#again! I will do nothing with this au! but I must think out every angle for it regardless alas

[bonnie-bug]

I know I’ve seen it somewhere before (most likely here on tumblr) but i AM obsessed with the idea of a muppets version of good omens where the human characters are all played by muppets and aziraphale and crowley are played by humans who are very clearly controlling muppet versions of themselves as their corporations but the muppets only ever directly address the muppet corporations. as far as they can see aziraphale and crowley are also only muppets

moreover I am EXTRA obsessed with the idea that aziraphale and crowley. also keep up the muppeteering when alone with each other. their muppets are their corporations how they interact with the earth and they interact with each other while within these corporations. but when you can literally see their true (human) forms looming over their dinky little flesh (felt) bodies it adds a new level of hilarity

I cant tell which would be funnier: if, when talking to each other, they looked each other dead in the eyes while making their muppets also look at each other, or if they ALSO pretended the other was only a muppet and utterly ignored their true human forms

that being said I think for the drunk scene they should be slugging back actual glasses of wine in one hand and just very sloppily controlling their muppet selves with the other. the muppets have little fake glasses of wine too obvi

with tracy aziraphale just takes over as her muppeteer she just sometimes moves and talks on her own. all the other angels and demons are just humans but when on earth the angels have muppets and the demons have really shitty hand puppets. they just stand there holding the muppets/puppets they dont make them move and act. aziraphale and crowley are thought to be very weird and creepy for doing so with theirs

the horsepersons…. I think they start with muppets only but you can see there’s sticks or wires or whatever controlling their limbs. and them when they start to come into their power suddenly they’re being controlled by a person. and when they go full Horsepersons Of The Apocalypse they’re fully human (in form). except for death. death is identical to tv canon bc he’s the one who hides his true nature the least. and he’s creepier that way

with adam? I think he’s just an uncomfortably human looking muppet. his face is more normally proportioned. his felt is a very human beigey tan. his hands are uncomfortably dextrous like the swedish chef’s. maybe when he comes into his powers he starts looking less and less like a muppet and more and more like a human until it culminates in something dead center in the uncanny valley for both humans and muppets. and then after he tells satan to fuck off he suddenly looks almost perfectly muppet normal with only a twinge of almost-human-y since he still has at least Some powers

in terms of the muppet casting I have no idea who should be whom jdjdbdkd maybe miss piggy for anathema and kermit for newt, mostly bc they’re arguably the main human (adult) characters and it’s funny to me to call a frog “newt”. however this version does not include the all-but-onscreen sex scene okay we do not need to see that. it fades to black just like in the book thank you ❤️

also to be clear all the angels and demons and in particular aziraphale and crowley are all still dressed like in canon. when their wings show up their human true form also has wings. crowley puts on sunglasses on his human self before digging out a tiny pair of muppet sized ones and putting it in his muppet hand to put on his muppet face. yknow. stuff like that

#yes I’m putting way too much thought into something I literally will never do anything with shut up jdbdbdkd #this ordinarily would be shared with my friends or something but my brain has so many worms in it rn and refuses to let me socialize #so instead u get to see my stream of consciousness shitposting directly on ur dash. you’re welcome ❤️ #good omens #muppets #muppet au #the bon speaks #having one human try to accurately control a muppet doesnt Really make logistic sense I know but shhhh #I know with most larger muppets u need two people to control them one with the mouth and one arm and someone else with the other arm but #idk. maybe they can manage to use two of those sticks in one hand kdjdbdk #every dramatic scene just becomes 1000% funnier when u imagine it happening with each of them holding a muppet version of himself #again! I will do nothing with this au! but I must think out every angle for it regardless alas #anyway hope u enjoyed my rambling abt gomens but muppets jdbdvdnd #if u read all the post and all these tags I give u a kees on the forehead (• ε •)

[bitchsister]

(Lucky charms AU ) what are Gale and John’s convos like when they talk about Curt? could be before or after Gale became their little plate licker . Or both!! Is Gale shy about it ? Does John try to rile Gale up with stories ?

Oooooh FUUUUN.

These days they FOR SURE gossip about how pretty Curt looked last night, but let’s go back to the beginning.

Bucky sat beside Gale at the bar of their favorite lunch spot, knees nudging beneath the counter as they sat silently, thumbing through case files they’d been staring at all day and catching up on the text messages they’d been unable to open since seven that morning.

“Jesus.” Bucky scrambled but Gale had already seen it. Curt had sent John a picture of himself with what looked like a joint between his lips and his cock stiff between his legs, blue eyes staring into the lens like they could eat a soul. “Fuck - sorry.”

Gale shrugged, shoving a fry smothered in ranch into his cheek as he blinked at Bucky, the image burned behind his eyelids.

“He’s like.. I dunno. In fucking heat or something.” Bucky grabbed the whiskey he’d ordered only a moment ago and took a gulp, shivers dancing over his spine. “It’s constant. And I’m not complaining, I swear — it’s fucking great, I’m just — you gotta wonder how the boy keeps goin’, you know?”

Gale silently nodded, willing to stay quiet if it meant Bucky would go on to fill the silence.

“He’s got all this energy I didn’t have as a college student. I felt like I’d been beat into the ground when we were in school.” Bucky recalled the nights he curled up in Gales room and cried.

Gale cried, too.

They missed their parents, and the safety of being in high school. They cried about their student loans, and how they could do nothing on Saturdays besides whine and rub their pennies together.

“He’s like that bunny with the drum. What’s he called again?” Bucky’s brain had turned to mush, though all he wanted to do then was catch a speeding ticket to NYU’s campus to then force Curt to spend a school night back at his house instead.

“I know what you mean.” Gale nodded

“What’s he called, though?”

“What’s it matter, Johnny?”

“It’s gonna bother me all day if I don’t figure it out.” Bucky waved a hand at Gale who had much more interesting things to think about — like how Curt tasted, or how he sounded when he came.

Was he a whiner? Did he pant? Or did he like to squeal?

“Can I see?” Gale asked abruptly, though he almost immediately wished he could stuff every word he’d just uttered back down his throat. “I — I mean -“ he became flustered, but realized it was only because he was stating a want. “If that’s okay.”

It was hardly something Gale allowed himself to do.

And being a therapist meant he also had to check his own behavior. Sure, his request may have been inappropriate, but he and Bucky shared a friendship — just like any other relationship, Gale needed to express his needs and wants clearly and precisely if he wanted to get anywhere with them.

Bucky didn’t need to agree to them, or like them.

But, just as Gale had predicted, Bucky’s expression had turned sinister, almost like a taunting court jester. “Oh, you wanna see?”

“Yes.” Gale stated firmly, his posture straightening when he rolled his shoulders back. “If you don’t think it’d be a complete and total invasion, that is.” Gale knew there must be a boundary, and he’d never want to upset Curt by ogling at his naked body without some form of consent, even if it came from Bucky who sighed heavily and laid his phone between them, their heads practically pressed together once their faces grew closer to the screen.

“Well, read these first.” He scrolled through a never ending thread of messages, spanning out for months and months as he picked the ones with Gales name in them. “And ask again if it’d be an invasion.”

A picture of Curt’s legs spread, fingers slicked with spit teasing his hole.

Just finished class. Thinkin of ya big boy. Show Gale 🖤🖤

A video from a creative angle, Gale would have to admit, of Curt rutting his hips against a pillow while he shoved his fingers down his throat like it was a cock.

Tell Gale you need to come get me soon. After u show him this ;) I miss youuu hurry uppppp

Then, a message from three days ago that came in right after Gale had shared a sip of his latte with Bucky, telling him all about the new cafe down the street with the best matcha he’d ever tasted while Curt laid in his usual spot the window on the far side of the study and practically preened himself, smoking a joint and typing away on his phone.

Do you think he’ll taste my cum now?

Do you think he can tell u milked me down ur slutty throat before he walked thru the door?

Can I tell him???

Gales breath hitched in his throat, his gaze growing more intent on the screen in front of him that drew the two of them in, just like moths to a flame. “God.” He whispered, feeling every emotion under the sun. “He’s fucking unreal.”

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️ I LOVE HIM SO MUCH ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

#💌 #yoyo writes #Curtbuckygale #masters of the air

[berryunho]

THE ANSWER: XII

Kim Hongjoong doesn’t like the word ‘cult.’ He prefers ‘sect.’ pairing: ateez x fem reader genre: cult au, thriller, angst check warnings on AO3

← previous || next → || masterlist chapter word count: 5,089

Seonghwa’s explanation does nothing to help the anxiety now growing within you. You continue staring at his side profile as he makes his way toward the stairs at the end of the hall. 

The first time you had seen Seonghwa, he had honestly been too imposing and intimidating for you to really take in his features. From your angle in his arms, however, there’s not much else to take in. As much as you don’t want to admit it, he’s quite handsome. His side profile is strong in the way he holds his face, but soft in its features. You can almost imagine how beautiful he must look laughing, but your mind stops you. This man wants you dead. Why are you fantasizing about his smile?

You’re happy he doesn’t take his eyes off of his path, because you just know he would make some snide comment if he caught you staring. After your realization, you try and focus your eyes anywhere other than his face. Unfortunately, there isn’t that much to take in.

You are thankful to be out of that stifling room after probably over 12 hours, but, truly, these hallways could do with some decoration. If your boss was here… 

The walk through the halls continues in silence. For a moment, you debate trying to get Seonghwa to drop you. You probably could do it, but where would you go after? You couldn’t exactly escape him. He’d simply be able to snatch you again, and probably wouldn’t be as gentle with his grasp.

Plus, do you really want to put this off? You hadn’t really thought about it, but it makes sense that Hongjoong would want to talk to you. Away from everyone, after you’ve caught the drift. That’s not to say that you’re not nervous, because you are. With every step that Seonghwa takes closer to Hongjoong, the anxiety builds in your stomach.

What’s going to happen? Will he only speak to you? Threaten you again? Punish you for trying to run? While he’s not the most physically intimidating man you’ve ever met, you don’t doubt he could do some serious damage with a weapon. You remember the look in his eyes this morning in the chapel and it nearly makes you shudder. Hongjoong could definitely be creepy, and you wouldn’t put physical violence past him. 

“Seonghwa,” you start, your voice coming out quieter than you had wanted. “Can I use the bathroom first?”

It was the first thing that came to mind. You might not be able to escape, but at least you’d be able to stall a little bit. Despite just thinking to yourself that it would probably be better to not put it off, the anxiety building in your stomach is starting to tell you otherwise.

Seonghwa stops walking, turning his head to face you in his arms. Oh God, he looks mad. “Are you fucking serious?” His voice is much louder than yours, bouncing off the walls of the silent hallway. He’s staring at you with so much anger you could think you had just personally insulted his mother.

You quickly nod your head, just wanting him to stop looking at you. He rolls his eyes, letting out a sigh before veering down one of the corridors to the nearest bathroom. He sets you down in front of the door, but doesn’t let go of your arm.

“What do you need to do?” Seonghwa holds onto you, preventing you from reaching out for the door.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes go wide at his question. “That’s way too personal.”

He sighs. “You are so sensitive, my God.” He looks around the hallway like he’s expecting a live studio audience to agree with him. Seonghwa plasters a fake smile onto his face, glaring down at you. “Princess, how long is this going to take?”

You shake your arm in his grasp, “I’m not gonna answer that, just let me go.” 

Seonghwa’s smile falls, and he rolls his eyes once more. “Fine,” he drops your arm, “don’t keep Hongjoong waiting.” 

You barely hear the last part, because you’re opening the bathroom door and shuffling in as soon as he releases you. Quickly shutting and locking the door, the lights automatically turn on. Well what the hell do you do now? 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and realize how ridiculous you look in your pajamas. God, no wonder Seonghwa was teasing you. You should’ve asked to change. You step closer to the mirror, trying to fix any aspects of your appearance that seem out of place. Thankfully, you actually look pretty decent, considering the circumstances. 

Pacing around the small bathroom for another couple minutes, you decide that you’re probably stretching your luck a bit. You quickly use the bathroom, wash your hands, and then open the door back to the hallway.

You do expect Seonghwa when you open the door, but you don’t expect him to be millimeters away from you, which is where he ends up being. He startles you and you stumble backwards into the bathroom, jumping away from him. He lets out a single, dry laugh at your reaction before gesturing you back to him with his fingers.

You oblige, stepping towards him and the door. His hand wraps around your upper arm again, and he pulls you back to the hallway. Thankfully, he doesn’t make any move to pick you up again. You don’t want to risk it, so you keep up his pace as he retains his grip on you. 

The two of you remain in silence, making your way down the stairs and through the subsequent halls. Once you’re to the bottom floor, entering the lobby, you wonder where you’ll be meeting Hongjoong. The cafeteria? The chapel? Some sort of spooky torture room you’ve yet to see? 

Your question is somewhat answered soon, as Seonghwa yanks you to the front door with him. When he opens the door, his grip becomes even tighter. It’s starting to make your arm throb, but you’d rather not show Seonghwa any signs of weakness. 

He pulls you outside, and you quickly try to take in your surroundings. It’s now night time, and you realize how dark it is on the grounds. The only sources of illumination are the couple sconces on the front of each building, but they provide very little light for the rest of the field. The moon is bright enough to keep you from stumbling over uneven ground, and you take a look up to recognize the phase. A waning gibbous. 

Looking back around, you recognize that your car is still nowhere to be found. You wonder when they could have possibly moved it without you realizing. During breakfast? That was the only time when you had been entirely distracted, with Mingi’s outburst and all. 

… Wait. Was Mingi…? 

No. Nope. You cut off the thought before it can even finish itself. There is absolutely no way. Mingi would never. Even if he’s been brainwashed and abused, he would never do something like that. But he had invited you here… Nope! No. You are not going to think about that right now. For now, you are perfectly content with your answer that Mingi would never knowingly put or keep you in danger.

Your question about your destination is answered rather quickly, as Seonghwa makes on the path toward the chapel. Ick. So far, the chapel is definitely the creepiest place you’ve seen, and you are not too keen on returning. The way Hongjoong acted this morning in there… you do not want a repeat of the show. Honestly, he seems almost like a different person when he’s in that building.

Not that he’s not creepy either way, he just gains a different aura. 

When you and Seonghwa reach the chapel, you nearly trip over the steps due to how fast Seonghwa is going up them. He clears them in milliseconds, acting like he’s seen water in a desert. You stumble up behind him as he uses his free hand to open one of the doors. He then shoves you in in front of him, finally letting go of you.

You bring your hand up to rub the spot on your arm where he had been gripping. You lift your arm a bit, frowning when you see the red mark left on your skin. Did he really have reason to think you would try and esca- actually, don’t answer that question. 

After taking in the damage, you remember where you are. You hear Seonghwa pulling the doors closed behind you as you survey the room again. It looks pretty much the same as this morning, except now there are quite a few candles lit. They reside on each end of every pew, creating a rather nice, soft glow.

Your eyes trail along the aisle of candles, following them to the back of the chapel. Hongjoong actually isn’t the first thing you notice.

Rather, it’s the hourglass. In the candle light, the metal attains a sort of other-worldly glow. Reflections of light dance on its surface, causing sparkles that keep you from staring in one place for too long. It’s mesmerizing. 

The only reason you look away is because of Seonghwa. He’s come to stand directly behind you, putting his hand on the small of your back. He not-so-gently pushes you down the aisle, towards where you now notice Hongjoong. 

He’s smiling again. Does he ever not have that creepy ass smile on his face? It makes him look so much more deranged, and you wonder if he does it on purpose. Of course, he’s sitting on the same throne from earlier, wearing the same weird matching outfit with Seonghwa. The candle light waving over his face gives him an almost sickly appearance, creating shadows and highlights where they shouldn’t be. 

Once Seonghwa has gotten you to the edge of the stage, he moves his hand to your shoulder. “Kneel.” 

Your gaze at Hongjoong breaks to look over at Seonghwa. Did he seriously just tell you to kneel? “I’m not kneeling you psych-'' you're cut off by a sharp shove on your shoulders. At the same time, Seonghwa brings his knee up to meet the back of yours, forcing your legs to give out under you. 

Your arms instinctively fly out to catch you, stopping the fall from hurting too badly. Now on your knees, you stare up at Seonghwa and vow to yourself that you’ll get him back for this, somehow, someday. You try to shove yourself off of the ground, but Seonghwa’s hands are quick to stop you. He moves behind you and grabs both of your shoulders, locking his arms to keep you down. 

On your knees in front of Hongjoong, you finally realize the vulnerability of your situation. Here you are, alone with two men that have individually threatened your life. Two men that have authority positions in a cult. You have no means of protecting yourself, and no one with any capacity to help you in the moment knows where you are. Anything could happen.

With Seonghwa behind you, you have no one to glare at except for Hongjoong himself. He sure seems to be enjoying the show, his cocky little smile having grown wider. His eyes flit up to Seonghwa and they have some sort of exchange outside of your realm of understanding. 

“Hi, (Y/n).” When Hongjoong looks back to you, he finally speaks. “Cute pajamas.” He glances over you, and you suddenly feel much too exposed.

You blink up at him. That’s how he’s going to start this? You don’t answer him, opting to continue glaring up at him. 

Hongjoong chuckles when he realizes you’re not going to respond and leans forward in his seat. “Well, I’m sure you have questions.” He turns his palms up to the air, waving them around a bit. “Ask away.”

Your plain expression breaks. You stop glaring at him and your confusion grows on your face. What the hell does he want you to ask him and why? About a million questions come to mind. They jumble over themselves, creating one large mess in your brain. You stare up at Hongjoong, your mind trying to grasp onto a single thread. Your biggest question is why, but you can’t very well just say that one word. Instead, you ask the next best thing.

“What do you want with me?”

Hongjoong leans back again, looking away to consider your question. He brings a hand up to rest under his chin, his face scrunching up as he answers. “That’s a pretty broad question.”

“Is Mingi okay?”

Now Hongjoong looks confused. “Why wouldn’t he be?” You honestly don’t know why you asked it either, and Hongjoong gives you no further answer after his follow up question. 

For a split second, you try to not ask your next question, but end up spitting it out anyways. “What the hell is going on here?” 

“Are you religious, (Y/n)?” Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, knitting his fingers together underneath his chin. His inflection is almost joking, but you can tell that his question is serious.

You think about your answer, trying to decide what will make Hongjoong react with the least hostility. Will he be offended if you say no? Will he be offended if you say yes? Truthfully, you’re not religious. Not that you have anything against sane religion, of course; religion is simply not something that has ever been a big part of your life. 

You decide to go with the truth. “I’m not.” 

Hongjoong smiles. “I don’t suppose you read any of The Answer?” He looks at you with anticipation, and you have a feeling he’ll like your answer regardless. This must’ve been the question he was waiting to ask.

“Of course not.”

Hongjoong nods, his smile growing. “I figured as much, it normally takes a bit of a push,” he waves a hand, pushing the air in front of him. “Since you seem particularly uninterested, let me give you the gist of it.” 

You can’t help your expression as it turns into one of disgust. The last thing on planet earth that you want right now is to have Hongjoong explain his little cult to you. As you’re about to open your mouth to give him a stern ‘no thank you,’ he starts speaking, stunning you into silence with just his first sentence.

“Cutting to the chase, I’m a prophet.” Your jaw goes slack as you stare up at him. No fucking way is he serious right now. “God speaks to me and I pass on his messages here.”

You can’t help it. You start laughing. As your body starts to shake with your laughter, Seonghwa’s grip on your shoulders increases. You hardly notice, however, too caught up in the hilarity of the situation in front of you. You bring a hand up to cover your mouth, trying to stifle the noises. “I’m sorry but,” a fit of giggles cuts you off. “But you’re joking, right?” Obviously, it does make sense to you. Not the prophet part, but Hongjoong claiming to be one. But it’s so funny to hear it said out loud. It almost makes you hysterical.

Instead of Hongjoong answering, Seonghwa does. “Does it look like he’s joking?” He has to raise his voice to be heard over you, and it almost is enough to make you stop laughing entirely. Almost. 

A few giggles continue to escape as you have to move your hands to your eyes to swipe tears of laughter away. At this point, they might be tears of hysteria, but you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. You chance a glance up at Hongjoong, who is no longer smiling at you. Rather, he’s staring at you with a look of such plain indifference that you bite your lip to stop any further laughter.

“I don’t care whether you believe me or not,” he says, his expression unchanging, “but you will respect me.” For perhaps the first time, his voice is lacking the lilt of arrogance that you’ve come to associate with him. It’s plain and hard. He doesn’t make an attempt to charm you. “God commands it.”

The tone of his voice stops you from laughing again, though that last sentence nearly gets you. This man is off his rocker.

Despite wanting to give him a piece of your mind, you can’t think of a response. You are simply too dumbfounded by the level of insanity. Instead, you continue staring up at him, waiting for whatever he says next.

“I’ve been through this countless times, (Y/n), and every single one of you has come to praise my name.” Hongjoong continues staring with steely indifference. The tone of his voice growing only harder by the second. “I expect you to be no different. Whether it takes a week or a year, you’ll bend. They always do.”

His newest statement leaves you with even more questions. Is every single person here a kidnapping victim? Did everyone have a similar situation to the one that you are in right now? Christ, did Mingi go through this? 

It doesn’t even seem possible. It’s hard to imagine that every person you’ve seen, every person you met, was once a strong-minded, free-thinking individual. There must be personalities that have a predisposition to brainwashing. You refuse to believe that they were all in the same position as you. 

You have to decide now if you’re trying to survive, or if you’re trying to be a pain in Hongjoong’s side. If you make some snide comment now, you can’t imagine he will take it lightly. But, if you suddenly start acting entirely different, will he notice? Does he want you to disobey him? 

“Let me just get this straight then.” You can’t stop your curiosity. “You, Hongjoong, are a prophet.” You speak slowly and carefully, trying to not sound too offensive. “God speaks to you... and you made a cult out of these messages. You’ve kidnapped, what, forty, fifty people... and forced them to live on a farm and worship you.” So much for that plan. “Is that right?”

Hongjoong’s expression finally cracks. A smile casts along his face, evidently liking your reply. “That’s quite right, with two minor exceptions.” His smile only grows bigger. “We are a sect, not a cult. And we don’t kidnap people, we save them.”

“Plus,” Seonghwa pipes up behind you, “A lot of them come willingly.” His voice is low, but his grip on your shoulders loosens as you feel him bend down behind you. He brings his head down to nearly rest on your right shoulder, his face ghosting along the side of your head. You turn your head slightly toward him, your eyes darting over his face as he starts smiling. “Like our dear Mingi.”

He whispers it, but it’s certainly loud enough to hear. Seonghwa starts laughing as your eyes betray your shock. Hongjoong joins him, clearly enjoying your reaction as much as Seonghwa.

Well, guess that answers that question. But why in the ever loving fuck would Mingi come here willingly? What made him think that dropping everything and joining a cult was the only way to go? If he had gone willingly, why hadn’t he brought you with him?

Maybe he’s lying. No, he has to be lying. 

Their laughter dies down as your face becomes resolved. “You’re lying,” you whisper, staring at the ground. Whether you really believe what you’ve said or not, you don’t know. You just know that you can’t deal with Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s laughter ringing in your ears, bouncing off of the walls of the chapel. 

“What makes you think that?” Seonghwa asks from beside you, his face still next to yours. You peel your eyes off of the floor to look up at Hongjoong. He’s looking right back at you with exaggerated curiosity. His eyes are wide, his eyebrows raised, with just a hint of a smile. 

You don’t know how to answer Seonghwa’s question. You don’t even know if you truly disbelieve him. You quickly try to think of something that would disprove Seonghwa, searching the edges of your mind for something that would mean Mingi had been forced to join. “If Mingi came willingly,” you turn your face back toward Seonghwa, “he would have brought me, too.” 

You watch as a smile cracks along Seonghwa’s face once more. “Do we tell her?” He asks, looking up to Hongjoong. Your eyes snap up to Hongjoong, who is now trying to contain his smile for once. He’s not doing a very good job at it, either. 

Tell you what? Certainly something you don’t want to hear. What could there be, pertaining to Mingi’s disappearance, that you wouldn’t want to hear? You search for the answer for only a second. Just as your mind makes the deduction on its own, you see Hongjoong nod and hear Seonghwa’s reply.

“He was trying to get away from you.” 

You don’t really process the way that Hongjoong and Seonghwa start laughing again. Rather, your mind spins with the revelation. Of course, that would be the only thing that would make sense. If Mingi had come willingly and not brought you with, that must mean that he hadn’t wanted you to come. He didn’t want to have you with him. He didn’t want you. 

Why? What had you done? You’ve racked your mind for months, wondering why Mingi had left. Wondering why he hadn’t told you. Wondering what you could have done differently. You hadn’t been able to find a single explanation in the months past, and you can’t imagine that you’ll be able to find one now. You have absolutely no recollection of doing anything to Mingi that could have made him want to leave you. 

If Mingi had come here to get away from you, then does that make it your fault that he’s here, in the clutches of a cult? Does it make it your fault that you’re also in this situation? All the more reason you have to get him out of here.

But, then again, that begs the question. Would Mingi even want your help? Why had he invited you if he wanted to stay away from you? Is he actually happy to see you? Had he invited you because he felt ready for you to be in his life again? Or is this just some plot to recruit more members for Hongjoong? 

You want to believe that Seonghwa is lying to you, but, for whatever reason, you know that he’s not. That Mingi had some reason, even if it was so insignificant that you couldn’t remember it. There was no other explanation. He would have had no other reason to leave without telling you anything about it.

This realization almost sends you reeling, but the enormity of the situation before you keeps you somewhat in your right mind. You can’t afford to cry now, you can’t afford to lose your cool or even begin to comprehend what has just been revealed. At hand, the most important thing is to get out of this room before Hongjoong or Seonghwa causes you physical harm (or, at least, any more physical harm). The mental wound is enough. 

You need to get out of this place.

“Hongjoong,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of the floor in front of you. You don’t want to see his face as he hears you beg. “Please, just let me go.” You feel wetness appear at your eyes for what feels like the upteenth time today, already knowing what his answer will be. So much for not crying again.

You blink and watch as a tear escapes your eye, falling to the floor. Without looking up, you see Seonghwa rise from your side. He stands before walking behind you, retaking his spot directly behind you. You hear Hongjoong stand, his shoes clicking down the stairs before you. In the silence of the room, the various medals hanging off of his jacket clink together and make sounds that seem impossibly loud. 

You don’t look up until his shoes appear in your line of sight, and he stops directly before you. Your angle on the floor makes him tower over you, blocking your entire line of sight until everything is him. The candles glow in your peripheral vision, making it seem like Hongjoong himself has a golden aura. The light reflecting off of the hourglass behind him has the same effect, and Hongjoong gains a halo above you. His face is cast in shadow, but you can still see the sneer plastered on his face. 

Hongjoong bends his knees before collapsing onto them in front of you. His face goes slack as he mirrors your position, folding his legs underneath himself before raising his hands up to you.

For a split second, you worry he’s going to grab your neck. Instead, he rests his hands on either side of your face, locking your head into position. His hands are burning hot, so hot you could swear he must have a fever. You instinctively try to jerk your face out of his hands, but he strengthens his grip and is able to keep you in place.

“Don’t cry.” Hongjoong coos to you as he wipes your tears with his thumbs, nearly identically to the way Mingi had only a day earlier. Has it really only been a day? More tears begin to brim over your eyes only to be immediately wiped by Hongjoong’s searing touch. “God is here for you.” 

You don’t know if he means metaphorically or literally, if he’s referring to himself or not. You can’t find it in you to formulate a response for him, instead opting to cry harder. Sobs begin to heave out of your chest and, to your horror, Hongjoong pulls your face closer to his. 

He angles your head downward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His lips are just as hot as his hands, if not hotter. The sensation burns, and you’re quickly scrambling to pull away from him once more. He lets you pull away, but he doesn’t let you get far. Wiping your tears one last time, he lets go of your face and wraps his arms around your body, tugging you close to him. 

You process his heat before the fact that he’s hugging you. Wrapped in his arms, his warmth is nearly overwhelming. Anywhere he touches, your skin itches to retract away. But he’s hugging you. Hongjoong, a supposed Prophet, is crushing you to his chest. Hongjoong, cult leader extraordinaire, attempting to… comfort you. 

You continue to shake in his arms, mentally begging for the moment to be over. He’s so hot. Even in spots where there are layers of clothing, his touch is burning. Your face is pressed uncomfortably into his shoulder, his long hair tickling against your forehead. Your arms hang limp at your sides and Hongjoong squeezes you tighter, and you pray that he drops you soon. 

If there is a God, he must hear your prayers. Hongjoong releases his grip on you shortly after, retaking his place on his knees in front of you. He completely lets you go this time, and you revel in the feeling of the air touching your skin where his body had been. Your tears cease almost immediately; you’re not wanting to give Hongjoong another reason to get that close to you ever again. 

You paw at your cheeks to wipe away the remainder of any of your tears. Hongjoong grins, watching you intently as he rises back to his feet. You maintain eye contact with him and he resumes his position, until he breaks it to look back at Seonghwa. 

After a brief glance, Seonghwa’s hands leave your shoulders for the second time. Hongjoong reconnects your eyes before extending both of his hands to you. You blankly stare at his palms before realizing that he means for you to take them. 

As little as you want to touch him again, you decide you’d rather have Hongjoong gently help you up rather than have Seonghwa yank on you again. You lift your arms, placing your hands into his and starting to unfold your legs from beneath you. He gently lifts you, pulling up on your arms until you’re standing before him once more. 

He doesn’t let go of your hands. “Is there anything else you would like to discuss?” He’s not smiling, but he sounds genuine enough. 

The only question you can think to ask slips out. “What are you going to do to me?” Your voice cracks halfway through the sentence, making you sound more afraid than you feel. Honestly, fear is not the emotion at the forefront of your mind. Its sadness, betrayal.

Hongjoong chuckles. He brings your hands up so that they’re resting between the two of you, at about stomach height. He adjusts his fingers so that he can reach the backs of your hands with his thumbs, and rubs them as he had rubbed your face. “Wouldn’t a surprise be more fun?” His response is nothing you want. 

You shake your head, not able to stop yourself. Hongjoong’s smile grows wider as you pull your hands out of his, leaving his hands floating in the air, cradling something that no longer remains. The dancing light of the candles make his hands shrink and grow, and his picture before you is almost grotesque. He almost entirely blocks the hourglass from his position, but he still doesn’t block its reflected light. While he is in shadow, he glows.

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong nods, using his hands to gesture you away.

Seonghwa’s grip returns on your upper arm, but you don’t look away from Hongjoong. Seonghwa yanks you around, but you turn to keep your eyes on Hongjoong. You feel too vulnerable, too exposed. He watches as Seonghwa pulls you toward the door, bringing a hand up to wave to you. 

“Goodnight, (Y/n),” he calls from the end of the room, “sleep well. You have a busy few days ahead of you.”

Seonghwa opens one of the doors as the two of you approach, and the cool night air blasts into the room. He pulls you outside, leaving the door to swing shut on its own behind you. You watch in slow motion as Hongjoong is blocked by the door, inch by inch. The door slams shut, but you can still see his afterimage on the white paint. 

← previous || next → || masterlist

#ateez #ateez ff #ateez angst #ateez series #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong x reader #park seonghwa x reader #jeong yunho x reader #kang yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #song mingi x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #choi jongho x reader #the answer #update

[pinkoptics]

Artist’s Muse AU

McShep | 914 words | M | AU-gust 2022

Fluff | John is a little shit

on AO3

John discovers Rodney has a secret hobby.

“Whatcha got there?”

John reaches for the small notebook Rodney has been scribbling in intently, oblivious to John’s entrance to the lab. He jolts just before John can grasp it, his face a picture of comical horror. He clutches the notebook tightly enough to his chest to crush it and pushes his rolly chair with enough force that it flies back until it smacks another console.

John grins. Whatever it is, it must be good , but even if it isn’t, he’s always up for a game of keep-away.

“Working on a new theory you don’t want anyone to see yet?”

John takes a slow, deliberate step forward. Rodney re-angles his chair and pushes it again, slamming into another console.

“Or maybe it’s a ‘Dear Diary, Radek is more brilliant than I will ever let on.‘“

Rodney’s face gets all cute (ie. annoyed and pinched). “Sure Sheppard, right beside my Rodney+John heart doodles.”

John takes another few unhurried steps and puts a hand over his heart. “Aww, Rodney, I didn’t know you cared.”

He’s out of his chair now, trying to side-step John (he’s run out of room to retreat) in a maneuver that might have worked, if John hadn’t been the one who’d taught it to him. He catches Rodney’s wrist and with a precise squeeze, Rodney yelps and drops the notebook, right into John’s waiting hands.

“Entirely unfair!” Rodney bites off, ‘annoyed and pinched’ is now turning into a glower (also cute and, yes, John is entirely aware of how far gone this makes him in the Rodney-crush department). “You’re using your military ninja powers on me. Does privacy mean nothing to you?!”

They do a little dance, of sorts, with Rodney trying to grab his journal back and John deftly keeping it just out of reach. “C’mon buddy, if it’s not a diary or a top-secret Nobel winning theory…?”

He vaults over a console, temporarily stymieing Rodney’s progress, and flips it open. Whatever John was expecting, it wasn’t this.

“Huh.”

“Huh? That’s it? Sheppard, we are too old to be doing this. It’s ridiculous. Undignified. Give it back.”

Rodney’s rounding the console, but John has vaulted neatly over another, eyes never leaving the page.

“Damn. You’re really good. Why would you hide this?”

“Give. It. Back.”

Something in Rodney’s tone makes him look up. Glowery has been replaced by a mix of genuine anger, distress and… embarrassment? He can’t see why. Sketches of slender fingers, studies of eyes, a sort of imperfect bumpy nose, full lips, ears that look elven… oh.

Shit.

Rodney uses his stunned realization to snatch it back, stuffing it under his jacket and out of reach unless John really wants to work for it. He doesn’t. He’s seen enough and Rodney’s twisted red face is twisting guilt in his gut.

“It helps me think, okay? When I’m stuck. And I’m really stuck on this stupid transporter issue and everyone is down my god damned back about it because they have to walk everywhere. Like I want to walk everywhere? Are they fucking kidding me? I’m the poster child for not wanting to walk. My sciatic nerve is telling me every day just now not happy it is about it. So I sketch. I do things with my hands. I used to play piano but we don’t have one here, so I sketch and it clears my mind and so what if I sketch you. I’m with you all the fucking time, so your features are just familiar. But no, you’ve got to make it weird. Do you know what a challenge it is to sketch your stupid hair? Have you ever—”

“Rod-ney!”

“What?!”

John waits. A solid beat. Just to be sure the ramble isn’t going to forge on.

“Do you sketch Ronon and Teyla?”

Rodney doesn’t need to answer aloud. It’s written on his face from the moment the question leaves John’s lips. Rodney’s so truthfully blunt he’s never learned how to be a good liar. He starts trying to answer, to deny, but he’s stammering now and John grins, putting a shushing finger over Rodney’s lips. He hadn’t thought Rodney could blanch harder but he has.

John steps back and cocks a hip. Rodney’s gaze snaps there, then snaps back.

“How would you like a live subject?”

“Wait— what?”

“Because your sketchbook seems to be missing some things.”

“Missing…”

“Things you aren’t so familiar with…”

John places his thumbs in his front pockets and angles his hands just so. Rodney’s eyes dart helplessly again. His face is still very red, but it’s not anger anymore.

“Right. Things…”

“Yes.” John grins. “I’d be happy to help you with those… things.”

Rodney’s eyes are meeting his again, a little frantic. “O-okay. I-I can’t believe I’m going to say this out loud, but this is so far out from where I thought my day was going, and sometimes I really misread hints. Even hints this—” His hand flaps in John’s general direction.

John laughs. The frantic babbling is cute too. Yes, very far gone.

“My cock, Rodney. Things is my cock.”

“Oh thank god.”

John tilts his head to the side, angling toward the door.

“Now?” Rodney’s voice is a little strangled and damned if that isn’t cute too.

“Yes, Rodney, now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. They end up in his quarters, where John models, naked, as promised. The sketch, however, day after day, remains mysteriously incomplete— no matter how many times they try.

#mcshep #being the dorks they are #stargate atlantis #pinkoptics writes #from time to time

[theunrealinsomniac]

Could you give me some Saiino headcanons

Yay, now I get to flesh out Sai lol. Love that.

This is another one like KibaHina and ShikaTema. As Sai has only briefly appeared in the Uni!AU I don't have headcanons for them there.

So two Canon!AU and one Wedding!AU headcanon coming up!

Canon!AU #1: Sai's artistry was one of the main things that pulled Ino in. 'A deep and artistic soul must live beneath the quiet and very blunt exterior!' was her thinking and to her credit? She wasn't entirely wrong.

Sai has understandable difficulties opening up, not because he doesn't want to but because he just doesn't really know how. But what he can do is draw.

And after he spends any time with Ino, he is instantly in his sketchbook drawing her. Sometimes it's even while he's with her, and he just rushes off because the emotions he's feeling are too big and he has to draw them to get them out.

It upsets Ino at first, thinking that she's chosen wrong again and this guy who she really liked, didn't just think was hot but wanted to be in a relationship with, was repulsed by her.

Only for Sai to appear at her work one day and present her with a notebook filled with beautiful drawings of her. From all kinds of angles and in all kinds of moods. It left her speechless.

When she got to the last page there was a giant splash page of Sai and Ino on what was clearly a date.

And that is how Sai first asked Ino out.

Canon!AU #2: To say Sai was anxious to meet Ino's parents was an understatement.

People were confusing and regularly antagonistic to his questions at the best of times. And everything he'd read about meeting your girlfriend's parents, especially their dads ...

Well let's just say he wasn't expecting to walk out of dinner alive.

And Inoichi was not best pleased to see his daughter dating someone who looked like a knock-off of Sasuke and had all the personality of a plank of wood.

But despite Sai's fears, all it took for Ino's dad to warm to the strange, quiet and accidentally rude man, was the way he was with Ino.

Any parent will tell you, that the main thing they want from their children's partners is that they treat them right. And Sai treated Ino like she was the most precious thing on the planet.

Exactly what any father wants to see for his baby girl.

Wedding!AU: Sai and Ino met at a speed dating night at a local community centre.

Ino was there to get an ego boost by seeing how many good looking men she could get to forget how to talk by just smiling at them, and a couple women too if she was lucky, and Sai was there on a maligned research trip on how to socialise with strangers.

They got paired together by the third ring of a bell and while Ino had definitely gotten a solid ego boost off all of the people she'd paired with before and after Sai ...

None of their numbers got saved in her phone. And no one got a phone call the next day.

No one but Sai, who for the entire time they'd had together, had done nothing but rabbit on about every minutely interesting thing he'd read that day online. And when he wasn't talking, he was listening to every single word she said. She could tell by the way his eyes never left her face.

He was intriguing. He hadn't stared down the very low cut dress she'd worn, he didn't try a pick up line or even try and cop a feel when she 'accidentally' fell against him when they crossed paths during any of the switches for the rest of the night.

He was cute and so very different from every sex obsessed, alpha dudebro who she usually found herself on dates with nowadays. And while those guys might be okay for a roll in the hay, when they could actually match their boasting, she found that when she left Sai's company, she couldn't wait to get back to him.

Just to bask in his wonder at the world around him. He made the world brighter by just loving being in it.

Thanks for asking!

#ask theunrealinsomniac #naruto #saiino #sai #ino yamanaka #headcanons #naruto headcanons #saiino headcanons

[lazysimp]

may we get some more moments of bull bakugo and cow y/n plz? 🤲

A/N: Sure anon, I hate to say it but I like this AU more than should. These are the features I imagined Bakugou/reader has.

Warnings/tags: cow boy, animal hybrid fic, oral sex, anal sex, male reader, 18+ MDNI

wc: 1.3k

How Bull Bakugou reacts to you being taken away

In the weeks following Bakugou first claiming the two of you had never been separated longer than a few minutes. He was obsessed, always keeping you within arms reach until today.

After a long night of fun, the two of you curled up under his favorite tree enjoying the breeze on a hot day. This is how most of your days were spent. In the distance, you could hear the sound of the metal machines coming closer but you had nothing to worry about, the humans only ever dropped off food or new friends. But today their plan seemed to change.

The black metal machine stopped a little distance away and two humans stepped out, one was holding some strange stick and the other a large cloth bag.

You looked down to your sleeping boyfriend and wondered if you should wake him, maybe he would know what to do, but before you could try to do anything a sharp prick jabbed into your thigh.

You look down to see a small shiny tube sticking out of your thigh with a bright feather on its top. Before you could warn Bakugou, one of the tubes stuck his thigh, shocking him awake, but it was too late. Whatever they did to you already had you falling into darkness, listening to the bellow of rage as Bakugou realized too late what was happening.

Your groggy eyes opened a few hours later, you take a quick survey of your surroundings and realize they must have taken you back to the main barn. Being a hybrid you don’t get many interactions with humans, both species usually choosing to leave the other in peace.

The door to your pin opened and a farmer with green hair opened the door, you smile with relief. He had been one of the humans you used to see when you lived in the barn.

“Sorry to disturb your rest little one,” he mumbled, opening up a small case. “You are due for a couple of shots and a quick checkup just to make sure you are healthy.”

You nod, relieved. Checkups, when you lived near the main barn, were common. You hoped they told Bakugou what was going on.

The kind farmer’s hands expertly delivered your shots and took a few vitals before leading you back to the metal machine. You waved bye as the farmhand drove back to the pasture, back to Bakugou.

But the scene you return to was nothing you were expecting. The fence surrounding the grass field was all but in ruins. The strong wood posts having been ripped from the ground. The metal feeding pin that held hay was lying in pieces around the field. You look around trying to see if a storm had come through only to see the cause of all the damage.

Bakugou was rushing towards the truck, fury etched on his face as he prepared to ram it. The farmhand quickly opened the door keeping you inside and gently pushes you out before rushing away.

You don’t even have time to look up before he is on top of you, rubbing his hands over your skin. You try to get out a few words, to reassure him you were fine, but he was not listening. His frantic eyes inspected every inch of your skin, making sure the humans had not done something to you.

Once his eyes slowed to meet you you give him a soft smile, trying to show him that you were ok, but he needed more. His heart was racing, since he had woken up with you, not by his side he had been on a rampage. Anything that had been in his path was now rubble. Despite now having you safe in his arms, adrenaline was still pumping through him.

Not waiting another minute his hand clamps around your neck, gently pushing your back to the ground.

You spread open your knees, already knowing what he had planned. His mouth was on you in seconds, taking your cock deep into his mouth. You let out a small whine, already overwhelmed. Bakugou had made it his life's mission to find exactly what made you tick. He spent hours teasing your sweet body, watching silently as you wither around, taking mental notes at what moves made you crazy.

If you thought he was good before, he was a god now. Sucking your cock into his mouth with the exact pressure he knew would drive you higher. He did not bother to open your with his fingers, he knew your ass would still be stretched from the night before.

It only took a few more lashes of his tongue before your legs clamped together around his head. He moaned on your cock, enjoying the feel of your soft thighs around his head.

When your body stops trembling he pries open your knees, keeping them open as his cock lined up with your entrance. You are too dazed from your orgasm to do anything but lie there as he slowly sinks into your heat.

You both groan at the sensation of him entering you, the burn of the stretch only making the pleasure feel more intense.

He does not give you time to adjust before he is running into you, his heavy balls hitting your skin with each deep thrust. His deep grunts filled your ears, telling you how much he loved being inside you, filling you up with his cum.

A tightness starts to grow in your lower abdomen, like a rope slowing twisting, building tension with each thrust. Your legs started to tremble around him, the muscles quivering with anticipation.

You were already so close, you just needed a little bit more. But Bakugou was not going to let you off that easy. Changing the angle of his thrusts until the tightness loosened. You let out a cry of protest, wanting that feeling to return.

"Beg," he growled into your ear, "Beg if you want to cum on my cock."

You wanted to have outraged, to yell at him and demand more. Instead, your pretty lips opened to say, "Please Bakugou, please let me cum on your cock."

His hips shifted again, his thrusts now hitting the pleasure spot inside your ass. "More," he groaned, "Beg me for more."

"Bakugou," you cry, losing the ability to think, "Please, I really need to cum, please let me cum. I'll be a good boy I promise, please just let me cum."

"A good boy hm? What does my good boy want me to do?" he panted, his thrusts growing sloppier.

"My cock," you babble, barely coherent, "Please play with my cock."

His lips press themselves on your forehead, wordlessly rewarding your words as his hand slipped down your body, settling on your straining cock. Your body jolts as fingers rub across the head of your cock, spreading the precum that had accumulated.

His strong finger surrounded your cock, stroking the tender skin in time with his thrusts. It was enough. With a silent scream, the rope inside you released, sending you spiraling.

You could not control your body as convulsions traveled through you, making every muscle tense. Bakugou watched his hard work pay off before your clenching hole finally pushed him over the edge. A low groan left his lips as he spilled inside you, his balls twitching as he filled you to the brim with his cum.

He does not bother to pull his cock out as he lifts you into his arms, holding your chest to chest as he carries you back to his tree. Having you filled with his cum finally allowed him to calm down enough to realize why you had been taken but he did not regret destroying everything around him. Humans needed to know who you belonged to the next time they try to take you away.

#bakugou thirst #mha thirsts #bnha thirst #bakugou x male reader #bakugou thirsts

[jackrrabbit]

Clean /// Sakusa x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: [College dorm AU] Sakusa can’t stop thinking about you in the shower.

A/N: Indirectly inspired by @seita​ and @bakatenshii​, who made me think about soap and Sakusa’s cum in conjunction…thanks guys :P

Tags/warnings: masturbation, mild cleanliness fetish if that’s a thing?, Sakusa wants you and is in deep denial about it

It’s not like he started doing it on purpose. Not at first.

On weekdays, you wake up at the same time that Sakusa gets back from the gym: 7 AM exactly. He timed it that way because they clean the dorm bathrooms at 6:30—they’re still revolting, but they can’t be as bad as the ones at the gym. He can avoid touching the stall walls if he has to, and…he has to. 7 is the perfect time—even the students with 8 AM class can’t be fucked to wake up that early, so he gets the row of mirrors and stalls to himself.

Except for you.

Your room is right next to the stairwell; when Sakusa jogs up the stairs (two at a time, blood still pumping from his workout even though the sweat is already cooling on his back) he can hear your alarm through the thin wall. Always 7 on the dot: your phone blares an obnoxiously loud ringtone, there’s a muffled protest from you and your roommate curses at you to turn that shit off, it’s seven fucking AM. By the time he’s standing at the bathroom sink brushing his teeth, you’re usually pushing through the door in your pajamas, holding your towel in one hand and rubbing your puffy eyes with the other.

So it’s not like Sakusa plans this. It’s a coincidence. Mostly.

“G’morning…Kiyoomi.” You interrupt yourself with a yawn in the middle of the sentence. Your voice sounds heavy with exhaustion and he wonders, not for the first time, why you bother waking up so early. You don’t seem like a morning person.

The toothbrush is still in Sakusa’s mouth, so he just nods to greet you. You smile sleepily and then bend down to reach your bathroom locker, and—fuck, fuck, you’re wearing the shorts again, the threadbare cotton ones you wear whenever the weather gets a little warmer. They’re thin (so thin he can see the high cut of your panties underneath when they’re stretched over your ass, not that he’s looking), and they’re short.

Do you know how much you’re showing off when you bend over like that to rummage through your locker? You’re basically showing your ass off, the smooth muscle of your thighs rising up into those perfect cheeks, and between them, the dingy cotton stretched tight over your mound—

He’s not looking. He shouldn’t be looking. Sakusa lowers his gaze in the mirror to spit the toothpaste into the sink.

“Hey, can I borrow some of that?”

You’re standing at his elbow now, blinking up at him. Pleading. When he wordlessly hands over the tube, you grin, eyes crinkling up at the corners like he just offered to take your hand in marriage rather than letting you have some toothpaste that he wasn’t going to miss anyway. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

You barely know him. Sakusa’s pretty sure that these early-morning bathroom encounters are the only times you two interact.

“How was your workout?” you ask when you’re done brushing your teeth.

Sakusa has to grip the edge of the counter to tear his eyes away from you when you spit it out—white foam dribbling out of your mouth and down your chin—but that’s beside the point. “It was fine.”

“Yeah? Did you run or go to the gym?”

“Gym.” Why are you so curious? You’re too friendly.

You hum appreciatively, rubbing foamy circles of cleanser into your skin. The smell of it is light—floral, but barely. Lavender, maybe. That’s step one of your morning skincare routine, which Sakusa’s pretty certain he knows as well as you do by now. Next will be toner, and then you’ll save the rest for after your shower—but before you reach for the next little bottle in the row you’ve lined up on the bathroom counter, you turn toward him. “I should get back on a regular gym schedule too. Maybe one day I’ll go with you?”

“If you can wake up that early.” The remark must come out harsher than Sakusa intended, because you raise your eyebrows and your mouth drops open—but a second later you’re smiling again, turning back to the mirror so you can pat the toner into your skin.

“You’re probably right. I don’t know how you wake up at six in the morning every day.”

5:45, he wants to correct. But if he keeps talking to you, you’re going to notice he’s staring. So he just finishes washing his face without answering, puts his stuff back into the locker, and makes his way over to the shower stalls, leaving you and the scent of lavender behind.

There are five stalls. All open, of course. Second from the left has the best water pressure, and the one on the far right has a removable shower head and heats up the quickest. But Sakusa chooses the middle stall. For no reason. Not because he knows exactly which stall you’re going to pick, and he wants to be sure he’s in the stall next to yours when you do. He takes his time—undresses slowly, folding his dirty gym clothes even though they’re going straight into the laundry; sets his shampoo and conditioner and body wash out on the bench in the order that he’s going to use them; turns the knob to just the right angle to get the right temperature and waits for it to heat up until he can see the steam saturating the air.

By the time Sakusa’s under the water, massaging shampoo through his hair and feeling the sweat slough off his skin along with the shower spray, you’re done with your pre-shower skincare, padding over from the sinks to the stalls and picking—predictably—the one next to his. He has to strain himself to hear it over the sound of splashing water but he does hear it: your cheap pink flip-flops slapping against the tile floor, the relieved yawn in your breath as you stretch (you always stretch) and the soft rustling of fabric as you take off your clothes and deposit them in a heap on the bench.

Sakusa tilts his head up into the shower spray and feels the stray drops clinging to his eyelashes and wonders how much he’d be able to see if the walls were made of glass.

Today is Wednesday, and that means you’re going to wash your hair today because you always wash it on Wednesdays. Sakusa can already smell the shampoo you use filtering into the air. What is it? Sharper and more bitter than mint, medicinal almost—he’s considered asking you a few times what it is, but he can’t figure out a way to phrase the question.

Hey, (Y/N), tell me what product you use to wash your hair. Ever since I started jacking off in the shower to you, I can’t get off unless I’m smelling it.

That probably wouldn’t go over well.

Fuck, he’s already hard. The heat of the shower is nothing compared to the heat of his blood pumping down to his cock. Sakusa rinses through his hair quickly, freeing up his hands so he can palm his shaft and give it a tentative stroke.

Through the shower wall you give a light, soft sigh of appreciation, and Sakusa feels his cock jump in his hand. You prefer your showers hotter than he does—white puffs of steam are rising up over the gap between the stall divider and the ceiling, and you always come out flushed. The heat must feel nice, hm? He can almost see you, standing naked under the shower head in just your stupid pink flip-flops, letting rivulets of water drip down from the crown of your head to flow lower…over your shoulders, your back, your tits; your fingers lathering the shampoo through your hair, soap bubbles washing the grease away from you, draining away yesterday’s grime so you’re all fresh and squeaky clean.

You sigh again, and your voice is pushing out behind the breath. A moan, almost. Do you ever touch yourself in the shower? He’d be a hypocrite to think you shouldn’t be able to take advantage of this rare moment of privacy…it’s so hard to get time to yourself in the dorms, he can sympathize… So maybe you let your hands dip lower while you wash, shift your thighs apart so you can fit your fingers between them. Pet that puffy little cunt, push your fingers inside, feel your slick wash off in the water just to be replaced with more.

Sakusa wraps his fingers around his cock and slides his hand up the shaft, moving slowly so he can savor the light friction. Your hands would be soft, wouldn’t they? Softer than his. You don’t have calluses like he does—all that lotion you use must be doing you some good. And your hands are a lot smaller than his are…you’d probably have trouble getting one hand all the way around. You’d have to use both hands to hold him, hold his cock and pump him, jack him off…

If your hands are too small for him, what about your mouth?

The shower is so warm and you’re so close. Sakusa closes his eyes so he can breathe in that sweet medicinal smell and imagine you in here with him.

Your mouth. Soft lips, no makeup, just your natural color dampened from the water and your spit and his precum, closed around him, stretched around him to accommodate for the mass of his cock sitting in your mouth. Little pink tongue flicking out to tease the tip, lapping flat at the underside and then kissing it. You’d be a tease, a fucking tease. Looking up at him with those eyes, batting your eyelashes over your dewy-wet cheeks as you try to swallow him a little deeper. He’d tangle his fingers around the back of your head, push the strands of wet hair away from your face, pull your mouth up and down on his cock while the water splashes down around the two of you—

There’s a click of a cap popping shut and your shoes smacking wetly against the floor while you reach over to grab another bottle. You’re humming to yourself—a song Sakusa’s heard on his friends’ playlists and at parties but he doesn’t know the lyrics. Sometimes you sing in the shower (always softly, under your breath, so quiet he’d barely be able to hear if he wasn’t listening) but today you just hum. Maybe you’d sing out loud if he wasn’t there?

You’re probably being considerate to him...you do seem like the type. After all, you must be as aware of his presence three feet away from you as he is of yours. You probably think about him in the shower too.

Sakusa’s hips buck forward, pushing his dick through his hand as he pumps it with no real technique or rhythm, just trying to match the pace of his breathing to what he can hear of yours. The heat of his impending climax is coiling low in his belly, even though it hasn’t been long—it never takes long when he’s thinking about you. You’ve practically become a part of his own morning routine, to the point where he couldn’t even get off when he went home for spring break a few weeks ago. When the two of you move out of the dorms and go your separate ways, it’s going to be annoying. He should really stop this, wean himself off you while he can…not that he really wants to.

Your voice isn’t bad when you sing, but it’d be a lot better moaning his name.

People fuck in the showers. Sakusa knows that, he’s heard them himself and always been acutely disgusted at the filth of it all. Dorm bathrooms are notoriously foul—there’s a reason people wear shoes when they’re showering, and the thought of people actually fucking in here makes his skin crawl. But with you? He can see it, he can feel it—the soft fat of your thighs in his hands, skin dimpling under his grip as he holds you up; your arms twisted around his neck hugging into him; the hot water streaming over both of your bodies as his cock slaps into your pussy, burying into that tight wet heat.

Sakusa grits his teeth to stifle a groan and wonders if you heard it, and then he’s feeling around for the memory of your sleepy “Good morning, Kiyoomi” and warping your voice in his mind until he can almost hear your lips wrapping around his name, panting it, whimpering it, choking it out between pleas for him to fuck you harder—Kiyoomi, please, fuck me fuck me just like that, fuck my little pussy til I can’t walk straight Kiyoomi I need you!

God, he wants to hear it, he wants to say your name, wants you to know he’s jacking off to you. Sakusa’s hand speeds up and his hips are thrusting into his fist, the water making wet clicking noises every time his cockhead moves up past his fingers as he imagines fucking you right here in this shower. He’d make you cum, make you clench and tighten around him, make you wake up the entire goddamn floor with your screaming, and—fuck, he’s mouthing out the syllables, and then he can hear his own voice out loud and he’s saying your name—

“K-Kiyoomi?”

Your actual voice—lifted, high and clear as a bell ringing even stifled by the stall and the rushing water hits Sakusa and he flinches—and cums, cock jerking under his grip as the sticky white fluid shoots out to coat his hand. It’s good, so good, so fucking good, you said his name, you said it, fucking perfect—the release passes over him so forcefully that he has to hold his breath to bite back the stuttered hiss of pleasure from deep in his throat.

“Kiyoomi?” you ask again from the other stall, voice uncertain. “Did you say my name? I thought I heard you…”

It takes him a long moment to catch his breath, and another to work up enough control to straighten and raise his hand to the spray, letting the cum wash off his skin and down the drain in cloudy white trickles. “I didn’t.”

“Oh, sorry! Guess I imagined it.” You’re back to your cheerful self, humming that brainless melody and soaping yourself up without a care in the world. So gullible. Like always. And it’s not like Sakusa wanted to get caught, but…he can’t help wondering what you’d do if you knew.

Maybe you’d hate him. Maybe you’d call him a creep, stop showering when he does, avoid his gaze when you pass each other in the halls.

Or maybe you’d be into it.

Sakusa finishes his shower at the same time you do, so he can catch you just as you step out of the stall. “Oh—“ you start, barely keeping yourself from bumping into his chest. “Oops!”

Your face is stained pink from the heat of the shower…or maybe it’s the way you’re staring at his bare chest that’s making you blush. Sakusa’s not flattering himself—he knows he’s good-looking, knows what the years of athletics have done for him, and you are staring—but just for a moment before you catch yourself and right your gaze back up to his face, absently watching him towel off his hair. The fact that you let your eyes stray a little gives him permission to do the same, so he takes a moment to examine the lines of your shoulders, your soaked hair sticking to your neck, the dip of your cleavage under the fluffy white robe you’re wearing.

You smell good, all soft and wet and clean. Sakusa can’t help imagining if you taste that good, too.

“Um…s’cuse me,” you say after a moment when he doesn’t move to let you pass through the walkway. You could try to skirt around him, but he’s so big.

“What shampoo do you use?”

You blink and pat your hair self-consciously. “It’s, uh, tea tree oil? It has peppermint and lavender and stuff too I think, it’s really good for waking up in the morning—sorry, I know some people don’t like the smell—“

“No, it doesn’t bother me.” Sakusa’s eyes narrow before he steps out of the way to let you walk past.

I like it, he wants to add. But he doesn’t.

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #haikyuu #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa #hq #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! imagines #hq imagines

[bluejayblueskies]

10 for the hug prompts with JonMartin? 🥺

touches prompt list

10 - hiding their face in the other’s neck

a no-fears au where jon and martin are in an established relationship! cw for nausea and a brief mention of vomiting (doesn't actually occur)

.

Jon doesn’t do roller coasters.

It is not, despite what Tim says when he thinks Jon isn’t listening, because he’s a, quote, ‘old man at heart’ and doesn’t know how to have fun. In theory, Jon is actually rather fond of roller coasters. He’d watched a documentary once about the design of them, and it had been rather fascinating.

It’s not because Jon doesn’t like roller coasters. It’s…

Well. It’s probably more accurate to say that roller coasters don’t like him. Specifically, his sense of equilibrium and his digestive system. Pills help somewhat, if he remembers to take them, but the fact of the matter is that he’s much more likely to leave the ride with a feeling of intense nausea than of exhilaration. He just… gets motion sick. No way around it. He always sits in the front seat of cars, ensures that he’s in a forward-facing train seat at all times, rarely travels by boat, and… avoids roller coasters.

The fact that he is currently standing in the queue for a particularly large and particularly frightening-looking roller coaster is not, therefore, due to his overwhelming love for them. It is instead entirely due to his overwhelming love for the man standing next to him, eyes bright and excited as he explains the history of this particular roller coaster. His hand is warm and soft in Jon’s, and their clasped hands swing absently back and forth as they slowly inch forward in the queue. His curls are a shock of auburn against the sky, and when he laughs and squeezes Jon’s hand, Jon forgets his anxiety entirely for a moment, lost in a wave of affection and fondness.

“—and because it’s the twenty-fifth anniversary of the ride,” Martin says with a wide grin, “it’ll be running backward today! Well, all season, I- I suppose, but we’re here today, so…”

Jon has never been on a roller coaster that’s traveled backward. It does… not sound appealing.

“That’s… very exciting,” Jon says with a smile, trying to make the words sound as genuine as possible. Because he is a coward. Or, perhaps, just very in love. Maybe both.

It’s just… Martin had been so excited when he’d dropped the amusement park tickets in front of Jon a few weeks ago. And in the four months or so that they’ve been dating, Jon has found it increasingly hard to say things that will cause that wide, unabashed smile on Martin’s face to dim even in the slightest. So Jon had discretely taken several motion sickness pills before they’d left that morning and had told himself that there were plenty of other things to do at an amusement park besides roller coasters and spinning rides and other things that make it their personal mission to tie Jon’s stomach into knots.

And then Martin had spent the entire train ride rambling about the various roller coasters and how he’d always wanted to go to an amusement park but he’d never been able to find the time or the money before and how he’s never been on a roller coaster but they look so fun, and Jon just… hadn’t been able to tell him.

It’ll be fine, he tells himself as they finally reach the front of the queue, the brightly colored cars sitting empty in front of them. It’ll be… completely, totally fine. Nothing to worry about.

They sit a few rows from the front. The click of the restraints makes Jon’s stomach squeeze with nerves, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. He doesn’t realize that he’s gripping the bar in front of him with white knuckles until Martin says gently, “Hey. Is… everything okay?”

No, but it’s certainly too late to change my mind now, Jon does not say.

“Yes,” Jon says, loosening his grip with considerable effort. It’s fine. “Just… b-been a while since I was on one of these.”

Technically not a lie.

“Oh!” Martin gives him a soft smile that makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Well, it’ll be a… new experience for both of us then, I suppose.”

The car jerks into motion, and Jon’s hands tighten instinctively on the bar again. It’s a… disconcerting effect, to be moving backward rather than forward, and one that Jon is decidedly not fond of. They exit the staging area and begin to climb up the first of the many, many hills Jon had eyed warily from their place in the queue. Jon looks straight ahead and does not look down and tries to breathe through his nose.

A warm hand covers his, and Jon looks over to see Martin watching him, that same soft smile on his lips. Martin squeezes gently, and Jon relaxes, just a fraction.

Then, the car tips over the peak of the hill and begins to accelerate, and Jon’s world blurs into a mess of colors and sensations.

The only part of the ride that Jon enjoys is the fact that it’s over quickly. By the time the car rolls to a halt—after a terrifying sequence of loops and drops and harsh curves and tight spirals—Jon feels as if his insides have been scooped out, stuffed in a washing machine, tumble dried, and then pushed back into him at all the wrong angles. Martin’s hand is still gripping his, somehow, and it remains there as they exit the car and make their way down the ramp and into the main thoroughfare. Jon’s legs feel boneless, like they’re made of jelly, and he is deeply afraid that if he opens his mouth, he is going to empty the contents of his stomach onto the pavement below.

Gentle hands are on Jon’s shoulders then, and Jon finds himself guided onto a metal bench just a few meters away from the exit ramp. Jon tries to protest that he’s fine—they have limited time here and he doesn’t need to take a break—but his stomach rolls and he pinches his lips shut before he manages to form a single word. When a hand settles on his upper back and presses down gently, he finally gives in to the urge to bend over and tuck his head between his knees in an effort to alleviate some of the lingering vertigo.

“Breathe, Jon,” Martin says, and Jon does. He takes a few deep breaths, and when a particularly powerful wave of nausea overtakes him, he can’t help the groan that escapes him. “I know,” Martin says softly, moving his hand in soothing circles on Jon’s back. “Just keep breathing, Jon. We can get some water in a bit, just… for now, let’s sit.”

Jon is too nauseous to be properly embarrassed by the coddling. That situation changes quickly as the minutes pass and Jon’s stomach begins to settle. After what must be nearly ten minutes, the nausea has faded entirely, but Jon keeps his head between his knees so he doesn’t have to look at Martin’s face.

“Feeling any better?” Martin prompts, and Jon lets out a slow breath. He nods once, and—with the help of Martin’s hand on his arm—straightens slowly, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the ground as he does so.

“Sorry,” he says, so quietly he isn’t sure Martin can hear him over the din of the crowd.

“You don’t have to apologize for- for feeling sick,” Martin says. He rubs a thumb against Jon’s arm and says, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I- I didn’t think… it would be this bad?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jon sees Martin give him a look that very clearly expresses his skepticism.

Jon sighs and puts his head in his hands again. “I just… didn’t want to disappoint you, I suppose.”

Martin is, of course, sharper than Jon gives him credit for sometimes. “Because I said I’d never had the chance to go on a roller coaster before?”

Jon nods miserably. “I-in my defense, I thought you would start with something significantly less… gravity-defying.”

“Jon,” Martin says, kindly and patiently yet with a chastising edge to it. “You could have waited by the exit.”

“I—I didn’t…” Jon feels the tips of his ears grow warm. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

“Oh,” Martin says, his voice pitched a touch higher than normal. “That’s… um, r-really sweet, actually.”

Jon is glad that Martin can’t see his face because he’s sure whatever expression would have crossed it just then would have been utterly sappy and mortifying.

“B-but I—I don’t want you to make yourself sick on my account,” Martin hastens to say. “There are loads of other things to do here. W-we don’t have to ride the roller coasters.”

Jon uncovers his face and looks at Martin. “But you want to ride the roller coasters.”

Martin worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says, “I… also want to spend time with you, Jon. D-doing things we both want to do, not… not just me.”

Jon stares at Martin and thinks, not for the first time, that he loves him. But it’s still too early to say it, probably, and he’s certainly not going to do so sitting on a sticky metal bench surrounded by children and tired-eyed parents. So all he says, in the end, is, “If… if you’re sure.”

Martin takes Jon’s hand in his and squeezes gently. “I am.” Then, he gives Jon a wide, soft smile that has Jon’s stomach twisting all over again. “So. What do you do at amusement parks, then?”

Jon flushes. But Martin doesn’t laugh at him when he mumbles that he’s actually quite fond of carousels. Instead, he takes Jon’s hand and walks with him across the park—staying away from the more crowded sections, stopping to buy some horrendously overpriced bottles of water on their way—until they’re standing in front of the carousel, painted in lovely pastel blues and yellows.

Jon, for a moment, feels self-conscious and more than a bit childish. But then Martin squeezes his hand and says, without a hint of teasing, “So, what animal do you prefer?” and the tension in Jon’s shoulders melts away in an instant.

Jon learns that Martin likes the classic horses, manes painted gold and plastic saddles a bright cherry red. (And Martin is entirely unsurprised to find that Jon chooses the cat, every time.) He learns, as they continue to explore the amusement park, that Martin likes caramel apples but hates how they get stuck in his teeth. (He purchases one anyway, rolled in peanuts and little rainbow sprinkles, that gives Jon a toothache just looking at it.) He learns that Martin does not appreciate his explanation that the monsters on the haunted house ride are ‘just dummies’ and ‘obviously fake’ and ‘really, Martin, that’s not even the correct number of bones in a human skeleton.’ (Though he secretly treasures the way that Martin clings to his side in the car and hides his face in Jon’s neck, his curls tickling the sensitive skin just underneath Jon’s chin.)

And Martin, apparently, learns that Jon is strangely good at midway games.

“You know those things are totally rigged, right?” Martin says, staring at Jon in disbelief as he tries and fails to adjust his grip on the frankly enormous plush teddy bear the midway worker had begrudgingly surrendered to him. And the medium-sized plush cat he’d won earlier. And the dozen or so little plushies and trinkets and accessories he’d acquired along the way. “You’re not supposed to be able to win.”

“Yes, well.” Jon gives up on trying to find a comfortable way to carry his prizes and extends the massive teddy toward Martin. “I suppose I’m just… lucky.”

He is certainly not going to admit that he spent a good three days researching what to do on a carnival date, came to the conclusion that it would be romantic to win an enormous stuffed animal for Martin, and committed himself to memorizing which games were easiest to win and what strategies he should employ in order to have the best chance at success. That would be… well. A bit much, he thinks. Best to just… not mention it.

Martin carries the teddy all the way back to his flat, his cheeks flushing a lovely pink whenever an occasional curious glance is thrown in their direction. It’s only once they get there and Martin tries to pass the plushie back to Jon with a sheepish, “Suppose I better give this back now,” that Jon realizes he had… indeed not been very clear about his intentions.

“It’s… for you, actually,” Jon says, ignoring the way his cheeks are growing steadily warmer. Then, Jon takes a breath and pushes the rest of the plushies rather unceremoniously into Martin’s arms, save for the cat which he’s… grown rather attached to in their short acquaintanceship. “Th-they all are. Er. F-for you.”

“O-oh.” Martin looks down at the collection of brightly colored things in his arms, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “I—I… really?”

Jon hugs the cat tightly to his chest, feeling something like embarrassment curl in his stomach. “I-if you don’t want them, I—I can—”

“No!” Martin says quickly, curling his arms protectively around the plushies. “I—I do. W-want them.” He looks down at the teddy sitting by his feet, then up at Jon with a warm, shy smile on his face. “Th-thanks, Jon.”

I love him, I love him, I love him.

Jon nods, pinches his lips together, and tries to keep his affection contained. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, after all. That’s… something he’s not meant to do, he thinks.

Then, when they’re both lying in bed and Martin’s chest is pressed against Jon’s back, his arm curled around Jon’s middle and his nose buried in Jon’s hair, Martin murmurs, “I love you,” and Jon’s breath catches in his throat.

“I… I love you too,” he whispers. And it’s such an easy thing to say that Jon wonders why he’d ever worried at all.

Martin makes a sleepy, contented noise, burrowing closer and wrapping Jon more tightly in his arms. And because he can—he can, he can, Martin said it first, so he can—Jon says again, so quietly he isn’t sure Martin can hear it: “I love you.”

The words are sweet on his tongue, like candy floss and funnel cakes and caramel apples.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #my writing #my fic #i know nothing about british amusement parks so if this is painfully american... forgive me #hawkfurze

[missblissy]

PLS alastor x chubbyish reader who only wears baggy clothes like MENS 4XL AND HUGE/LONG SHORTS and then finally puts on something tight like a dress -like his reaction SORRY FOR IT BEING SO LONG AND SPECIFIC

(( Of course my friend!! And no worries. IM SOrRY FOr The WAIt---...... I am but a simple lad. The drafts man.... I don't get along with them and they don't get along with me. AGAIN SORRY FOR THE WAIT WEEPS. I also hope you don't mind I did a modern!au...? QwQ I just-.... I just saw such a cute idea in my head.... ANYWAYS. I hope u enjoy!))

You chewed at your bottom lip as you thought it over again. Was this a good idea? You saw yourself in the mirror and slowly turned to the side a little. I don't know... Is this a good look for me? You picked up the hem of the dress and pulled it up a little. For a second to long you saw your theighs and looked away quickly. The dress was much different than the typical outfit you enjoyed. Baggy clothes no more, a dress found a snug but almost perfect fit. Something about it felt to tight, making certain parts of your skin to appear more pressed and chubby. It did show that you had some curves but nothing to gloat about.

It was red. Your idea. Well... the dress and everything was your idea too. You wanted to look nice, or nicer than you normally dressed. You were a comfort over pain person. Sweat pants were a must-have, large shirts, oversized hoodies? Constantly. It was just far more comfortable that way. Why would anyone want to spend all day in a pair of tight jeans riding up in places nothing should ever go? It didn't make sense, and honestly, it also just made you feel a little better to hide behind such baggy clothes sometimes.

You leaned over the sink and fixed your hair. You felt far more nervous than you should be. Maybe it was because he was waiting outside the bathroom, in your bedroom. Alastor took his time enjoying a book though, he wasn't in that much of a hurry. A lazy smile rested on his face as he looked at the clock on the dresser in front of him. He sat on the edge of your shared bed and took in a slow breath, "It's almost seven, dear, we'll have to leave soon." He casually said as he flipped a page of his book.

From within the bathroom, you took yet another look at yourself, "Okay!" You said quickly. The dress wasn't over the top or anything. It kind of looked like a simple high waist, shirt dress. Tight on the top with a button-down and a little fit bow tucked within the collar, similar to a vintage dress from the 50s. You enjoyed the skirt wasn't as tight as the shirt, but it was still fitted even if it fanned out.

You had to turn away from the mirror or you'd get stuck there again for another twenty minutes. You put your hand on the doorknob then paused. You had only been dating Alastor for about two months. So far he found your casual choice of clothes cute. He didn't seem to care what you wore at the end of the day. And honestly, he didn't know what to expect when you came out of the bathroom. He only wore what he typically wore... But that's also because he was a "public figure" who ran a "respectable" podcast. So he didn't have to change much. Still, the same button-down shirt, tucked into his dark dress pants. There was no sweater vest or bowtie, but instead just a regular black tie. However, up until now, Alastor had never seen you in a dress before.

Alastor never asked you to dinner at a restaurant that had a dress code either. Normally the dates were left to late-night fast food runs because you got out of work late. Not this time though. You also couldn't imagine the embarrassment of being caught at a classy restaurant in a hoodie and shorts... Yeah. No thanks. You'd rather not.

After staring at the door for five minutes you snapped out of your trance-like thoughts and twisted the doorknob. You quickly stepped out of the bathroom and stood halfway between the bed and the door. At first, Alastor didn't even look up from his book. He gave you a glance for a second then quickly took a second look and stared at you.

He slapped the book closed with one hand and set it down beside him, "Well, look at that," He smiled at you. You felt your cheeks burn under his gaze, "Go on, do a spin," He twirled a finger quickly.

You felt a smile climb onto your lips as you did a stupid little giggle and lifted your arms with a spin. The little clap he did only made you chuckle more, "Stop it," You rolled your eyes, only teasing him.

Alastor pushed himself off the bed and just as you spun back to face him, he snacked an arm around your waist and used his free hand to grab your own. And suddenly the two of you were dancing. He side-stepped with a quick waltz, making it easy for you to follow him. He hummed a pretty tune and whisked you away.

Little did he pay mind to your big doe eyes and blushing face. He had his eyes closed as if this was just second nature and he didn't even have to think about doing it. Pressed against his chest you could smell the sweet scent of roses mixed with a warm piney cologne. Alastor stopped short and gave you a little spin. The skirt of your dress waved slightly as you left the closeness of Alastor. You held onto his hand as he looked you over.

Alastor quickly pulled you back to him, "You look very lovely, dear," He was only a few inches away from your face. The warmth of his smile bleed into his brown eyes as he brushed his nose against yours, "Utterly stunning, quite literally the most beautiful creature I've ever seen." Oh well, now he was just being over the top. You let out a little hiccup a giggle but it was stifled by the swift kiss that Alastor stole from your lips.

When he pulled away you were left slightly dazed and sad that the kiss was over so soon. But Alastor kept you in his arms as he said, "Maybe we should just stay home," He grinned at you, "I don't know if I care to share you with anyone else-"

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away with a cheeky smirk of your own. Sometimes he was so full of himself, at least he did it in a way that could make you laugh, "Come on," You gave him a light pat on the chest, "We're gonna be late," You walked past him and grabbed your coat off the dress. Alastor remained there with his grin growing larger. His eyes roamed over your body as you walked past. He took in every angle he could get before following after you and closing the door behind him.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #reader insert #ask #answered #cute #human!alastor #human!reader #modern!au #f!reader #drabble #fluffy

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if paranoid Bella told Carlisle what's going on and enlisted his help? Like if she overheard/learned something that made her think he might help, or if this is the Bella who's stuck in a time loop and figures it's worth a shot and at worse she'd be yeeted right back to the beginning of the loop if the vampire doctor is in cahoots with his scary son?

Anon is referring to Paranoid Bella. Now, Paranoid Bella has tried something like this once before, sort of, Billy called Carlisle on her behalf. It went places so awful I refuse to put them down in words.

Here the question is what if Bella asked Carlisle herself.

Why Paranoid Bella Would Never Do This

She can't trust any of the Cullens, for all she knows, they're in league with Edward. Bella's wearing her tin foil hat and that tin foil hat has kept her alive, dammit. For all she knows, this Dracula's Bride thing is just what vampires do and she's the latest victim.

She would never, ever, trust any of the Cullens. Ever.

Dr. Cullen seems nice as he stitches her up? IT'S A TRAP!

As For Time Loop Bella...

Anon's referring to this post, which... You really want this AU, don't you? I think that's conflating things a little too much here, and gives us way too different of a set up.

That Bella would probably try anything and everything, but she's also reached a point of nihilism where she just doesn't care anymore and might just do it to fuck with these people.

Even if she tells Carlisle, she probably keeps looping, and is well aware of this. Life is misery, pain, and endless.

Kind of misses the spirit of your post (which I assume is to get Paranoid Bella out of the miserable hole she's stuck in).

Bella Takes a Leap of Faith

But alright, Carlisle Cullen seems unusually cool and rational as he stitches her up. Maybe it's the pain talking, or Bella's own increasing desperation with her latest brush with morality, but she realizes just as Edward does that this is untenable.

If Bella keeps hanging around these people, as Edward insists she does (Edward having insisted on this goddamn birthday party at his house), then she will die sooner or later. Either Edward or his family will eat her.

This cannot go on and, as of that moment, Bella doesn't know that Edward is going to attempt to leave her within a few days.

This is the first time she's alone with Carlisle, the head of the coven, and probably the only time she ever will be. This is the only chance she'll ever have to ask for help from someone who can actually do something about it.

Bella interrupts Carlisle's "Edward's just weirdly religious" explanation and tells him that Edward's a lunatic. She needs help.

Carlisle has a, "Wait, what?" moment. He knew she was jumpy, very nervous, but she'd seemed very happy with Edward. Also, from his perspective, Edward is a very noble spirit if very young. Edward went on the human diet and came back, presumably understanding the inherent worth of human life. Edward voted not to murder Bella after the truck.

Yes things have been... weird, and Carlisle was concerned, still is about some parts, but it seemed to be going so well.

It's not.

He sits there in numb horror as Bella tells him all about the times Edward snuck through her window (greasing it to make it silent), to stare at her while she sleeps, the time he threatened to kill himself upon her inevitable death, how he has admitted to following her everywhere and spying on her through the thoughts of those around her, and all about that time he contemplated the murder of his entire Biology class to eat Bella: his personal brand of heroin.

Carlisle's listening to someone talk about a completely different person.

But Bella's insistent, Edward Cullen is Ted Bundy in the making, and Bella now has no other recourse but to turn to Carlisle. HELP. ME.

Well, they don't have much time left.

Edward will be back any moment and Carlisle... there must be some misunderstanding, right? Except, with some of these details, there's no misunderstanding this. If Edward actually said and did all of this: then this is horrible.

Regardless, it's very clear that Bella wants nothing to do with the Cullens and especially with Edward. That makes things very clear: Carlisle has to talk to Edward on Bella's behalf and get him to back the fuck off.

Though Carlisle does warn Bella that, as she knows the secret, she and the coven are technically breaking the law. If she's found out, Bella will either be murdered or turned. It's not necessarily likely anyone will find out but... It's not exactly a great position for the coven to be in, or Bella for that matter.

This is news to Bella.

Bella says she'll think about this vampire business (she's not thrilled) and really doesn't want to join the Cullens, and Carlisle will talk to Edward.

The talk doesn't go well.

Edward denies, denies, denies, and... admits some of it might be true were you to look at it from a the naive angle of a pure young woman who knows nothing of the world. Edward wasn't sneaking into Bella's room to rape/eat her, no, he was protecting her! From spiders! And that time he forced her to ride home with him, he was afraid she wouldn't be able to drive after fainting! And that time he almost murdered all of Biology... That was out of context, Carlisle.

Carlisle grows increasingly horrified as Edward's every answer confirms that he is, in fact, horrifying. This is someone who cares nothing about human life, not truly, and is a predator.

Carlisle immediately tells Edward it's over. Consider this a restraining order from Bella, he is never to speak to her, never to be near her, never to see her ever again.

Edward implodes.

Carlisle now hates him, this is terrible, Bella his true love doesn't love him at all and poisoned Carlisle against him, and she's ruined everything!

Spiraling further into madness, as one does, Edward concludes that Bella was a vile villainess: that this was her plan the entire time. She faked her love for him, faked being this utterly wonderful and perfect being, so that she could destroy his family as well as Edward himself? Why? Because she's the type who wants to see the world burn.

Edward's love turns to utter hatred, he's back in Biology again where this little girl dares to disrupt his life, only it's 1000 times worse. Bella Swan is the greatest evil that has ever walked this Earth.

And now he's a man with nothing to lose.

Carlisle's love for him? Already gone. Carlisle's faith in Edward's humanity? Gone. Why should Edward hold back anymore? Why shouldn't he have what he wants?

Within a few days, by the time Edward was originally going to leave, he sneaks into Bella's house and murders her in her bedroom. He then likely desecrates her corpse so she's unrecognizable, to make her as ugly in death as she should have been in life.

Edward then flees, leaving the coven for good, and returns to his diet of people. Not murderers and rapists anymore though, that pretense is done, because he's fully embraced being a monster.

I imagine out of pettiness he kills women who look like Bella.

Conclusion

Congratulations, anon, you have lost the Twilight Yandere Simulator.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #bella swan #paranoid bella #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #edward/bella #meta #headcanon #opinion

[ohsolonelyghosts]

I'll do it for you then.

Characters: Modern AU Businessman!Kylo Ren x reader

Word Count: 3,665

Note: Welcome to my first Tumblr fic! I felt it was finally time to pursue writing on this website, and who better to start it off with than Mr. Kylo Ren? This is a bit longer than I actually intended, and I just got carried away! I actually really love how this turned out.

Contents/Warnings: NSFW, degradation, some choking, some orgasm denial, ever-so-slight daddy kink, unprotected sex

Kylo worked late into the evening. Usually, it didn’t bother you much, you quite enjoyed having your shared apartment to yourself in the evenings. You didn’t have to hear about what show your boyfriend wanted to watch, always managing to steal the remote from you when you were super into a show or movie. So, what was the issue with you tonight? The two of you had a pretty basic agreement, you weren’t always affectionate to each other all the time. A bit of cuddling at night in bed, a kiss in the morning before the two of you went on your ways, and that was enough to satisfy the both of you. If you were sick, he would manage to let down a little more of the manly wall he portrayed, always climbing into bed with you and staying with you the entire day if he could.

The one time you both were helplessly attached at the hip was in the bedroom, unable to ever get enough of each other. Breathless and coated in layers of sweat, Kylo’s shoulders glistening in the dim room. You could feel your lower half starting to work itself just as hard as your head was. Leaning your head back against the couch cushions, you could no longer focus on the show you were oh-so-excited to watch when you arrived home. You slipped a hand between your thighs, resting on your clothed crotch. Thoughts overtook you, rubbing small circles to tease yourself, holding back whimpers. That must have been why you were pondering when the hell he would be arriving home. You were hungry for him.

“Doll?” A voice called out from the other room. It snapped you out of your thoughts of being pounded into from behind from an animalistic Kylo Ren.

Clearing your throat, you called out, “I’m in here!”

You looked past the couch, seeing your lover waltz into the kitchen, setting his bag on the counter. You pulled your hand from yourself, as if nothing was happening before you heard his voice. Rising from your seat, you mosied your way into the kitchen to join him.

“Hi, my love,” you greeted, a soft tone in your words. He gave you a half-nod, it was his way of a silent greeting. A lot of the communication between you two had happened to be silent. He was oddly quiet, usually he would be going off about his day by now, interrupting you. You looked at him as his bag was unzipped, fiddling with his things. He must have had a long day. Your eyes moved to his hands, admiring them quietly. You loved the way they curled around your jaw, your throat as you begged him to fuck you senseless.

Feeling a glare piercing through your body, your eyes wandered up to his face. Kylo had some sort of puzzled look playing upon his face as tilted his head to look at you.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” He asked quietly, zipping his bag back up and pushing it away from the two of you. Kylo let out a breath, you were still halfway in your thoughts, trying to think of a way to muster up some sort of statement as to why you were just watching him.

“You’re handsome,” you mused back at him, innocently batting your eyelashes. You were going to try to play your cards right so that he would catch on to what you were trying to get him to do. Kylo huffed out a laugh, bringing a hand to your cheek. His thumb roamed over your cheekbone, a small smirk on his lips.

“Real cute, doll,” Kylo nodded back at you, removing his hand from your cheek. The fire in your veins was threatening to make you combust. You nearly whined at the loss of contact from him, coughing it out. This earned yet another puzzled look from him. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was messing with you or not. Could he not see how desperate you were needing his touch? For him to strip every item of clothing off of you right there and fuck you into oblivion?

“I had an incredibly long day at work today,” he mentions. There he was, back to fiddling with that stupid work bag. “Trying to close this deal with another company, I’ve been bargaining as much as I could, but they don’t like Pryde.”

Pryde was his business partner and he had become pretty close with the guy. They were a dangerous pair, Kylo did most of the talking to clients, trying to set up endless deals with them. Pryde did most of the emails and got the meetings set up in the first place.

Kylo continued to go on about his day, but something about him was making it so you could not focus one bit. He enjoyed that you were a good listener, always wanting to hear what he had to say. You instead were focusing on the way his torso looked in that shirt he was wearing. It was one of your favorites, you even picked it out for him. You nodded along when you could pull yourself out of your thoughts long enough to pretend you were paying attention.

“Why don’t they want to work with Pryde, dear?” You asked him softly, raising your eyebrows. Even if you didn’t necessarily hear what he was saying all the way through, it was important you asked him questions when he fell silent. You heard a chuckle, followed by the word “pathetic” and your heart dropped out of your chest.

Once again, Kylo’s hand was on your face, angling your jaw to look up at him. His eyes scanned your face, the forced eye contact always put you under pressure. Ren’s mouth opened as if he was going to say something to you, and shook his head as he let you go.

“If you paid attention to anything I had just said, you would know why. I explained the whole thing to you. What else could you possibly have been thinking about?”

That was the next thing about Kylo, he had such a temper, it was hard for you sometimes. If you misheard one thing on a bad day, it could send him over the edge. In a way, it did get you all flustered, he was hot, and when he was grumpy or upset it made him ten times as hot.

“I’m sorry, Kylo, I don’t know how I didn’t manage to hear it,” you breathed out, looking at a mildly grumpy version of your boyfriend. He once again asked you to spit out what you were drifting off to think about. Shaking your head, you refused to let out those thoughts that got you so worked up.

“Doll, I’m going to ask you one more time,” Ren practically growled out. His voice was an octave lower than it usually was. He was so stern, and you loved every bit of his current attitude. “What is it that’s distracting you so fucking bad?”

This was it, you couldn’t get away with it past this. Your next words could either end the night in a ruthless fight, or some incredibly rough sex. You cleared your throat, and thoughts. Eyes meeting a very unenthused Kylo.

“Well,” you trailed off, looking away from him. You could never stand it when he would make you speak your mind, especially when it was about something dirty. The way you were acting should have been enough to make him know what you were on about. “Thinking about the way you fucked me last night. The way you made me see stars and the way I couldn’t walk afterwards.”

That had to be enough pleasing words for him to fuck you now, shouldn’t they have been? Kylo should have now known what you wanted tonight.

You’re met with a stifled laugh, and then his warm lips crashing on yours. He mumbles something into your mouth that sounds like the word “cute” as he bites gently at your lower lip. You move both of your hands up to either side of his face, deepening your kiss. Moaning softly at his tongue entering your mouth, his hands find their way to your hips. Kylo lifts you from underneath your thighs, moving you up on top of the island.

“Why not be open about it, doll? Do you get off on making daddy mad? Get off on any sort of punishment, because it’s attention?” His words became mumbles as he trailed kisses all around your jaw and neck. You became practically helpless under his touch as shuddering from his fingers moving under your shirt.

“No sir, I just was thinking about it and wanted to listen to you speak,” you mumbled out pathetically, watching him pull away from your neck. You whined a bit at him for loss of contact once again. His hands are placed on either side of you on the island. Even if you wanted to escape, there was not an exit you could take. The way Kylo looked at you, you knew he wanted to laugh in your face.

“You’re so fucking stupid when you look at me like that, all pathetic. Wipe that face off of your head,” he growled at you. You sucked in a breath, looking down at the ground. He loved talking down at you, especially when you wouldn’t listen to him. Admittedly, you loved it more than you could ever say to him.

You didn’t say anything in retort to him, you were terrified of what he could do to punish you. He looked extremely sexy, all worked up, lips slightly swollen in an ever-so-slight smirk. Kylo’s lips returned to your neck, biting and sucking at the skin, making their way up to your earlobe. He nipped gently at your ear, causing you to moan softly out to him. He tugged slightly, kissing below your ear and moving his way back down to your jaw, then back to your neck.

“Let’s get this off, should we?” He asked, it was a rhetorical question, but you desperately wondered what would happen if you had said no. You swallowed hard, playing on the consequences for a moment.

“What if I don’t?”

Your words rang out, your boyfriend’s face contorting once again to that confusion he first met you with earlier. He wasn’t used to being told no, you always did everything you could for him. He drank in your words, you could practically see the gears turning so he could process it.

Kylo nodded once, and stayed silent. He swooped you up almost effortlessly, taking long strides to the shared bedroom between you two. Your boyfriend dropped you on your bed, a hand to your neck as he pushed you backwards. He squeezed just enough for your hand to move up and grip his wrist, digging your nails into him. It was his turn to suck in a breath at the slight pain. You were sure you could draw blood if it got really catty between you two tonight.

“If you don’t want to do it,” Kylo’s voice finally rang out to you after all this time. He leaned down to your ear, his breath warm. “I’ll just have to do it for you.”

Without a second thought, he moved your arms above your head, making sure to rip off your shirt. He threw it onto the ground, letting it pool at his feet.

“I have a hard day at work, I look forward to coming home to be with my little girl, and she leads on that she wants me back, just to be a little bitch when I want to fuck her the way she wants.”

He sounds irritated with you, but you know he’s just playing it off. You know Kylo cannot resist the way you look when he tugs your shorts down your legs, letting them end up like your shirt. He looked over to your bedside table, back to you, and then opened it. You watched him rummage around before pulling out your vibrator. Your eyes widened a bit at him, eyebrows furrowing together.

“Dear, what’re you doing with that?” You questioned, squeezing your thighs together. You knew, or at least had a very good idea of what his plan for you was tonight, and you started to regret telling him you wouldn’t take your shirt off. Knowing what he was capable of, your mind fought with you over what would be happening if you had obliged.

Once again, snapped out of your thoughts as you hear a familiar buzzing noise. You gasped out, body jolting upwards as it hit your clothed clit. Kylo pressed your hips back down harshly, turning up the vibrator one more level. You cried out for him, unable to help squirming, attempting to get out of his grasp.

“This is what bad whores get. Take it,” he growled, eyes glaring at you. You tried to squeeze your thighs together, hips bucking up to him. Ren didn’t seem to enjoy your movements, and he wasn’t going to let up on you.

“Stop moving, or I’m going to make this a lot worse.”

His words rang out again, and this time you tried to calm your body down. The sensations on your clit were nearly too powerful, and as if he read your mind, he turned it up to the highest setting. You knew that he wanted you to squirm so that he could make it even harder on you.

You felt two of his long fingers slip into you, curling them upwards as your moans got louder for him. You wanted to arch up your back for him, show him you could take him like a good girl. You could feel his eyes peering into you, waiting for you to make one wrong move.

“Kylo, I’m really-” you stammered out, breath becoming rapid. Your chest heaved as your eyes met his. A smirk played upon his lips as he started to pump his fingers into you at a rough speed. Kylo pressed the vibrator against you even harder. He wanted you to cum, he wanted you to let loose of everything and go back to thrashing around for him.

“You want to cum? You wanna cum all over my fingers like a pathetic little slut? You’re so wet for me doll, go on, cum.”

That was all you needed, you became utterly undone as he egged you on. You practically sobbed as you came, your body almost becoming uncontrollable. He milked your orgasm, watching you as you blissfully came down. He let go of you, vibrator still buzzing in his hand.

“That was beautiful, sweet girl, but there’s something that didn’t happen,” he said, tongue peeking out and licking his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed together once again, moving yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“You didn’t get to cum?” You asked in response, biting your lip at him. Kylo shrugged a bit, huffing a laugh out. He finally shook his head, leaving you wondering what on earth you could be missing.

He pushed you back once more, chuckling. “You didn’t stay still the whole time, doll.”

Your eyes widened once more as you shook your head in apology. “Kylo, I’m sorry, what can I do to make it better? I’ll do anything.”

“I know, my love, of course you’ll do anything,” he mentioned, dropping the vibrator on the bed next to your body. He seemed oddly innocent for the act he was just playing up not even five minutes ago. You heard his belt unbuckle and hit the floor, followed by his shirt and pants hitting the floor. This left him in his boxers only as you trembled in anticipation for what he was going to do to you.

“You’re going to take all of me like a good little whore.”

He hovered above you, his shadow nearly covering all of you. He ran the tip of his cock against your folds, pushing into you agonizingly slow. You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering shut as he got fully inside of you. You moved your hands to his shoulders, one hand to his neck to bring him down to press his lips to yours.

Kylo bit harder at your lower lip than he had before, pulling it out a bit as he began a tantalizingly slow pace inside of you. You dug your nails into his back, almost to tell him to speed the hell up. He let out a barely audible groan as he took both of your wrists off of him in one hand. Pushing them above your head harshly, restraining you to the bed. He continued with his slow, rough thrusts. He was driving you mad, helpless whines leaving your lips as his hips bucked into you.

“Kylo, faster,” you breathed out quietly, and thank god he obeyed your request. It must have been getting old quickly for him as well. Without much other warning, he began to fuck into you at an expeditious pace now. The sounds of you two moaning and groaning quickly filled the room. His free hand moved to wrap your legs around his waist, giving him a better angle to fuck you at.

You dug your nails into your palms, sobbing out for him. Tears welled in your eyes every time he met your weeping cunt. You were basking in him causing you nothing but precious unrelenting pleasure, until you felt the familiar sensation on your clit.

The vibrator.

As soon as it had touched you, you arched your back up quickly. “Fuck!” You wept out, eyes rolling back into your head. Already dangerously close to your second orgasm, you whined out for him to let him know. You heard a chuckle, just as you were on edge and about to go over it.

He stops.

He stills inside of you, he removes the vibrator from your clit. You rip your wrists away from his grasp, shooting up to his level. Your chest heaving as you unfortunately come down from whatever high you were chasing after.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Kylo?” You spat at him, just irritated that he would do that to you. It felt like he was leading you on. He looks devious, a snide smile staring back at you.

“Yeah, you didn’t think I’d actually let you cum now, did you? You didn’t obey the one very simple order I gave you earlier. So now you’ll wait until I’m ready for you to cum.”

You practically wanted to cry at that statement. He was right, you moved a ton during your first orgasm. However, in your defense he should have reminded you to keep still. Once you were sure your high was gone, that’s when he began once again, an unrelenting pace back inside of you. The buzzing sensation returned to your clit, making you tense up and arch again.

You were close again all ready, but you wondered how long your body would let you ride out pure pleasure. You didn’t want him to stop you again, so you didn’t bother mentioning just how close you were. Your strings of swears and moans once again returned to the room, hands moving to Kylo’s shoulders.

He knows just how to make you crazy, and he’s incredible at doing it. He leans down to your ear, whispering what a good whore you are for him, taking the entirety of his cock like it’s nothing. You clenched around him, which elicited a groan from his throat.

“What a good little bitch, look at you, you want me to cum inside of you? Let you take all of my cum inside that worthless cunt?” He bit at your neck, leaving marks in his trail. He groaned against your neck, pace picking up more, when you weren’t even sure you could take more.

You tightened your legs around his hips, trapping him. You could tell he was getting dangerously close, he moved back up, his hand returning to where it once was on your throat. Your nails dug at his shoulders, and you could not wait to see the scratches on his back when you two were finished.

You finally knew he was close, and you were as well. This time, you let him know, in hopes that he would finally let you come undone once again. He kept his steady pace, nodding down at you. You were both coated in sweat, bodies both glistening. Something about it made you both edge even closer.

“Go on, doll. Cum for me.”

Those were the only words you needed before your soul practically leaving your body. You screamed out for him, the waves crashing onto you so powerfully you saw stars. You could have sworn you early blacked out, your cunt clenching around your boyfriend’s cock as your road at your orgasm. Before you knew it, he was cumming too. You could feel his thick ropes coating the inside of you, Kylo letting out delicious moans as he rocked his hips into you. He almost collapsed on top of you, both of your chests heaving as you both came down from pure bliss. He pulled out of you, grabbing the shirt he dropped on the ground earlier. Kylo cleaned you both up, hearing you scoff about using a shirt instead of a towel.

“Are you seriously going to complain some more?” Kylo asked as he raised his eyebrows at you. “You should be thanking me for what I just did for you.”

You rolled your eyes as you moved up in your bed, pulling the covers on top of yourself. Kylo climbed in beside you, pulling you into his chest. You took a deep breath, kissing at his neck gently. He pressed his lips to your forehead, holding you and making sure you fell asleep before he dozed off himself.

#kylo ren #kylo smut #adam driver #oh fuck #he's hot #did not regret writing this #first fic #businessman kylo #kylo ren x you #kylo x y/n #kylo x reader #kylo fanfic #kylo ren smut #smut

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 20

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

The boys are trying their hardest to find you. And you are trying your hardest to find out more, to find out why you are so important. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): Kidnapping, hint of violence. 

“W-What do you mean gone?” Namjoon was the first to break the silence.

“She was talking to some of our employees. Then she went to the washroom but never returned. They found this placed behind the stack of hand towels.” Jin opened his palm and all the boys saw your wing charm. The one that was supposed to be on your bracelet.

“So, she was taken?” Jimin asked in disbelief. His words made all their stomachs sink, this was their worst nightmare. This was supposed to be the perfect night for all of you.

“It’s obvious she was taken. She left this there for a reason.” Hoseok pointed to the black wing charm.

“There are hundreds of people here. Someone must have seen her. Namjoon, can’t you get access to the cameras? This is your building.” Yoongi asked.

“Let’s go.” Namjoon nodded and led everyone back in.

“I need access to all the security cameras. Now.” Namjoon commanded. The manager nodded, hurriedly bringing the 7 bosses to the security room. Taehyung sat down, typing away.

“Look out for her.” Jin said.

“There!” Jungkook pointed. You were being escorted out by a group of people, walking calmly to not attract any attention. But it was obvious that someone was pointing a weapon at your back to push you forward. For a split second, you turned to the exact camera the boys were watching, meeting eyes with the lens. The boys held their breaths as they watched.

“No...” They watched you get into a car and the car drive away into the night.

“Call a meeting. Now.” Yoongi growled, slamming his palm onto the desk. The boys were quick to move, exiting the small room.

“We’ll get you back.” Taehyung whispered, placing his palm against your face on the screen. Pursing his lips in determination, he ran out of the room to assist his brothers.

“We’re going now. Run the license plate number and put out a notice to our allies.” Namjoon ordered. Their car pulled up and they jumped in.

“Every enemy of ours is a potential suspect.” Jin said.

“We have thousands of people who want to kill us! It might be too late by the time we go through everyone. There has to be a better, more efficient way!” Jimin said impatiently.

“Give doc more credit. She is smart enough to survive a lot longer than we think. Besides, they won’t be so dumb to kill her off quickly. They’ll definitely come into contact with us to give us demands or make us do something for her to safely return.” Yoongi stated, crossing his arms.

“Young masters.” The maid opened the door for them.

“No more visitors. The house is on lockdown until further notice.” Hoseok ordered and the maid nodded, running off to inform the other workers of the house. The boys went to the other wing.

“As expected, the plate is of an old vehicle. It was meant to be scrapped last week.” Jungkook said.

“Get in contact with all your underground informants. Someone must slip somewhere. See if anyone has heard anything.” Namjoon sighed.

“I’ll go meet mine first.” Jungkook grabbed his coat, leaving the house once again. The boys tried to busy themselves but there wasn’t much they could do with no clues. 

“We can hardly see their faces.” Hoseok pointed at the screen, rewatching the footage from different angles. 

“We shouldn’t operate here. Let’s use ‘Magic Shop’.” Jin said. Magic Shop was a shared business between the 7 boys. Like the name, it had everything they needed. Information usually passes through there.

On your side...

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar place. You looked around to scan the area, it was a small concrete room with an old bed in the corner, a small barred window to the right and two doors, you guessed one led to a bathroom. Your hands were tied in front of you, ankle chained to the wall, and there was a dull ache at the back of your head. You remembered what happened. 

You were finishing up in the toilet when you heard the door open and footsteps enter the washroom. From the heavy stomp of footsteps and heavier breathing, you knew whoever entered was male and not female.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come out. We know you’re in there.” A gruff voice sounded. You remained silent but you knew that this can only go on for so long. As quiet as possible, you tried to get your phone out of your clutch to reach the boys but there was unfortunately, no signal.

“We’ll break the door down.” They threatened.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming out.” You sighed, hand resting on the doorknob. When you stepped out, you looked up to see two men that you’ve never seen before.

“Let me at least wash my hands first.” You raised an eyebrow. They looked at each other before nodding. You washed your hands with soap, not even meeting eyes with them.

“Are you done?” One growled in annoyance.

“Yeah.” You picked up a hand towel to wipe your hands then tossed the used towel into the bin.

“You’re gonna walk calmly, out of the building. If you dare do anything else, it’ll be the end for you.” You felt cold metal press against your lower back. You nodded as one opened the washroom door for you.

“Go.” They pushed you forward. As you left the washroom, you side eyed the gleam of a gem under the light. You only hoped that the boys would see it. No one suspected anything as you walked out of the building with two men behind you, one standing suspiciously closer than the other. A car pulled up to the steps of the building.

“Get in.” They opened the door. Turning around, you caught sight of a security camera, staring at it for a few seconds before the men impatiently pushed you into the car, slamming the door shut.

As the car drove, you tried to remember where you were headed or at least, some landmarks.

“You guys didn’t blindfold her?!” The driver finally noticed you. The male that was sitting next to you pulled out a blindfold, getting closer to you.

“Get away.” You tried kicking him.

“B*tch!” The male squirmed when you successfully manoeuvred yourself to get him in a chokehold despite the small backseat. But you had forgotten about the other person in the passenger seat.

“Sleep tight, princess.” There was an impact to the back of your head. Black spots appeared in your vision and soon, it was dark.

“Look who’s awake.” One of the doors opened, a bright light shining into your darkroom. You winced slightly at the sudden brightness hitting your eyes. A suited male came in, walking towards you. You stared up at him but the shadow made it impossible. 

“Nice to meet you again.” He said, a teasing tone in his voice. 

“Do I know you?” You groaned. 

“How could you forget me? I’m hurt, doc.” 

“Well, if you didn’t know how light directions work, the light makes it a little hard to see your face. All I see is a shadow now.” You hissed with a glare. Then he bent down and you saw his face. 

“Recognise me now?” He smiled. 

“Not... really?” You tilted your head. His smile fell from his face as he frowned. He backhanded you, waking you fall to the side. Your cheek throbbed and you tasted iron in your mouth, knowing that you were now probably bleeding. 

“Look, I’m sorry you’re butt hurt about me not recognising or remembering you. But I meet new people every day. If everyone is like you and expects me to remember them, my job would be a lot harder than it already is. Stop being petty.” You growled. Usually, someone in your position would be more submissive, considering you didn’t have the upper hand. 

“Ever the smart mouth, doc. Let’s see how long you can keep that up.” He threw his head back, laughing. 

“I also wonder how long it will take for you to realise that kidnapping me and holding me captive isn’t going to do anything.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, doc. Ever so naive. What you don’t know is that with you being here, my boss already has control over your 7 mafia bosses. They’re probably scrambling and panicking to find you.” He said. 

“I’m just an employee.” You shrugged. 

“That’s what you think. You think every employee has a diamond bracelet like you?” He asked. 

“I never really cared, it was just a pretty bracelet to me. But I’m sure you’re about to tell me how important that is.” You said in a bored tone. Under playing everything was now your plan. 

“Only the 7 bosses have that bracelet. It’s a sign of their highest rank. And guess who’s the 8th person to ever get one?” He smirked. You didn’t let it show but deep down, you were surprised. You never really noticed the bracelet on the boys. Because like you said, you never really cared or gave it much thought. 

“So trust me, they’ll be here.” He scoffed.

“Hold on, I’m still trying to understand, so you and/or your boss is the enemy of the boys? You’re not from one of the families I cared for?!” You asked. 

“Oh, doc.” He shook his head, laughing. 

“Man, talk about shallow...” You rolled your eyes. The man just waved, heading for the door. He slammed the door shut, leaving you in darkness once again. You sighed, looking down at your dress that was now dirtied. 

“Who is he?” You wrecked your brains to try and remember. 

“The guy at the casino.” You finally remembered the incident that happened when you first had dinner with the boys outside, at Jin’s casino. 

He tried to speak to you as you were coming out of the washroom and it ended with Yoongi escorting you to the car while the others ‘dealt with him’. Though at that point, you didn’t know what that meant. Now, you imagined how the boys must have given him a ‘stern warning’, for him to have such bitter feelings towards you. 

“Talk about holding a grudge.” You sighed. 

“No wonder they didn’t want me to remove the bracelet. Some VIP treatment this is.” You wondered out loud. You needed to find a way out of here, you couldn’t just sit and wait to be rescued. 

“Let’s see.” You brought your bound hands up to your mouth, hoping to be able to use your teeth to try and loosen the knot. 

“Here. Eat.” The door opened, making you put your hands down quickly. It was one of the men that kidnapped you from the ball. He held a tray and a bottle of water in his hands.

“Is it poisoned?” You looked at him skeptically. 

“You never know until you try, right?” He raised an eyebrow, placing the tray in front of you. 

“Just eat!” He hissed impatiently. 

“You take a bite first. You eat it, I eat it.” You shrugged. The man was given strict orders to make sure that you ate. And all you were doing now was making his job a lot more difficult. He glared at you but you just stared back nonchalantly, not backing down either. 

“It won’t be poisoned. We’re waiting for the 7 to come. If you’re dead, there’s no use in all this.” The man scoffed. 

“If it’s not poisoned, then eat it.” You said. The man closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. You knew you were being infuriating but your attitude was the only thing that you could use as a self defence now. 

“I swear.” He scooped up the rice and kimchi, taking a bite. 

“Now that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” You said. The guy clicked his tongue, undoing the rope around your hands to let you eat. He took a seat opposite you on the ground, but keeping his distance. 

“This food is sh*t.” You took a bite. 

“Well, it’s all you’re getting so learn to like it.” He crossed his arms. You sighed, eating your food in silence. 

“Alright, I’m done. I might actually throw up if I continue.” You scrunched your face, pushing the tray. The man took the rope to bind your hands again. Seeing the gun holster on his waistband, you knew it would be foolish to try and fight back to escape now. So at this moment, you just had to be obedient and do whatever they told you to do. 

“Ugh.” You threw your head back, trying to get the stiff kinks out of your shoulders and neck. You stared at the metal brace around your ankle, that was gonna be hard to get out of. 

-

“Where’s Taehyung?” Namjoon asked when he came back from his meeting. It was safe to say that thanks to their parents, Namjoon and Yoongi had the most ‘ears to the ground’ in the group. 

“He went for a breather.” Jimin informed softly. 

“We need to think this through. Doc hardly meets anyone with us... Or at least, ones who are alive.” Hoseok said. 

“I’m going for a meeting.” Jin looked at his phone. He stood up and left with his bodyguard in tow. 

“Hyung is right.” Jungkook started a fresh document to list down the times you went to visit any of the boys’ place of business. Most of the time, the boys tried to go home for you to treat them since most of your equipment was at home but of course, there have been urgent times. 

“She came to mine. But the person was dead.” Jimin raised his hand and Jungkook noted that down. The door opened and Taehyung came in. He dragged his bloodied bat on the ground, falling onto his seat. 

“Where were you?” Yoongi asked. 

“Just needed some fresh air.” Was all the younger said. Taehyung didn’t deal with emotions well, which is evident considering what happened with his father. 

“Anyway, we’re listing down the times doc came to our place of business to maybe find out a time where our enemy might have seen her.” Namjoon got his up to speed.

“Did you forget she doesn’t even know that she wears our family band around her wrist?” Taehyung asked. 

“Did she not even notice?” 

“No, she didn’t even know what I was talking about when I mentioned it to her at the club the other night. She thought it was just a nice gift. I told her the gist of it but she probably thought that most, if not all, our employees have one too.” Jimin informed. 

“Whatever it is. We’re all just trying to form at least a list of suspects. Every option, we’ll try it.” Yoongi said. 

“She hasn’t been to Stigma or Singularity before. I usually handle those businesses outside and try to go home to get treated by her.” Taehyung crossed his arms.

“Stop looking at that.” He saw Jungkook still had the paused video of you staring at the camera on his computer screen. 

“Let him be.” Namjoon chided. 

“I got video footage from Daydream.” Hoseok informed. His place was one of the only one that the car could have possibly driven past. If they did, they would have a general direction of where you went. 

“Hook it up to the screen.” Jungkook handed Hoseok the cable to hook his computer up to the screen and he played the footage from the night before. He carefully skipped forward the seconds, they couldn’t risk missing something. Everyone was quiet, their focus on the video footage in front of them. Jimin stood up from his seat. 

“There. Fast backwards 10 seconds. Slow the video down.” He pointed. Hoseok moved the video back. In the slowed freeze frames, they saw the exact car drive past Daydream and take a left.

“Hobi, where does that road lead to?” Yoongi asked. 

“Uh, the car slanted left. That leads to the highway... Up north, I think.” Hoseok pulled up the map. 

“Yes. That highway heads north.” Taehyung said. Finally, the boys felt like they had a breakthrough. The kidnappers probably held you captive somewhere up north of Seoul. 

“Who are the clans in the north?” Namjoon asked. 

“Here they are.” Jungkook flipped through the photos on the screen. 

“It is one of them. No one else would let another gang on their territory, knowing that they kidnapped one of ours. Unless they want an unnecessary war on their hands.” Yoongi said. Even if they did have enemies, a lot of gangs would rather be an ally instead. Bangtan was just that scary. 

“I’ll call Jin hyung and let him know.” Jimin took his phone out, stepping aside to call the eldest, letting him know what they had found out so far. 

It only took 20 minutes for Jin to come back, unsuccessful from meeting with all his informants. No one had a clue as to who was vengeful enough to kidnap you from Bangtan. 

“We’ll start visiting some of them. You guys fill Jin hyung in on what’s going on. It’ll be faster if we split up to visit the gangs.” Taehyung said.

“Okay. Don’t be reckless.” Namjoon said. Jimin nodded, a silent promise to keep Taehyung in check. Grabbing what they needed, the duo left ‘Magic Shop’ immediately. 

“Show me the photos.” Jin said. Once again, Jungkook pulled up the photos. 

“Hold on. Go back.” Jin stopped the maknae. Jungkook clicked the slide, going back to show the photos of the leaders and righthand men from one of the gangs. Jin moved closer, squinting slightly. 

“That guy... Don’t you recognise him?” Jin pointed. 

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked. 

“We’ve encountered him before. That first dinner with (y/n) at my casino. He harassed her outside the washrooms. Jungkook came to rescue her in time and Yoongi took her away before he could reveal anything. We didn’t kill him since we didn’t want to make anything too obvious yet.” Jin frowned. The others finally remembered. 

“But she didn’t have a bracelet yet.” Hoseok reminded.

“From the way Jungkook sprung to protect her... They must have been keeping tabs on her.” Namjoon concluded. 

Just then, the phone rang. 

~~

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[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows. 

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere oikawa #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

[spikesbimbo]

Silver spoon

Pairing: ukai Ikkei x f!reader

Tags: made this a Mafia au just so he would have a reason to have a gun, nurse!reader, actual age agp, gilf, gun play, gun fucking (?), idk giving his gun sum sloppy toppy, oral sex, creampie

Summary: how to be a beneficiary 

wc: 3.5k

@keishinslove , come get ur mans, ; ), @fawn-daydreams thanks so much for the pic! @dreamsandabyss

18 + Minors dni

“Look, someone has to have it...” he spoke into the phone, leaning back as you did with him. The feeling of his warm body against yours putting you to sleep, resting your head on his chest as you curled up into him. 

His smirk widened as he ran his hand down your sides, enjoying your company as you grew more comfortable in his lap, the feeling of cold hard metal touching your skin as you adjusted yourself on his legs, seeing it peek from below his waistband, handle hanging out of his belt reminded you of what he was, breaking you out of your daydream.

Looking up at him as your hands rested on his chest and neck, pulling away from his stroking his scuff and fingers untangling themselves from his golden chain. Getting off his thighs seeing as this call was going to last long, legs growing numb, jestering with your hands that you were going to the kitchen, responding with a subtle nod as he watched you leave.

Hearing his voice get sterner, sending chills down your spine as his tone changed completely. “Send guards up there to get him…. and hold him until they arrive.” Seeing that he got confirmation, as his head tilted back, a sigh escaping lips as he rubbed his eyes. Eyebrows furrowing, not knowing if you should have left him there alone, just putting it in the back of your head that you left some time for him to cool down.

Walking down the staircase headed towards the kitchen, almost still getting lost in this villa as you remember him telling the first time you came here ‘it was down the staircase and to the left’. Stopping to look at the big picture of him hung up on the wall followed by many others, looking like a victorian portrait encased in the glass frames made you realize how big of a name they really were, generations following you down the hall as you continued moving down the steps.

Finally seeing the walls of windows and the bar you felt relieved, walking up to the fridge and opening it, seeing every drink but water. Grabbing some type of lemonade as you leaned against the marble counter while you took a sip, tasting the unknown alcohol in it as it hit the back of your throat, quickly coughing while smacking your chest a few times to calm it down. Tears filling your eyes as you shakily set the glass down.

“Sorry about that. Should've probably just drank it all yesterday.” 

You turned your blurry eyes to see his grandson, an almost spitting image of him when he was younger, noticing him handing you some water that you wanted in the first place.

“What a surprise...” you choked out, lifting the bottle to your mouth, throat finally feeling some ease.

The two of you had an almost sibling-like relationship, starting from the moment he met you after you patched his friend up in an alleyway, not even questing or caring why, moving on with your day like nothing happened.

Guessing you were on your way home from work, seeing you in scrubs, and after running into you again he swore it was fate. Persuading you to join them as you easily said yes, knowing you wouldn't say no the salary and the ‘benefits’ that came along with it, just wanting to finally relax with your student loans paid off.

But the last thing he would've expected after all of this, was you, with his grandad. Essentially getting yourself stuck in this kind of life, knowing that you'd never be able to leave as soon as they found out you were 'with’ him. But you obviously had a smart head on you, letting you do whatever your heart wanted as he supported you. Grabbing another drink from the bar, this time knowing it was alcohol as you two joked around for a minute.

A smile appearing on your face when you heard steps walking towards you, seeing ikkei appear from the corner of the hallway as keishin turned his head and guessed right, looking at you already skip over to him like a puppy following its owner.

Greeting you while he let you cling onto him, arms wrapped around his as he lifted his hand saying hello to his grandson. All his attention on your pretty little smile as his thumb traced your cheek, bringing up your hand to his lips, placing his lips on it gently as you were acting like you've never been touched before, giggling shyly into his arm as he chuckled out.

Keishin gagging at the sight before him, “Why don't you just retire already,” not wanting to see this cringy shit anymore, but deep down just wanting him to be safe and content, never seeing him smile this hard in his life. Knowing he's never felt this way before, his ex wife being set up by an arranged marriage, she wasn't bad but he definitely didn't love her along with her complaining, but luckily a quick swipe of his card shut her up, finally divorcing after all theses years.

“My dad isn't still too young to take over, you know?”  

“No.” he stated, stepping outside to light his cigar, resting his back against the wall as he took a puff. “Great men are taught, not born.” He uttered out, choking on the smoke as he brought it back up to his lips. He was dependable, not regretting having his son at a young age, but swearing to never push this life on his son and grandson until he was gone.

“Yeah, he's stubborn.” keishin uttered under his breath, running his hands through his hair as he grabbed his drink and keys, walking towards the door while waving a quick goodbye to you.

“How the hell is someone younger than me gonna be my step grandma, can’t get someone your own age to date you?” he chuckled out in awe. But at the end of the day he was on your side, family was family, defending you like your own personal bodyguard. Hearing something along the lines of “She’s some old man’s sugar baby.” almost daily until he ‘took care of it’ a few months ago.

“You're just mad, that an old man like me gets more than you.” ikkei laughed, coughing out the rest of the smoke while coming up behind you. Wrapping his arm around your waist already pulling you back to his office as you gladly let him.

“Ok, shitty old man.” keshin replied, closing the door behind him. He knew it wasn't because of the money or the power, because there were many other men on his level trying to win your attention. Thinking there must be something going on in your head to be with him, and there was.

Love.

The first man to ever make you feel some type of way, to make you blush. Was it practical, no. Putting it to the back of your head that he would be long gone by the time you were even close to his age.

But the way he made you feel so light and free around him after only being here for a while. Looking into your eyes as you fixed him up, making you genuinely laugh as he didn't want you to stress over him, surprising him that you were just naturally calm.

You two fell for each other quickly, not even lasting a week before you two fucked. Hearts appearing in your eyes around him; not caring about having your own family, just becoming part of his as he always kept his promises. 

“You wanna go out later.” he said loosely wrapping his hand around your waist, pulling you back into his lap. “m’sorry i haven't had time for you lately.” Looking up at his gray hair, eyes moving down to his body still this toned after all these years, aging like the finest wine.

“No.” you mumbled out, fingers running down his chest, getting caught up in his chain again. “Just wanna…..stay with you.” A shy smirk appearing on your face as the words left your lips.

Leaning into your shoulder, lips touching your neck as he whispered into your ear, scruff tickling your jaw as you let out a slight smile.“Stay with me, hmm? And what does that entail...?” 

Already getting off his thighs, standing in front of him as you ran your hands up your body, his joining you as he wrapped them around your waist pulling you closer to him, chin resting on your stomach while his hands gently rested on your hips. “No one has ever managed to capture my attention like you have.” he said, hands lingering on you.

He had no shame in admitting it, his words plaguing your head, “I always tell the truth, no matter how hard it is.” Looking up to your flustered face, no one could ever make you feel as loved and appreciated as him.

“Ok old man.” you giggled out, taking your time stripping in front of him. Resting your hand on his shoulder for support as you slowly slid your skirt down, hugging your ass just right as you felt his soft, intense gaze never once leaving you. Eyeing you up as you fumbled with your buttons, hands meeting yours taking it off for you, being bare as the day you were born.

“You getting on your knees pretty girl?”

Nodding while letting out a quiet, shy “yeah” at the words that left his mouth. Lowering yourself onto the ground, trying to replace your timidness that only came around him. Hands resting on his knees working their way up his thighs, his stress already disappearing as your fingers played with his zipper, eyes locking with yours as you pulled it down.

The nervousness leaving you as his warm hand rested on your cheek, whimpering in need as your gaze fell on the hard cold metal that was standing before his cock. Resting on his abdomen, cunt growing wetter at the thought of the previous events, wanting it in your mouth, fucked down your throat.

Reading your mind, already loosening his pants enough to set it free. Pointer finger resting on the side as he parted your lips, immediately giving way. Tongue sticking out lewdly, spit and drool already falling off the tip of it, his other hand angling it down toward your mouth. “You trust me, don’t you Baby?”

Moaning out another muffled “yeah” at the weight of the barrel resting on your tongue, pushing it deeper down your mouth, the whines getting caught at the back of your throat. Body growing tingly, cunt leaking onto the floor as he gently bobbed your head head back and forth until you got the hang of it.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck... your sweet little mouth taking it all.” Whimpering at his words, eyes fluttering open at him, meeting his gaze as your vision grew blurry. Hands reaching for his cock, working there way up his thighs until you felt his bulge, groaning at the touch. Wanting to make him feel as good as you.

Letting your spit make a mess on his fingers as he slowly pushed the glock farther down until you choked on the muzzle. Pulling it out at the lewd sound of your wet gasp, catching your breath, looking at your lashes still wet, lips covered in drool. Dragging the spit covered barrel down, sliding between your tits pressing it against your nipples, shivering at the cold feeling. 

“You gonna let me fuck your throat, sweetheart?”

Nodding quickly, letting out a strained “mhmm” as you moved your fingers around the base of his cock. Adjusting himself as he stroked it a few times before letting you take control. A moan leaving his mouth as you tilted your head to kiss his tip, parting your lips without his help as you flicked your tongue against it, your shiny lips making a mess already.

“Fuck angel, such a good girl. Open up that little mouth more for me sweetheart.” His hand came behind your neck, the firm grip leaving your mouth open as he pulled himself out, admiring the sight below him as the praise made you listen to his silent command. Soft wet smacks from him slapping the head of his cock against your tongue, looking so lewd, like the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life.

“… goddamn baby. Fuck…”

His scratchy voice letting out another moan as he leaned back onto the headrest of the couch. Your trembling hands gripping onto his thighs, nails leaving imprints as he continued to abuse your throat. The office was quiet besides the filthy wet sounds of you choking around him.

Opening your lids and gazing up at him, pupils so wide and eyes so red. Looking the prettiest you could, so needy and compliant, letting him use your throat as he pleased. “That’s it, angel… oh, fuck…m’gonna-”

Tears freely down your cheeks as you gagged, little strings of saliva dripping from your chin, body on fire as his thrusts got rougher, fucking up into your mouth as his hands gripped tighter around your neck holding you in place.

Sealing your lips around him, sucking in more as his hips stalled, grabbing your head with both of his hands. And with a long groan, music to your ears, shoving your face all the way down into his crotch, balls resting on your chin as you felt him release in your mouth, so hot and thick. Doing as you were told, always wanting to be his good girl, someone he could always rely on, someone he could always use when needed.

“You okay?” He asked, stroking your cheek as dizzily shook your head up and down. Reaching his hand forward, tipping your jaw upward to see you better. Cunt throbbing as his eyes met yours, clenching and releasing around nothing while he dragged his thumb across your swollen lips. 

“Words, sweetheart.” His voice was soft and stern, ordering you around gently as you did you best to choke it out.

“y-yes”

“Let me see.” Parting your lips, with his ring covered finger, mouth opening to show him that his cum was still there. Smiling as he let go, muttering out “good girl.”, mouth closing as he let you swallow, the salty taste making you wince under your breath while he pet the side of your face down to your neck. 

“You sure angel? ….You know i don't like lying.” he said, resting his hand on your cunt, fingers dipping in shallowly as you almost went limp in his hold, Knees locking just in time, so focused on keeping your composure that you didn't see him smirking at your state. His finger curling inside you, as you tried to hold back your whimper, body unconsciously rocking back and forth into his hand.

Finally snapping, trying to be on your best behavior best you couldn't help it anymore, knowing what he was doing to you. “Please,” you whined out. “Want you to fuck me like you always do, want you to fuck me so good.” No shame left in your body as you started taking action, nails clawing into his bicep, your eyes half lidded trying to hold back the tears forming.

Letting out a whine muttered by your teeth sinking into your lips when his hand pulls away, lingering there not for long as he easily hikes your leg up over his waist, aligning his cock to your dripping cunt, rubbing it over your folds, teasing you, wanting to make his sweet angel beg. 

“i-ikkei, please” you lead, gripping his arms, as pushed into you slowly. Cooing at you for being so patient with him. Head dropping onto his shoulder as a broken noise escaped your lips, legs tightening around his waist, clenching around him.

Pushing the rest of himself inside you, hissing as you swallow him up in your warmth. “Fuck sweetheart, you always… feel so, -fuck, so goddamn good,”

“Relax baby,” he groaned out, head thrown back. “Little cunt’s so tight, gonna get my will instead of my kids if you keep it up.” Your smile barely forming before it gets cut off, moaning at the painful feeling of his cock stretching you out.

“Such a... fuck, such a good little girl for me,” He praises, hot breath on your neck as you clench even tighter at his words, the feeling of bhim so deep inside of you, nudging your cervix making your head spin. “So pretty,  I'd do anything for you, you know that?”

“m’close.” you whimpered. His love confessions making you lose your mind completely, nails digging into his chest, slightly groaning at the sting.. “Please, p-please please,” you begged through a sob, tears swelling up in your eyes. Placing his lips on yours before you can gasp out begs anymore. Trying to whimper out his name before he fucks you roughly with a thrust that hits your g spot, making you cum all over him, sticky wetness enclosing the both of you as it dripped down his balls and onto the sofa. 

“There you go baby,” he muttered against your lips, but you’re too far gone to even pay attention. Working his cock inside of you, gently pushing up into your cunt as your shaking body twitches in his hold, eyes rolling to the back of your head from your orgasm, still trying to come down from your high. “You know I always got you.”

He pulls out of you slowly when you have calmed down but you weren’t done. “w-wanna make you cum.” your croaky voice pouted out.

“Hm? You already did sweetheart.” Shaky legs positioning yourself on top of him, resting your hands on his shoulders. “no...want you to cum in me.”

Watching as you spread open you cunt, placing his tip on your entrance. Looking down at him with a heavy lust in your eyes, not wasting any time sliding back into you. “You’re so greedy.” He says into your ear, a roughness to his voice. Back arching as his arm wraps around your waist, leaning back to give him a view of himself bottoming out in you. The feeling of the fullness already has you cumming again. “...So fucking perfect.” 

Rubbing your clit with his fingers as his lips attached to your nipple, locking you in his hold, your body trembling from the overstimulation. Cock repeatedly ramming into your g spot as your cunt is being lovingly abused. “Fuck” He mutters out, words getting trapped into your skin, fingers pinching your swollen clit, letting out a loud sob as tears break free. 

“Fuck baby, I’m close.” He said, breath growing sporadic as his hips start stuttering. Chasing after his high, fingers slapping your clit as you squealed.

“C-, cum in me, please. You gotta, p-please!” You cry out, pushing him over the edge. Breaking free of your tits, mouth letting out deep groans as he is spilling his load into you, coming for the third around him. Body freezing up, seeing black and stars, walls clamping around him even tighter, wanting to milk him dry for everything he's got. 

Not even realizing that he's holding you into him, balls resting on you cunt as he's still inside of you, knowing you'd throw a fit if he pulled out. Body slump and tired as he presses a light kiss on the top of your head, large hands soothing your body as they worked their way up and down your back.

“I-, I love you,” you choked out, resting your head into his shoulder. His heart softening as he kissed your lips softly, sighing as he leaned back with you in his arms. Gently humming to ease you into sleep, not caring how he was gonna take care of this later. ”I love you too, baby.” He whispered into your ear, looking around his office full of money and countless items worth millions, but none made his heart race like you could, not even close.

“...I love you, more than you'll ever know.” 

#PLS THIS TOOK ME A MONTH TO EDIT #is my love for al pacnio obvious #the only real man ill ever love #tw gun play #tw age gap #ikkei x reader #ukai ikkei #ukai x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #ukai smut #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #hq x y/n #hq x you #ikkei smut

[ophiebot]

OH MY GOD. GREEN KNIGHT AU. PLEASE TELL ME MORE

*cracks knuckles* I saw the movie like two days ago and I couldn't get the aesthetics out of my head. It was really immersive and surreal and ooooo I'm a sucker for chainmail and quests.

I haven't exactly laid out the proper framework for it yet but the gist so far is that MC (which in my case is a tired and timid non-binary 20 something with a mullet) is a soon to be knight with a strong enough relation to the king to be in consideration for the throne. The king in this au being Asgore. I tend to see him as a somewhat morally grey character; well-intentioned but often misguided in his attempts to do what he thinks is best for his people. He acts as somewhat of a mentor to MC and has raised them (distantly) since their parents died when they were young. Sans is an on again off again member of the court who has been maintaining a casual relationship with MC while harboring more intense feelings for them. However, he's the number one enabler of their ... indulgent side. Be that laying around all day, sleeping in, or messing around.

During a ceremonial gathering of the court for some celebration or other a hulking stranger crashes the party on horseback and asks if any member of the table would play a game with him...

To step forward and strike him with his own axe under the condition that they meet him again one year later to receive a blow in return.

Under silence from his court, Asgore steps up to meet the challenge, only to have MC offer their own hand in the game to protect him.

The stranger, clad in armor made of bark that is only just visible under the massive cloak hiding most of his form, dismounts. His feet land heavily on the stone ground, echoing. A piercing light from the shadow of his hood illuminates what they think is a skull underneath. It falls on them, scrutinizing their form.

The way they shake.

The huge axe set over his shoulder is lowered. The hilt is placed on the ground with a reverberation that betrays its weight.

His other arm reaches up and pulls back the hood to reveal...a skull...and a gnarl of roots twisting over half of his entire face like a parasite. Some inching across and into the eye socket that isn't covered.

He smiles down at them, looking content and pleased. His teeth are huge and sharp. Menacing and stark and frightening against the soft expression he offers them. They swallow thickly, eyes darting away briefly as they are unsure of what to do with the sudden attention. They briefly catch sight of Sans sitting across the way, watching them wide-eyed and paler than they imagined a skeleton could even get. He looks like he might jump across the table now just to stop them.

The sound of a heavy footstep brings them back to the situation at hand. He's come only a step closer, and is holding out the axe like an offering, though they're unsure they'd even be able to keep the thing upright let alone strike him with it-

He stares at them pointedly and doesn't move an inch. They think fleetingly that he could so easily be mistaken for a statue. Some monster of myth forever captured in stone....er, wood? But the light in his socket is very much alive, they have to blink once just to focus again. Their eyes fall to the axe. 

Do they just...take it? He remains unmoving as they reach a hand out....as they take it from him easily. Have they found some miraculous strength or is the thing really just light enough for them to lift with only little effort? It doesn't seem to matter either way. He looks pleased.

The thing they hadn't been expecting was for the giant of a knight to kneel before them. He doesn't break his gaze from them once, pushing his cloak out behind himself. They're only a couple inches taller than him now...even after he's lowered down to the ground.

Then comes his voice. Like thunder....or like the creaking of a thousand year old tree in the wind before a storm.

“take your aim, little knight.”

Their eyes widen considerably, stumbling back a pace and barely catching themselves as they rock back with the weight of the axe. They tremble. They hesitate “...You...you must fight me for it, surely?” They say carefully, tensing in their stance in case he does decide to rise again and attack them. He blinks at them, a shadow of the grin from before returning as his eye sockets lid halfway. He gives no response. This only flusters them further, unsure of what to do. Their face screws up in mild frustration.  

“What are you doing? Rise and face me.” Again he doesn’t speak.... instead he tilts his head down and to the side to expose his neck to them. “strike.”

They stare down at him blankly. They could feel eyes on them from every corner of the room, baring down at them at every angle. No one breathed a word as the exchange took place. They stood, adjusting and fidgeting with their grip on the handle of his massive weapon. This....it didn’t feel like honor. What kind of challenge was this? To kill a man on his knees...did it have to do with courage? Proving they had any stomach for killing at all? They take one final desperate look around the room. 

They look to Asgore, who is watching with a hard expression on his face.

His gaze meets theirs steadily, and it feels like an eternity as he nods.  Their attention is pulled back to the prone monster on his knees.  “fine, then. have it your way” They lift the axe above their head. They aren’t sure where to aim, its like white is searing their vision. Maybe an arm...just a cut on the cheek...

They cry out as they swing the weapon down and it seeks its true target. 

The monsters skull is lopped clean off, with nothing but the sound of the blade cutting air and a splattering of blood. It thuds to the ground and rolls a short distance away. They stand there panting heavily, gripping tight to the handle of the axe. The room is silent save for their breathing. They see white, hot and humid. They can smell the sharp of iron in the air...fresh. Another eternity passes til a sound is made again....the monsters body which had slumped to the ground lifeless...began to push itself up again. it slowly stands once more, and has no trouble finding its head and bending to pick it up. They cant move as they watch him. Rooted to the spot in some mix of bewilderment and horror. He turns to them, head held to his chest now. 

That eye socket blinks, the light inside flickering back to life bright as ever.

He looks them over for a moment before grinning. The head laughs, deep and rolling....like the very earth shaking. He seems far too happy with the turn of events. “...one...year...hence.”

With a blink he’s gone, along with his horse. Only his fading laugh echoing through the hall. His blood smeared across the floor...and his axe....still clutched tight within their grip.

#ophie writes #ask #knight au #undertale #undertale au #then comes the quest.... #more obstacles to meet along the way....

[cafedanslanuit]

chapter guide | prev. chapter | next chapter

✖   —   summary:  porco wasn't surprised when you called him at three in the morning because you were too drunk to drive back to your place. he would always be there when you needed, both as your best friend and the guy who was completely head over heels for you. and both of them were sure zeke jaeger was cheating on you.

✖   —   pairing: porco/reader & zeke/reader

✖   —   tags/warnings: so far it’s sfw but rating will change in future chapters, college au, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, unrequited love, cheating, toxic relationships, friends to lovers

chapter one: save your love

“Thanks for picking me up, Pock. You didn’t have to.”

“Tch. Of course I did,” Porco replied, putting his arm on the back of your seat on his car and reversing, getting out of the bar’s parking lot. You took your time observing him and noticed the bags under his eyes. You shouldn’t have been surprised. What were you expecting when you called him at 3 am asking him to pick you up from the bar because you were too drunk to drive home?

Porco rested his arm on the open window of his car, his other hand handling the wheel with ease. There were very few cars on the highway and the chilly air refreshed your body just right, making the ride home a lot more comfortable than you pictured. You closed your eyes, basking in the feeling of safeness you always felt whenever your best friend was around, plus the sweet dizziness on your head from the vodka and Porco’s cologne.

“What did the fucker do this time?”

It didn’t last long.

“He didn’t do a thing.”

Porco scoffed. “Yeah, right. Are you really going to pretend you didn’t end up in that bar because of what Zeke’s ‘friend’ just posted on her Instagram?”

“Porco, please.”

“What was the caption again? Oh, right. ‘Movie night’, devil face emoji, fire emoji,” he recalled with a snicker, his eyes fixated on the road. “She even tagged him on it, her legs resting on his lap and shit. Was it the same girl he took to the cat shelter for some ‘volunteer work’ last week or another?”

You didn’t answer. You knew Porco already knew who she was.

“She’s very pretty,” you mused. “It makes sense.”

“Please, have you looked at yourself?” Porco asked, taking a right turn.

Jokingly, you took the rearview mirror and angled it towards you. Your mascara was a little worn off and there were only traces of the red lipstick you had put on before heading to the bar. Your hair was messy as well and you look like you desperately needed a bottle of water.

“I look like shit,” you laughed, putting the mirror back to its original place.

“Shut the fuck up, you look good.”

“Pock, look at me. Whatever is going on here,” you said, gesturing at your face, “ain’t good. If you think so, your taste is really lacking.”

Porco chuckled, eliciting a soft smile from you.

“I like to think I have really good taste.”

“If we’re being serious, you have way too high standards,” you yawned, extending your arms and feeling some cracks on your back.

“How so?” he inquired, arching an eyebrow.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since I know you, which is what— a year?”

“And?”

“And I’m starting to think you’re afraid of commitment. Maybe you’re just afraid of a relationship,” you shrugged.

“Are you done, Freud?” he teased, sparing a quick glance at you before looking back at the road again.

“All I’m saying is you’ve had both beautiful girls and boys at your disposition and you have never even tried to date them. Well, no, my bad, you did take this one girl on a date. And what happened next?”

Porco chuckled. “Look, it’s not like that, we just didn’t click and—”

“You told her you were better off as friends and to this day I haven’t listened to a solid reason as to why you would drop such a pretty girl like her.”

“She just didn’t have what I was looking for,” he shrugged innocently.

“See what I mean? Unbelievable high standards. None of us is worthy of the mighty Porco Galliard, the lacrosse team captain who can fit seventeen marshmallows inside his mouth.”

Both of you broke in laughter, not caring about waking up someone from the houses alongside the road. You looked around and immediately recognized the neighbourhood, your laugh ceasing immediately. You patted Porco’s arm, trying to get his attention.

“Can you turn left at the next intersection?”

“We need to keep straight to get to your place.”

“I want to go to Zeke’s for a minute.”

Porco’s face twisted into a scowl. “Why would you want to go to him right now?”

“I— he told me he was watching movies by himself. I just want to check on him, we don’t even have to step off the car.”

“Hey,” he said sternly, catching your attention. “Don’t do this. You saw her Instagram post, you know what happened between those two. Are you really going to believe him after you just saw fucking evidence?”

“I know him,” you insisted. “He wouldn’t just flat out lie to me, not like that.”

“And the photo from tonight? How do you explain that?”

You took a deep breath, a sharp pain in your head making you close your eyes tightly.

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “Please, just— drive past his house. If his lights are out, then he must be sleeping after watching those movies by himself, just like he told me so.”

Porco scoffed.

“Porco, please,” you pleaded, squeezing his arm as you got closer and closer to the intersection. “Please.”

Rolling his eyes, Porco turned left as you asked him to and started driving to Zeke’s house, following your instructions. He didn’t try to come up with conversation again, instead, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he pulled up crossing the street, a couple of houses away from your target.

Your heart immediately relaxed when you looked at Zeke’s window: the lights were off. You let out a long, tired sigh, letting your forehead rest on the glove compartment of Porco’s car.

“I don’t understand you,” Porco sneered, resting his chin on his hand, his elbow pressed on the open window of his car. “Him having the lights off means nothing, he could—”

Porco turned to you as you sat back up, your eyes meeting his. He bit his tongue, silently cursing and looked at his wheel, setting both his hands on it.

“He could what?” you insisted.

“Nothing,” he quickly replied, passing a hand through his hair. “His lights are off. Can we go now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you whispered, sitting back against his passenger seat and getting comfortable.

Right when Porco was reaching for his keys, a noise in the quiet neighbourhood startled you. Both of you raised their heads as a black car passed alongside them and parked in front of Zeke’s house. A tall, blonde girl exited the same house, accompanied by none other than your boyfriend. You recognized her as Yelena, who had begun appearing more and more frequently in his pictures at the same time he started posting less and less about you.

Zeke walked her to the car and you watched in horror as she pressed a kiss on the corner of his lips before getting in the car. He closed the door after her and patted the roof of the car twice before sending her off. Porco gripped the wheel tightly as Zeke stretched his arms and walked back home, dragging his feet without a care in the world.

Sighing, Porco turned to you, who were already dialling Zeke’s number.

“No, c’mon,” he said, trying to take your phone away but you swatted his hand away, putting a finger on top of your lips, asking for silence.

“Hey baby,” you greeted in your fake, cheery voice. Porco couldn’t believe after spending two years with you, Zeke couldn’t realize that when your voice got too high-pitched, it meant you were faking every word. “Yeah, I know it’s late. Sorry. Sorry. Yes, I just— I know. I know it’s too late to call.”

Porco could feel his blood boiling at every apology that came out of your mouth even after witnessing Yelena leaving his house not even five minutes ago.

“I just wanted to ask how you were doing? Were the movies fun?” you made a pause, your smile tight on your face. “Ah, I see. Wasn’t it boring to watch all by yourself?” you pressed and not even you could maintain your smile after hearing his response. “Mhm, I do know you prefer to watch movies alone. Anyway, it is quite late. Talk to you later, I love—”

You looked at the screen on your phone and noticed the call had already ended.

“Well, there’s that,” you mused to yourself before putting your phone back on your jeans.

Silently, Porco started his car again, driving away from the suburbs and heading to your place as he had intended in the first place. The comforting silence was now poisonous, his eyes flicking from the road every minute to check on you, who was looking outside the window with your eyes lost. your mind probably too full of thoughts that he couldn’t begin to understand.

It didn’t mean he didn’t want to, though.

He kept driving in silence until he reached your apartment, parking in his usual spot. He left the engine running, even if you knew he always waited until you entered the building to drive away. He unlocked the doors and let out a long sigh.

“Drink some water before getting to bed,” Porco reminded you, both his hands on the wheel.

You didn’t move a muscle, eyes lost on his glove compartment, the events of the night running around your head. Yelena’s Instagram photo. Zeke’s text telling you he was alone. Him kissing her goodnight at 2 am.

“Hey,” he called, startling you. “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth but then closed it, not knowing where to start. You pursed your lips and tugged at your fingers in discomfort.

“Talk to me,” Porco insisted.

“Can you stay tonight?” you asked in a small voice. “Annie is out and I don’t want to be alone with my thoughts tonight.”

Before you could finish your sentence, Porco was already killing the engine.

It was a silent walk to your apartment. You checked yourself in the elevator's mirror, realizing how awful you truly looked. Your eyeliner was smudged along with your mascara and the bags under your eyes were more noticeable than ever. As you inspected your face, Porco grabbed your cheek between his thumb and index, playfully pulling it from side to side until you were laughing, asking him to stop.

When you entered your apartment, you immediately walked to the bathroom, in deep necessity of a shower. Porco knew your apartment like the back of his hand, so after a quick detour to the kitchen, he made his way to your bedroom. He saw your laptop on your bed, messy sheets and clothes on the floor, probably how you had left it after seeing Yelena’s post on Instagram and decided to go to your favourite bar and forget about it for a while.

Porco took off his shoes and started picking up your clothes and put them on your spare chair, your laptop now on your desk. While he made your bed, he listened to you using your hairdryer in the bathroom and figured you would be out soon. He took out his phone from his pocket and looked at this schedule. It was already four in the morning and he had classes at nine. It was okay, he told himself. He had a hoodie in his car he could change into the next morning, and no one would say anything about him arriving in sweatpants. Well, no one that cared enough about their reputation to try and make fun of one of the golden boys of the university, at least.

You stepped off your bathroom already wearing your pyjamas, a tank top and small cotton shorts. Being friends with Porco for so long, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you in your pyjamas but it was truly the first time he saw you so small while wearing them. Maybe it was because of everything that happened that night, your tired eyes or the way you were standing, but Porco had to fight off the urge to put his arms around your body and protect you. From what? He wasn’t quite sure.

He handed you a bottle of water he had grabbed from the kitchen and you drank it all in one try.

“The only true secret to avoid being hungover tomorrow,” he reminded you.

“I know,” you smiled, leaving the empty bottle on your desk. “C’mon, let's get to bed.”

Porco had slept with you before, sure. You had travelled to the beach together with some friends and your sleeping bags were always put next to each other, which only prompted you to talk all night, telling each other embarrassing stories from your younger years. You had also fallen asleep in Porco’s dorm before, after a party that left you too tired to go back to your place. He would always let you crash on his bed and you slept soundly, knowing you were safe if he was around.

Zeke had never liked that. But Porco couldn’t care less.

He got into bed first, scooting to the wall and making space for you. You laid next to Porco, facing him and sighed happily when your head finally hit your pillow

“Thanks for making the bed, Pock,” you smiled.

“Why are you still with him?”

You averted his gaze, your smile dropping in an instant. “I love him,” you muttered.

“Do you? Do you really love someone who is lying to you like this?” he insisted. You felt a knot forming on your throat. “You understand he was fucking Yelena, right?”

You nodded softly, hugging the pillow under your head.

“Then why waste your time with an asshole like him? What are you waiting for, what do you want him to do so you finally leave him? What’s your tipping point, huh?”

Porco’s voice was gentle yet firm as he tried to get to you. He watched you as you laid still, not willing to answer any of his questions. He wondered if maybe you didn’t want to know the answer either.

“You’re smart. You’re— fuck, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Why are you letting him treat you like garbage? Why are you allowing him to hurt you like this?”

Once again, he was met with silence.

“You’re are fun, beautiful and yet you’re drunk at 4 am on a fucking Wednesday because your boyfriend is cheating on you and not only that— he’s fucking her and letting everyone know. Why are you doing this to yourself?” he inquired, his voice getting a little desperate. “You should be with someone who treats you right, who— fuck, someone who knows how much you’re worth. Someone who would never hurt you like this.”

You couldn’t suppress a cold laugh.

“Yeah, like who?” you scoffed, nuzzling your face on your pillow.

“Like me.”

You snapped your head to Porco, eyes open wide and lips parted, trying to form words.

“W-what?”

You looked at Porco, his eyes looking intensely at you. He opened his mouth and closed it almost immediately, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, almost to himself, shifting on the bed and propping up on his elbow, his body still facing yours. “I said what I said. I… I love you. Have loved you for quite some time now,” he admitted. You watched heat rising to his cheeks, tinting them deep red.

“I— I love you too,” you said softly. “You know that. I always tell you how grateful I am to have you in my life and that I—”

“You know I don’t mean it like that. I don’t love you as a friend,” Porco muttered, rolling his eyes.

You stayed in silence, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as your eyes scanned the bed sheets between both your bodies. Even if Porco was being crystal clear with his words regarding his feelings towards you, somehow it didn’t make sense in your head.

“Why?” you whispered.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why do you… well—”

“Why do I love you?” Porco asked, raising an eyebrow. He watched you nod softly. “Well, ‘cause it’s you. Ever since we met, I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, your weird sense of humour and your irrational fear of panda bears,” he said, making both of you laugh, helping in releasing the tension both of you were carrying since his confession. “C’mon, you honestly thought I was so full of myself I didn’t think anyone was worthy of dating me? Fuck, I—,” he let out an honest chuckle, passing a hand through his hair. “I was just in love with you. And trust me, it’s not fun going out on a date with someone when all you can think is ‘Oh, she’d love this place’ or ‘I would be having much more fun if she was here instead’.”

“You really did that?” you asked in a small voice.

Porco smirked, cocking his head towards you. You knew his confession was playing a big part but you couldn’t stop noticing how handsome he truly was. Sure, you had always known he was good-looking, you knew this when you teased him for not going out with other people, but you never realized how truly beautiful he was.

Looking at him lying on your bed, the moonlight coming from your open window and hitting his face, it was as if you were looking at him for the first time, noticing the smallest details you had been ignoring for so long. Like how his eyes weren’t hazel but golden and that he had a few freckles on his cheekbones, decorating his slightly tanned skin. His lips also looked soft, even for someone who had woken up in the middle of the night to pick up their drunk friend. The white t-shirt he was wearing exposed his toned arms, making you feel the need to bury your face on his chest so he could put them around you.

You hadn’t realized you were moving forward until you felt Porco’s hand on your shoulder, preventing you from getting closer. You should have known you wouldn’t have been able to notice his freckles from afar. Porco’s eyes went from your lips back to your eyes and you sensed how bad he was rethinking his choices as he gently pushed you back on the bed.

“Listen, I—” he started, his blush only getting more noticeable, now making the tip of his nose turn red as well. “I’m not going to be your rebound, neither someone who you fuck out of spite or to get back at your boyfriend. Fuck, I don’t even know why I told you this,” he sighed, putting down his propped arm and laying his cheek on the pillow next to you. “Just… do better. For yourself. You deserve much more than that monkey man who hasn’t realized he’s a four dating a ten.”

You giggled at his remark and he smirked, proud of himself. Porco and you looked at each other’s eyes, a soft smile lingering on your lips. Tentatively, you reached for his hair, his golden locks feeling soft under your touch. Porco stayed still as you played with his hair, even closing his eyes as you did so.

After a few moments, your hand travelled to his cheek, making him open his eyes again. Your thumb gently stroked his skin, soft and tender under your touch. Porco’s eyes were fixed on your face as you caressed him silently. Your other fingers started running over his skin with a feather-like touch, entrapped in the sweet moment between the two of you.

Porco turned his head just enough for his mouth to meet your palm. He pressed a kiss on it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt your heart skipping a beat and a smile creeping on your face.

“Can I hug you?” you asked in a whisper.

Porco nodded, opening his arms for you. You scooted closer to him, sliding your right arm around his waist, bending your other arm and flushing your head against his chest. Your legs tangled together, not taking too long before finding a comfortable position.

Once you were settled, Porco’s left arm draped around your body, pulling you closer to him gently. He pushed his right arm under your pillow, loving how easy it felt to be like this with you. It was as if you were always meant to sleep like this, with your face against his chest and your hand on his back. He looked down at you and pushed some of your hair away from your face

“Are you comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, taking a deep breath and sighing contently against his chest. Porco’s cologne filled your senses and you couldn’t help but smile at the homely feeling.

He pressed his lips against your forehead. “Goodnight,” he whispered, closing his eyes. You imitated him and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

...

When Porco opened his eyes the next morning, he felt as if only a couple of seconds had passed since he had closed his eyes. He sighed. Well, it wasn’t the first time that he had sleeping problems but a part of him innocently hoped it would change after he got to sleep by your side. He looked at your sleeping face. It was way too innocent from him to think just because he got to rest by your side he would have had a good sleep.

He looked down at your sleeping face and couldn’t help but smile a little. He recalled the moment you leaned into him, searching for a kiss before he had to push you away. Porco exhaled, his eyes travelling to your lips. There wasn’t anything he wanted more than to kiss the girl of his dreams— hell, he had dreamt about that for almost a year now.

But not like that. Never like that.

Porco took his phone on your bedside table and checked the time. Seven in the morning. He yawned, burying his face in the pillow. He hated his inability to go back to sleep after he had already woken up. His first class was in three hours and while you didn’t have any classes in the morning, he knew you would probably wake up regretting having drunk so much the night before.

Carefully, he pulled away from you and headed to the kitchen. You had mentioned Annie was going to be out and he figured either she hadn’t come home yet or she was asleep as well. Just in case, he tried to be extra silent while preparing coffee. He thanked Annie was the closest thing to a coffee connoisseur he knew, because he couldn’t help but let out a happy hum when the smell of coffee filled the kitchen.

As he watched the coffee drip on your mug, he leaned on the counter, his mind going back to the night he’d spent on your bed. How your fingers traced his hair, how your hand felt against his cheek and the way you looked at him when he kissed your palm. Even if he had stopped you from kissing him, somehow the tender moment you shared had felt even more intimate. Like it was always supposed to be like that: just you and him.

It wasn’t until several minutes later that Porco realized he had been smiling the whole time. He had told you he loved you. You hadn’t pushed him away after knowing how he really felt about you— not only that, you had shown him tenderness by cuddling with him the whole night. Even if Porco was aware things were far more complicated than that moment, he also knew it was a step in the right direction. He could almost see you sitting on the counter in front of him, morning light hitting your face and your legs swinging while you looked at him with a soft smile.

A shuffling noise made Porco snap out of his daydreaming. He peeked from the kitchen door, thinking Annie was back home but instead he found you stepping out of the room, wearing shorts and a big hoodie while you checked your phone.

“Thought you didn’t have class until later today,” Porco said, walking into the living room and startling you.

“Hey Pock— and no, I— Zeke called. He said he wants to talk, that he needs me, so I… I called an Uber, I’m going to his place now.”

“Are you serious right now?”

You looked into his eyes and immediately back to the floor, his glare too full of the truth for you to endure.

“The Uber is waiting,” you said in a small voice. “Thanks for… driving me home and staying. I have to go.”

In silence, Porco watched you walk past him to your apartment door and carefully close it behind you. A part of him wanted to think it was nothing but a joke from your part, that you would open the door any second now.

The song of the coffee machine turning off let him know he should have known better than to hope.

#snk x reader #aot x reader #porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard #porco angst #porco fluff #porco galliard angst #porco galliard fluff #aot porco #snk porco #porco #porco galliard x you #porco x you