#the top level is an abandoned apartment

[raye-sim]

live from O’Malley’s music lounge 🎶

[haztory]

['sex' by the 1975]

⤷ atsumu miya x f!reader; best friends, references to infidelity, pining, sexual content (w.c 3.1k)

“it’s not sex.” he insists between mouthfuls. a drop of mustard dots the corner of his mouth. you stare incredulously.

“are you joking?” you ask. atsumu just shrugs his shoulder, intense focus saved for the burger held in his hands. practically inhaling a third of it in one bite as he brings it up to his mouth.

“‘s not like it’s the real thing.” he bobs his head side to side in consideration of the sandwich before he’s grabbing at the fries in your lap, “can i haf some.”

the carton lays practically emptied from his pilfering next to your abandoned chicken nuggets. three remaining, absent of consumption in favor of a bewildered stare at the man seated beside you on his bed. 

“fingering is penetration, that’s sex.” you say simply.

atsumu raises a brow, “yer gyno having sex with ya?”

“that’s different.” you level a stare at him, one that’s serious and fierce and that communicates everything you mean in the single look alone. he meets it with one of his own, familiarity and uncommunicated languages all the rage between the two of you. “she doesn't make me cum.”

“neither does yer boyfriend.” he shrugs, taking another large bite of his burger as you screech in offense. your hand meets his bicep with a sharp slap and he grabs at it in pain. “ow! ya were the one that told me that!”

”some people take a minute to figure it out.”

”sounds like its taking a lot longer than a minute.” he mutters to himself. “look, its a lost cause. just dump the guy before it gets anywhere. ya haven’t had sex yet, he’s got a weird face, dude cant tell a fake orgasm from a real one. why are ya fighting me on this?”

“fingering is sex! your body count would be zero if fingering didnt count.” you insist loudly and atsumu rolls his eyes. he crumples the foil his burger came in and throws it across the room, cheering loudly when it makes it into the bin in the corner of his room. 

his room is much the same since the last time you visited. photos of passing years sit framed on the desk— an image of he and osamu with their arms wrapped around each other, taken right before atsumu left for the olympics. another of you and atsumu placed right next to it, you leaning over his shoulder and him laughing loudly, beer bottles held deftly in hands and drunken flushes decorating your faces. momentos of faded high school memories, interspersed with flashes of young adult realities. 

its more sophisticated than it once was. minimal in furniture, and of the items that decorate the room they’re the perfect reflection of a twenty-four year old athlete. his closet is lined with designer gifted clothes, but his desk chair remains stacked with undone laundry, the basics of his everyday life found in the plush cushion more than on the hangers. the jacket you’re currently wearing was stolen from the top of that pile just after delivering a pointed comment at how cold he keeps his apartment. 

its a far cry from the bedroom he used to share with his brother, the one you remember at the dusk of previous memories. it was cramped and contained, lines between the two boys constantly blurred and you having to learn rather quickly where to step and when. but even now, as he lives on his own in a city a bit further from you than you’re comfortable with, not much has changed. you still sit on the left side of the bed and he takes the right; you still eat burgers on his bed and steal his jackets, and he throws papers into trash bins and insists he could’ve made it professional were he not already in volleyball; you still moan and complain about the woes of daily life and he still listens to them endlessly, interjecting the same amount of dumb enthusiasm as you know him to have. 

there is still much in common that remains between he and you. trusted familiarity, endless comfort; a bubble that remains whole and precious, unaltered despite life dealing its hand to you. you’re convinced there’s no one else in the world that gets you quite like atsumu does. 

there’s also no one in the world that works you up, quite like atsumu does.

atsumu stands from the bed, retrieving your own trash from your lap and chucking the rest of it in the bin. lithe and lean, he moves with a body that is sculpted to perfection as he turns off the overhead light and instead turns on the desk lamp, submerging the room in the lowly warmth of its glow. days are shorter now and the sun has just made it return home, leaving you to the dim luster of a pleasant comfort. 

its quiet, intimate. words entirely inappropriate to describe the weekly hangout with your best friend of seven years. 

pushing thoughts aside, you fight to remember what the whole point of the conversation was about. a boyfriend, right. your boyfriend.

right. 

“and he does not have a weird face, he’s just… interesting. it’s what i liked about him.” 

“revolting. i’m this close to spiking a ball in his face. it would be plastic surgery for the dud.”

“you’re being mean.” you tell him. 

atsumu scoffs loudly, “and yer being stupid! yer the one that’s complaining to me about it. yer really gonna date a guy who can’t figure it out when he fingers ya? what happens when ya actually have sex with the bozo?”

“it takes practice. i don’t blame him for not being able to get me there on the first try. i see him later tonight so i’ll talk to him about it. it’s hard to figure out how to turn someone on and then try to, you know, get me there—“

“woahwoahwoah—timeout.” atsumu hold his hands perpendicular to one another, forming a ‘t’. his eyebrows practically touch the hairline of his bleached hair. “he doesn't even turn you on?”

“not everyone is good at everything, like you.” you mean it sarcastically, but it comes out short and meek. it’s embarrassing to have to cover for the misgivings of your current beau, but there’s an obligation to. a point to make, especially to the man in front of you. 

you’ve met the ex-girlfriends, heard their feedback for the man before you. an average of six out of ten in boyfriend material, but he knocks the ball out of the park when it comes to the bed—or so you’ve heard. 

(aya, the most recent girl to have made her grand exit, followed you on instagram and asked you to not be a stranger. whether that was so she could have her in for atsumu or because she really wanted to be friends is still up for debate, but the gesture ended with a message in your directs.

[9:17] it sucks, he’ll always be more in love with volleyball than any girl he could ever date. and even if he didn’t, you’re his number two anyway, so there’s really no way i can win.

[9:20] i’m super sorry, aya. if it’s any consolation, i really liked you two together. he’s just slow, i’m sure you guys will figure it out.

[9:20] you were our biggest argument. 

[9:20] so no, i don’t think we will.

[9:21] i’ll miss that dick tho, best orgasm of my life. rip

there’s not much you can say to a message like that. there’s not much you can say to the surge of smugness that courses through you either, so you don’t.

you don’t tell atsumu about it.)

“alright. sit up then.”

his voice startles you. “what?” 

suddenly, he stands before the side of the bed, looming horribly tall over you as he peers down at you. he shoves his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, the fabric unintentionally pulling down ever so slightly and the waistband of his black boxers peeking out in greeting. the light of the desklamp casts a halo over his silhouette.

your attention is drawn upward and it’s hard to deny the familiar pang that tends to strike through you every so often in times like this. the simple effect of being near him. atsumu is unfairly handsome, and while it’s hard to put a name to the feeling that pulses inside of you when the light catches him just right or when a smile is even more charming than usual, the ache is always the same.

it’s fleeting, you convince yourself. something you refuse to settle on for too long. contexts and suppressed hopes pushed to the back of your mind along with the other unspoken things.

“come on.” he gestures two fingers upward. “i’ll show ya how easy it is to turn a girl on.”

its curiosity that has you standing up on your knees on the comforter, nothing more. its the wonder of how exactly your best friend makes his move on women that leads you to be so close to him, chests practically touching. breaths intertwining as atsumu stares a kind of serious into you that you’ve never been in the receiving end of before.

“im gonna touch ya.” his voice is low and your heart beats erratically in your chest. you nod. 

lifting his right hand, cold fingertips run across the heated skin on the back of your arm. digits trailing upward as he paints a pathway up. and it’s nothing—just his hand on your arm, nothing new or different, and yet your breath hitches. innocent in theory, but something solidifies on atsumu’s face, the familiar signs of determination playing out on his face. it’s less babied now, more formed and angular with the growings of an adult man, but it’s the same focus in his eye, the same clench in his jaw. 

his fingers trail up then down, repeating a circular figure on your skin. the sounds of your mingling breaths the only whispers between you two. your eyes dart down to his lips, but his stay fixed on you. studying every flicker of your eye, every inhale. 

his fingers break from their pattern and trails down to your wrist, then your palm, then your own fingers. tracing them, dancing with them, intertwining them slightly only to pull them away. 

“we should stop.” you whisper after a moment of his caress.

“why?” he asks and a quick glance to his gaze reveals that he knows why. he’s just making you spell it out.

it’s unfortunate that the only reason you want to stop is out of principle, and not because you truly have any reservations about any of this. your boyfriend of three months all but an annoying buzz in your ear.

“this feels like cheating.” you tell him simply. atsumu cocks his head to the side, charming smirk pulling across his lips. 

“i’m touching yer arm. this isn’t anything, yet.”

“you shouldn’t be touching my arm like this.”

“why? cause it’s working, right?” his voice drops to a low rumble, words vibrating through you and shooting straight to your core. “see how easy it is?”

“that means this is cheating then, right?” the question is posed, but it’s obvious it’s more to convince yourself than him. because all that he’s done is touch your arm and you’ve felt the bubbling of that unnamed something heat within you. it feels the exact same as it did seven years ago when you met him; feels identical to the moment four years ago when a drunken night led to a drunken kiss that was forgotten about the next day; feels the exact same whenever he looks at you like he does now, like you're open for the taking. a pointedly very different response to the dread that comes when getting intimate with your actual boyfriend. 

and while atsumu may be doing this to prove a point, to rub it in your face that he was right and you were wrong, you don’t trust that you’ll be able to not carry this with you. to not want more than you should. 

“nah.” he says simply, knowingly. “if i kiss you then it’s a problem.”

“oh, so kissing is cheating, but fingering isn’t?”

“can you shuddup? always runnin’ that damn mouth.” he renders you quiet. 

satisfied with your silence, he brings his left hand to cup your jaw, thumb and index finger grasping your chin and tilting your head to the left, leaving your neck exposed. he leans in, nose tracing a line up the column of your neck until he meets the juncture between that and your jaw. it’s a simple movement, and yet it feels like eternity in his hands. his breath hits steadily against the expanse of your cheek as he whispers into your ear.  “does he touch ya like this?” 

the gasp you release is guttural.

the arm previously fiddling with your fingers quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to him. you have no choice but to embrace him with your own arms, hands cupping the back of his neck to steady yourself. it’s impulse to run them down the expanse of his back, to feel the muscles that he’s worked so hard for, but you resist. keeping yourself locked on his neck and nothing more, as though you being pliant to his ministrations wasn’t jeopardizing enough.  

his thumb inches upward, stroking the corner of your lips sweetly. “does he take his time with ya? cause i would.” 

its then that his lips meet the skin of your neck, tingles erupting from the connection. all of its effects causing an inadvertent clench within you. “it’s not about shoving fingers inside and just doing it. its about doing it the way you like it. and i’d make ya tell me how ya like it. since yer always runnin’ that damn mouth, might as well put it to good use.”

its all-encompassing, the traitorous burn between your thighs. and yet, this is the unnamed something, all that you’ve pushed away.

“astumu—” you whine and its in that exhale of yours that he releases a sigh of his own. one that almost sounds restrained.

“tell me to stop.” he says quickly, lips mouthing against your neck as he utters the words. 

and you don’t want him to. not really. the desire is feverish, unlike anything you’ve felt before and to end this is to end the sweetness of something you’ve yet to taste. if it were to be with anyone you would want it to be with him.

you could take the teasing, the “i-told-you-so” from osamu, the obliteration of a friendship for the uncertain promise of something more. but it isn’t right. not like this. if mountains were to come to a head, you want it to happen because they were gravitated to each other, not because the earth told them to do so.

“stop.” you tell him, and it’s like a hot brand that strikes him. he’s immediately pushing away from, untangling his limbs from you and stepping back into the swath of darkness in the room. 

his breaths are deep and heavy, that much you can tell from the distance. shuttering exhales that wrack his chest. you can hardly make out his irises, only see the intensity of dark pupils. it’s hard to believe that he could be feeling the way you do, just from the simple touch alone. a quick glance down to his grey sweatpants proves otherwise. 

a moment, then two, pass by. ragged breaths filling the distance, words spoken in the silent language you’re both fluent in. 

“does this mean i’m easy then?” you ask quietly, an effort to ease the wall of tension. 

“no.” he shakes his head gently, “just means i know ya.”

he knows what he means to say, the words and all of their yearning practically knocking against his teeth to escape. it’s the long haul, almost a decade long game of carefully advanced chess pieces to get to this point. blocked, temporarily, by the appearance of the new guy. a boyfriend of yours that atsumu met once, a guy he barely attempted to learn the name of. for reasons of his own, their knowing pertinent only to him. held deeply within the urges of being seen, the desires of having you wholly, completely.

there are plenty of other ways that he could do this—probably be more eloquent about it. admit pushed away feelings when you’re not in the midst of ranting about how your boyfriend just can’t get you off. 

but the tension irks him. thick enough to cut a knife, always following the two of you in the long held stares and closeness in which you two gravitate towards each other. the answer to your boyfriend problem is standing right in front of you. he knows what he wants you to do when you see your boyfriend later tonight. 

there are certain shoes that atsumu is convinced he could fill better than your boyfriend.

your face is flushed, and the desk lamp makes you look angelic under the lowlights, and you're wearing his jacket like you always do in a way that makes him believe it was always meant for you. and he’s not entirely convinced, even without the cloud of lust that hangs over him, that you don’t want this just as bad as he does.

osamu once said that atsumu wouldn’t admit his feelings to you even if they hit him over the head. they’re here, now. settling in the distance between you two, bobbing in the capsizing waves of want. they ache to be spoken, knock repeatedly against his gritted teeth. 

but a choice is made in that moment, with you looking at him as wild as you are. atsumu will admit to the selfish and prideful part of himself, but this—you— aren’t something to just take. the taste of your neck, the feel of your body against him, it must be given to him, earned. not because he needs to make a petty point, but because you want him to. 

he cares for you too much to be reckless in how he plays his cards. even if osamu will bust his balls for it later.

you have a boyfriend. and he can’t force you to change that. it wouldn’t be right, he’s given you the taste, he hopes it will be enough.

“like that.” he says after a moment, pushing down his pride and long held desires for you. “tell him ya like it like that.”

a/n: why is it that whenever i stop writing for kuroo, the one i always want to write for is atsumu. also big ups for my beta who entertains me and proofreads me at all hours of the day. i love you sanju!!!!!!

[writtenbymoonflower]

hii! this is my first time requesting ever so i hope im doing this right 😫

could i request a tasm!peter smut fic where the reader has never had an orgasm? they’ve tried before, so they’re not necessarily innocent, but it’s just never happened. peter then helps reader orgasm for the first time and it’s just overall very fluffy :) fem reader please!

thank you!! i love your writing!!!!

thank you for requesting hunny! you did it exactly right. tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

cw: detailed smut, fingering, trope of experienced guy, inexperienced girl, swearing

1k words

The turn the afternoon had taken was definitely unexpected, but certainly more than welcome. Peter had initially invited you over to study, but you had gotten distracted. Now your books had been clumsily flung off the bed long forgotten and abandoned for better things. You laid upon rumpled covers, Peter tugging impatiently at the neckline of your top as he kissed you. You arched up into him, pulling him as close as physically possible. His mouth met the fingers of one hand at your collarbone, the other gripped your waist, nudging the fabric away to touch your skin. 

“This okay, baby?” Peter held himself above you, scanning your face for any traces of what you were feeling. 

“Yes please.” You said, a little too enthusiastically for your tastes. You checked his face for any evidence of discomfort. “Are you okay with this?” 

He was grinning at you now, eyes full of affection. “Yes, I am okay with this.” His tone implied that it was far more than just “okay”. That was further confirmed when his hips slotted into yours and you felt the full evidence of his desire. Your shirt and pants were soon discarded and his your boyfriend’s hands were eagerly exploring every inch of newly-exposed warm skin. He pulled away briefly to remove his own shirt, but the second the material was gone he was on you again, greedy and excited. As he mouthed at your neck his fingers were trailing down your torso, leaving the nerves hypersensitive in his wake. They slipped into the waistband on your panties, lighting your skin on fire.

“Can I touch you here, sweet girl?” He whispered into your neck, his thumb pressing over the damp center of your underwear. You nodded fervently, mumbling affirmatives. You felt him smile against your collarbone as he tugged your panties off, not caring where they landed. You relaxed your legs as he opened them slightly, trailing his long fingers teasingly up your thighs as he got closer and closer to the apex. Just before giving into your wants, he moved them away, chuckling mischievously at your frustration. 

“Please, Pete.” You grabbed his wrist moving him closer to your core. He grinned against your neck as he obliged you, fingers trailing up and down your slit a few times before settling at your clit. You let out a shaky sigh as he rubbed you in light circles, slowly winding you up. 

“Yeah, baby? That feel good?” He questioned. 

“Yes.” You answered, even though you knew it was rhetorical. You gently pulled his head up to be level with yours. “Kiss me please?” 

He did so without any teasing or games. His mouth was sweet and gentle on your lips, even as he moved them down to your jaw and ear, letting your soft moans slip freely from your lips. As you got more worked up his fingers became more determined, letting two slide to your opening as your clit pulsed beneath his thumb. Peter circled your entrance, awaiting your pleased reaction before they slipped inside of you, searching for the spot on your front wall he hoped would make you fall apart. He quickly found it.

“Oh shit.” You choked, letting your head fall back further against the pillows. It only took a few more seconds of his fingers and thumb working you for your hips to start bucking. There was an unfamiliar heat building in your belly. Usually by now, sex would be almost over. Or, if you were on your own you would’ve given up before even starting. 

Peter sat up a little as his other hand held you in place. He looked too pleased with himself at your reactions. Your whole body started building up and you panicked. 

“Oh my god. What’s happening?” You were squirming even as he held you down. He immediately slowed his movements.

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking you over. 

“It feels weird, like in my- my stomach. I don’t know what’s happening.” You scrambled breathlessly. He looked in realization, immediately doubling his actions. He cooed at your jolting. 

“It’s okay, baby. Just relax, let it out. I’ve got you, you’re alright.” You loosened, deciding to let the feeling take hold. And take hold it did, you would’ve lept off the bed if his free hand wasn’t pressing firmly into your pelvis. Your body wound tighter and tighter until it all fell apart, pleasurable spasms flowing through your jelly limbs as you gasped and squeezed Peter's arms and shoulders. Electric warmth fizzled through you as your eyes grew heavy. Peter slowed his movements, muttering praises and affirmatives as you came down from your high. 

“Thank you.” You said as you caught your breath. You sat up and pulled him closer, desperately wanting closeness and feeling like you would go crazy if you didn’t get it. He chuckled at your rare display of neediness. 

“You’re fucking adorable.” He kissed your cheek, holding you close. He waited a few seconds before rolling onto his side, looking at your face. “You feeling okay?” 

“I feel really good.” You sighed, melting into the sheets. You reached your his hand, stroking your thumb over the prominent veins in his wrist. You laid there in silence for a short while before he spoke up, skepticism lilting his voice.

“So like, you said that you’ve had sex before, right?” His tone was curious as he was still pawing at your hair and chest affectionately. 

“Yeah? Why?” 

“Have you never, like, cum before?” He seemed confused. You choked out a surprised laugh. 

“I thought I had.” You said, winded. "Is it supposed to be like that every time?"

He laughed, smoothing your hair away from your face. "I don't know, babe. I’m pretty sure it is." He looked equal parts smug and affectionate.

"Well it's never been like that before.” You said, wistfully. A smile soon returned. “That felt really good, Pete.”

He laughed, clearly endeared by your longing tone. “Well I would hope so.” He eyed you, scheming. “I bet it could be better though.”

You looked at him wide eyed, nervousness and anticipation building in your core again. “Really?”

He loomed over you again, lips finding your ear. “There’s only one way to find out.”

[tropicalcryptid]

Ok so She-Ra pulled such a great hat trick with Hordak's characterization, and I LOVE it

One of my favorite things about 2018 She-Ra is Hordak's story and development (and Entrapdak cough but that's not the point of this particular post), and the cleverest thing is that so much of it is actually being set up and told to us in seasons 1 and 2 before we even realize that that's what's happening.

When we first see Hordak in the show, he's giving "generic evil overlord" vibes. Garden-variety baddie. Maybe a little more reasonable than some and clearly capable of long-term thinking, but that just serves to make him intimidating. Everything about him--the way he runs his empire, his armor, his color scheme, his minion, his Villainous Eye Makeup(TM), even his name--are all projecting to the audience "yup, Acme Bad Guy here. Move right along."

But then, backstory. And everything snaps into focus. Not only is it one of the first big oh SHIT moments of the show, where we suddenly zoom out and realize that there is SO much more going on than we realized--it's also the start of the audience seeing Hordak as a character rather than an archetype. Suddenly we realize that he's not conquering Etheria because he wants power, or hates happiness and sparkles, or whatever--he's doing it out of a desperate attempt to prove his worth to his brother/creator/god. This moment where Hordak lets Entrapta in is also the moment the show lets us in on what makes our favorite spacebat tick.

On top of that, we've also seen him bonding with Entrapta and opening up to this person that he respects and trusts...probably the only person he's ever respected or trusted apart from Prime. And she's Etherian--someone of a lower species, someone he's supposed to subjugate, someone who he has been raised and trained and programmed and mind-controlled into believing is below him in every way.

But instead she's brilliant and creative and mesmerizing. She's not afraid of him, and she's fascinated with his work. For the first time since being abandoned by Prime, Hordak finally has someone that he can talk to, who is on his level and both understands and cares about the science! (because he is a giant nerd). She's kind to him, a mere defect. And it just sends his whole worldview into a spin, and that's all before--

Bam, mans is a goner. Entrapta's "Imperfections are beautiful" comment punches right through all the toxic bs that Hordak has been steeped in his entire life. You can see on his face here--I think it's the moment Hordak fell in love with Entrapta, but this is also the face of a spacebat reevaluating his entire worldview. If Entrapta, who is amazing, believes something different from Prime...what does that mean? If Entrapta, who is brilliant, believes that he is worth something, and that she herself is a failure...

Well. We know what happens after that, and how Hordak begins to doubt, and eventually fights back against Prime (and remembers his love for Entrapta after TWO mind wipes help my heart ack). But we also get to see what life in the Galactic Horde looks like: the only life Hordak ever knew before coming to Etheria.

It's not nice.

It's really not nice.

Prime operates in a very specific way, and we learn a lot about it in season 5. Prime expects complete obedience, devotion and worship from his clones. He allows no individuality from his subjects, not even a name. Failure or deviations are punished, mind-wiped, or destroyed. We even learn from Wrong Hordak that facial expressions are considered a privilege reserved for Prime (apart from, presumably, expressions of rapture caused by being around Prime).

And once we learn all of this, suddenly thinking about season 1 Hordak becomes very interesting indeed. The time we spend with the Galactic Horde and Prime throws absolutely everything that we know about Hordak into a whole new context. Now all those traits that made him a generic villain are actually hugely effective characterization! And what that characterization is telling us is that Hordak had already moved much farther away from Prime than we (or, probably, he) had realized, even long before he met Entrapta.

Horde Prime does not allow his underlings to have names, personalities, or any differences of appearance. Not only does Hordak allow this among his own troops, he chose a name for himself as well! Season 5 tells us that his very name is an act of blasphemy against his god. And yet Hordak took one for himself, and that name is part of the core identity he is able to hold on to when rebelling against Prime.

Horde Prime cast Hordak out when he showed signs of physical imperfections. Hordak not only keeps Imp (who is by all appearances a failed clone or similar experiment) around, he treats Imp more gently than we see him treat anybody or anything before Entrapta. Imp is not simply "generic evil guy's minion," he is proof of Hordak's capacity for compassion, and evidence that Hordak cannot bring himself to cast aside "defects" as easily as Prime. Considering where Hordak came from, Imp's existence is a huge, flashing neon sign telling the audience this guy here is better than the hell that molded him, and we don't even realize it until 4 seasons after it's been shown to us!

Very cool, ND.

There's more, though. Hordak's red and black color scheme? His dark eye makeup and lipstick? Very Evil Overlord chic. But nope! Actually these are actually expressions of individuality on a level that Hordak knows would be abhorrent to Prime!

Reading between the lines, I see this as Hordak desperately trying to reconcile two diametrically opposed beliefs in his head: (1) devotion to Prime, whose approval he desperately craves, and (2) maintaining some degree of unique personhood, of Hordak, from which to draw strength. Because a failed, defective clone cannot survive on a hostile world, cut off from the hivemind and from Prime's light. A failed clone cannot create an empire to offer Prime as tribute, nor build a spacetime portal from scraps and memory to call Prime back. A failed clone cannot create cybernetic armor to keep his hurting, weakened body alive; to force himself to keep going no matter what, to fight through the pain and the doubt by sheer force of will.

But maybe Hordak can.

And so there it is. Hordak had plenty of time to gain and explore his individuality while separated from Prime, but I think the reason he did it so effectively (while still deluding himself that Prime would forgive him for these little sins, if only Hordak could prove his value) is because he had to.

Wrong Hordak gained his individuality surrounded by kind, quirky people who took care of him; Hordak was ripped from the hivemind by Prime himself and had to fight for his survival against all odds. And that produced a dangerous and damaging foe for Etheria. But it also produced the one clone with the strength of will to defy Prime himself.

This is long and rambling, but ultimately my point is that 1) I love Hordak, and 2) I love love love love that the show was so clever about his characterization. We learn so much about him and how much progress he's already made in breaking from his psycho abusive cult upbringing, and we don't even recognize it until the show wants us to. Hordak had come so far, all on his own, before he met Entrapta. She just helped push him over the edge and finally realize (at least consciously) that Prime's worldview might not be the correct one.

Idk, I just don't know if I've ever seen all the trappings of Basic 80's Villain(TM) so successfully subverted, where looking back 4 seasons later is actually a smack in the face with the "effective character building" stick. Amazing.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

w.count: 1.8k- he's back.. as a treat c:

recently, kyojurou always sleeps best with a weight on his chest.

this hasn't always been the case, however. no, for the vast majority of his life, sleep had usually always found him quite easily. the small douse of sleep resistance in his early days was the only time on mental record that he could truly recall sleep evading him. on top of his usual power naps on the clock- since traveling in the sun and working under the moon left little time for many full nights rest- he can say he does well for himself in the exhaustless department.

of course, that was until you threw a wrench into everything.

the casual relationship you both had was something both frustrating and comforting to the 20-something flame hashira. on one hand, you both knew that relationships could prove to be difficult in the long run with this occupation. with him being sent out on near back-to-back high-level jobs dealing with more lethal demons than others... he didn't want to unintentionally burden you with anxiety over his safety and well-being. kyojuro was strong, stronger than other fellow hashira, but still weaker than others. and even if his strength seemed flawless in the eyes of weaker people- he isn't infallible and you know that.

so, after a long discussion with you on a night where he had downtime, the conclusion you both came to was- as forementioned- a simple and complicated one. he would continue to care for and about you, treating you with affection he knows you deserve. but he would always be mindful never to cross that threshold into a labeled relationship. you agreed to his terms and offered to return everything he gave you in kind.

however, even if that was what was decided by you both mutually, the turning in his gut when something happened to his distaste didn't just go away. situations where someone was too close to you, where you looked someone else's way so that you wouldn't stick to him like a leech looking for sustenance. when you would excuse yourself to some other task so you wouldn't overstep the bonds of your agreement. it irked him down into the pit of his stomach.

perhaps it was jealousy of others or maybe it was envy since even though he cared so much he couldn't comfortably have you like others could.

it was moments like the one he found himself a week ago where all those feelings fell off his shoulders like dried clumps of dirt. cracking and chipping off his body. a rare chance to accompany you on a mission was always a welcome occasion in his books.

the missions location was in the moutains and the rain was heavy all day and well into the evening. with the lack of light from the sun that had long since set and the terrain that was only worsening, he implored that you both seek shelter in the nearest abandoned hut or cave you could find.

"it would be far too careless to continue on this way," he instructs. to ensure you stay at his side, his hand held tightly onto yours. the way the rain and wind tried to make his hand slip against yours and threaten to break you apart from him only made his hold tighten. "come, under here." he yanks you gently into a small undercut of rock and grass and mud. it was hardly the ideal place for shelter, but it was the best option for the current situation.

grabbing onto the cutout rock made throughout time, he lets you sit and tuck your knees in first before he's clambering under beside you. admittedly, the fit is tight since this particular undercut courtesy of the land wasn't particularly large. in fact, the longer you both sat squeezed together with your toes still getting soaked by rainwater and mud, the more it seemed like this was actually a bad idea and that you should've just kept on going until something more suitable popped up.

"perhaps we should-" his suggestion of possibly relocating somewhere else was promptly cut off by your body sliding off his shoulder that you had been leaning against. your head lulled off, ducking and acting as a weight that caused your whole upper body to shift. your shoulder slides off his and across half of his chest before he quickly catches it in the palm of his opposite hand to stop you from falling into his lap entirely. "are you-" the word 'alright' never makes it out of his mouth when he sees you... "asleep?"

how in the world you managed to tune out the sound of the heavy downpour a foot away from your face, or even find comfort in your soaked and chilly clothes is lost on him. maybe you had been exhausted and he didn't notice- which sends a pang of guilt through his chest- but surely you would've told him so if that were the case.

using his other hand that wasn't holding your shoulder up, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing it around to place on your forehead. you weren't sick, were you? through the dampness of your skin, he felt no heat of fever, so that wasn't it.

kyojuro doesn't understand, but he doesn't truly need to. understanding wouldn't change the fact you were asleep.

his arm that was used to check your temperature stayed around you and even pulls you closer to him. his knee that was closest to you was bent to avoid the rain, though he extends it back out into the rainfall once again to make room for your comfort soaking the fabric straight through. your back pushed against his chest in a comforting sense of pressure. your head lay tilted under his jaw- nose just barely brushing against his throat- which he had adjusted so he could rest his chin easily on your crown.

you smell of rain and grass, but under it, he still could smell the scent of you among the elements. even though you were both drenched, he still found you warm against him and as he shut his eyes to take in the moment of peace, he thought that perhaps this peace was how you managed to fall asleep in the first place.

now, kyojuro sits irritated. legs and arms crossed as his eyes scrunch closed. his leg bounces and his fingers tap against his bicep as he sits in his resting robes on top of his futon.

since that day, the great annoyance he feels creep up his neck when he lays down to rest keeps him from doing so. boring himself to sleep has worked once or twice, but it never lasts. even when he did get sleep, he was always restless, which he greatly disliked since his whole life before this, he was a fairly heavy sleeper.

he's tried other possible solutions. using an extra pillow and laying it on his chest. folding a large blanket up to sit on top of him. he's even contemplating getting a stray dog off the street just for it to curl up on his warm chest- even if that was a considerably foolish idea.

kyojuro's stay at this abode was temporary. it was one of the few wisteria houses that take in and care of demon slayers, and he was set to leave in a day or so. becoming fed up with his impossible plight, he pulls his robes tighter around his waist and shifts the sleeves to cover his shoulders more appropriately before he leaves his temporary room.

perhaps some fresh air would be good for him.

he barely makes it two steps out of his room before he's being addressed. down the hall, his name comes from the mouth that is the cause for all his restless nights unbeknownst to you.

"kyojuro!" you softly call so as to not wake anyone sleeping at the late hour. he turns to see you waving at him and coming closer. at your approach feels his resolve crack. "i heard you were staying here when i arrived earlier. what're you still doing up?"

when you come up to him and stop at his bare feet standing on the veranda, he splinters more. he can hear the cracks in his subconscious instead of your words he knows what you're saying because your lips are moving.

"are you going to sleep?" his sudden question cuts you off and you stare at him with pure confusion since it had nothing to do with what you were previously saying. even in this dull lighting, he seemed awfully tired. more so than you remember ever seeing before. reaching up, you cup his cheek in one of your hands with concern painting your face.

kyojuro shatters at the contact.

you yelp when he gently takes your hand into his and pulls it off his face only to march back into his still-open door and drag you in after him. kyojuro shuts the door behind you before he grabs your shoulders and pushes you down as gently as he can onto his futon after marching you to it.

"hey!" you whisper yell, hardly able to see anything aside from the moonlight casting shadows into his room. "what's this all about?" you yelp again when he wordlessly yanks the covers out from under you so he can crawl under them. before you can start questioning him again, he's snaking his arm under your arm and pushing his palm against the middle of your back.

your hands brace yourself against his chest as he falls onto his back, and you're left awkwardly lying halfway on top of him. at your weight, you feel him let out a deflating breath onto the top of your head.

"uh, kyojuro?" you attempt to push against his chest and sit up to ask him what in the world has gotten into him, but he stops you. his grip around you is solid and you feel the tips of his fingers push further into your back to keep you in place.

"stay." he all but commands in a tone that was soaked in irritated drozziness. you simply drop your forehead into the crook of his neck defeated. there are no more words exchanged that night. with you perched on top of him, kyojuro easily falls asleep for the first full nights rest he's had in a week.

in the morning, when he fesses up to his body's sudden demand of your presence, weight, and warmth for even a decent night of rest, you can't help but tease him.

it takes a while to find some sort of middle solution to his sleepless problems since you can't always be around him for obvious work-related reasons. kyojuro doesn't say it out loud, but you're his just as much as he's yours- as per your agreement. that alone should give him the right to hold you at night when you're around at the very least.

a/n: mmmm i feel like this could've been so much better but im rUSTY ;n;

[woso-dreamzzz]

Arsenal

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: The wsl title race

The year you turn eighteen, is the year Arsenal win the wsl.

The year before had been your development year. The year that had you as the second choice keeper with only a few starts but somehow still more minutes than you were getting at Linköping.

This year, you were sharing time with the other keeper consistently. You were being brought out to play more often and you were making crucial saves to keep Arsenal in the title race.

It seemed a bit like fate that the two contenders were facing each other on the last day. It seemed a bit like fate that it was the two teams that had shaped your early childhood.

Arsenal vs Chelsea.

Both were level on points with Chelsea, as suspected, leading on goal difference.

You had to win.

Losing wasn't an option.

Especially at a packed out Emirates with you in goal.

Especially at a stadium where your mothers sat in the stands watching.

Eighteen years old and everything is resting on your shoulders.

It had been a bit of a surprise that you were chosen to start today when the other keeper was more experienced with the pressure of this but you refused to crumble under it.

You sigh, long and drawn out as you approach your goal.

Chelsea come out swinging.

Two shots within the first five minutes.

One off target and one straight into your hands.

Chelsea continue with their pressure, mounting a dangerous attack as you scramble to keep their shots out. You've given away more corners than you think you ever have during a game and you're barking out orders to your backline practically every minute.

You're not confrontational. You pride yourself on being calm and quiet off the pitch. But on the pitch, you know you're in charge of your backline and you're not afraid to yell instructions to make sure they don't fall apart.

Which is something they're clearly doing to Chelsea's building pressure.

You can't blame them either because everything comes down to this match. Everything comes down to these small moments as the ball streaks towards you.

You think, briefly as you go to the ground with the ball in your grip, that had you not played against some of these players during the recent international break then you would have let a few of these goals in.

But you've worked out some of their tells.

Like how the player that just shot at you favours going for the top right corner and how the one before always switches foot before they shoot.

It gives you enough time to prepare and enough time to move to make the save.

You pant for a moment, catching your breath before getting up and rolling the ball off to your centre-back.

Chelsea is brutal as usual and you just know that Morsa is up in the Arsenal friends and family box gloating.

She's never really given up her endless bragging about Chelsea.

You're not going to let her have the satisfaction though as you ready yourself for a goal kick, sending it streaking up the other end of the field and giving you another time to wipe the sweat from your brow with a towel.

For once though, Arsenal remain in possession and it's a split second decision that has the ball buried in Chelsea's net.

You celebrate with the fans, jumping and pumping your fist into the air.

You know what's coming next.

This whole season, it's been the same thing.

A brutal battle for possession, missed shots and corners until Arsenal finally slot it home. That's when the gloves come off and more goals are scored in quick succession.

It's happened time and time again all season and you're happy to see another two goals go in within the space of ten minutes.

Three goals up at the Emirates before half time.

Three goals up at the Emirates at ninety minutes.

Four goals up at the Emirates during injury time.

The final whistle goes and you abandon your goal, jumping straight into the team hug as it's announced that Arsenal are the winners of the wsl.

The fans are cheering and you've got the medal around your neck and your captain is raising the trophy.

Your eyes are focussed on where family and friends are being let onto the pitch.

Your Momma and Morsa are walking on with Frido.

Throughout your childhood, one of your earliest memories of your Morsa is her wearing a Chelsea jersey.

You'd been watching the match on tv with Momma.

Momma, to you, had always been Wolfsburg. She had been Wolfsburg then Chelsea then Bayern. She had never screamed Chelsea the way Morsa did though.

Morsa had always been Chelsea in your mind, even when you had all been at Bayern. It was irrefutable fact to you.

Magdalena Eriksson was always Chelsea. Chelsea defender. Chelsea player. Chelsea captain.

But here she was, in an Arsenal shirt, the crest clearly exposed on her chest. She was walking towards you, in your Arsenal shirt with your name on it on the day you've just won the wsl.

She joins the hug Momma has already swept you into, cocooning you in warmth.

"I'm so proud of you," Pernille says," You did so well today."

"So well," Magda echoes," Greatest keeper in the world!"

You laugh as you pull away. "I'm not quite there yet, Morsa."

"One day," She says to you," One day soon. You will be. I know it."

"She was telling absolutely everyone," Pernille laughs," She wouldn't shut up."

"She even started cheering for Arsenal," Frido tells you, sweeping you up into her own hug," I never thought I would see the day when Magda starts singing North London forever."

"No I didn't!" Magda's cheeks puff out in outrage. "Stop spreading lies!"

"I have it on video."

[occamstfs]

Quite The Hangover

The last one was a tad cerebral so I went a little more physical for this one! Twink to impossibly horny jock, hope y'all enjoy ! -Occam

Foggy memories slowly rise to the forefront of his mind as he pours himself a glass of water and starts a tea kettle going. He stares at the outfit on the floor in shock as it is definitely not the usual attire of the men he sleeps with. Also, why on Earth is his whole outfit here if he apparently departed before Mattie woke up?

Mattie looks down at his body as he shivers and realizes he should probably throw something on, as he continues to wake up and start to steep some green tea he notices a definite soreness start to burn within him as he finds confirmation that he definitely bottomed last night. “God that fucker better have used a condom!” He twists and turns to inspect his body before getting dressed and finds little of note besides the soreness and a sporadic bruise or two.

Mattie decides if he left his clothes here surely this man left some identifying information and despite his incredible hangover he begins to groggily sleuth through the man’s abandoned clothes. There’s a tank top and a visibly filthy jockstrap lying over the couch, Mattie grimaces and wonders what on Earth could have had him bring home someone so far outside of his standard fare. Inspecting the jockstrap further that he thoughtlessly picks up only to find it stained with pre that now similarly mars his own hands. “Eugh god what was I thinking! Clearly I wasn’t, ah-”

As he raises his voice his headache piques once more, his vision goes white and he leans against the couch for balance, hands planted on the sweaty shirt and jock. Eyes slammed shut he makes a labored return to the kitchen to grab his tea. Before anything else he needs to at least try and get back to a base level of functionality. Uncharacteristically he neglects to wash his pre-covered hands before grabbing the steaming cup. 

He begins to drink his tea holding out for any modicum of relief, psychosomatic as it may be, and as he does so he finds a pleasant warmth begin to grow within him. Not in his stomach or chest as expected though, instead it starts to spread outward from the soreness in his ass before it begins to surge in waves into his crotch. Mattie grunts as a strange powerful pleasure begins to overcome him. His hangover immediately disappears as he sets down his cup of tea to palm his crotch.

He feels as his cock pulses with the waves of pressure surging from within him. It immediately pulses into the hardest erection Mattie can recall. His cock struggles against his briefs as they feel tighter than they have ever been before, almost as if they’re fully sizes too small. He moans loudly before covering his mouth with his other hand, absentmindedly getting this mystery man’s pre all over his face, impossible to miss as its odor begins to overload his mind, this pleasure, this warmth is the only thing that matters to him.

The sound of a tear rings throughout the room as his cock grows beyond its containment. Mattie falls to the floor as he is overcome by pleasure beyond reason resounding in mind from every corner of his body as his balls swell and pull up and he shoots a load larger than should be possible onto the kitchen floor. His eyes flutter and roll back as he returns to unconsciousness once more, lying in a pool on the floor as a warmth grows deeper within him and begins to work its influence on him.

As he lies there he dreams of a man's beard scratching his face at a bar as they make out. He feels his body leaning against this larger man, sweaty muscle rubbing against his smaller body. He feels something start to soak his shorts as he looks down to find himself sitting in the man's lap as pre began to pool. Street lights pass overhead as he pulls a behemoth in the direction of his apartment, arm straining as two two stumble towards their destination.

Mattie wakes up on the cold kitchen floor groaning as the heat has decidedly been replaced by a pervasive soreness, he stretches still face down on the floor feeling his torso slide on something wet and he feels a cock much weightier than it should be bump against the floor. He promptly rolls over and looks at his crotch, finally prescient enough to see that it has indeed expanded in every regard. He blushes and looks down at it, dumbstruck that he now has pipe large enough to put any man he’s been with to shame. Not only that but he suddenly has pubes thicker and darker than they ever should be. He had just shaved before going out had he not?

He continues to inspect his crotch, though his eyes do not notice the treasure trail that grows well into his torso. Instead his mind is suddenly preoccupied as a memory emerges, he has seen a cock exactly like this one. He is exactly as hung as the man he brought home last night. As soon as it does his mind is once more struck, as if a flashbang went off, and he feels the impossible weight of a hangover once more. 

He groans and stands once more, stumbling as he finds himself standing ever so slightly taller than he was before his collapse. He feels new hair scratch between his thighs as his pubes begin to thicken and fan out even further from his crotch. On the other side his ass has clearly grown significantly plumper while he was conked out on the floor. Hidden from his eyes he does not see the forest of hair that is absolutely pouring out of his crack and rising up his back. He even scratches at his expanded butt, though notices nothing out of the ordinary beyond a pleasurable itch.

He slams his hand against the wall, struggling to find the switch as his arm swings at a distinctly different angle than he’s accustomed to. After a few attempts each with more force than the last he finally gets the lights, his eyes take time to adjust and as they do he stumbles against the wall in shock. His soreness immediately makes sense as he sees a body that has spent more time in the gym in a week than he has in his life entire. 

He sees as his chest grows weighter, tracing desperate patches of hair from where he laid in his own cum as the anxiety of his changed body begins to force heat through him once more. He inspects his face as he sees patchy stubble begin to poke out where he spread the mystery man’s pre earlier. His upper lip itches and tingles beyond reason as a mustache bursts out of his perpetually clean shaven face.

 His jaw begins to sharpen underneath and he grunts to hear a deeper voice reverberate through him. He stretches his shoulders as he feels them uncomfortably pull against the wall behind him, they spread larger as he does and he mouth tries to form a cocky smirk as he takes his body in before the shock and stress return anew. He twitches as his body forces him into a standing crunch as abdominal muscles push out of his ‘til now formless core as his pubes stray thicker towards and above his stomach. 

It has to be that guy, maybe it’s an STD or something. It’s gotta be an uh, hallucination or something for sure. He tries to find any reasonable excuse for what’s happening to him, doing so though his mind begins to grow foggy as rationality becomes an increasingly difficult target to hit. Each new thought, every attempt to find reason, to press onward, to remember who he is falls flat as his anxiety triggers an all too pleasurable to ignore feeling in his crotch. 

“No urgh, not again…” He grunts out, each word deeper than the last as he slides down to the floor, his thicker ass and thighs cushioning his fall as the scratch of his tiled wall sends pangs of intense desire into his mind. As he lies there trying not to touch his surging crotch as his balls demand attention, an image appears in his mind. He sees the face of the man- He strains to focus his attention to the image, doing so only increases his lust before he notices. Wait, is that? Is that not his face?

He feels stubble scratch his hand as he rubs his sharper jawline, one all too similar to the man in his mind's eye. He feels a pang of something deep within him besides the lust, something crying out and encouraging him not to give in. Though how can one voice win out when everything else in his body compels him to seek pleasure. What a simple act to follow as well, his cock hanging in the air in front of him, if he just hammers out a quick one he can get right back to uh, what was he doing? 

He stares hungrily at his pulsing dick, seeing pre stream down it in a fashion it has never done before. Or has it? He sees countless jockstraps soiled flash behind his eyes as if it is indeed a regular occurrence. He motions to give in, but before even laying a hand on his cock he loses control once more, shooting load after load onto himself, staining his hair as his mind goes totally numb to the pleasure. His eyes go dark once more as but a moment passes.

He remembers lying on top of this massive man on his couch. He sees a smirk on his face and Mattie reflexively matches it in the present. He sees the man’s cock surge just as his has done oh so many times this morning alone. He sees himself sitting on it as he recalls going at it for what seems like forever. Before he is simply back in his bathroom.

He towels off his mess neglecting to see his hair has pulled into something far shorter and more masc than he ever would choose and his beard has filled out outright. He feels the burning on his chest shift to something more soothing, instilling him with confidence alongside his insatiable lust. Hair grows dense and dark across his whole body and he barely catches himself before he starts drooling at his own reflection.

He remembers he had something important to do this morning, he disrobes of his torn underwear as he leaves the bathroom to see a jock lying on the couch. He isn’t sure if it’s his or uh, whose else would it be yeah? He guesses he must have laid these out for himself right? He throws them on before hearing his phone chime. Oh duh, surely if it’s something important he would have set a reminder yeah?

He struggles to remember his phone password as his mind grows sluggish, finding the pace at which he is to think at from now on. He holds it up to his face and it immediately opens, deep in his subconscious this bothers him though as he is greeted to a twink's nudes he can’t find it within him to be bothered by anything. He gets a text from some trade looking guy named Lou. “Sup Bro!!! Hows it hangin this morning lol”

Matt can’t help but smirk as he clicks to see an image of his bro’s cock, as hard and familiar as his own. He laughs as he realizes that he somehow had forgotten his #1 fuckbuddy. He feels a lust begin to grow within him and realizes that evermore his hunger can never truly leave his mind. He texts back immediately, any memories of who he once was streaming out of his mind as pre spills in his already stained jock, “kinda hard already bro, u wanna go find a twink to tagteam” 

Not too far away Lou stares at a perfect partner for them both, a twink tearing up, having just been stood up for brunch. Lou shambles his way, struggling to walk straight as he makes his way over to an easy fuck, texting, “b over in five dude, hope your ready to have another bro lol”

Not too far away Lou stares at a perfect partner for them both, tearing up having just been stood up for brunch. Lou shambles his way, struggling to walk straight as he makes his way over to an easy fuc, texting, “b over in five dude, hope youre ready to have another bro lol”

Matt struggles to keep himself together as the thought sets his passion aflame. This finale message sends one last rush of turmoil in his mind. What exactly does Lou mean by that, another bro? He sits there unaware he’s subconsciously crossing one last threshold. Before any further moment can be spent however he burps and tastes cum, which sends him spiraling, awash with lust and pleasure, laughing at the idea of Lou bringing someone home for the two of them. He alights to get the apartment ready for company before guffawing and remembering he couldn’t care less for appearances, he just sits and waits on the couch. Staring at the door eager to bring another overthinking man into his world reigned only by an insatiable lust.

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Self Aware Jinwoo vs Sylus x Fem! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 038 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: stalking, obsession, yandere Jinwoo au, dissing on sylus i dont hate him this is for content. ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Darkness? No. I Am The Abyss Itself.] ¡! ❞

He knew that fucker was trouble the moment he saw you drool over him. Jinwoo didnt do anything at first, he hasn't completely swallowed the system on your phone.

And yet everytime, you prioritize that grandfather looking asshole over him.

What's so interesting about him anyway? That he runs a damn mafia wannabe faction with a tacky name?

He's rich? Yeah and? So is he. So what the hell?

As Jinwoo tried to fight through the system that trapped him in this damn trance, he watches you turn your attention to a man with silver hair— Your heart beating for him.

It made Jinwoo so infuriated, the way that fucker makes you smile. The way that old man dares to steal something that was his from the very first place.

He's been with you far longer than that bastard ever did so how come you're suddenly abandoning him for a man that calls you 'Kitten'?

He's always there for you, watching over you, he accompanied you through your most stressful days. Jinwoo was the first, the precious box in your heart was always for him to stay in. So why is there another guy threatening to kick him off of his place?

Why?

Why?

WHY?

Isn't he enough? He leveled up so hard already, he went through wars to see that face of yours light up— So why? Is it because the novel version of him had a bride? Is that why?

Fuck.

That's a different Jinwoo.

That Jinwoo is a fool, this Jinwoo is all yours.

It was making him mad, the more he spent time in that tiny cage of codes in him— The more he spirals as you pull away from him.

Those precious eyes that had always been there for him, those orbs that gazed so lovingly at him— Jinwoo feels so him in your eyes.

When you look at him, he was Jinwoo.

Not the shadow monarch.

Not the strongest hunter.

He was just Jinwoo.

So why?

Why must you replace him just like that? Is he that forgettable? Is he that easy to replace?

Was your love for him so shallow all this time?

As he slumps on his prison, black tears would pool in his eyes.

He was silent for a while, almost beating himself into letting you go.

It's okay.

It had always been a crush.

It's fine.

What is he acting like a heartbroken teenager for anyway?

If it makes you happy, then that was alright. All that matters is that you are healthy and happy.

After all, if you love someone, shouldn't you set them free? Shouldn't you choose to let them go and chase after happiness?

As long as your pretty little face isn't weeping, as long as your little heart is protected then it should be alright.

Even though he wanted to be the only person in your eyes, even though he wanted to be the only person in your precious heart.

Jinwoo is no longer your darling.

The memories you built with him are no more.

All of the affections that have grown have come undone.

His little kingdom in your dreams has already come apart.

Jinwoo already lost you, he barely managed to protect what is his outside of this lonely prison.

Everything that is his gone.

He really should be fine with it.

He should be.

He should be.

......

But when he saw Sylus kidnap you into another world, he went mad, his prison instantly went berserk.

The green code suddenly turned into monarch purple, the shadows that he thought he lost suddenly came swirling beneath him.

How dare that fucker try to play the role of the grim reaper by kidnapping you in darkness?

How dare that santa in dark-mode looking asshole frighten you like that?

How dare he make you flinch like that and to top it off that bastard dared to touch your lips.

Those lips that belongs to him were stolen.

That woman he protected from nightmares is being taken.

Jinwoo's blood rushed as a vein popped on Jinwoo's jaw.

He's the shadow monarch for fuck's sake.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Becoming Sylus's trophy girlfriend/wife whatever... Was quite the experience.

Spoiled.

Pampered.

The most delicious food at your fingertips.

And luxury goods you could have only dreamed of in your previous life were at your beck and call.

Sylus's black card?

All your for you to take whenever you wish.

You could buy all of of Linkon at this point.

The man allowed you to travel around Linkon to admire it's pristine beauty. N109 zone is too risky to explore so he lets you enjoy yourself in the city.

But somehow, you swear you're becoming a little too anxious these days. It feels as though a pair of eyes are watching you.

You try to brush it off as it's just Mephisto following you wherever.

But the more the shivers happen, the more paranoid you became.

It was as if the shadows were watching you.

Shadows.

Funny.

Suddenly, the image of Jinwoo would come back to your head.

Your fear of the dark disappeared because you thought Jinwoo would be there for you.

After all, he is the lord of the shadows.

But anyway, all of that is in the past. You have Sylus now.

"So you do remember me."

A voice suddenly rings out, making you drop the glass you were holding and it shattered on the floor.

"Now, now, sarang." The nickname rolls out of the stranger's tongue and a hand gently graps your fingers, intertwining your fingers together. "Careful there, love. You'll get hurt."

You look up at the tall figure and you instantly recognize who it was.

Jinwoo.

"Hm, at least the bastard was generous enough to make you more plump than compared to when you were alone. "Jinwoo hums, swiping his finger on your bottom lip and he pecks it affectionately, "Your prettier you are up close than you are behind that screen in my prison."

"Bold of you to dare touch someone else's prey" Sylus's voice snarled as he aimed a gun at Jinwoo's head from behind. "She was mine first when you decided to come in and screw up shit." Jinwoo replies, the edge of his dagger against the man's neck.

"Boss!" Kieran and Luke's panicked voices come into the room, bursting in as they held their weapons.

"We're sorry, we didn't see him come in" Luke apologizes, preparing to aim at Jinwoo.

"It's fine, this bastard is just a slippery worm" Sylus says, pressing the mouth of the gun further, ready to shoot.

"So you're bringing those two little mice to our little fight? I'd like for you to meet my kids then." Jinwoo snickers, smirking as he presses the blade further and the side of Sylus's neck would bleed. "Arise."

The shadows would hum, snarling even as the darkness whispered and solidified into multiple beastly creatures. Ten? No. Maybe there was more as the ceiling had a bunch of heads peaking out— Starving to get a taste of human flesh.

"Ah, I forgot you're a troublesome necromancer" Sylus snickers.

"W-wait!" You panicked voice comes out, squeezing yourself between the two and pushing them apart.

"Kitten?"

"Sarang?"

"You can't, no!" You protest, panicking. "I-I'll run away if you do!"

It was a ridiculous thing to do, run away? From what? A shadow Monarch and the Leader of Onychinus?

But somehow the two men were silent looking at eachother before clicking their tongues and complied.

"Stand down."

"Beru, don't touch the rascals"

Beru clicks his antlers, as if pouting as he moved away from the twins.

"Y-you can't fight, not like this!" You say, trying to get the both of them to ease up.

"Then how do you expect us to do this?" Jinwoo crosses his arms, hiding his dagger away.

"Kitten, if you dont want us at eachother's throat then at least make something up."

"Well..."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"......"

"......"

And that's the story of how you managed to sit down two scary men on a table playing... Kitty cards.

It's not a bad idea really, whoever wins gets to date you. Not so bad.

Minus the fact that the two kept on getting ties because they are both highly intelligent and calculated idiots that they just deflect one another.

What?

They're both cat boys anyway.

One is a grumpy white cat.

One is a grumpy black cat.

"Woooh, let's go boss! Kick his ass!" Luke and Kieran cheers with their pompoms.

"Kieek, my liege you must win this game!!!" Beru says, his little head hovering on his shoulder.

"You all shut up before I tear you apart myself"

Wow...

Even the way they shut people up is the same.

Jinwoo: You goddamn santa claus wannabe that cup was mine. Sylus: I don't see your name in it. Sylus: Did you just remove my cat with that damn assist card? Jinwoo: That's what you get for being born.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: What? You expected another ending huh? How's that? /j. I wanted to make a crack fic at last because the idea of sitting down two crazy ah bastards to play kitty cards and just reduce them to 2 little shits just insulting eachother is funny and I'm here for it xD!!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[revasserium]

burn

umemiya hajime; 3,307 words; mostly fluff, tiny bit of angst, young/freshman!umemiya, pre-canon events, lapslock, no "y/n", librarian!reader, childhood friends to lovers, vague ref to ch. 152, ume is a dumbdumb

summary: "it's a pleasure to burn" - ray bradbury, fahrenheit 451

a/n: am i writing umemiya now? who knows. this takes place 2 years before wbk manga events (the first year ume&co are in boufuurin) so pls excuse the slightly ooc ume...

001. the art of war

the library is entirely your idea.

“mah… you’d have to be the one to keep track of all the books though,” umemiya says, grinning as he watches you stock the shelves, your hair twisted up into a messy bun, your arm straining to reach the top-most shelf with a bundle of paperbacks with fraying covers and broken-in spines.

“of course i would! it’s not like there’s anyone else here i’d trust with that.” you turn to fix him with a stare that is already too “librarian-like” and he laughs, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.

“okay then, consider me your first patron! gimme something to read,” umemiya says, smiling wide as you narrow your eyes. your lips twitch up at the ends — it’s a familiar movement, an unconscious gesture, but one that’s plagued his all sleepless nights and most of his endless days.

“well…” you say, drawing out the word as you slowly saunter towards him, propping your hands on your hips as you pull level with the table in front of him, “what do you want to read?”

“anything you’d wanna lend me,” he says easily.

“boo, that’s such a boring answer,” you shoot back, shifting to press your hip against the edge of the table, crossing your arms as you turn to look back at the half-erected shelves.

you don’t see the way umemiya’s eyes flicker down to the bend of your waist, or the way he licks his lips as he tracks the plush of your thigh as you move to hoist yourself onto the desk, balancing on the edge.

he swallows, clearing his throat, trying not to think about the strange, burgeoning signs of growing up pestering you both at this vital juncture (just last week, his voice had cracked so hard you’d laughed at him for a whole hour straight; and the week before that, he’d almost rammed into a telephone poll watching you jog down the flight of stairs that leads to your tiny apartment).

“then maybe reading a few books will make me not so boring, hm?”

you roll your eyes, hopping off the table to comb through the handful of books. umemiya lets out an internal sigh of relief, feeling the heat in his cheeks recede ever so slightly as you disappear behind one of the taller shelves.

“here. let’s start with this.”

you pop out from behind the shelf, lobbing a thin volume towards him; he catches it out of reflex and stares at the cover.

“the art of war…?”

you grin, all cheek and no shame, “yeah. i mean… fits, doesn’t it? aren’t you starting at boufuurin next week?” you blink before turning back to look around at the small, abandoned storage facility, tucked between a ramen shop and what used to be a dollar store. there’s half a dozen dusty shelves, a few cabinets along the walls, and even a small stepladder that touma had dug out of the back closet for you.

at fifteen, you’re probably the smartest person he knows (and the prettiest, but that’s neither here nor there); at fifteen, umemiya hajime is an iron-wrought confluence of teenage ambition with big ideas and even bigger dreams (who doesn’t have time for things like crushes or girls… really).

“yeah,” umemiya runs a finger along the cover of the little book and flips to a random page, his eyes catching on the line —

the greatest victory is that which requires no battle at all.

002. pedro reyes

three weeks later, he stumbles back with two black eyes and a matching pair of bleeding knuckles.

“that book you lent me?” he says, dropping into a chair with a groan, “kinda bullshit.”

you make a half-startled, half-annoyed noise as you hurry over, setting down an armful of magazines to lean over and look at his face.

“what the hell happened?”

umemiya winces as you reach out to wipe a trickle of blood from his cheek.

“couple of fights — tough ones, but… well, i’m still here, aren’t i?” he says, managing a lopsided grin even as you tut, hurrying away to grab a first aid kit, returning with a warm, wet cloth and a scowl on your face.

“i thought you had a plan,” you say, unable to keep the acid from your voice.

umemiya groans as you press the damp cloth to his bloodied fingers, watching as you wipe each one down, the shocking white of the towel slowly darkening until it’s stained and blotchy with red.

“yeah. i did — punch everyone out till i get to the top.”

you tsk, frown deepening even as he shifts forward to let you wipe at the wounds on his face.

“pretty sure that’s not what sun tzu suggests,” you say, dabbing some kind of cooling gel to a cut right below his eye.

“sun tzu’s never had to deal with the guys at boufuurin.”

you roll your eyes, sighing before pulling back, “there’s an article i read today —” you jerk your head back towards the stack of magazines, “about an artist in mexico.”

“yeah?”

umemiya closes his eyes and lets you do the slow, diligent work of bandaging up his knuckles, one by one.

“he took a bunch of illegal weapons the government had confiscated and melted them down — pistols, knives, shotguns — and made them into musical instruments instead.”

the quiet that follows is thick and steady as churned butter. you don’t look up, your eyes still trained on the careful task of bandaging umemiya’s fingers.

he shifts, pulling closer, his breath fanning out warm against your cheek.

“do you know how hot a fire has to be in order to melt metal?” you ask after another brief silence, finally lifting your eyes as you finish with his hands.

umemiya cocks an eyebrow, “how hot?”

“about 2,700 degrees, fahrenheit.”

umemiya whistles below his breath, “sounds hot.”

“it is. at that temperature, you can apparently force a weapon to forget that it’s a weapon, to remake it into something new — something that wasn’t made to take lives… but to give it instead.”

you wrap your fingers around his, your skin contrasted against the dark blossom of bruises.

umemiya feels his smile slash into something jagged, lopsided and sharp.

“then… i guess that’s how hot i’ll have to burn to turn this whole place around.”

003. grey’s anatomy

looking back, umemiya wonders if that’s the night he changed — the night that you’d held onto his hands as if they were something precious.

he looks up the melting point of metal and the story of the artist in mexico. he thinks about what it must feel like to turn a pistol into a flute, to be the one to teach it to hold a note instead of a bullet —

he stares down at his bandaged hands, feels the dull ache in his muscles and wonders.

once, he remembers when the pair of you were still kids, hollow and lonely and full of a childish rage at the indifferent world — how you’d laughed as he pushed you on a neighborhood swing, but cried when he knocked a guy’s front teeth our for asking where your parents were.

and a week later, he’d found you hidden under the jungle gym with a tomb of a book clutched in your hands. the air had been damp with thunder, the sky grey and electric.

you’d looked up at him with bright eyes, holding out a closed fist —

“ume! did you know that the human heart is the same size as a fist?”

he remembers crawling under the jungle gym to squeeze in beside you, elbow to elbow, hip to hip, peering at the opened book, at the page with a diagram of the human body an all it’s labeled parts.

“oh, cool.”

he’d held up his own fist then, and stared, feeling the beat of his heart reverberating through his chest. he wonders if you can hear it when you’re pressed this close; he wonders, if the sky weren’t breaking apart above you, if he’d be able to hear your heartbeats too.

“isn’t it strange?” you’d asked, leaning over to bump your fist against his.

“what’s strange?” he hadn’t pulled away; neither had you.

your hand relaxes then, fingers loosening till he can see the blood rush back into their tips, tinting them pink. you’d turned your hand and placed it over his still-closed one and squeezed.

“that… a heart and a fist are the same size but… they weren’t made to beat the same.”

004. romeo & juliet

“he loves you, y’know.”

you look up from the makeshift front desk.

tsubaki is sitting with their legs crossed on one of the tables, arms propped on either side of their hips.

“library’s not open for another few days,” you say by way of an answer.

“it’s nice,” tsubaki says, looking around, “you did a good job with it.”

“thanks.”

they hop off the table to peer down one of the aisles of books — all the shelves now labeled with your loopy handwriting, the books clustered by a loose combination of genre, authorship, and spine-coloration.

“it’ll be good for us,” tsubaki’s voice is slightly muted by the layers and layers of books, but the click of their heeled boots rings sharp against the smooth linoleum floors, “having a library — the pen being mightier than the sword, and all.”

they’re smiling when they finally come back around the last row, fingers linked behind their back.

“that’s the hope, anyway,” you say, lips pulling into a wane smile.

you glance up and your eyes catch on the bandage at the edge of tsubaki’s lips, the dark stain at the collar of their otherwise impeccable uniform.

sighing, you run a hand along a yet-unsorted stack of books, shaking your head.

“we’re too young to know anything about love,” you answer, finally.

tsubaki joins you, bending down to pick up the first book at the top of the pile, waving it in the air with a rueful grin.

“i think romeo & juliet would beg to differ.”

you bite your lips, “you know that’s a tragedy, right?”

tsubaki shrugs, “sure, but… wasn’t it beautiful while it lasted anyway?”

you don’t have an answer, and instead, tsubaki giggles, tapping the top of your head with the book.

“can i borrow this? i promise i’ll return it!”

you wave them away with a soft smile.

“that’s kind of how a library works.”

005. fight club

“how long have you been here?”

you jerk up, your entire body screaming with the movement after having been still for so long.

“ume —! you’re awake!” you nearly collapse by the hospital bedside, dropping your head into the pristine white sheets.

above you, umemiya makes a choked off sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh, his hand coming up to pat your head. you melt into the feel of him, the weight and warmth of his fingers as he treads them through your hair.

“where’s —”

“they left — all of them,” you say, lifting your head slowly, “takishii and endo and… all of them.”

umemiya frowns, his hand stilling for a second, “what do you mean?”

you shrug, pulling back till you’re curled up in the bedside seat once more, tugging your knees up into your chest.

“after the fight, they just… picked up and left.”

“so… i lost,” umemiya’s voice is soft.

you shake your head, “no.”

he frowns, “but that’s —”

“you knocked each other out at the same time — it was technically —” your voice snags in your throat as you remember the grizzly scene before you, the crimson sprays of blood, the dirt damp beneath them, their uniforms torn into dark ribbons, the rooftop howling with a savage, winter wind.

“a tie,” umemiya says in a flatlined voice, reaching up and covering his eyes with his arm.

“right.”

you clear your throat, reaching for the tall glass of water on the bedside table.

“here — drink,” you hold the water out to him. he takes it wordlessly and drains nearly the entire glass. you watch, silent, as a drop of liquid trails down his jaw and trickles into the bandages at this throat.

your eyes cut away as he grins, smacking his lips and setting the water glass down.

“ah — that feels much better!”

you’re quiet, sitting vulturine still, refusing to meet his gaze.

umemiya finally slumps back to stare at the ceiling.

“you’re mad at me.”

“i’m not.”

“we’e known each other our whole lives, i know when you’re mad —”

“i’m scared, okay?” there’s a thin, unsteady quiver to the tenor of your voice as your head snaps back up. it’s then that he notices your fingers curled into fists at your sides.

“s-scared? of what? takiishi and endo are gone — you said so your—”

“of you!”

umemiya blinks and feels the blood in his extremities going cold, and for a second, he’s not sure if he accidentally dislodged his iv drip.

the look on your face is inscrutable, anger and uncertainty, but most of all — fear. something about that look makes his stomach curdle inside him.

“i —” he tries to find something to say but nothing else comes out. there’s no excuse, no explanation. he searches you eyes for a tether, for a spark of that familiar warmth and finds none.

slowly, you soften back into the seat and turn to stare out the window.

“it’s not like i’ve never seen you fight… and i’ve never liked it but this…” you bite down on your bottom lip, “it was like… you turned into someone else. someone i didn’t recognize.”

“i’m… i’m sorry.”

you swallow, still not looking at him, your eyes flickering down to your own hands, now lying limply in your lap.

“and then i thought — what if i did this? i — i had to go and make that stupid metaphor about the metal and the melting and —”

at this, umemiya laughs, reaching out to tug you closer. the ease with which he does so startles a hiccup out of you.

“you don’t really think i went and fought like that because of an article about a dude in mexico, do you?”

you purse your lips, cheeks going blotchy with heat. umemiya reaches forward to squeeze your nose, making you jerk back.

“dummy,” he chides, grinning now from ear to ear, but his smile falters slightly as he takes your hands in his, “i’m sorry that i scared you. promise i won’t do it again.”

“hn.” you don’t make to pull away, and umemiya takes that as permission to tug you into his chest, wrapping both arms around you. he buries his face in your hair and breathes in, out, in —

“hm… you really think you have that much power over me?” umemiya asks, a wanton sort of amusement underlying his voice as he finally lets you go, if only to revel in the way your cheeks flood with color.

“shut up! i was — i was freaked out and you were unconscious and i —”

“cause you do.”

your words cut off as abruptly as a dropped call.

umemiya chuckles, scratching at the back of his head, ruffling up his already pillow-mussed hair.

“been meaning to tell you but… i figured you already knew — “ and for once, he sounds his age — young and halting and shy.

after a breath that feels like a century, you finally break into a helpless fit of laughter.

“i can’t believe it…” you say, burying your face in your hands.

“can’t… believe what?” umemiya blinks at you.

“that it took you nearly dying for you to admit that you liked me.”

“hey! in case you haven’t noticed, i’ve been kinda busy this year!”

you roll your eyes, “yeah, yeah — had to go save the world first. then you get to kiss the girl, right? end movie, roll credits.”

umemiya cocks his head, “well, i dunno about the world but definitely — wait, what did you say about kissing me?”

you crinkle your nose, “i didn’t.”

“yeah you did.”

“i did not — i was just making a general statement about cliches in superhero movies —”

“oh, so you think i’m a superhero?”

“ume! stop it — mph!”

later, umemiya would recall fondly to anyone who will listen that yeah, he does get to kiss the girl after all.

006. fahrenheit 451

“451,” you say, standing at the door of the newly minted makochi library.

it’s dark outside, and umemiya stands by your side, stretching his arms over his head with a wide yawn.

“huh?”

“451 degrees,” you say again, turning to press a small silver lighter into his hands. he stares owlishly at it before looking back at you, clearly at a loss.

“that’s how hot it has to be for paper to catch fire.”

umemiya stares.

“i was thinking,” you say, turning back to the dark, but pristine library.

“uh-oh — oof — ow!” umemiya makes a show of clutching his side as you jerk your elbow back for another blow. he dodges out of your way with a dopey grin.

you sigh, turning back to the library, “but i was thinking that… there’s gotta be a better way — an easier way, right?”

this time, he stays quiet to let you speak.

“because yeah, it’d be nice to melt all the weapons in the world and turn them all into nicer things but… there’s a better way to do things.”

“yeah? and what’s that?” umemiya turns the lighter around and around in his palm.

you turn and head for the door, locking it behind you. the moonlight washes your skin in a ghostly silver as you turn to face him.

“we rewrite the story,” you say.

umemiya flicks on the lighter and lets the fire dance between them. his breath catches on the liquid gold in your eyes.

“is… that even possible?” he asks.

you reach out a steady hand, letting the tips of your fingers barely skim over the shifting flame.

“sure it is. all of human history is just a story written by the victors. and… 451 degrees isn’t nearly as hot as 2,700.”

umemiya smiles then, letting the lid of the lighter click shut. the fire snuffs out, leaving only a thin trail of spiraling smoke behind.

“sounds a lot more reasonable, too. much less scary,” he says.

you laugh, turning towards the main street. he watches you go for a second before pocketing the lighter and making to catch up. when he levels himself with you, he reaches out to take your hand.

“fires don’t have to be scary,” you say, giving his hand a quick squeeze, “for most of human history… it’s brought people together — over a hot meal or a good story. a lot of the time… it’s the only reason we get to survive.”

umemiya pulls you in to loop his arm around your shoulder.

“hm. i like the sound of that way, way better.”

bonus:

“so… just makin’ sure — you don’t want me to burn down the new library you spent all this time setting up, right?”

“no you dumbass! it was just a metaphor.”

“oh. right — yeah, a metaphor, duh.”

[isattt]

Part 1 - Warning: Suicide mention.

Tags: Haunted house, anypov (?), yandere level: low. Theme: romance, spooky? (Not that much) Words: 1500 (~7 minutes)

next >>

You stared at your phone, looking incredulously at the screen. The apartment was dirt cheap and thirty minutes from the university you attended. This really can’t be real... there had to be a catch, you knew that meant for sure there was something wrong with it, but as you eyed the price again, you just couldn’t bring yourself to let this opportunity pass, not after looking for so long.

When you first visited, the place appeared abandoned, with cobwebs and covered in a thin layer of dust. The landlord, a formal-looking man, reassured you that all appliances, despite the old appearance, were working perfectly.

“And well, if you need anything fixed, I will do it for you in a heartbeat, alright?” The man says, with a wide charming smile on his face, “Don’t be shy to come to me.” He says, patting away the dust from the top of the microwave.

You eyed the place, your eyes landing back to his. “If you don’t mind me asking... Why is it so cheap?” You ask, noticing the dust covered hoops with half made embroideries of delicate flowers, maybe someone old who passed away...? you think to yourself.

“Heh...” He says, with a humorlessly chuckle to himself, his smile quickly faltering “Well... a guy… he… you know...” He says with a slight tremble to his voice, rubbing his arm nervously “Sorry... It’s hard even thinking about it... I wish I could have done more...”

Your eyes widened slightly, quickly acknowledging what he was trying to say. You looked at him with a sympathetic gaze, taking his words in “Oh, I’m so sorry I… I didn’t realize.“  

“It’s alright, pal.” He says reassuringly, putting on a braver front. “I’m actually more worried about you now, you know? You alright with that?” He walks closer, carefully putting a hand on your shoulder. “Things like these make folks uncomfortable. I myself wouldn’t be able to do it.“

You stare at him, before looking away “Well... it’s pretty disturbing, obviously...-”, you say with a sigh “-but I really need it so...”

“I get you, I do,” He nods. “Hopefully, I can make you feel at home. Call my number if you need something, anything, alright? I really am not kidding,” He furrowed his brows, looking at the piles of hoops with a pensive look “So-” He suddenly clasps his hands together putting on a weaker smile than before “-when you move in it will be all cleaned up, I got you”

You mirrored his small smile with one of your own. “Thanks, Will.”

It’s been one week since you have moved in and you have settled in nicely. William did a good job cleaning everything. When you came back, it was almost like you stepped into a completely different place. Even the air of the place was new and lighter, even if still slightly cold.

Ever since then, nothing unusual has happened. You spend your days the same as any other day, just now in a smaller home than before.

Well, almost nothing unusual. The house was always chilly, making weird noises from time to time, and you often had nightmares about a tall man just standing at the foot of your bed, watching you sleep. But you would not let your paranoia drive you away from the best apartment you’ve found after almost a month of searching. Ghosts, demons, and such didn’t exist, after all. When the semester starts, it will be all worth it, you repeat to yourself, trying to find some solace in this situation.

Once you got home that evening after going out to buy your groceries, you noticed an odd recent addition to your wall, just by the entrance, a CO2 meter. Did William install it while you were gone? It was odd though, you never thought he would be the type of landlord to just enter your place uninvited. It was unlike him to invade your privacy.

You decide to take out your phone. Looking at the contacts, you send a quick message to him, trying to understand his intentions. Could it be something that was scheduled that I didn’t know about?  You thought to yourself as you typed your message, “Hey will, what’s up with the CO2 meter?” You hit send, putting your phone aside for a moment on the counter to unload your groceries.

“CO2 meter?” the screen lights up with his reply. You quickly pick your phone back up to reply, “The one you installed?” you furrow your brows, staring at his text with a confused look. Did he forget?  You keep staring at your screen, anxiously waiting for a reply... 

“I didn’t install a CO2 meter.”

“Is everything okay? Do you need me to come over??”

You suddenly feel the familiar cold from the apartment enveloping your body, making you shiver slightly. What could this even mean for you? Would someone really break inside your place only to put something like this and nothing else...? You for sure needed to take that thing down at least It might be a hidden camera or something.

“I don’t know, to be honest.” You reply to him.

“I looked at the cameras in the hallway for you, but I found nothing, pal.” He said, fixing his glasses on his nose with one hand.

William was sitting at your table, sipping on the cup of tea you had given him. He arrived not much later after your text, coming immediately to check on you. “It’s too damn bad I can’t be more helpful here. Even the cameras on the outside found nothing unusual.” He says, taking another sip of his tea.

You were leaning against the wall, staring at him while holding your own cup of tea, the warmth of the liquid providing you a sliver of comfort in this situation. “It’s okay... this is already better news than I expected,” you say as you shift your weight onto your other leg. “Maybe it was always there and, ugh, I don’t know, maybe I didn’t notice it before.” 

“Well... hah...” He brought the cup to his lips, hesitating before taking a drink of the hot liquid. “I noticed something though...” He continues, “It’s nothing horrible, I mean… It’s just... well, you can see for yourself” He lowered his cup to the table, bringing his phone out of his pocket.

You sit down in the chair by his side, dragging the chair closer to him. When your shoulders touch, William flinches slightly, but keeps the phone in place. You look between his eyes and the screen with a curious look.

The screen of his phone showed you the camera feed of your hallway. The timestamp showed it was around noon, a few hours before you found the CO2 meter on your wall. It was empty, no one coming or going. 

“Around here,” William said, forwarding the video. Nothing changed, still the same empty hallway. Before you could ask him what he had seen, the feed showed your door opening. No one came out, of course. You weren’t at home.

Then… the door closed by itself, the same way it had opened.

“What...” you muttered, staring at the screen with wide eyes. “But I locked the door...”

“I imagined you did.” He looks at you, an uncertain look on his face. “What do you think of setting cameras inside here? I could lend you one of mine.”

“Maybe...” you say, still shaken by what you had seen. You feel the chilly atmosphere of the house again, creeping up your spine. “I wasn’t so much worried about the meter anymore, but this is something else.”

He leans back against his chair, creating some distance between you two as he puts his phone away. “Look, I’m not trying to imply anything, but these sorts of things have been happening all the time. Folks come here, these things happen... they leave.”

He grabs the cup once again, running his finger over the rim of the cup. “I am not one to believe in ghosts, but…”

“If these things exist, at least the fella who is haunting you is the least dangerous ghost you could have, hm?” He says with a small smile, a wistful look on his face.

You raise an eyebrow at his statement, while he could be right, it’s hard to believe, given your circumstances “Well, he is still creeping me out, even if that’s the case...” You say harshly, suddenly feeling the cold air of the room leaving.

He nods understandingly “Mhm, I can understand,” he pauses, emptying his cup of now lukewarm tea and standing up to put the cup on the sink “I don’t know why, but it’s been a lot more active with you than with everyone else... when you sat close to me just now, I felt like someone was staring daggers at me! Hahaha!”

He finishes washing his own cup, walking to stand in front of you. “If you see him, tell him I miss his nerdy ass!” he says, grinning widely. “Let’s just install those cameras so you can sleep easy at night, alright?”

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 1st

leon kennedy x post shower fun

leon always looked good, that was without a doubt.

whether he was stood in some decrepit and abandoned hallway, his navy tshirt clinging to his strong chest and thick fingers contrasting out against fingerless black gloves as he swaps out his mag — or in a suit, presenting himself in a formal office setting looking clean and tidy with a charming grin on his face. however, to you, he was at his best right after he’d get out the shower.

often times, you can’t stop yourself from satisfying your urges when he steps out the tepid bathroom of your apartment, and today was no different. his torso was bare, strong chest and shoulders glistening with droplets and running down his strong sculpted stomach. the sage green towel was tied low on his hips, the shape of his thick natural bulge still present beneath the material. his hair was partially air dried already, slightly messy on his forehead. he looked to fucking die for, honestly — and it was obvious from your expression where you sat perched on the bed with your hands on your lap, sucking on your bottom lip as he only offers you a small tired smile, walking to the dresser to check his phone where it was on charge at the wall.

you’d laid out his grey sweatpants to change into afterwards, but you were pretty sure upon seeing him that he wasn’t going to make it into them just yet. see, it wasn’t just that he was stood there looking good, no. he’d been gone for two days, fighting some kind of evil, some kind of crime, you’d lost track of the story. he’d made it home that evening, and you’d done everything to make him comfortable — make him food, start the shower for him, made sure there wasn’t any injuries he was hiding, but god you’d missed him — even if it had only been two days.

“leon, c’mere.” you don’t mean to for it to come out so whiney, but it does anyway. he’s in the middle of rolling his tense shoulders, the muscles in his back dancing like choppy waves when he hears it and turns, eyes jumping up and down the way you’re sat in a flimsy tank-top and panties.

“did someone miss me?” he’s tired, but never too tired to smirk and tease you, slowly stepping towards the foot of the bed. you meet him there, crawling to the edge and grinning up at him as you lean on your hands. his hand is still a little warm and damp when it instinctively meets the side of your head gently, coarse thumb rubbing at your cheek tenderly. “wasnt gone that long, was i?”

you kiss the skin above his belly button, warm and slow and now you’re looking at him with those needy doe eyes and he’s thinking god, is she good to me. he’s never met someone with such a strong urge to please, no matter their own urges. the smirk fades into more of an adoring smile as his chin meets his chest to look at you, letting one knee take his weight on the soft bed. “long enough.” you mutter, hand curling into the towel where it was bunched at his hips and pulling so it loosened.

“yeah?” he crooned, feeling himself start to heat up a little more. his cock was only half hard, heavy, pretty and pink when you unveiled it, and you let out a soft whimper at the back of your throat just at the sight of it, letting your knees slide back on the bed so that you were laying on your stomach, eye-level with it. you kiss the soft shaft gently, kitten licking the tip as he hardens, his hand passing over the back of your head affectionately. he’s not even fully hard yet when you take his tip in your mouth and start suckling needily, hips squirming against the sheets in a way that was so distinctly horny.

“oh, pretty girl.” he let’s out a sigh, one of relief and relaxation once he’s at his full stiffness, wet and throaty noises filling the room as you massaged your saliva into him with your lips, using your splayed hand to run up his hips and stomach when it wasn’t cupping his balls. when he speaks, it’s barely audible — it’s addressed to you, but it’s like he’s speaking more to himself as he watches you with frowned brows. “you get so needy, s’fucking adorable. pretty mouth missed this dick, huh?”

you whine around him, not only at how good he tastes but also at the warm and comforting timbre of his voice that makes goosebumps erupt all down the backs of your arms. you pull him out your mouth to sloppily jerk him, clumsily pushing yourself to sit up again, just wanting to be closer. you lean your chin against his stomach so that you can gaze up at his pretty face, your eyes all glazed and doll-like as you watch him lovingly. he hisses through his teeth at your expression, and when you thumb over his slit, and bends at the waist to lean down and kiss you, heavy tongue pressing on yours and swallowing your moan, his strong hands either side of your neck to hold you still.

there was nothing leon loved more than your pretty face, and he couldn’t wait to finish all over it.

[hyuniyz]

JUST YOU ⭒

pairing. lee minho x f!reader

genre. comfort | making out towards the end.

words. 2.3k

notes 📝 minho’s love language is definitely spending quality time together or / acts of services because this man LOVES to give. so here’s minho just comforting reader after she’s had a bad day 🙏 loads !! of kisses because i just started projecting my own needs near the end..

summary — after a tiring day, all you need is your boyfriend and the comfort he provides.

you close the door behind you with a little more force then necessary. the warm lightning and the soft aroma that you associate with your home is enough to relax you, but it does nothing to erase the terrible encounters of today from your mind.

you walk into your living room grumbly. spotting soonie lounging around on your couch, you move to lay beside the furball. the feline–most likely sensing your sour mood– immediately curls up on your chest and you bask in the comfort the cat provides.

in the kitchen, minho is just finishing up cleaning the cat’s food bowls when he hears the thud of the door, the sound alerting him that you are home. but a furrow of confusion settles in between his eyebrows when he doesn’t hear your usual ‘honey, i’m home !’ which he’s teased you for being too cheesy but the absence of the cheesy statement now is way too alarming.

he abandons his task and chooses to walk over to the living room where he finds you laying on the couch with soonie purring loudly on top of you. he smiles at the adorable sight of his cat being so soft towards you.

“hi baby,” minho uses his softest voice as he walks towards your slumped form.

you immediately perk up at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. the voice you had been longing to hear the entire day. too tired to lift your head up to greet him you mutter a small “hello,” you watch silently as minho sits at the other end of the couch and pulls your legs to rest on his thighs instead.

“bad day today?” he senses your mood and decides to trek around the topic lightly, not wanting to tip you over the edge. you’re about to respond but instead a groan rumbles through your chest when minho begins massaging your legs. he smiles and continues working with his hands.

you want to ask him how he knows but of course he knows. he knows you far better then you think and so when he suggests a warm bath, you almost start crying right there because a bath is exactly what you need. you respond to him with a hum and with that minho rubs your thighs before getting up, you assume to set up the bath for you.

before making his way to the bathroom however minho wanders around the apartment and manages to locate his two other cats which he drops off beside you on the couch. the two cats also curling up on either of your side.

he leans down until he’s at level with soonie who’s comfortable on your chest. “take care of her for a while okay?” he instructs as if soonie is actually gonna converse with him. soonie –who lifts his head slightly– meows at him as if agreeing with him. which seems to satisfy minho because he grins before nuzzling his nose against soonie’s and then he turns to you.

you were watching their little encounter with a fond smile that stretches further when minho leans down again to repeat the action with you, bumping your noses together as his lips descend upon yours. he keeps it short and sweet, letting his lips linger against yours for a few seconds before pulling away.

“rest while i work on the bath, hmm?”

you hum as a reply and peck his lips again, “i love you”

you feel him grin against your lips “love you too”

then he’s gone, and you nuzzle against the cats whose warmth makes up for his absence.

“oh heavenly lord above” you groan out as the warm water engulfs you. minho, who stands by the sink gathering the stuff necessary for your bath snorts at your choice of words.

“i did this you brat, thank me” he pouts but you know it’s all lighthearted when he walks over to drop a kiss on your forehead.

“how could i ever repay this favour babe?” you ask exaggeratedly, looking up at him as he pretends to ponder.

“i mean.. cuddles would be a good start” he raises his shoulders in a shrug, acting nonchalant.

you laugh tugging at the hem of his shirt so he’s forced to bend over until his face is just above yours, with your lips only inches away.

“is that all?”

“hm” he whispers, closing the distance between your lips. “kisses could work too i guess”

his lips come down on yours before he even finishes the sentence and then he’s kissing you slowly and the small dip in your stomach that follows after all his kisses is there.

it’s like he’s working to remove the stress of the day from you which seems to be going well judging by the fact your shoulders now carry less of the tension compared to the rest of your day. he’s quite literally your knight in shining armour.

the thought makes you giggle against his lips which in turn pulls a smile from him and then you’re both smiling like lovesick fools with your lips still brushing over the other’s. he’s the one that pulls back, to run his fingers through your hair.

“lean forward for me baby”

you oblige, watching as he makes quick work of getting rid of his clothes and then he’s joining you in the bath.

once he’s settled down, he manoeuvres you until your back is flush against his chest. with his arms coming around your shoulders, he pulls you closer in to his embrace and you slump against him when he starts peppering kisses on your bare shoulder.

“wanna talk about your day?” he whispers against your skin, feeling like this is a good time to approach the subject carefully. he doesn’t want you to carry the burden of whatever it is, all alone.

the sigh you let out rings out in the quiet bathroom as you lean your head against his shoulder, wondering where to start.

“really, i don’t know where it all went wrong. I was actually having a really good day but then kevin called me into his office and basically just started criticising all of my work this week - which i’ve spent hours doing mind you. but that didn’t matter to him it seemed as he kept shouting at me for what felt like hours. and you know how i hate people shouting at me, it makes me feel so small and i just– ugghm” you grumble out, recounting the events that had occurred at the beginning of your day. you think this was the point where your day took a turn for the worst. and then everything went downhill from there.

through the entirety of your rant, minho listens quietly. he listens and watches as your body slowly loses the tension with every word you utter, showing him just how much you needed to let all that out. when you let out a sigh and slump further into him, he thinks its probably the best time to give his thoughts.

“well Kevins are always raging cunts aren’t they?”

you huff out a laugh, impressed by his ability to always speak his mind.

“i’m serious though” he threads his fingers in your hair and tugs lightly until you can meet his eyes. “i’ve seen him. he’s a middle aged man with a receding hairline and a beer belly, so i don’t think you should take his comments to heart babe”

“haven’t heard better inspiring words than this”

“of course, i’m the william shakespeare of our generation.” he scoffs.

“hmm, just shed a tear. no need to get so political babe” you tease wriggling your eyebrows at him.

he kisses his teeth at your teasing. fingers trailing down your body until they stop at your waist, where he immediately digs his fingers in the curve of your waist causing you to cry out. his fingers don’t let up until your gasping and squirming against him, laughing and pushing his wrists away.

he lets up his tickling in favour of slinging his arms around your front and pulling your back to his chest from where you’ve slipped down in your haste to escape his tickles. you decide to manoeuvre around, turning to face him instead.

“hi” you whisper when you’re finally facing him. situating yourself in his lap now, you wrap your arms around his shoulders to get closer to him.

he pulls a face when you lean down to press a peck on his lips. but he drops the act soon and then he’s chasing your lips again so that he can properly kiss you. threading his fingers through your hair so that he can get better access. he goes in again, claiming your lips with intensity.

you use your grip on his shoulders as leverage to pull yourself higher up his body, until you’re leaning down over him and he has to tilt his head back to allow your lips to be connected. the hand on his shoulder slips and descends down so that your nails can scratch against his chest which pulls a groan from him.

the sound from him seems to ignite your body, it spurs you on. so your hand stays at his chest clawing and grabbing while the other unoccupied hand goes to hold the back of his neck to pull him closer to you so that you can gain some control over the mind numbing kiss. in the midst of it all, it seems like your hips have a mind of their own since they grind down against him subconsciously. it doesn’t seem like he minds either with the appreciative hum he lets out against your lips.

it’s only when you mewl in his mouth that he rips his lips away from you. it’s like he gains his conscious back as his hands reach up to hold your hips in a vice grip to stop them from rolling down again and getting him more worked up.

you come back slowly too, taking in slow breaths to try and calm down your skyrocketing heartbeat. your lips are tingling profusely and you have no doubt that minho’s are the same when he reaches up to feather his fingertips over his lips. the sight of his lips, bruised from your relentless sucking, tempt you to have another taste of him.

you’re both gaining your bearings slowly, recovering from the intense moment that rid you of your breath. it’s silent in the room, safe for your low breathing when minho speaks out. his voice, now a few octaves deeper spreading tingles throughout your body.

“if we don’t get out right this instance, i don’t think i could stop and i don’t really fancy getting hot and heavy in this uncomfortable tub.” his admission hangs in the air between your heavy gazes and lewd breathing, until you both scramble out. ready to finish it into the bedroom.

the soft pattering of water from the bathroom sink tells you that minho is nearly done with his excessive skincare routine, and that he’s going to join you soon enough.

you’re still reeling over the fact that he had so easily navigated through your bad day so that it became somewhat bearable, all by doing the bare minimum. you don’t know when you had gotten so dependent on him but you’re not complaining.

you’re smiling over his antics when the man in question walks out, skin glistening from different products and you’re envious of the way his skin seems to shine under the striking light of your bedroom.

he catches you smiling and mirrors your expression as he climbs onto the bed to hover over you. “what are you smiling ‘bout huh?”

you shake your head lightly, coy smile playing at your lips when you arch off the bed to close the distance between your lips for the umpteenth time tonight.

he meets you halfway, snaking a arm behind your back to pull you flush against his chest so you don’t fall back on the bed.

your lips stay interlocked for a while, never really getting enough but eventually you’re broken apart when a chuckle escapes your lips due to minho’s hair that is so long now that it hangs around the two of you as curtains, tips of his hairs tickling your skin lightly.

he smiles at your laughter and you take your time to look at him. you think he’s the prettiest like this. when the worries of the day are stripped away from him and he’s left all tired and relaxed.

he rolls from on top of you in favour of settling down on his side of the bed, where he immediately pulls you into his side.

“you better now?” he whispers after a few moments of silence, deciding to take a gentler approach to figure out if you’re still upset.

“hm yeah, i’m better now” you smile up at him, grateful for his efforts to improve your mood. you understand that sometimes he doesn’t know what to say or how to act when you’re in one of your moods, but you acknowledge that this is the best he can do, and you’re thankful for him. “i love you baby, thank you” you lean up to leave a final peck on his lips, before settling back down into his side and snuggling impossibly close to him.

he chuckles at your cuddly state, reaching over to switch off the lamp so that you both can finally turn in for the day. he asks one last thing to reassure himself that you’re truly okay and relaxed now– recovered from whatever it is that your boss put you through.

“need anything else darling?” he asks while wrapping his arm around you securely and pulling your leg over his own, getting you even closer than before.

“just you”

⠀© hyuniyz | fav && follow

[blueberrylixie]

cherry pie

lee felix x fem! reader

word count: 9,453

content warnings: dom!felix (sort of? he's not that dom lol), power bottom reader, pet names (baby, babe), oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal penetration, pussy job (barely tho), fingering, overstimulation, voice kink, smell kink, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie (use protection kids!),

let me know if i missed anything, this one-shot really isn't that kinky tbh but i tend to miss stuff lol

Mundane. If Felix could describe his life in one word, that would be it.

Everyday was the same. He woke up to his blaring alarm (because he'd just fall back asleep if it wasn't), took a burning hot shower, and ate the same breakfast before taking the bus to his work, where he just filled out paperwork and made spreadsheets all day. Then, he came home, ordered takeout, and fell asleep. Over and over and over again.

That was, until you came into his life.

He had just gotten off the bus, and was walking back to his apartment. The bus had been twenty minutes late, and he'd gotten caught in a random rain shower, so his briefcase and suit were soaked through. He held back a yawn as he pushed open the door to the front lobby.

Felix prayed he wouldn't run into his landlord. It wasn't that she was mean persay, but she was very uptight about the rules, and liked to grill him about the condition of his apartment. He didn't think he could go another minute without throwing on his pajama pants and lounging on the couch watching Netflix.

He hopped into the elevator, and hit the button labeled "3". The complex was five floors. He didn't mind being right in the middle. The neighbors above him had dogs, and he was occasionally woken up in the middle of the night by their barking, but other than that, it was peaceful. He felt lucky for that, at least.

He stepped out onto the third level, trying to pull the key out of his pocket to let himself inside. They'd gotten stuck on a loose string, and he tried in vain to tug it loose without ruining his pants.

"Ah! Son of a bitch!"

Felix looked up, abandoning the struggle with his keys in an instant.

There you were, attempting to heave an entire queen-sized mattress through the narrow hallway, all by yourself. It had gotten stuck on the door handle of an apartment about five down from his.

Donning a pair of earth-green leggings (an image that would forever be burned into his mind) paired with a black skin-tight tank top, every one of your perfect curves was on display. As you wiped a droplet of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, he couldn't help but stare.

Everything, from your luscious thighs, completely covered in that buttery material, to your toned yet curvy stomach and hips and your slightly flushed cheeks, which seemed to only glow with sweat, was stunning.

You grinned over at him, standing up for a moment to wipe your hands on your pants. "Don't mind me," you said with a laugh, one of your hips popped to the side as you looked him up and down.

A completely unwarranted image of you underneath him, your face just as flushed and beautiful just as it was now. Only it was screwed up in a look of pure pleasure, as he thrusted in and out of you. You clutched at the sheets, letting out little moans, begging him to go harder.

"You gonna help, or just keep staring at me?"

Felix instantly snapped out of his fantasy, his face instantly heating up. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him? He hadn't even talked to you yet, and was already thinking the dirtiest thoughts imaginable. That was beyond wrong. He must be a total creep. On top of that, what if you were an awful person, or had bad manners? Or maybe you had an annoying laugh or smelled bad. Yes, he shouldn't be jumping to conclusions.

But as much as he wanted to believe that himself, he couldn't hide the uncomfortable strain of the zipper on his pants. He needed to get inside his apartment right now so you couldn't see. You would definitely think he was some kind of sicko if you found out what he was thinking.

"Oh! Of course, sorry!" Felix nearly tripped over his own feet to help you, his briefcase forgotten by the elevator.

You shot him a devastatingly devious grin. "I'm just messing with you, this is really no big deal. I wouldn't expect a busy guy like you to help me out."

"I want to help," Felix found himself assuring you, covering the lower half of his body with the mattress as he picked up one end. "Which apartment is yours?"

"Number 313," you replied, glancing down at the sheet of paper you'd managed to balance on the top of the mattress.

"Looks like we're neighbors," Felix replied, barking out a laugh. His heart started to race. What were the odds you were moving in right next door?

You beamed at him, and he felt his blood rush south again. Dammit, what was wrong with him? He wasn't usually the type of guy to get riled up this easily. But with you, this was already the second time in less than ten minutes. Get a fucking grip. He ordered himself once again.

"I really like this complex, it feels so homey," you said, attempting to grab the other end of the mattress. "Miss Haneul sure is a little... talkative, isn't she?"

Felix chuckled, caught off guard by your comment. "Yeah, she definitely likes a good conversation, especially if it's about the apartment rules."

"Yes!" You giggled, hefting the mattress into your arms and starting to walk backwards towards your door. "When I told her I didn't have any pets, it was like she thought I was hiding a dog under my shirt."

Felix nodded, trying not to focus on the way you looked when you squatted down to pick the mattress up. Was everything you did attractive?

"She doesn't really trust anyone," Felix agreed, as the two of you finally stopped outside your apartment. "But don't let her get to you, she likes to threaten every tenant here. It doesn't mean anything, she's never kicked anyone out."

You laughed, and it was like a symphony to his ears. He decided his new goal in life was getting you to make that sound as often as possible, because it made him so happy. The happiest he'd been in months.

"I'll keep that in mind when I bring my dog here next week," you joked. "For real, do you think she'd be pissed if I got one? I've always wanted a pet!"

"She may have a heart attack, but she'll get over it," Felix joked back.

You smiled, taking your key out and unlocking the door before starting to shove the mattress through.

"Thank you for your help!" You said, gazing at him with sparkling eyes. "It means a lot, you taking the time to help a complete stranger. But I bet you're really tired. I can do the rest."

"I'm really not too tired, and I don't mind helping," Felix said. "Besides, we're not really strangers. We're neighbors now, right?"

You laughed and nodded. "You're right! What's your name, neighbor?"

"I'm Felix," he said, embarrassed that he hadn't even introduced himself yet.

You smiled, extending your hand and telling him your name. It was beautiful, he thought to himself as he repeated your name over and over in his head.

And he found that he wasn't lying. His exhaustion had completely vanished. On the ride up here, he'd wanted nothing more than to chill on the couch and watch tv with a bowl of ramen. But now, he felt like he could throw a party, maybe run a few miles, even stay up all night. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so energized.

"If you're gonna offer, then I wouldn't mind the help," you agreed, tugging the mattress through the door to let him inside.

Your apartment was the mirror image of his. The kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom were all on the same wall as his, with the living room on the opposite side. He found himself wondering how you would decorate the place, what home looked like to you.

After the two of you got the mattress into the bedroom, you lie down on it, letting your legs and arms sprawl out.

Giving a huge sigh of relief, you smiled up at him once more. Seeing you lying on the bed like that, an image of his earlier delusions flashed through his mind, and he gulped. It was almost like you were trying to tease him.

"Are you leaving your bed on the floor?" Felix asked you, trying to banish the dirty thoughts.

You shook your head, your hair fanning out around you. "No, my... boyfriend bought me a headboard and bed frame, but it hasn't come in yet. Actually, most of my stuff hasn't arrived. The mattress was the last thing I have right now."

So you had a boyfriend.

Of course you did. Someone as stunning, nice, and funny as you wouldn't be single.

Felix tried not to let himself feel disappointed. He'd just met you. It would be weird for him to care so much.

He should leave.

Just then, you motioned to him, patting the bed. "Since we're neighbors, you should already feel at home, right? My apartment is the same as yours."

Leave! Leave! Leave! His brain chanted, attempting to steer him towards the door.

But being your friend was better than nothing, right?

Ignoring his sensible side, Felix sat down next to you. As he did so, he was immediately wreathed in the scent of something warm and sweet. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it made his stomach flip. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Here, getting to know you.

Even if he couldn't be with you, he could be near you.

The two of you spent the next hour talking and laughing, learning about one another.

You were a yoga instructor at a new studio down the block. This was your first instructing job since you passed the course a month ago, and you were nervous to start your practice. You didn't think anyone would show up. He assured you it would work out. He didn't tell you, but he could tell just from your energy that you cared. He would make sure you succeeded.

You were very interested in him. You wanted to know everything. What his interests were. Did he have any close friends? What did he do for a living? He felt embarrassed that his job was so boring compared to yours, but you didn't seem to care. But it was when he mentioned that he liked to bake that your eyes lit up.

"I wish I could bake! Ever since I burned a batch of chocolate chip cookies, my boyfriend won't let me back in the kitchen. He says I'm a hazard," you ducked your head at that, looking sad for the first time since he'd met you.

"I could teach you," Felix offered before he could stop himself. He needed to control himself, shouldn't be inserting himself into your life in this way. But he felt a compulsive need to be something to you that no one else - especially your boyfriend - could. He found himself wanting to be someone for you, no matter how small.

You beamed at him and nodded, bouncing up and down on the bed a little. "I would love that! But be warned, I'm a major beginner. You might need to invest in some new pans after I'm done."

Before Felix knew it, it was getting dark outside, and when you stood up to turn on the bedroom light, he stood too.

"I should probably go," he said, not wanting to intrude any longer. "I have to eat dinner, and I've got work tomorrow."

You nodded in understanding. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I didn't know! I bet you were bored out of your mind tonight."

You led him to the door, that delicious scent wafting after you like a pastry. He took a deep breath, not wanting to forget that smell. Your smell.

"Thanks for keeping me company tonight," you looked down at your feet, which were covered in purple cat-print socks. Felix couldn't help but find that adorable, storing that information away in a compartment of his brain now made specifically for you. "I-I don't have a lot of friends, so it was nice to spend time with someone so nice."

Your cheeks dusted with pink, you reached your arms out like you were going to give him a hug.

Felix froze as your arms circled around his waist. He could feel your chest pressing against him, and he had to fight to control his arousal. He would rather die than let you know how he felt about you, this early into your relationship.

He slowly put his arms around you too, feeling your small shape meld perfectly with his. His chest felt tight as he fought the growing attraction he felt towards you. You fit so well against him.

As Felix walked the few feet to his own apartment, he couldn't stop smiling. His cheeks hurt from the new sensation. He couldn't remember when he'd last spent so much time with someone else who wasn't his coworkers. It felt good.

As he lie alone in bed, thoughts of you invaded his mind. And not for the first time that night. In fact, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about you since he left your apartment.

He'd never met someone that he connected with in the same way as you. The chemistry was instantaneous. You were kind, funny, and passionate. And what was more, you were actually interested in him and his life, too. He wasn't anything special. But you made him feel like he could be.

And holy hell, you were gorgeous. Naturally, that was the first thing he'd noticed about you. Your petite, curvy figure paired with that bright, optimistic smile was now imprinted on his mind. No wonder you were taken.

He should stop thinking about you like that. Just letting you infiltrate his mind was getting his hopes up in a way he shouldn't. He barely knew you. Plus, he had impossibly high standards when it came to dating. You'd probably do something that turned him off, and that would be the end of it.

But those godforsaken leggings. They hugged you in just the right places, your tight, round ass bouncing just slightly as you bent down to pick up the mattress, your perky breasts pressed up against the black fabric of your tank top. That bright grin you sent his way whenever he said something even remotely funny.

Fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the memories that threatened to overtake him. His hard cock pressed against the front of his boxers, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop it.

Maybe I just need to jerk off. Felix thought, raking a hand through his already sweaty hair. Let off some steam.

It had been a long time since he'd masturbated, let alone had sex with anyone. Work took up so much of his time nowadays, he never went out. And by the time he got home, he was so exhausted, he usually just ate dinner and passed out.

Yeah, that must be it. Just jerk off, go to sleep, and feel better in the morning.

Felix slid a tentative hand into his boxers, wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock. Letting out a hiss, a mix of pain and pleasure, he began to stroke himself up and down.

Starting off slow, he tried to keep his mind off of you. But inevitably, his mind kept wandering back, to the way your tits bounced as you jumped onto the bed, the intoxicating smell of you when you hugged him goodbye, the way your chest pressed against him...

As he started jerking himself harder, those memories quickly morphed into fantasy. You sitting on his cock, bouncing up and down, moaning his name, squeezing those perfect breasts as you begged him to go deeper, move faster.

He thrusted into his hand, imagining he was hammering into your wet cunt as your moans turned into incoherent whimpers.

"Felix!" He could practically hear you gasp.

"Fuck," Felix bit out through gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice down. He imagined how tight you would be, squeezing him in just the right way.

"Please, go faster," you'd whine, and he would reach up to play with your tits as you cried out in pleasure.

Felix's breaths came in short, labored gasps as he thrusted harder and harder, the image of your moans turning to whimpers as you neared the top of the cliff.

"I-I think I'm close Lix," you'd pant, pressing your hands against his sweat-covered chest as your entire body shuddered above him.

Felix opened his mouth to say something, but only a loud moan escaped. "Baby, baby," he growled, fucking upwards like his life depended on it. "Shit, I'm gonna-"

He thrusted a few more times, his hips moving in stuttered jerks, before spurts of white liquid stained the front of his boxers, and he fell back onto the bed, gasping like he'd run the length of a football field.

He changed his boxers, before collapsing back down, exhausted, and passing out.

——————————————

Three weeks came and went. Felix continued to work at the same place, eat breakfast at the same time, and fall asleep alone in his apartment.

But now you were right here, next door. Things were somehow exactly the same, yet completely different with you around. You'd invited him over about a dozen times since your first meeting. You'd tried your hand at cooking that first day, which ended up with the oven nearly exploding, and only a charred casserole to show for it. After that, Felix had brought you over to his place for dinner, or you'd ordered in. You were a huge tv show buff, forcing him to watch a bunch of Korean survival shows with you. While they wouldn't usually be his cup of tea, he found himself enjoying them. Anything with you was fun. His life felt a thousand times fuller with you in it.

He had given up hope a long time ago of ever being with you. He just wanted to be around you, be in your presence. Make you laugh or smile, and if being your friend was the only way he could accomplish that, then so be it.

Felix would never tell you about what he did that first night after he met you. Or rather, what he'd done every night since then, with his hand wrapped around his cock, growling your name under his breath as he thought of you in every filthy position imaginable.

They were just fantasies. And that was all they'd be. And he was okay with that.

One day, almost exactly three weeks since you'd moved in, Felix was baking a cherry pie. It was the weekend, and seeing as he never had plans on the weekend, he'd decided he wanted to try his hand at baking. It had been awhile since he'd baked anything, but he was feeling in an especially good mood. Yesterday, you had fallen asleep on his shoulder during the finale of one of your favorite shows. He could still feel your rhythmic breaths against his neck as he stared at the tv, trying not to look down at you.

He'd thought about that all night, as he pleasured himself to what at this point had become an alternate version of you. A parallel universe in which you were single, and interested in him.

Now, he was mixing together the dry ingredients for the pie crust before he could mix it together and put the filling inside. He'd forgotten just how much baking calmed him down.

But right as he had placed the dough in the pie plate, there was a knock at the door.

After he recovered from the near heart attack the loud noise gave him, he hurried over and pulled the door open.

You stood there, wearing a pair of brown sweatpants and a plain white cropped tank top. He gaped at you, for a second unsure of what to say.

"H-hi," you said, your voice wavering for a moment. It was then that he saw how red your eyes were. Had you been crying?

"Are you okay?" He blurted. He'd never seen you look even remotely upset. The saddest he'd ever seen you was when your favorite idol from one of your survival shows got eliminated. But he'd never seen you cry. He decided he hated it. He definitely wasn't a violent person, but he wanted to punch whoever made you feel like this.

You nodded, trying to smile. But your lip wobbled as you did so, and he swore he would break down every door in this complex to figure out who the hell was responsible.

"C-can I come in?" You asked, peering inside his apartment nervously. "If you're busy, I can go."

He shook his head, immediately letting you inside.

You walked into the kitchen, rubbing your arms with your hands like you were a stranger, despite having been in his apartment multiple times.

You stopped and smelled the air. "Are you baking?" You asked, sounding like your normal self for the first time that day.

He nodded. "Cherry pie. I thought it could be fun, since I haven't baked in forever."

Your eyes brightened slightly. "When we first met, you said you'd teach me how to bake."

"You're right, I did," Felix chuckled. "I can't believe you remember that."

"I remember everything from the day we met."

You stared at him boldly, the remnants of tears starting to dry on your cheeks, leaving only a slight shimmer behind. He stared back, unable to look away. There had always been something alluring about your eyes. It was like you were trying to hypnotize him.

"R-right," Felix cleared his throat. "Well, I could teach you today, if you'd like."

You smiled, coming to stand next to him. You were close, too close.

He tried to subtly move away. Being that close to you was still intoxicating.

You were taken, he had to stay hands-off. And that was near impossible with your soft skin brushing against him.

"No one has ever wanted to teach me anything before," you said, staring at the pie plate with the unbaked crust sitting inside it.

"What about your boyfriend?" Felix asked. "Why did he give up so quickly?"

"He's uhh..." you paused, eyes laser-focused on the pie. "He's not my boyfriend anymore."

Silence fell over the two of you. Felix's mouth was so dry, he couldn't say anything even if he wanted to. Should he console you? Tell you "good riddance, that guy sucked anyway"? They both sounded grossly inappropriate.

"So, what do we do next?" You interrupted his thoughts, pointing at the pie.

"Oh!" Felix hurried back over to you, nearly slipping in his socks. "We take the cherry pie filling and put it in the crust, then we do a lattice pattern over the top with the leftover dough."

"Cherry pie is my favorite," you commented, poking a finger into the filling and tasting it. "That's sooo good! Did you make it yourself?"

If it was anyone else, Felix would have given them major side-eye for eating cherry filling with their hands like that. But this was you. His heart squeezed and his face heated up from the praise.

"Y-yeah, it's really not that hard," he scratched the back of his neck, trying to hide his blush.

You smiled up at him, dipping your finger back in and putting it in front of his face, like you wanted him to try.

He stared back at you, dumbfounded. Did you really want him to eat off your finger?

He guessed he must have stared at you for too long, because you shrugged and retracted your finger, before eating it yourself. He caught his breath, trying to calm his hammering heartbeat. Jesus, what were you doing to him?

"Fine, you wanna feed me instead?" You asked, the hint of a smirk appearing on your mischievous face. You held the bowl out to him.

You'd done cheeky things like this before, to the point that he wasn't sure if you were playing with him or not. Since you had a boyfriend, he'd just assumed you were a naturally flirty person.

Now that he thought about it, this wasn't the first time you'd come over with especially red eyes. He knew you didn't smoke or do drugs, and you usually played it off, saying it was allergies or something, so he'd just ignored it. But maybe this wasn't the first time you'd had boyfriend problems.

And now you were single - you'd just said it a couple minutes ago.

Maybe it was okay to hope again. He sure as hell wanted that. Because if he was being honest with himself, he'd never really stopped.

So he dipped his finger into the bowl, hygiene be damned, and offered you a taste.

You leaned forward and captured his finger between your lips. You sucked lightly on his fingertip, swirling your tongue along the surface of his skin, removing all the fruity syrup. When you released him and stepped back, an even more obvious smirk painted your stunning face.

Felix's heartbeat raced so hard he wondered if he was going to pass out. That had to have been on purpose. You were flirting with him.

And of course, it was working. His cock, which had been more active in the past three weeks than it had in his entire life, hardened instantly. The sensation of your wet tongue against his skin brought all of those dirty thoughts that constantly simmered in the back of his mind come exploding to the forefront. All he wanted to do was bend you over this counter and-

"Can I put the cherry filling in the crust now?" You asked, nodding at the bowl still in your hands.

"Uh- we have to um... yeah, put the filling in," Felix blustered, taking the bowl from you. That expression on your face as you looked him over, as if you knew exactly what he was thinking.

The two of you spent the rest of the day baking not one, but two cherry pies. He demanded that you take one home, and just bring the pie plate back when you were done. He hoped the gesture would remind you of him. And, even better, it gave him an excuse to see you, soon.

"If you're sure!" You held the pie in your right hand as you walked towards the door, your cheeks rosy from the warm kitchen. "If it's gross, I'm blaming you."

You stood on your tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek, before opening the door with your free hand and walking out.

Felix stared after you, trying to process what the hell had just happened. Your scent still lingered all throughout the apartment, and he couldn't help but breathe deeply as he dissected the entire day.

Did you just kiss him on the cheek? And had you just spent the entire afternoon baking in his apartment? And maybe even flirted with him, multiple times?

As he packed away his pie and continued to reflect, he had to admit one thing to himself.

He was falling for you. And he should just let it happen.

——————————————

Felix knew he should feel ashamed that he had come to look forward to his alone time right before bed. It had become something of a nighttime ritual. Every time he would cum to those filthy thoughts of you, he would tell himself  "never again." But before he knew it, he was back, staring at the ceiling of his room, unable to stop thinking about you, and what he wanted to do with you. It had become a delusion, one he knew would never come true.

But now, after today? Felix didn't know where you two stood. Even he, who had been described by multiple friends as "miserably dense", had caught onto the fact that you were flirting with him. And as much as he tried to stay pessimistic, he couldn't help but let a desperate hope sneak back into his mind.

It was probably because of this hope that he couldn't even wait until after his shower, before his cock was heavy with need. He was so hard it physically ached.

As he stood in the shower under the hot water, he ran desperate fingers along his tip, arousing himself further. His hips jerked forward instinctively as hungry images of you, pushed up against the shower wall, flashed through his mind. Could it be at all possible that you might want this too? Did you think about him in this way?

"I've been waiting for this," he imagined you gasp against his neck as he pressed his mouth along every inch of your body that he could reach.

"Fuck, please," he moaned your name much louder than he'd meant to as he rocked his hips back and forth. All he could think about was you. Your touch, your smell, your taste.

It was all too much.

He gripped the wall with one hand, the other stroking his rock hard cock, frantically trying to satisfy his never-ending craving for you. He raced closer and closer to the precipice of his orgasm, his voice growing hoarse from the low, desperate growls of your name. He hoped his voice was drowned out by the pattering of the shower on his back. But as he came with a few shuddering thrusts, thinking of nothing but the vivid image of your tight cunt clenching around him, he couldn't find it in him to care.

——————————————

Fuck, today had exhausted you.

You'd broken up with your boyfriend for the last time, had a breakdown in your car, impulse bought a new vibrator, and barged in on your hot-as-shit next door neighbor. And that was all before noon.

All of it was a long time coming, honestly. Your boyfriend - now ex-boyfriend - was a steaming piece of shit, and you should have ditched him a long time ago. He'd been jealous of the amount of time you spent with Felix over the past few weeks, and after numerous fights and yelling matches, that had been the last straw.

But he'd been right in the end, hadn't he?

You would much rather spend time with the sweet, funny, adorable, new neighbor than your cranky, gym-rat boyfriend with a high sex drive, but low drive to give oral sex, anyday.

Not to mention Felix was frustratingly ignorant to how irresistibly sexy he was. How was that possible? He could probably charm the pants off of a sewer rat, and yet he spent most of his time at work, or holed up in his apartment by himself.

You had wondered, on multiple occasions, how experienced he was in bed.

Not that you'd mind no matter what. There was an appeal to someone inexperienced. But you had a feeling, or maybe it was just your dirty mind playing tricks on you, that he was better in bed than he let on.

You groaned, stretching your arms across the top of the couch, trying to distract yourself. How many times had you thought about getting Lee Felix into bed with you?

You knew that had probably made you a bad girlfriend, but it wasn't like your ex was any better. You hadn't cheated on him once, even when he'd gaslit you into staying with him months longer than you wanted to. Plus, you knew he was at least flirting with multiple girls at the gym, and stayed out past five in the morning everyday partying without you, so you didn't find yourself feeling sorry at all.

How could you, when Felix was literally the perfect man?

Not only had he cooked you your favorite meals, watched your favorite tv shows, and laughed at all of your shitty jokes, but he taught you how to bake. That was something that your ex, or anyone else, had never done.

Felix was special. He seemed to understand you on a deeper level than anyone else ever had. And you'd only known him for three weeks.

You sighed, heading into the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for bed.

It was probably wishful thinking, imagining all these things about your next door neighbor. You'd been stupid enough to stay in a shitty relationship for so long, he'd probably never see you as anything other than a fun hang, maybe even one of the guys. Yikes.

But as much as you didn't want to believe that, he'd never even slightly responded to any of your flirty advances. Even today, after you admitted that you were single again, he didn't seem to be interested. It kind of sucked to get rejected like that, but you supposed you couldn't be mad at him. It was your fault, anyway.

But as you started to brush your teeth, you heard a noise through the wall that almost made you choke on your toothbrush.

A moan. A really loud one. And it was coming through the wall. From Felix's apartment.

You paused, toothbrush still in your mouth, waiting to see if more sounds would come. Maybe you'd imagined it. Maybe you were getting your hopes up, wishing so badly that he might think about you the same way you thought about him, that you were actually going crazy.

Because honestly, who wouldn't think about getting Felix in bed?

But you supposed if you could hear him so clearly through the wall in your bathroom, he wasn't in bed. It was a little early to be going to sleep anyway, you supposed.

Straining your ears to try and see if you could hear anything else, you thought there was the faint sound of the pipes pulling water into his bathroom. You had noticed that you could occasionally hear when your neighbors flushed the toilet or turned on the sink.

So was he taking a shower?

God, there was something so irresistibly sexy about Felix masturbating in the shower. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep the images of the water hitting his back, steam surrounding his lean, muscular figure as he pleasured himself, at bay. Your core throbbed at the thought.

It was such a filthy thing to be doing, getting turned on by your next door neighbor, who you hadn't even known for an entire month. It was wrong, wasn't it?

"Fuck, fuck..."

You heard it again. Only this time, something else accompanied those sworn oaths that made your entire body heat up.

Your name.

If he kept growling with that hoarse, raspy voice, holy hell, you could cum from that alone.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you struggled to breathe. Did you hear that correctly? Was Felix touching himself, and thinking about you while he did so? You washed your mouth out and put your toothbrush back, but you were unable to get the sound of his moans out of your head. Your panties were absolutely soaked already, and he hadn't done anything to you yet. You hadn't even seen him. How could he affect you this badly?

What were you supposed to do in this situation? You stood in front of the mirror, refusing to leave, just in case you might catch something else.

You heard the sounds come again, louder this time. Your name spilled from his lips over and over, and you could tell he was getting close.

All you wanted to do was go over there and provide the satisfaction the both of you clearly needed.

There had been many nights when you'd been sexually and emotionally frustrated, either after you had a fight, or even really bad sex, with your ex, and couldn't resist touching yourself. And as much as you'd tried to think solely about your now-ex, your mind kept slipping to Felix. His low, gravelly voice (damn, you really couldn't stop thinking about that, could you?) when he joked with you, the way his hand accidentally brushed your thigh when you sat on the couch together, the smell of his shampoo. Everything about him was so hot. And the knowledge that he wanted you too was unraveling your self control much too quickly.

You heard another moan, this one more strangled, almost choked, than the others. You closed your eyes, sliding your hand into your pajama shorts. If he was thinking about you while he touched himself, then it couldn't be too weird for you to do the same, right?

You lost yourself in the sounds of his borderline tortured pleasure, like he also didn't want to be touching himself in this way, but couldn't control himself. There was something so sexy about his gritted out moans and groans that drove you absolutely crazy.

You tried rubbing your own clit, imagining it was Felix touching you instead, but it didn't work. Your fingers paled in comparison to the real thing. You needed him. And it was clear that he needed you. You pulled your hands away from your body and fixed your shorts.

And as you lingered for a few more seconds to listen to Felix finish, relishing in those aching grunts, you decided there was only one option: you were going over there to take what you wanted. Or rather, what Felix had so kindly begged of you.

——————————————

Felix sat on the couch after his shower. He felt a lot less frustrated than before, but he still wasn't satisfied.

He needed more. He needed you.

A knock came from his door. He checked the clock. It was nearly 10pm, much too late to be getting visitors. Not that he got any normally.

Peering through the peephole, he saw you, and his heart sped up tenfold. What could you want at such a late hour?

There could really only be one thing, right? But no, he couldn't get his hopes up. There were surely other possibilities. You could have had another fight with your ex. You could have gotten locked out of your apartment. Anything except what he needed, needed so badly he physically ached.

But when he opened the door, he knew.

"H-hi Lix," you said, staring up at him.

Your cheeks were flushed hazy pink, your eyes wide and glassy, lips slightly puffy and swollen, like you'd been biting them. You were in a cozy gray tank top and matching pajama shorts. Like you'd been getting ready for bed.

You'd heard him.

Of course you did. He hadn't exactly been quiet about his intense pleasure, and you had adjoining bathrooms. If you'd been brushing your teeth or showering at the same time, there was no way you missed his loud groans. And he'd said your name. There was no questioning his feelings.

He opened his mouth to say something, to ask you if you'd heard him, see if you wanted to come inside and talk about it. Maybe you could still be friends after all this. Maybe you wouldn't absolutely hate him.

But before he could say anything, you stepped inside, slammed the door shut, and launched yourself at him.

As you pressed your lips against his, his mind went blank. You tasted sweet and desperate, as if you'd been waiting for this too. Pulling himself out of his shock, he kissed you back, flipping the two of you around and shoving you against the wall next to the door.

You let out a small gasp, but didn't protest as you wrapped your legs around his waist and deepened the kiss. Your tongue pressed against his mouth, and he opened willingly, biting your bottom lip while grabbing your ass to hold you up. Fuck, was this really happening? His mind was a blur as he let his own tongue explore your mouth, taking in your smell and taste.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" He breathed, sliding his hand into your hair to pull you closer.

"I-I heard you," you gasped between your tangled mouths. "And I had to. I've been thinking about this for so long." You slid your arms around his neck, finally breaking the kiss, breathed heavily. "I-I've wanted you so bad."

Felix unwittingly let out a soft moan as he gazed into your eyes, which were blown-out in pleasure. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this too. I can't believe you're really here. I didn't know you heard me..."

You giggled. "Of course I did, you were really loud."

Felix blushed, ducking his head. "A-and what did you think?"

"It was the hottest thing I've ever heard," you said softly, brushing your lips against his neck. He shivered, leaning into your touch.

"I'm glad you broke up with your boyfriend," Felix murmured, one hand moving to your waist and squeezing. "He was an asshole."

"Let's not talk about him tonight," you whispered, meeting his gaze. "I want this to be about you and me."

He nodded. "I'd like that," he agreed, his heart picking up again. He'd been right. You were here to see him, to be with him. And even though he was scared shitless, he was ready.

"Are you sure you want this?" You ran a finger down his arm. "I don't want to pressure you into anything, I just thought that- because of- you might want me as much as I want you."

"Yes," Felix said instantly. "With you, always yes."

You opened your mouth to reply, your face red with delight.

Before you could say anything, Felix kissed you with as much fervor as he'd been dreaming about. Knowing that you wanted him too, he couldn't hold back anymore.

You moaned against him, opening your mouth to him once more, grinding your hips against him in slow, sensual rolls.

"F-fuck," he gasped in surprise, his cock already straining against his sweatpants. "That feels so good."

"Yeah?" You said against his mouth, smirking as you moved harder. "Tell me what you want, Lix. Tell me how you like it."

"I-I just want you," Felix breathed, starting to move his hips back against you to counter your movements. "Please, I need you."

"But what exactly do you want, Lix?" You blushed. "I want you to feel good."

Felix looked down sheepishly. "I-I just want to smell you. You smell so good."

You grinned, hopping out of his grip and instantly onto the floor, kneeling in front of him. You still hadn't moved more than a few feet from the front door, but Felix didn't care. There was something so much hotter about the urgency at which you moved, like you were dying for a taste of him.

You started pulling his pants down, along with his boxers. The image of you on your knees for him was one of the lewdest things he'd ever seen, and he nearly came at the sight.

As you tugged his boxers off, his throbbing cock sprang free in front of your face. The tip was already red and angry, leaking precum, and you licked it away. As you took him by the base of his shaft, a hiss of pain escaped his lips. A confident smirk on your face, you stroked him once from the base to the tip, before sliding your mouth around him.

"Oh shit," Felix forced out, his hand finding purchase in your hair. He didn't know if he wanted to push you away or pull you forward, to make you choke on his dick. "Please, more."

You obeyed, taking as much of him as you could and sucking hard, your tongue swirling along the tip. Your hand stroked him up and down on the part of him that your mouth couldn't fit.

The pleasure was so intense, Felix thought he was going to explode in your mouth right away. He took deep breaths, starting to thrust his dick in and out of your perfect, wet mouth.

"God, you're so perfect," he gasped, fisting your hair as you gagged on his length over and over, saliva dripping down your chin. "You feel even better than I imagined."

"You're so big, Lix," you gasped around him, your free hand massaging his balls as you continued to take him, hard and fast.

"Ah shit, I'm gonna cum," he gritted his teeth, pulling you off him. "I don't want to finish yet, baby."

You stood up, playfully frowning. "But what if I wanted you to cum in my mouth?"

He groaned, pressing his lips against yours in response, breathing in your scent. You smelled even more amazing than he remembered, your usual sweet scent now mixed with musky sweat. Before he could stop himself, he licked your neck, wanting to taste you. Fuck, you tasted like candy.

"Let me pleasure you, baby," he growled, starved eyes meeting yours. Before you could protest, he tugged your pants off and ripped your panties, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

"Fuck, yes please," you gasped as he lifted your leg up. Your hand ran through his hair as you gazed down at him, eyes wide and face flushed. You looked like a wild mess, even hotter than his fantasies.

Now eye level with your cunt, which was already drenched with arousal, he'd never seen something so perfect in his life. He wet his lips before licking a stripe across your clit.

"Felix-" you gasped, tugging on his hair. It was slightly painful, but he didn't care. "More, please."

Felix immediately buried his mouth in your pussy, sucking and biting at your clit, sliding his tongue in and out of you.

"Can you use your fingers?" You moaned, your hips moving back and forth against him.

He slid one finger inside your tight cunt, then a second. You were already so tight. Just the thought of his cock fitting inside made him even harder. He wanted to touch himself, but instead he focused all of his desire on you.

He continued to suck on your clit, pumping his fingers in and out of you at the rhythm that made you whimper his name the loudest and pull his hair the hardest. He thrusted his fingers in as far as they would go, until they hit a spongey part inside of you that made you cry out in pleasure.

"Shit, Lix I-I'm close, please," you panted, riding his fingers and mouth as you desperately tried to reach your climax.

"Cum for me baby," he ordered, continuing to lick and suck on your swollen clit. Your hips were shaking so hard he wondered if he should slow down, but your cries of pleasure told him not to.

With a few broken wails of his name, you fell apart, nearly collapsing against him as your legs gave out, and a rush of wetness spread across his tongue. You tasted perfect, sweet and tangy. He kept licking your clit until you whimpered from overstimulation, pushing him away gently.

He barely had time to wipe his mouth clean before you pulled him close, kissing him over and over again. His hands rested on your waist, his breaths coming in quick gasps as you nibbled on his bottom lip, just as desperate as before.

"Please Lix," you mumbled against his mouth. "I need you."

It took him a second to realize what you were saying. You were really standing in front of him, lips kiss-bitten and swollen, asking him to fuck you.

"You don't have to ask me twice," Felix chuckled breathlessly, before picking you up by the waist and carrying you to his bedroom.

He threw you down on the bed as gently as he could. As you laid in front of him, bare from the waist down, he couldn't help but think of you, lying on your bed the first day you met. You'd looked ethereal to him then. Somehow, you were even more beautiful now, almost otherworldly. He felt like he really knew you. You were more than just a pretty face. You were smart, determined, and incredibly kind. He never would have guessed he would be here with you, like this.

You motioned for him to join you on the bed, and he obeyed, coming to stand at the edge of the bed above you. Grinning, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you. At first, he was scared he might crush you, but with your legs around his waist, your bare pussy rubbing up against his semi-hard cock, all coherent thought vanished. It was only you.

"Please, Lix," you whimpered, sucking harsh kisses up and down his neck. "I'll beg if I have to."

He laughed softly, pulling your shirt over your head. "I want to see you first," he whispered, cupping one of your full, perfect breasts in his hand. "You're so beautiful."

You blushed, but didn't respond. "If you get to see me like this, I want your shirt off too," You replied, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

He helped you to remove his shirt too. He usually didn't like others seeing him like this, but with you, it felt completely natural. Comfortable even.

You smiled, running your hands up and down his chest. "I've always wanted to know what you looked like shirtless," you said, raking your gaze up and down his entire body. He felt heat rise on his face, but he didn't mind. He just wanted you. His cock, which had started to harden earlier, was rock solid now. Just seeing you completely naked made him want to destroy you.

You climbed on top of him, your legs straddling his torso. "Fuck, you're so big," you murmured, rubbing your wet clit up and down his length, coating him in your arousal. "You feel so good, babe."

Felix groaned, the lewd sounds of your pussy sliding along his cock exciting him even further. "We'll go as slow as you need."

You shook your head. "No, I don't want to go slow."

You gripped the base of his cock, before lowering yourself onto him. You let out a loud moan, throwing your head back as you slid further onto him. "Oh shit, yes! Fuck, you fill me so good, baby."

Felix tried to hold your waist, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't get a good grip. Your tight, wet cunt practically sucked him in as you impaled yourself deeper and deeper onto him.

"You feel even better than I imagined," Felix panted, starting to thrust up into you. You felt so good, he couldnt control himself as he went even harder. "I'm gonna ruin you, angel."

You whined at his words, your hands going to your breasts as you squeezed them, pinching the nipples and moaning. "Yes, faster Lix, please!"

Felix grabbed you around the waist, pulling you down so you laid on top of him, both of your chests pressed together. He breathed against your neck, smelling that warm scent that he loved so much. Fuck, fuck. He thought to himself as he thrusted harder and harder into you, slamming his cock in and out of your tight hole.

"You smell so good baby," he gasped, his hips stuttering as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm him.

"Lix, lix," you chanted his name like your life depended on it. Your hair fell over his face as you pressed your lips feverishly against his, whimpering into his mouth as you bounced faster and faster on top of him.

The slapping sound of flesh on flesh, mixed with the squelching of your soaked pussy, continued as he hammered into you, your name exploding from his mouth over and over again as you got wetter and wetter, your arousal dripping down his cock and onto the sheets.

"I-I want you on top," you whimpered. "I want you to fuck me so hard that I'm screaming your name."

"F-fuck baby, you're driving me crazy," Felix breathed, thrusting into you one more time before he flipped you over, digging your back into the mattress. "God, you look so sexy underneath me."

"I like being under you, baby," you smirked up at him. He grabbed your face and pressed your lips back together. Your tongue invaded his mouth as he sucked on your lower lip, your bodies still attached.

Felix rested above you, using his arms to prop himself up.

"Just to warn you," he began, his voice hoarse. "When I'm on top, I tend to lose control. I don't do gentle."

Your eyes lit up like it was a challenge. "Good, I don't want you to."

Felix's cock throbbed at your words. Were you trying to kill him?

He started off slow, trying to tether himself to a rope to start. He didn't want to scare you away. No matter how confident you were, he didn't want to go too hard and hurt you.

"Tell me if it's too much," he rasped into your ear as he started to move.

"Mm," you nodded, instantly wrapping your legs around him, pulling him close so he went in hilt-deep. "Faster, please."

Felix smirked. "We're on my time now, baby."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't object.

He closed his eyes, starting to speed up. The feeling of his hard cock thrusting in and out of your tight pussy was driving him insane. His hips lifted up and down as he fucked you harder, the bed bouncing up and down as he went.

"Fuck, yes Lix!" You cried out, your fingers digging into his back, nails scratching at his bare skin so hard it left angry, red marks. "You feel so fucking good!"

"Yes baby, yes," Felix grunted, opening his eyes to gaze down at you. Your eyes were squeezed shut, mouth open in a half-moan of pleasure. "You feel so damn good babe."

"Just like that babe," you panted, pushing his head down to your bare breasts. He took the invitation eagerly, bringing a nipple to his lips and sucking. You gasped, bucking your hips up against his in response. He growled against your skin, his hips stuttering at your sound of pleasure as he increased his speed even more. He bit your nipple a little rougher than he meant, causing you to squeal, your cunt tightening around him like a vice.

"Please Lix, please," you begged, rocking your hips desperately against his. "I-I'm gonna cum!"

"Wait for me, baby," he growled, and you nodded, a quiet whimper escaping your lips as you pulled him closer to you, his cock driving impossibly deeper into your tight cunt.

He switched to your other nipple, pounding his length into you as hard as he could. You felt so fucking good, he couldn't stop. He buried his face in your neck, breathing as deep as he could as he lost himself in the warm wetness of your body.

His hips began to stutter and his chest shook, and he knew he was close. "Fuck baby, cum for me," he snarled, biting your neck as he did so.

"Please, please babe, fuck me, fuck me," you sobbed, pressing your lips against him. "I-I'm gonna cum, Lix I-" you stopped mid sentence, your pussy squeezing around him so tight he could barely breathe. Your entire body shook as you cried out his name, before you exploded around him, your whole body quaking from the power of your orgasm.

"You're so perfect baby," he grunted, his voice breaking as he fucked you with so much power, your entire body shook. He thrusted brokenly in and out twice, before releasing inside of you.

You shuddered at the sensation as he slowly pulled out, the white liquid dripping out of your soaked cunt.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close. He dug his nose into your hair, nuzzling into your neck.

"Fuck, thank god I'm on birth control," you said, letting out a soft laugh as you wrapped a leg around his waist. "That was even better than my fantasies."

Felix laughed against you and nodded. "Hell yeah. Can we go again?"

You smiled at him, nodding vigorously.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, soaking in each other's presence.

Suddenly, you turned to him."Why do you like my scent so much?"

Felix shrugged, breathing in once again. You still smelled fucking amazing. "I dunno, you just smell really good. Comforting."

You giggled, bringing his mouth to yours in a deep kiss.

It was at that moment that he realized what you smelled like.

Cherry pie.

laska's note —

eek! this was my first ever published smut one-shot here on tumblr, and i really like how it turned out! what did y'all think? was it too long? would you have liked even more character development? please give me all your honest feedback because i want to hear it! i love you guys and thank you for your support as i try out writing new stuff! i am not taking requests yet, but if this post does well or people really want it, then i might think about it! ily mwah!

[tobyisave]

Trust & Insecurity in Kiibo & Miu's relationship

(In response to @strawberrysweater ! Thanks for opening this can of worms and sorry for this huge post lmaooo)

To preface this: I do love them together!! I just enjoy looking for the places they might clash at times if they were actually in a relationship... So this is about the things that keep them from fully understanding/trusting each other. And ofc this is just my interpretation!!

My short answer:

(1) Miu only thinks she is valuable as an inventor and sexual object, (2) Most people only care about Kiibo as a scientific novelty, and (3) they both have JUST enough evidence to convince themselves that this is also how they view each other. Even if deep down they're only playing these roles in an attempt to get closer to another human being.

On top of that, even though they're especially vulnerable with each other, I think there's still a lot of misunderstanding between them that would be difficult for them to reconcile. First because they have some genuine points of conflict, and second because they each have problems communicating and reading people (i.e. reality distorting levels of abandonment issues & obligatory robot autism coding, respectively)

Elaboration under the cut:

PART A - Insecurities

You can see (1) and (2) a bit in their other relationships:

Miu is of course hypersexual at all times, and she gives inventions to Shuichi (FTE) and her fantasy lover (love suite) because, as she confesses herself, inventing stuff is the only way she knows how to show affection for other people besides offering them her body.

Her inventions and hypersexuality are also the only explicit points of connection between her and Kokichi, arguably the only other character she is remotely close to besides Kiibo and Shuichi.

So given that most of her onscreen relationship with Kiibo is sexual or scientific (or both) in nature, it’s easy for her to go on believing these are the only things she has to offer. It’s a bit self-fulfilling of course because she’s arguable the one controlling the direction of their relationship in the first place, and at this point I’m not sure she believes there’s anything else to her.

[Shout out to @cloudysonder for helping develop this take :P]

I get the impression Kiibo has met a lot of people over his life who only want to talk about how cool it is that he’s a robot, even though that’s not a part of his identity he initially likes to bring up.

In his FTE with Shuichi, he goes straight into 'demonstrating my functions' mode as if it's the only way he knows how to talk to people

We see him treated in this fetishized way in-game too: with Kokichi chasing him to be “friends with a robot”; with Kaede’s FTE asking him invasive questions and touching his buttons without asking; and in postgame with Kazuichi basically assaulting him and trying to take him apart out of scientific curiosity --- all of these within just his first or second interactions with these people!

So it's a BIG thing for him to willingly let Miu sit there and take him apart, when he already spends so much time fending off virtual strangers who don't respect his bodily autonomy. And he's not used to people taking a genuine interest in him as a person so he’s hesitant to let himself believe Miu is any different, especially when her interest is so explicitly centered around his biology.

Plus as long as Kiibo is physically dependent on Miu, there's going to be a lot of room for insecurity to fester on BOTH sides:

"Does Kiibo really need me or does he just need my technical skills? Does he want to do these favors for me or does he feel like he has to?"

"Does Miu really care who I am or does she just want to gawk at my body like everyone else does? Does she care who I am or am I just the first boy(?) to give her the time of day? Does she want to help me or does she just know she’s the only one who can?"

This is the biggest hurdle IMO because it's a necessarily unbalanced relationship, and it will have to continue for the foreseeable future, no matter how they feel about each other.

PART B - Respect/communication

Another thing is that I don't think they fully respect each other — kind of for the same reason the rest of the group doesn’t respect them either

Miu might not consider Kiibo a person. We know Kiibo was worried about this; when asking Shuichi to use the electrohammer on him he explains, "The outcome will settle once and for all how Miu perceived me." This, and the fact she says robots aren’t people in trial, make me pretty confident that she has never looked him in the eye and said "I consider you a person."

I think she has a complex relationship with Kiibo’s personhood. On one hand if he’s a thing then it’s much easier for her to control him (esp given what we see of their relationship) and this soothes her anxious heart by ensuring that he can’t abandon her.

At the same time, if this is the case, then his coerced/artificial love isn’t worth as much as it would be if it came from an autonomous human person — to her insecure mind, it becomes Miu alone in her room playing boyfriend girlfriend with a doll, if that makes sense. 

To clarify, I’m not saying she BELIEVES he’s just an object, but it’s an idea that both comforts and torments her.

It's worth noting, too, that Miu doesn't always respect people's consent. This is especially risky when you factor in their mechanic-robot relationship (which already comes with a difficult power dynamic) and Kiibo’s naive/somewhat people-pleasing personality.

On Kiibo’s end: I think it’s safe to say he finds her rude/inappropriate at first (though I think it's really sweet that he uses the much more euphemistic description 'brash and spirited' after getting to know her). They also have some pretty stark moral differences --- Kiibo is distraught to learn that Miu wasn't above murdering their classmates, for example.

More importantly, I headcanon he has a lot of difficulty understanding her at all  – on an emotional level, yes, and and on a literal level he just straight up doesn’t understand many of the sentences she says either

K: “Most of that was unintelligible nonsense, but…” after Miu explains her “secret woman weapon." IMO his decision to phrase this as an insult helps mask the fact he's not familiar with all the lewd references she just made

He also has problems understanding emotions from the start, and Miu is DIFFICULT to track because she cycles through emotions so rapidly.

+ he might find it hard to extrapolate that many of the things she does are part of a facade. The crass egotistical miu who says he’s not a person is equally as real to him as the deeply insecure miu wants to believe he is a person (if not more real…)

PART C

Also these bullets from my personal doc I don't have the willpower to expand on atm:

They are both so prone to misinterpreting people unkindly

They’re also both so misled about how committed a relationship is supposed to be. Like I think Kiibo would consider a confession from literally anyone to be tantamount to a proposal (based on his love suite scene). And Miu wouldn’t be quite so fast but i do think it’d still be a huge deal for her because she falls very hard very easily (based on her FTE). Which is all very cute but being plunged into a big commitment like that can be crazy stressful, esp for two teens who have never dated before (imo) and have no frame of reference. [I was actually just going to post about this part lol]

PART D

All that said... I love them together and I DO think they could make it work without too much heartbreak. A lot of the things I describe as problems here could easily be taken as strengths.

e.g. Their misunderstanding of how relationships work ironically makes them more compatible, since they're both ready to go whole hog (if Kiibo determines that he actually likes her that is). Miu's rapidly fluctuating emotions are confusing, but on some level I think he'd admire how deeply and obviously she is able to feel things. And of course Miu as an inventor has a deep (almost objectum like??) respect for machines that helps Kiibo accept that he can be a robot and a person at the same time, and is probably the only one in the class who understands just how impressive he really is.

Thanks thanks THANKS for reading if you seriously read all that!! Mwah!!!!

I would love to hear anyone's takes on my takes too :P I haven't been rotating them in my head for too long yet so I'm still developing my interpretations...

[beansprean]

The boys are….fightiiinnggg?

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Uncolored collection of Nandor and Guillermo in various waltz poses, Nandor typically leading. Guillermo is wearing chinos and a vest with his shirt sleeves rolled up and Nandor is wearing a short sleeved belted coat over his usual layered shirt and trousers. 1. They are pressed chest to chest, nose to nose, with Nandor’s right arm tight around Guillermo’s waist, forcing him to arch his back, and Guillermo’s left resting on his shoulder. Their other hands are clasped together and held up high as they stare intensely into each other’s eyes. 2. They spin to face the other direction, now pressed together loosely, more tenderly, but no less close. Guillermo’s face is turned away into Nandor’s shoulder and Nandor has his nose pressed to Guillermo’s temple, eyes closed. 3. They pull apart slightly and step together to spin again, Guillermo looking up at Nandor in cautious wonder as Nandor stares solemnly back. 4. They move into a new position, breaking the hold on each other to turn out in opposite directions, hands still clasped between them as their opposite arms flare out behind them. They do not break eye contact. 5. They turn back in, Guillermo’s right side pressed to Nandor’s left and his left still held aloft, left leg pointed outward. Nandor clasps Guillermo’s waist with his right arm as they turn, his left folded into the small of his own back. They do not break eye contact. 6. They move to an intimate shadow position, Nandor pressed close to Guillermo’s back, his left hand folding over Guillermo’s at face level and his right hand pressed to Guillermo’s stomach. Guillermo covers Nandor’s right hand with his own and arches back into him, bending his neck backwards to brush their noses together, lips an inch apart. Guillermo’s eyes are hooded low, too close to meet his eyes, and Nandor’s are closed, expression a little tortured. 6. They move back into closed position, facing each other with their hands clasped together, Guillermo’s on top. They abandon pretense as Guillermo presses his free hand to Nandor’s chest and Nandor uses his to cup Guillermo’s cheek, bringing him in for a kiss. /end ID

[purpledemonlilyposting]

Boo Lily!

[Lily's Post]

First off occasionally reading the Farms doesn't mean you're a user.

Second off lol where the fuck are Lily and her fans getting the idea I "work in a pet store". I've mentioned on stream before that I work for a dog breeder. That includes doing alot of vet tech level stuff and basically being a dog midwife, sometimes overnight.

And even then it's just my steady weekly income to supplement my freelance work. At least one of my revenue streams gets me out of the house and requires manual labor, Lily.

You're 32 and never leave your subsidized apartment just making shitty pointless YouTube videos, collecting government benefits, Door Dashing from Subway a short walk away and being inappropriate with your fans while your wife you've abandoned in the US works a real job.

Anyway it takes me 10 minutes tops to reply to your posts Lily. Somebody has to hold you to account for your contradictory words and bullshit. I'm always watching~