell you every week you can have tues off, but i just got a call from chris’s buddies telling me they’re coming to surprise him tonight. would u mind? i’ll owe u

you love your mom more than anything, but you can’t tell her you’d do it for nothing, because it’s going to be torture. Ever since Chris joined the band when Gareth went to college, you’d been avoiding working Tuesdays even more than before. The band hadn’t played their usual nighttime slot since Chris had come home, so the crowd is expected to be substantial.

yea of course mom, see u at 8

mama: thx baby bee

You look at the clock, the red lights reading 12:00 PM. Still plenty of time to go get your friends to come out tonight, despite them both having to work tomorrow. Luckily, they love you, so you don’t expect to have a hard time. You take your time getting dressed, humming along to the music as you comb your hair and do your makeup. Once you're satisfied, You migrate to your closet to pick out an outfit for tonight. Something devious plays in your brain, and you want an outfit that will draw attention. You want to look hotter than you feel, hoping to trick yourself into confidence in the face of a possibly awful night. You look hot though, in a cropped black t-shirt and form hugging jeans, and take the opportunity to post a long overdue selfie.

—

“Bee!” Robin squeals when you enter the record store, far too excited to see you.”You look hot!” Now she’s complimenting you. Something’s up.

You make your way through the long outdated shop, surrounded by walls lined with records ranging from the 60s to 90s exclusively, and a floor dusty with loose boards that creak loudly with every step. It’s a miracle this place has enough business to stay open. You like to conspire that the owner Mr. Summers is in the Mob, and this place has been his front since it opened in ‘86. You keep that in your diary only, though.

“Should I duck and cover?” You direct the question at Steve, who’s standing at the counter with a big grin on his face. “Not you, too. What’s going on?”

“You’re gonna want to kiss him when you hear this.”

“Oh?”

“Do you wanna tell her?” Robin calls over her shoulder.

“Well actually—,”

“He got us Chappell tickets.”

Your mouth falls open so fast you feel your jaw pop.

“She’s in Indy this weekend, and I happened to have some extra money from, y’know,” Robin holds her hand up, “We do not need to hear about your OnlyFans, Steve.”

Steve shrugs. “And yet, I still let you reap the rewards.”

You squint at him. “Are you doing a bit right now?”

They shake their heads, faces flushed from laughter.

“Seriously?”

“Look me up, stevethestallion.” His tone is even now, all traces of joking gone.

You call his bluff, and type the website you definitely haven’t used before into the browser. When it definitely doesn’t already have you logged in, you type in the alleged username. “One or two e’s?”

“Just one, I can’t compare to Megan like that!”

You shake your head, hitting search. The page loads. The account is behind a 25 dollar pay wall, but the visible follower count reads 35K. The profile picture is faceless, a shirtless torso with an abundance of chest hair, and the smallest hint of a happy trail. You click on it, purely for further investigation. You find your answer when you can see the faintest outline in the background of the same exact Tame Impala poster that Steve has hanging over his bed.

“Oh my fucking god. Hell yeah, dude.” You laugh, and Steve seems to release a held breath. “What, you think I'd be, like, grossed out? This is hot. And a really smart financial endeavor, apparently.”

Robin nods in agreement. “With perks!” The three of you burst into laughter.

When you’ve settled, breathing heavily to avoid lingering giggles, you turn to face them again. “Now, after this I feel even worse for asking you guys for a favor, but I’m desperate.”

“You want us to come out tonight?” Steve doesn’t miss a beat.

You straighten your back, suddenly bashful. “How’d you know?”

He clears his throat, signaling Robin to continue.

“Eddie uh, invited us out.” She rushes out.

You suck your lips between your teeth, nodding stiffly. “‘Course he did, yeah.”

“Asked me if you were working.” She adds, and you meet her gaze, panicked.

“And you said?” She shrugs. “What does that mean?”

“I literally sent him the shrug emoji.”

“I mean, you are, right?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Okay. This is fine. Everything will be fine.”

Robin cages you in, planting a hand on each of your shoulders. “You’ll get through it. Do it for Chappell.”

You lean into the dramatics. “Of course, for Chappell.”

—

Chappell owes you, big time. Tuesdays have gone from a quiet, boring weeknight with less than five hundred dollars in the register by the end of the night. Unfortunately, those days have long since ended since you’d left for college. Every Tuesday, Eddie’s band Corroded Coffin plays The Hideout, despite your begging and pleading with your mom to stop booking them.

“I can’t!” She’d reason, “Not if you and your brother want anything to help pay for my funeral!” She was being dramatic, for the most part. But they did bring in the green, as much as you hate to admit it. Apparently a popular music reviewer had given them a shoutout, garnering them an actual audience. You‘re happy for the guys, mostly. You just aren’t in the mood to be the people pleasing, flirty bartender tonight.

It’s almost ten when the van finally pulls into the back lot. “Where the hell have you guys been?” You hiss when your brother exits the driver’s side.

“Had to make a stop.” The irritation in his voice is palpable. You motion for him to elaborate, and he jerks his head to where Eddie is opening the back door, offering his hand out to help Macy climb out. “Sat in her fuckin’ driveway for twenty minutes.”

You glare daggers at the pair of them, and Eddie must feel them on his neck because he jerks his head, eyes immediately meeting yours. You don’t let up, hoping your expression translates the rage you feel in your gut. Eddie is the first to break the staring contest, looking back to the woman on his arm. She meets his gaze with a glare of her own, and he whispers something to her that breaks her grimace into a giggle. Your palms start to sweat.

“Go, we’ll start setting your shit up. Mom’s hysterical.”

“Okay. I’ll run damage control after. Sorry, Beebs.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not you that’s gonna be sorry.” You send another seething look to the pair walking to the stage door, attached at the hip and without even a halfhearted acknowledgement of their lateness. “Asshole.” You follow the rest of them inside, Chris on your heels.

“Where the hell have y'all been?!” Your mom exclaims when Chris enters the green room, a barely renovated office that fits about three and a half people at a time. You hand your brother off to be berated, and power walk to the stage to set up equipment. Your warpath comes to a screeching halt when you reach the wings, the scene playing out in front of you preventing you from moving further.

Eddie is sitting on a barstool, guitar forgotten on his lap as Macy stands over him, passionately licking into his mouth. Eddie’s eyes are closed, and he kisses her back with little restraint, the tent growing in his pants becoming obvious when the instrument begins to slide from his lap. He catches it without breaking from her, placing it on the stand next to him. You decide you don’t have time to wait for whatever this is to play out in its likely disgusting entirety, so you leave the comfort of the shadows and make your presence known.

“Ahem,” You clear your throat loudly, causing the couple to separate abruptly, each wiping the other’s saliva from their mouth. “Sorry to interrupt, but if you don’t want an entire crowd of pissed off drunks against you, you might wanna let me set up.”

“Hey, Bee.” Eddie recovers from embarrassment quickly, you’ll give him that. You nod in acknowledgment, knowing any words you give him will be laced with unnecessary venom.

“Eddie, baby, you wanna take this to the bathroom?” Macy’s tone is sultry, needy. You almost feel bad for her, being this hypnotized by Eddie’s charm. You wish you could help her, but it’s possible she’s too far gone.

“Yeah ‘course, baby. I’ll meet you there in a sec.” His gaze slides from her to where you stand across the stage, the only sounds coming from the patrons beyond the curtain.

“Don’t make me wait too long.” She slinks away, hips swaying. She brushes past you, leaving the sweet stench of her perfume behind. What demon did Eddie make a deal with?

“So,” Eddie muses, rising from the stool. “You’re workin’.”

“No shit, really?”

“Hey, don’t be mean. Just makin’ small talk.”

“That’s not necessary.” You unglue yourself from the floor, busying yourself with wires and speakers as Eddie keeps talking. “Just thought, y’know, you had tonight off.”

“I did,” You bite, “but then Chris invited the whole damn state of Indiana.”

“Ah, ‘course. The third homecoming party this week for the lovable Christopher L/n, convicted felon.” He chuckles, and you stop what you’re doing to respond. Something in you snaps, quick and clean.

“Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, and he throws his hands up.

“Whoa, I was kidding!”

“Shut up, I’m talking.” His eyes bulge out of his skull. “You have the audacity to make jokes about Chris, but he could’ve brought you right down with him. You were 18, a goddamn adult. But he kept his fucking mouth shut to protect you. You know who he didn’t fucking protect? When her bullies learned he wasn’t home anymore, or when she had fucking no one on her side and the one other kid she found comfort in never called her again?” You let loose, doing your best to keep your voice even. “You ever wonder what would’ve happened, Eddie? If the roles had been reversed, and Chris had done what you did? Don’t even pretend you’d forgive him for that. There’s something else going on, and I intend to find out what it is.”

He doesn’t interrupt your rant, instead holding your intense stare with apparent ease. When you finish, he waits a beat, letting the metaphorical dust settle. Finally, he answers. “You have to let it go, Bee. There are some things you just don’t wanna know. Don’t need to know. I will never not feel guilty about what I did, but I can’t tell you anything else. I wish I could, really.”

You’re careful with your next words. “But, if I were to figure it out without your help…?”

He catches your drift. “I probably wouldn’t be able to deny it convincingly.” Eddie shrugs, signaling the end of the conversation. “I’ll let you set up. You gonna watch our set?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Eddie snickers. “That’s my girl.” And he walks offstage before you can react to the statement, or demand he at least pretend to help.

—

You make it back to the bar in time to save your mom from the massive line of rabid patrons.

“Where have you been?” She half shouts over the noise, pouring a glass of Guinness for one of Stan’s high school friends, Scotty, you’re almost certain.

“Setting up the stage!” You shout back, failing to hide the irritation in your voice. You turn to the booze hound in front of you. “What can I get you?”

You sense your mom moving closer, still grabbing glasses and bottles to pass across the counter. “No need for the attitude, Beebs.”

“Ugh, sorry. Just not what I wanted to be doing tonight.”

“Oh, and I just adore being here?” She nudges you until you grit your teeth, forcing a smile. “You wanna tell Mama what’s wrong?”

“Nah, not right now. We’ll dish later.” You love gossiping with your mom, but she knows Eddie. She knows what he’s like, what your past with him entails, and she’ll surely have plenty of insight for you.

As you take another order, the house lights dim and the crowd goes wild. You can’t help but turn your head towards the stage, where your brother’s friends have formed a pit in the front, whooping and hollering as the band takes the stage. Chris points to his friends with his drumstick, causing them to jump around, playfully shoving each other to get the crowd moving.

Eddie comes out last, greeted with more wild cheers, a lot of them more shrill than those given to Chris. Girls throw themselves toward the stage, offering their wombs to him like he’s Paul McCartney in the 1960s. You watch, your vision red around the edges, as he blows a kiss to Macy in the front row, and she pretends to catch it. You have to look away to keep from gagging.

—

“Thank you, Hawkins! We have been Corroded Coffin, goodnight!” The band line up across the stage, taking their bows. Next to where you stand with Robin and Steve across the bar, Macy and her gaggle of friends whoop and holler obscenities. It disappoints you, watching such a beautiful woman have her bar set so low.

“Oh my god,” Robin follows your stare. “No fucking way.”

“I know, she’s stunning, don’t remind me.” You rest your chin in your hand, slouching over the bar.

“Of course she is, that’s Macy Miller!”

You blink at her, not understanding why her last name matters.

“She’s the bassist of Statuesque Dolls, they’re the opening band for Chappell’s tour!” The gleaming smile on her face vanishes when she looks at you again. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s Eddie’s latest muse, or something.” you shake your head from the thoughts of Macy onstage. She’s probably irresistible, a symbol of feminism and sex and rock ‘n’ roll.

“No fuckin’ way.” Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “He’s blackmailing her. Or something. Right?”

You shake your head. “Change the subject, Rob. Please.”

“Okay, sure. Steve is a pornstar.”

You burst into laughter. “A popular one! Good for him, really.”

Robin crosses her arms. “Good for him, sure, but what about me?! He’s my roommate, Bee!”

“Come on, you’re paranoid. He probably doesn’t film while you’re home.” She purses her lips, but doesn’t respond. “Don’t be such a conservative.”

She gasps. “How dare you!”

“Hey, ladies!” The subject of your conversation enters your huddle, a beer sloshing in his hand. “How are my most favorite people in the whole wide world doin’?” Steve’s cheeks are bright pink, stretched by his massive smile. His eyes are half closed, like it’s still too bright in the dimly lit bar.

“Someone’s not concerned about opening tomorrow.” You tease, motioning to his frothy drink.

“Oh, Melvin gave me the day off.” He beams, and Robin scoffs. “Sorry, Bob, snooze ya lose.”

“Oh, sure, ‘til I call out and he tells you to cover.” She winks before leaning over the bar to you. “Shots?”

You snort a laugh and grab the tequila off the bar. At the same time you finish pouring the third shot, a fourth figure looms over you. “You all takin’ shots?” Eddie’s eyes shine with eagerness.

“Yeah, you want?” Steve offers, and Robin digs her elbow into his ribs. You grab a fourth glass and slice of lime without a word, feeling the skin inside your mouth break between your teeth.

“Are we toasting?” He looks from your friends to you, and his expression softens. You shrink under his gaze, suddenly wishing you hadn’t said a word to him before the set.

“Um, not particularly.” Robin attempts to cut the tension, but she’s met with no response beyond a confused Steve asking, “What about, to friendship?”

Robin pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Dingus, read the damn room.”

“What?” He giggles, still not getting it. “What did I say?”

“No, Rob. It’s cool, I like that.” You hold your own shot glass up, signaling your friends to do the same. “To friendship, current and otherwise.” You chance looking at Eddie, and his eyes are already locked on you. He doesn’t look away when you catch him, only tilts his glass towards you before licking the salt from the back of his hand and downing the liquor. He doesn’t flinch, calmly reaching for the lime to relieve his palette. You follow suit, the burning nothing you can’t handle. Being a bartender has its moments, but this isn’t one of the prouder ones.

—

“So,” Your mother starts, spraying the bar with disinfectant as you finally lock the door for the night. “What happened?”

“What?” You pretend you don’t know what she’s talking about, busying yourself with a mop across the room.

“What, what? You’ve been snippy all night. I want to make sure you’re alright.”

You shrug. “Nothing happened specifically. The boys just get on my nerves is all.”

“Boys? Or Eddie?” Your mom gives you her Mother Knows All look.

“Ugh, whatever.” You don’t answer the question.

“Bee, you can talk to me. I know you’re going through a lot, your brother being home and all. You haven’t seen Eddie in, what, two years?”

“Three.”

“Three years! See, you’re taking a lot on at once. You know you can lean on me, right?”

You set the mop back in its bucket and walk over to your mom, picking up a rag and the spray bottle before moving to the tables. “Yeah, I know. But I’m sure you’re also trying to cope with your son being back, I don’t wanna add any more stress on top of that.”

“You’re my baby. Your stress is my stress, always.”

Your walls crumble at her affirmation. “It’s just, who does he think he is? He has the audacity to show his face around here after what he did! And Chris just lets him! It’s like nothing happened, and it’s pissing me off. Making me feel fucking crazy!” You usually don’t swear around your mom, but it all pours out of you. “And he talks to me like we’re buddies, like he didn’t ruin my fucking life when he sent Chris to prison.” You rub your tired eyes, awaiting your mom’s wisdom.

“Have you talked to Chris? Gotten his side?”

You roll your eyes. “I tried. He told me very little. Eddie was no help either.”

Your mom tosses her rag aside and leans her elbow on the counter. “Boys are morons, baby bee. I’m sorry. I wish I could offer something more profound. You’re talking to a divorcee, here.”

You laugh despite your mood. “Are we all just doomed? Forced to deal with this inferior species for the rest of our lives?”

Your mother chuckles. “Probably!”

—

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj let me know if you’d like to be added!

[httpsryu]

kites : part 2

pairing : kim minji x fem! reader

summary: both you and minji both decide to run for class president in order to prove one another on who's the brightest but it also happens to be the exact time a certain someone decides that her silly heart beats for the other

category: enemies-to-lovers(ish?), high school au

genre: slow burn(?), fluff, and angst tiny amount or not

warnings: competitive and jealousy, kind of makes you feel single ;-;

a/n: be sure to check out p.1 of kites

minji clears her throat, sitting straight up in her desk as she tells herself that she doesn’t have a crush on you. 

yeah, she was just tired, that’s all. (no, it isn’t)

however, she didn’t get any sleep at all last night because even though minji wanted to rest, her tired brain decides to think about you and your dumb smile. that already speaks a pretty high medium. 

“bro! bro! bro!” hanni runs in the class, panting as she sits down in her seat. 

the other hums in response. 

“shin yuna confessed to y/n out this morning!” hanni shockingly exclaims. 

what? 

shin yuna, otherwise known as the school’s breadwinner for soccer, floor ball, and volleyball. 

the whole female and male population would kill to even have the talented athlete look their way. and honestly, it’s no surprise if you accept her confession because yuna always gets everything she wants. 

but why would yuna confess to you?

for all minji recalled, she’s never seen you hangout with the year 4 student. 

but then again, who wouldn’t confess to you? 

you were always hardworking, never letting anyone take advantage of you when it came to your education, and you viewed every assignment as an opportunity to grow. 

you’re pretty too. especially when your hair is half-up and half-down, framing your face beautifully. or when you come to school with glasses that’s a tad big for your face but nonetheless, everyone still finds you adorable. at least, minji does. 

minji shrugs, trying to look disinterested in the topic of you. “and you’re telling me this why?” 

“it was romantic, bro!” hanni clasps her hands together, leaning her cheek on them as she remembers the way everyone was screaming at the interaction this morning. 

“yeah? how romantic?” minji asks, knowing the chokehold romance has on people. 

especially you. 

“well, yuna walked up towards her at her cube box and handed her a letter with a small bouquet of roses.” the other replies, smiling again. “she also gave y/n her letterman as a form of respect.” 

minji wanted to laugh. you dislike roses, you’ve always preferred lavenders and orchids more. you weren’t a big fan of letters either because you’ll just end up giving them back graded. 

“and apparently, she accepted.” 

“oh.” 

at the mentioning of one’s name, y/n walks in, linked arm-to-arm with rei. 

however, the only thing that minji’s eyes landed on was the letterman bunched in your hands. 

she observes the way you place your books down first before sitting, observing the way you let go of your best friend’s arm once you realize class is about to start. 

“i can’t believe yuna went for it! look at me playing matchmaker!” 

at hanni’s words, minji turns towards the other. 

“w-why are you looking at me like that?” “minji?” 

what minji didn’t observe was the way you subtly sneaked in a glance at her. 

“why do i have to be there to help you with the campaign again?” wonyoung whines, barely being able to see with two bins full of poster papers, markers, and other fun stuff in her arms. 

you laugh, tip toeing to pat your best friend on the head. “oh my sweet wonyoung, did i tell you that yujin is also going to be in the art room as well?” 

“oh hail y/n.” wonyoung smiles while she tries her best to place a kiss on your cheek. “thank you! thank you! i love you!” 

you screech, backing away as she comes closer to you. 

“come onn~ you know you want a kissy from wony.” the taller teases. 

shaking your head at your best friend’s antics while laughing, you didn’t seem to realize that you two were still in the hallways where many students are on their way towards walking home. 

feeling the back of your shoes bumping into something, you suddenly lose balance and gasp at the feeling of falling. wonyoung’s eyes widens as she drops the bins, her arm reaching out to catch you. however, it’s too late as someone else holds you from behind, their arm securing around your waist. 

wonyoung gasps, seeing the hero of the day as she puts her hand over her mouth to contain her squeal.

it's finally happening.

"i got you." the voice from behind gently says, her hold still on you.

you're taking in everything all at once. from almost falling to your death, seeing your best friend's failed attempt at reaching out for you, and being caught in the arms of the girl you despise the most.

"y/n?" minji asks, trying her best to sound gentle in order to not startle you.

you rush from releasing yourself out from her hold, turning around to face her. "thanks, kim..."

avoiding the stare from her, you gaze down at the girl's shoes, which has a scuff on from you. you feel your cheeks heating up at the mere thought of being clumsy in front of her.

minji feels as if someone punched her in the stomach, speechless from the way you look so cute in front of her. "oh. i-it's whatever."

"i'm sorry about your shoes." you look up, trying to ignore the way her stare suddenly makes you feel.

the taller shakes her head, letting out a half smile (she's trying to playing it cool). "it's okay, y/n."

"cool." you respond, gasping once you suddenly remembering about wonyoung and the dropped bins.

minji takes notice of your concerned face, placing a hold on your shoulder to relax you. "everything okay?"

"yeah, it's just wonyoung was holding the bins and-" you turn around to find no wonyoung but only the dropped bins.

oh, fuck her.

"looks like she left you here to clean up by yourself." minji looks down at the bins as well, walking over towards them and kneeling to pick up the dropped materials. "i can help lend a hand if you don't mind?"

minji is different from the image you always had of her.

maybe because today she isn't glaring or staring directly at you like she hates your guts. she's actually taking time out of her day to help you...

without realizing it, you let out a nod, while you too, kneel besides her to pick up the materials off of the ground.

you don't notice but minji sneaks a subtle, quick glance at you, the suffocating air makes her realize that maybe this is more than a sudden attraction to you.

she gasps silently at how obvious she was looking at you, panicking as she starts to grab whatever off of the floor. accidentally, touching your hand while you went for the same marker as well.

"oh! sorry!" minji pulls her hand back, wanting to hit herself for the stupidity.

you let out a small shrug.

minji glances down at her watch.

5:45 pm.

that was the exact time when minji finally realized she definitely and surely does have a crush on you.

with a heavy inhale, minji holds her breath before stepping into her homeroom teacher's office.

"oh! minji, what could i help you with at this time?" the mid-twenties woman looks up from her clipboard with a cheerful smile.

minji bows at her teacher, fidgeting with her hands while trying to come up with a way to break the news. "i-umm..i want to forfeit out of the class election."

"but it ends tomorrow, minji-ah."

"that fast?"

the woman nods slowly, understanding the sudden pressure that the students are developing from the race. "the rules was two days maximum to get a good campaign running, along with a speech."

"and i won't be able to forfeit? i haven't started anything yet."

"i'm afraid it's too late, the only ones running are you, y/n, and jungwon. it's only fair to have three instead of two."

curse ms. ahn (not literally though).

the female student disappointedly nods before once again bowing. "i understand. thank you for informing me."

ms. ahn smiles apologetically, waving bye at the student.

welp, there goes minji's plans now.

the said girl sighs, disappointed with how she couldn't forfeit running for class president. she leans against the wall, sliding slowly to the floor slowly while groaning in frustration.

"woah, what's going on with you?" a voice distracts her from her thoughts.

looking up, the girl is faced with all four of her best friends.

minji slightly frowns. "i'm not allowed to drop out from running for class president, bro."

"wait-drop out?" hanni exclaims. "but i thought you always wanted to be class president?"

the older shrugs. "I only wanted to be class president because i thought only the smartest person could won, which would prove i'm a lot smarter than y/n."

"uh huh...?"

haerin quietly observes the way minji's facial expressions appeared upon saying your name. and the cat eyed female wonders why minji is deciding to throw away her lifelong dream of being class president because of you.

until, it hits haerin at the fact that minji could be hopelessly and stupidly in love with you.

"but now, i realized it's stupid and that y/n definitely deserves it more than me, the title of being number one." minji sadly says, looking down at her shoes and a smiles upon her mouth at the scuff on her left shoe, precisely. "she's so hardworking and determine, ever since we were young. and we could've been great friends but i ruined it first."

friends, huh?

that was the biggest lie minji has ever said. she wants to be more than friends with you. but, everything is too late. minji feels like she's one second behind.

"well, if anything could help, how about you help out with y/n's campaign instead? you know..like secretly?" danielle suggests, hoping her best friend head lifts up slowly. "she's been struggling on coming up with an idea for her posters."

increase the chances of you winning? why didn't minji think of that earlier?

"oh my gosh, wait! that's a genius idea!"

"wow, you're so smart." hanni looks over at the other australian.

danielle nods with happiness, her smile bright as the sun while haerin softly lets out a hum at how pretty her girlfriend is.

minji quietly sighs while looking at the two.

it's not unusual for others to come talk to you, however, it's not common either.

all morning, everyone you passed by or made eye contact with stopped you to ask about why you rejected yuna.

"geez, they really need to stop bombarding you with this subject." wonyoung rolls her eyes.

you nod in agreement.

"omg, i heard from others that they saw minji hanging up campaign posters and they looked amazing." a passing student gossips with her friend, earning your attention. "i won't be surprised if she wins for her class."

WHAT?

stopping in the middle of your tracks, frightening your best friend besides you, you gasp.

"MY POSTERS!" releasing yourself from wonyoung's grip, you panic before making a run towards the art room to print out the posters you came up with yesterday.

wonyoung stares at your back, shaking her head in disbelief at how you always do things last minute and manages to perfect your grade.

the only thing on your mind while sprinting full speed was ways to gather more attention on your campaign instead of your arch nemesis's campaign.

upon seeing the room, you slow down a bit.

"oh! y/n, what are you doing here? i thought you already printed out your posters?" seeun brightly asks, running into you at the entrance. "they look amazing by the way!"

posters? huh?

"what do you mean? i haven't printed out any posters yet.." you tilt your head to the side gently, leaving the upperclassman in awed and she clearly understands why her friend, yuna is having a rough start to her day.

seeun purses her lips out, remembering clearly what minji told her. "really? minji told me that you asked her to print your posters out first thing in the morning."

kim minji.

"oh. i guess i did." you reply with a strange tone. "i'm going to get going then! bye seeun-sunbae!"

and before the older could bid your goodbye, you were already off.

"that kid." she giggles at your antics before returning on refilling the printers with paper.

minji didn't expect to find you standing in front of her desk to say the least, yet here you stood in front of her with evident anger from your expression. she amusedly crosses her arm, eyeing you from head-to-toe with a strange glint in her eyes.

"bro, you're in my view." minji tsks with her tongue.

"b-bro?" you're honestly appalled she has the audacity to call you bro when she tampered with your campaign posters. "you think you're allowed to sit in your seat right now?"

the older girl raises her brow in confusion. "excuse me?"

"why did you print out posters for me?" you ask with anxiety suddenly flooding over you. "is this one of your sick games, minji?"

minji stares blankly at you, trying to process everything that happened between the both of you. "i-i didn't mean to mess with anything."

"you wanted to prove you're smarter than me that bad, huh? you're always going to be the same kim minji since primary school."

minji opens her mouth to say something, however, you start walking away from her desk. hearing you mumble something along the lines of "i need to transfer".

"bro, what just happened?" hanni asks besides her. "i thought you made and hung up posters for her?"

the other watches your back leave with a sad expression.

"i did."

what went wrong? minji swore she made sure no one else was in the school when she hung up the posters in fear of others switching up actions or hence making up rumors.

"i need to go!" the female stands out of her seat, ready to follow after you.

of course, time is the enemy for kim minji because the bell's tone rings throughout the school indicating that school is now starting.

"good morning class!"

what about you, though?

you glance down at the view of seoul from the school's rooftop, closing your eyes in the process as the wind gently blows across. inhaling the air and exhaling shortly afterwards.

opening your eyes, you lean against the railing while you couldn't help but to think about the other student; kim minji.

you assumed the unspoken rivalry between the both of you has gotten squashed but the other assumed something else.

it's always been like that since primary school so why does it bother you so much?

"i knew i could find you here." a voice appears and immediately you roll your eyes from irritation and anger starting to form inside of you.

the person sighs, not hearing a response from you.

"y/n...i never meant to tamper with anything, i care about you way too much to do that."

you budge a little, still not believing her words. why should you?

"i-i'm still not sure how to tackle this." minji says from behind, her footsteps coming closer from behind. "especially because someone else is interested in you."

you furrow your brows from the other's words.

"what are you talking about, kim?" turning around to face her, however, before you can take the chance to see her, you space out once you feel a pair of lips against yours.

this kiss, you're confused on if it's actually happening. once or twice, you've wondered what it'd be like kissing kim minji - everything is all slow and soft and it's all like a dream however, you reciprocate the kiss.

getting pulled back in reality when you feel a strong hold finding your waist, you can't help but to snake your arms around her neck. you notice the way minji's kissing turns to a change of going faster and deeper, a bit desperate to say the least.

but in a flash, the warmth between your lips leaves. minji gasps, taking quite a few steps back away from you.

"fuck. i-i don't know what came over me. i shouldn't have done that." she says, looking down at her scuffed shoes.

"what?" you ask in a whisper tone-like voice.

minji closes her eyes, wanting to hit herself. "i'm sorry."

for some strange reason, you feel tears welling up in your eyes. humiliation becoming your strong opponent and you too look down at the ground.

"i think i should head back." minji sighs to herself, feeling like the worse person right now.

before you could respond to her, the older is out in a scurry.

watching the emptiness in front of you, you couldn't help but to touch your lips with your fingertips and feeling the other's touch still lingering.

minji rushes towards to the canteen, her heart still beating very loudly to focus on anything, her face definitely flushed as she can't stop shaking from nervousness and guilt as well.

"fuck. fuck. fuck." she mutters, biting on her thumb while she walks towards the lunch table where her friends are sitting, ready to dive into their food.

hanni tilts her head slightly, wondering why minji took long to use the restroom. "bro, you okay?"

"yeah." the other replies while taking her seat, wincing at the way she sounded a little too harsh. "sorry."

the australian shrugs to the others before she opens up the lunch that her mother packed for her.

haerin notices the way the oldest isn't touching any of her lunch, her leg constantly bouncing up and down from some sort of anxiousness feeling. she also observes on how minji's face has a slight and faint flush to it.

what the hell happened in that restroom? (if minji even went in the first place).

"rin? everything alright?" danielle asks upon seating besides the kitty-eyed female.

haerin lets out a hum in response, scooting closer to her girlfriend and resting her chin on the other's shoulder.

"have any of you seen y/n yet?" wonyoung places her lunch tray on the table, along with rei and jiwon.

minji tenses up at the your name.

"she left home room since school started." hanni replies, concern glowing down on her face. "why? is everything alright?"

rei pouts, shaking her head. "she isn't answering any of our calls."

"today is her favorite lunch menu too." jiwon softly sighs, looking down at the food for today with a sad look.

wonyoung constantly stares at the canteen's doors from her seat, scanning for the sight of you. "i'm sure she'll come around. y/n never vanishes on us like that out of nowhere."

minji couldn't bare to make a noise.

for the second time in a row, lunch doesn't taste as good because you weren't there and minji knows that it's all because of her.

as all the students gather in home room for the announcement of the winners, minji stares at the door of the room. her eyes doesn't budge, manifesting for your figure to walk through.

"still no sign of your girlfriend yet?" hanni teases, wondering why minji is so concerned of her so-called rival.

"shut up."

the universe must be in the favor of the female because at the exact moment, you appear right in front of her eyes.

but..why do you look upset?

"oh. she doesn't look too well." the vietnamese-australian purses her bottom lip out in sadness at your expression. "maybe because the others won't stop pestering her about rejecting yuna."

YOU DID WHAT?

"rejecting yuna?" minji asks, looking at the back of your pretty head.

hanni nods, her eyes lighting up at the gossip. "it happened yesterday at the softball field."

why would you reject yuna?

a small hope in minji's heart yearned at the possibility that maybe you reciprocated the same feelings as her but another part of minji's heart is telling her that you probably like someone else.

however, after all, you did kiss her back.

that has to mean something, right? RIGHT?

"oh my gosh, where were you? we were looking for you." rei exclaims, hand over her chest as if all her worries finally floated away and relief took over. "jiwon was so close to filing a missing person report but wonyoung managed to convince her not to."

you let out a small laugh at how your best friends are, letting out a squeal the second rei wraps her arms around you and placing small friendly kisses on your head.

"i swear if jungwon gets vice president and not you, i will genuinely throw a tantrum." hanni comments, looking at the way the male student is running around with his banner wrapped around him like a cape.

minji besides her lets out an uninterested hum, squinting with her eyes at the sight of you and rei getting a little too comfty.

"welcome back from lunch, class!" ms.ahn barges through with a bright grin and a clipboard. "who's ready for three awesome students with their three amazing speeches they wrote?"

after jungwon finished up his speech, claps floods the room and whistles from his friends are echoing throughout. "thank you everyone!"

"that was wonderful, i'd believe up next we have y/n." ms. ahn's direction trails over to you.

you're not sure why but in this exact moment, you feel like you're suddenly sweating gallons and gallons and your heart is pounding like crazy at the sight of seeing all your peers looking at you in anticipation. it feels as if someone wrapped a hand around your stomach and you didn't like that.

somehow, you want to win. not to prove to minji that you're obviously the smarter one but the feeling of winning and being the student to where others ask for help makes you want to win. so bad.

minji notices the way blood is drained away from your pretty face, she takes a glance down at your feet tapping rapidly against the glossed floor.

"y/n? are you okay?" she gently whispers, one of her hand ready to grasp ahold of yours.

you bring your hand away from within her reach, giving her a glare before walking up to the "podium" to do your speech.

minji feels a part of her chest shattering at your action but she knows she probably deserves that. especially, after kissing you and escaping before you, yourself could say anything.

besides, she kissed you without your permission.

"hi, homeroom G-32. ummm-i'm sure everyone knows who i am, haha. to tell the truth, i'm only running for president because i wanted to prove to someone over a childish banter but also while preparing for this speech, i learned that i suddenly want to be the type of person who is willing to sacrifice their own being for their fellow schoolmates." you look up and let out a small smile at the way you gained their attention. "i can't promise you all anything when it comes to pizza for lunch nor getting extended due dates for papers the way jungwon did. however, i can promise you with the fact that i will succeed in the rest of this school year an unforgettable one."

minji couldn't help but to softly and proudly smile at you.

"y/n, that was amazing." ms. ahn says in awed. "last but not least, minji."

you let out a bow, walking back to the spot where you stood previously. you feel a certain pair of eyes on you, to which you ignore with your head held up high.

"hello everyone, it's minji. i didn't prepare anything, oops." the other girl giggles to herself, her smile looking too mesmerizing to you. "and to be honest, i did try to forfeit out of running."

what?

scattered gasps are heard throughout the room, leaving the teacher to shush them and for minji to proceed.

"i know, shocking, huh?" minji understands why the others are surprised, she has always been evident of running for president ever since she was a child so where is all of this coming from now? "if you guys haven't know, a certain someone and i have been in this ongoing rivalry..on who's the smartest. i'm sure you all know who it is..and honestly, all throughout my years, i felt the need to show them that i was the most brightest one. i honestly don't know why either. and i guess that's why i always wanted to run for president, just so i can 1up her."

"i'm not up here to win for anyone's votes, i'm up here to let you all know that kang y/n is a wonderful, responsible, beautiful, and reliable human being that would make an amazing president for this homeroom. thank you." minji bows at the class.

what the fuck?

if anyone needs any pity votes, it should as hell should be jungwon and not you.

"well minji, i am surprised by your speech." ms.ahn says, finally understanding the reason the student wanted to forfeit as she takes notice of minji's gleaming eyes when you look at her. "okay class, now on the piece of paper i've handed out, please write down your vote."

that feeling is coming back into your stomach and suddenly you feel a drip of sweat running down your forehead from the hot air surrounding you.

"y/n?" the voice you strongly dislike asks in a whisper.

you want to ignore her, but you can't.

looking up from the ground, you're met with the older's eyes staring down at you with a weird look in her eyes.

"are you nervous?" minji takes notice of the way you're slightly trembling from either the air or because you're anxious of the sudden quietness in the room while the class votes for best pick.

before you could answer her with a nod, the back of her hand is already reaching to dab the sweat away with the sleeve of her uniform.

"t-thanks..."

minji smiles softly at you, not missing the way there was a kite softly flying out the classroom's window.

cliffhanger :P

update! pt. 3 is out as well! you can find it on my master list :)

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Fandom: Night Hunter

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: For @enchantedbytomandhenry; You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Warnings: enemies to lovers trope (not sure if I nailed it though), unprotected p-in-v, creampie, Daddy kink, male tackling female to subdue (if that squicks you, maybe skip this one-it is quick but described)

A/N: Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

My Masterlist 

Oh, this is great. No, it’s perfect. Not only were you voluntold to work a weekend-long stakeout, but you’d also be paired with Detective Marshall. Yeah, that Detective Marshall. Walter. The asshole who you’ve been competing with for ‘top dog’ since before joining S.W.A.T. all those years ago. 

He was always just ahead of you. Ran a mile half a minute quicker. Got promoted a month sooner. To top it all off, he was tall and drop-dead gorgeous. And he had an ass you could bounce a quarter off.

Wait, hold on. When did that become something you even cared about? 

The way he cockily smiles at you as he exits his truck in the parking lot of the motel is enough to have you clench your thighs together. This should be a fun weekend. 

Friday night into Saturday morning is spent quietly using the listening devices to monitor our suspect. You both just…sit there, using your ears. Walter is usually quiet, sure. But what human doesn’t even accidentally use small talk to fill a quiet space?

During the day, you try and sleep in your separate room but it proves to be difficult. You toss and turn, grumbling to yourself after a couple of hours. Visions of Marshall’s chiseled jawline, beefy arms, and thick thighs are burned in your mind. You abandon all hope of sleeping, spending the rest of the day disassembling and cleaning your sidearm. It keeps your mind sharp and you genuinely enjoy the process.

It’s nearing seven and you’re just getting your things together to head over to the surveillance room when you get a knock at the door. You peek through the curtains and see Marshall as he leans on the doorframe.

You open the door and look expectantly at him. When he doesn’t answer and barges into the room past you, you pipe up, “Come on in, why don’t you?” You close the door behind you and watch as he looks around the room.

He notices your gun cleaning kit on the small wooden table by the window and looks back at you. “You didn’t sleep today. You look like shit.”

“Awesome. Thank you. What do you want?” you snap, already sick of his annoyingly perfect face.

“Go home and get some sleep,” he crosses his arms, standing in front of you, “Got the B team coming in to take over.”

“So, we’re both leaving? Or are you just dismissing me?” you questioned, crossing your own arms.

“Just you,” he deadpans, not feeling the need to explain himself further.

“Well, fuck that. I’m not leaving, so if you’ll excuse me,” you fumed, moving to reach for your sidearm on the table as he moves over, holding a hand out between the table and yourself.

“I can’t let you take that with so little sleep. It’s dangerous for both of us. Trust me, one slip up, and one of us is down,” he warns, holding his ground.

“Marshall, get out of my way. We have a job to do.”

“No, I have a job to do. You’re off the clock. Go home, kid,” he urged, holding his position.

“You’re gonna have to take me out of this mission by force, Marshall. Otherwise, I’m-”

You did not get to finish that sentence before Walter was taking you down on your stomach. A strong arm fully extended holding your left shoulder, while your right wrist is being restrained, would have been enough. But, this was Marshall after all and if he was anything, he was thorough. He straddles your hips, with just enough pressure to keep you down, but not enough to scratch a certain itch.

“I didn’t wanna have to do that,” Walter breathes, winded slightly from the takedown, “but you gave me no choice.” 

“Marshall, get the fuck off of me,” you growl, trying to buck him off.

“Yeah, kid, that’s not happening,” he spits, hooking his ankles over your thighs, “You’re lucky I don’t cuff you to keep you down.”

“So, what? You just looking for a reason to get me to obey you?” you challenge, struggling under his weight.

“As if you needed an excuse,” he laughs, straightening himself above you.

“Please! If you honestly think-”

“Give it a rest, I can smell your arousal from here,” he teased, lowering his hips a fraction and watching your squirm, “And before you say it’s not because of me, why couldn’t I smell it until after I had taken you down?”

“Fuck you, Marshall,” you scoff, trying to hold some semblance of control.

“Yeah, maybe if you did, you could get some fucking sleep,” he offers, his left hand moving from your shoulder down your arm, “But here you are, stubborn as hell.”

You lick your lips, considering his words. You wanted to get some release. You also wanted to sleep. 

Fuck it.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” he queries, slowly starting to release your arms.

“I’m exhausted and I’m horny. But you’re doing all of the work, Marshall,” you say, lifting your hips to meet his crotch.

“That’s a good girl,” he hummed, releasing your arms before leaning up and off of you. You start to raise yourself before you are lifted and all but thrown on the bed and told to strip. Watching as his layers are quickly being shed, you all but rip away your clothing. 

Once fully naked, you look at Marshall where he stands watching you. Cock in hand, he pumps his massive length slowly while his eyes rake over you. “Tell me what you need,” he coaxed, his voice lower by at least an octave.

“Hurry the fuck up and put me to bed, Marshall, before I change my mind,” you threaten, your body thrumming under his gaze.

“You can change your mind at any time, you just say the word and this is over, yeah?” he informs, eyes connecting with yours.

“Heard,” you chime in, opening your legs for him. 

He kneels on the bed between your legs, reaching down to collect some of your wetness that glistens in the low light of the motel room. He lifts his hand to his mouth, sucking your juices off his fingers before plunging them inside you. “Fuck, girl, you are so wet for me. So fucking hot,” he moans, squelching sounds filling the room as he massages your inner bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck, Daddy!” you squealed, completely out of your control.

“That’s it, girl, cum for me,” he goaded, his thumb moving to play with your swollen button.

It doesn’t take long before you feel that familiar tightening in your core, and Marshall must be the World’s Greatest Detective™ because he is pulling out his fingers and thrusting his cock inside your wet heat. Fucking you through your orgasm, your tight walls fluttering around him causing him to groan loudly.

“That’s one, let’s see if we can’t get you another, yeah?” he teases, melding your chests together as he wraps his arms around your center. From this angle, he can stimulate your clit while stroking deeply. And he does so at a punishing pace, his teeth nipping and kissing your neck. “Fuck, we shoulda done this years ago, girl. This pussy is fucking made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mewl, that time was completely on purpose.

Marshall leans up, leaving one arm around you while the other hand goes to your hair, baring your neck. “Who’s pussy is this, girl?” he challenges, even though he already knows.

“It’s yours, Daddy,” you whine, legs wrapping around his hips.

“That’s fucking right, it’s mine,” he praised, hips pistoning into you, “And I’m gonna ruin you for everyone else. You’re mine, girl.”

His growled claim of you paired with the way he fucks into you has your legs trembling around him instantly, your second orgasm of the night flowing through you.

“Hmmm, that’s my girl, taking Daddy’s cock so well,” he groans, the sound vibrating through the both of you. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you moan, squeezing your thighs around Marshall, “I love your fucking cock.”

“That’s right you love this cock,” he growls, pulling out and manhandling you onto all fours, “Put Daddy’s cock back in, girl.”

You reach back and line him up, pushing back to impale yourself before moaning out at the angle change. Marshall grips your hips, plowing into you, no doubt chasing his own release now.

“Fucking cum inside me, Daddy,” you whimper, loving the sounds coming from your sodden cunt as it is pounded.

“I’m gonna breed this perfect pussy,” he grunts, hips stuttering until he pushes in as deep as can, cock twitching and painting your insides so full that it starts to leak past your entrance. He pulls out slightly before starting to fuck his cum back inside you. The sensation alone has your pussy quivering around him for the third time before you fall forward on your front.

Marshall laughs as he gets up from the bed, going to the en suite bathroom. You can hear him taking a piss and you know that you should as well to combat any chance of a UTI. But your legs aren’t listening yet so fuck that idea. 

Your eyes are already closed when you feel a wet warmth between your legs as Marshall is wiping down your swollen sex gently before you snuggle into the comforter being wrapped around you. A kiss is placed on your temple and soon you hear the rustling of clothes being put back on.

The sound of your motel room door opening and closing barely registers as you fall asleep.

It is sometime later in the evening and you check your phone on the nightstand as it reads 12:12 AM. No need to make a wish. 

You take a quick shower and get dressed before heading over to the surveillance room. You are stopped outside of the room by a uniformed officer. “Detective Marshall asked me to keep you out. And he wanted me to give you this. That’s all I know, Ma’am.” The officer hands over a note and you step away and read it.

Hey,

I was serious about you getting some sleep. 

Get that ass back to bed.

Daddy will see you soon, girl.

Sweet dreams xx

A/N: So, like I don’t know how I feel about how I wrote Walter here. This is not MY Walter, but I quite enjoyed this version of him.

**Tag List**

@astheskycries 

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz! 😁

[buttered-milky]

https://youtu.be/XqXZ0tJppok?si=kF5httv3agxyOzqe

Messmer can actually turns into a snake it's his original form, and he looks soo abused and neglected maybe because of the seal?

Eeeee okay so. The summon he uses a: appears to have more blood and/or burn wounds on it. and b: otherwise has most of its scales and doesn’t have the transparency effect I thought it had like the winged serpents!! Also there’s a bunch of eyeballs all over the place but we’ll get to those later.

Burn wounds are pretty straightforward and also interesting since they imply either the serpent fucked around and found out (Messmer burned it) or the serpent fucked around and found out (burned itself like an idiot, not surprising in the slightest for snakes since they miss prey strikes all the time and are, in my humble snake owner opinion, some of the dumbest creatures you’ll ever meet. Curious yes. But also. Idiots)

The snake Messmer turns into has much deeper wounds and scarring on it than just the summon of the abyssal serpent. This snake also appears to have a blind right eye (note for any reptile keepers who care: not the temporary blindness that comes with shedding). Its body is very misshapen and there are scales trying to protrude along the spine, and in several places where there don’t appear to be any wounds the scales are just…missing. This is as expected not good for snakes! They need those scales! I am honestly not quite sure how to interpret the overlapping layers of scales in some places. Like sometimes it looks like a shedding issue but also it seems like it’s the attempts of two souls trying to occupy one body? Also missing shed transparency effect! Idk what the hell was going on in my brain or if it was just lighting but I was sooooo fucking sure of the shed buildup. I was also really tired though and don’t care. The visual read was still fun. It can be a headcanon to me <3

So on those thoughts of it being two souls trying to occupy one body. What strikes me about this design is that some of the wounds look like bite scarring you’d see from live prey fighting your snake back. Again, this is a thing entirely avoidable with good husbandry (don’t live feed unless absolutely necessary). The scales to me still imply shedding has gone very wrong at some point. You’d expect to see shedding heal and scar over these wounds, but they’re all fresh. Very symbolic. You can’t heal violence by just pretending it doesn’t exist.

Ideally when a snake is wounded, you do routine care to help them with sheds and make sure the wound is clean. The scales will grow back and the wound will scar, but it will take several sheds and consistent work! You cannot, as Marika tried to do, just put a bandaid on it. You also can’t just lock a snake in a cage it will hurt itself trying to get out of (ie messmer himself) and expect that to go even remotely well.

Some of this feels like visual symbolism of self-hatred. Like I said, the base serpent looks like it’s gotten in a fight. With its host. Some of it also feels like visible neglect (ie the wounds not being healed, missing scales)

I’m gonna discuss the eyeballs bc I fuck w them immensely. First of all congrats Messmer on having an Eldritch Horror in ur body. Second of all, all these eyes appear to have lids. Actual snakes don’t. They have hard eye caps instead and cannot blink. Some of the eyes seem like they might not be able to blink, but the scales around them are still more closed than you’d expect? I fuck with it. Fits with Messmer’s blindness motif which maybe I’ll make a post on eventually. But in regards to the base serpent specifically, of course violence can afford to close its eyes and be blind to who it chooses to hurt. Violence is also something that, when committed, always seems to haunt you. Its gaze will always be there.

It’s interesting that Marika replaced Messmer’s eye to seal the serpent off, and so maybe it grew more eyes? That could be why the scales around them aren’t correct—they’re trying to protrude from the body. This occurs in both the summon and the physical snake form Messmer has. Repression of identity = Eldritch horrors? Sure I’ll take that fromsoft.

Final thing on the eyes. They’re red, not green. The winged serpents have green eyes, Elden Ring’s color of endurance. Super fitting! The abyssal serpent’s eyes are all red, the color of rot and death in this game. Red to me also feels primordial given its use in lightning by the dragons, but I digress. It’s pretty obvious why a base serpent would have base powers. This thing is old as fuck.

Okay. I’m sure you all thought the post was done but one last note on snake biology! So, snakes’ tongues retract into their mouth. When a snake opens their mouth you won’t see a forked tongue just curled up, hanging out. It’s in a little pocket for safe keeping :)

Neither of the base serpent’s forms appear to have the anatomy for this, since there are eyeballs replacing this anatomy. This is problematic for Messmer in a snake form specifically since he’s blind, and real snakes compensate for shitty vision by having an incredibly strong sense of smell. Messmer’s snake form also doesn’t have the heat pits that the abyssal serpent has. Heat pits are another part of snake anatomy, usually located below the nostrils, and are what they use to “see” heat and locate prey. In pythons (like the winged serpents) you’ll see multiple heat pits all in a row above the lip as opposed to the single very deep pit behind and below the nostrils in vipers. This single pit is what the base serpent (summon) has. Neither Messmer’s base serpent form nor his winged serpents have heat pits which is…interesting. It could be a modeling error but I don’t think so given base serpent has very clear heat pits.

My point is, Messmer is somehow even more blind than you’d expect from a snake. Maybe this makes sense given Messmer carries an internal fire, which would likely fuck with infrared? Still interesting nonetheless.

In summary: The base serpent alone (summon) seems overall in better shape than its other form (transformation). I think this is pretty straightforward symbolism—as a being on its own the serpent would probably be fine. It’s just that it uses Messmer as a host and this causes issues. Fuck around and find out I guess, base serpent.

And holy shit Messmer Cannot fucking see. Good luck with the seeing eye snakes babe because snakes notoriously have shit vision !

(Also just an aside both of the base serpent forms kind of have narrower faces than you’d see on a real snake? Like they’re more eel like to me. Anyways.)