#but damn is it hard to find the right words when my brain's like scrambled eggs...

[taralen]

[[Confession]]! ❤❤❤

I have a character directly inspired by Spamton in the book I'm writing.

God, I just love this character so much that I couldn't help myself. (ノ▽〃)

Once I get some finalized designs, I will probably upload pictures of him, haha. He looks a lot like my interpretation of Spamton but with differences, of course.

He wears really dorky sweaters and is a British expat living in America. He also has a younger brother who looks so similar to him that they get mistaken for twins (despite being four years apart!)

I've been working on this damn book nonstop for the past several months, but it's been an uphill battle trying to be as productive as possible while also battling my mental health struggles. One week, I'm wired as hell, feeling like I drank five cups of coffee, and then a week later, I can barely function. It's so exhausting.

But I am filled with determination. ＼＼\\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／／

[chiliyue-archived]

You talk too much

↬kissing them as a means of shutting them up

Includes; Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Floyd Leech, Sebek Zigvolt

Gender Neutral Reader

Tags; a little more on the crack side but i hope you like this nonetheless!

Not requested !

-

Riddle Rosehearts

"... OFF WITH YOUR HEA-"

Y'know the buffering logo for poor internet and such? That's Riddle at this very moment. It takes a solid couple seconds for him to realize what just happened or what he was even talking about for that matter

His face is blazing. The very same shade as his hair and his body is slightly trembling, shocked- no utterly astonished at what you just did.

Buffers out for a couple more seconds before promptly scolding you on how inappropriate your actions were and blah blah blah. Unfortunately, you may get collared... I hope it was worth it and honestly it is since you get to see Riddle's pouty face as he scrambles to recompose himself

But if he's being honest, your lips are really soft and warm on his, and now he can't help but stare at it for a little afterward because damn, he wants another. But he will not ask because that's below him, and you must pay for your actions - he mustn't give in to your kisses 😤

Proceeds to think about it afterward, becoming distracted in his tasks and zoning out because how dare you kiss the queen of hearts and definitely not because your lips are soft

Leona Kingscholar

"Careful Herbivore, you're tempting a lion right now. How shall I punish you for this, hm?"

How dare you cut him off and his words of wisdom 🤧<- said words were probably about sleep or something

However, he acts as though his hand isn't already sneaking its way around your waist, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, all for the goal of coaxing a reaction out of you

He composes himself fairly quickly. If anything, it's going to be YOU reaping the consequences of your actions and Leona is smug about it.

Flicks your forehead while his free hand grips your chin with two fingers. He's making eye contact with you simply to see your confident demeanor stutter and waiver before his very eyes.

He's making a toothy cocky grin at you, going off about punishing you and verbally assaulting your ears with his husky voice. And he leans in tierrbly close, his breath tickling your cheek. He's going to make you flustered and kinda terrified to what he may have planned, or are you 👀

If you think you're gonna be able to just walk away, you are horribly mistaken. Hope you have nothing planned for the rest of the day because you're gonna be acting as Leona's pillow.

Azul Ashengrotto

"Angelfish- dear- if you wanted kiss you could have just ask... ah, was it something I said, perhaps?"

Buffer logo number 2. He stands there for a couple of seconds unsure of what to do or what to say

Someone bring over his little pot, he needs to sulk for a little as he comphrends what just happened

His face is flushing pink in embarrassment, even bringing a gloved hand over his face to conceal his not so subtle mental breakdown. Furthermore, it was hard to tell if he was mad or simply flustered(its the latter). He kept diverting his gaze as his fingers twitched slightly.

He refuses to make eye contact with you because doing so just makes the red hue on his cheeks even worse. And suddenly his shoes became the most interesting thing— that or his glasses require cleaning for the nth time, definitely not an excuse or anything

Azul thinks he must have said something wrong, already apologizing over stuttered words, which really come off as babbles because his tongue is working faster than his brain

When he finds out it was just a small little prank - a little jab - he begs that you save his dignity and never do this again because he will turn into a puddle.

Pray this doesn't happen in front of the twins who will tease and berate the poor man with not so harmless humor from the kiss.

Floyd Leech

" Ahhh shrimpyyy did you get tired with my voice, hm~??? Why don't we take this somewhere private hehe~"

A death wish, we salute you

The moment you kiss him, he's already wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer against his figure. And those razor like teeth of his? Those are chomping down on your bottom lip. Your lips are gonna be all swollen and painted magenta by the end of this, but that's what happens when you tempt an eel he claims.

If he's flustered, it's not evident on his face; rather, he seems amused more than anything, a cheeky smile finding its way to his lips as he lets out a giggle that makes goosebumps run down your arms.

He's a horrible tease, one that's gonna use this as an excuse to drag you off and cuddle(and kiss you breathless) for a couple of hours. You can practically see all the ideas that is stirring up in his brain as he processes this

But sometimes it's hard to tell if what he's saying is a genuine or Floyd is simply making light... banter. "You're so silly shrimppy, but don't interrupt me next time, kay?~" He says with a grin that can be classified as either intimidating or teasing. Maybe both.

Tbh, he might take this experience and apply it himself, kissing you for no other reason other than that he was bored and your lips happened to be at the wrong place and time. What you were saying didn't matter much anyway 🤧

Sebek Zigvolt

" Y/N, WHAT WAS THAT?? ARE YOU TRYING TO IMPLY SOMETHING ABOUT WAKA SAMA?"

We applaud you brave solider

Scolds you, no hesitations. He stutters over the first couple of words, struggling to compose himself, but once he does, his mouth is spilling words after words. His face is terribly pink, and he seems both flustered and offended... which he's probably both because he's a drama queen.

If you were trying to shut him up, he's only gonna be talking even louder as he berates you on your behavior and whatnot. RIP ears 🙏

Everyone will learn about it with how loud he is. The scene from an outsiders perspective is quite a silly one; one of Malleus's personal guards rendered speechless for a couple of seconds before screaming his head off.

He vents about it to silver later that night and treats it as though it's the end of the world. He's going off and off about your kiss. Without even realizing it, he started talking about how soft your lips are andddd he's going into great detail-

And he can not sleep, no matter how much he tosses and turns because all he can think of is your lips. If you see the tip of his ears reddening, no you didn't... 🤭

Lilia b e g s you to do this more often because it not only gives his ears a break but a lovely window of opportunity to tease Sebek into oblivion

[strvngeweather]

It's All Greek to Me; a one shot.

🕮 PAIRING: collegetutor!jimin x partygirl!reader 🕮 GENRE: College AU, smut 🕮 WORD COUNT: 4.8k 🕮 WARNINGS: Smut, Smut, Smut 🕮 SUMMARY: After failing your college classes, you need a tutor. But if tutor, why so damn hot? 🕮 AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally going to be a full-length fanfic, but I decided to make it a short one. I still may expand on it. Let me know what you guys think. Also, my bestie gave me the idea when she said, "Jimin look like he likes ass." LMAO.

Despite your hatred for hangovers, you always ended up with one.

Today was no exception. As the resident party girl at Loren University, there was no way you would ever miss a weekend rager, but as your alarm clock went off for the fifth time that morning, you began cursing at yourself. Maybe going to a party on a Sunday night wasn’t a good idea.

Scheduling a tutoring session at eight in the morning was an even worse idea.

You had many strong suits, but English wasn’t one of them. It was the one subject you had struggled with since you were in high school. Analyzing the words of dead white men from centuries ago was just about as much fun as watching paint dry. Numbers were much more your thing. They were easy and in the words of Cady Heron, ‘Math was the same in every language.’

But you needed to pass. It’s not as if you were here on your parents’ dime like the other kids. You were a scholarship kid and if your grades slipped, so did you. Out the doors and on your ass. So, when you got your last paper back with a big fat ‘D’ written on it, you knew it was time to take action. And that meant getting a tutor.

You just happened to forget that today, on this bright and early morning, with a pounding headache and dry mouth, you were supposed to be meeting him.

Again, you ask, who the fuck schedules a tutoring session at eight in the morning?

With a groan, you grab your phone, hoping to hit the ‘snooze’ button on your alarm one more time before you really had to get up but when your eyes read the time you realize that it’s damn near eight-thirty. How many times have you hit the snooze button? You wonder but realize you’re only wasting more time. Without a second thought, you hop out of bed and into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and running a comb through your curly hair. Your make-up is smudged, and you still have on the shimmering dress from last night but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You grab a hoodie off your desk chair and hightail it to the school’s library.

.

Inside study room 007, you find a very annoyed, albeit very handsome senior waiting at the table. Laid out in front of him are a stack of books, notebooks, and flash cards. Pens and pencils are lined up neatly in a row. He all but glares at you as enter. Before you can speak, he glances at his watch and then looks back at you. “You’re late.”

“I know,” you say, out of breath. “I got caught up …” you scramble, trying to think of a lie instead of admitting you had spent the night throwing ass to Megan thee Stallion and Cardi B but your folder of excuses in the very back of your brain shows up empty. That might be for the best, you realize as you look over your tutor.

“Partying?” He finishes the sentence for you. His eyes rake over you in judgment. “Maybe that’s why you’re failing English.”

Now wait a damn minute. You scoff, crossing your arms. Your brain is foggy, you desperately need a glass of water – and, not to mention, your skin feels beyond icky. The last thing you can do right now is come up with a proper comeback so the only thing you manage to utter is, “Or maybe English is just hard.”

“You speak it every day, how hard could it be?”

“Whatever,” you say, sitting down across from him.  “Can we just … start?”

Jimin checks his watch again. “We might as well. We’ve got thirty minutes left. Let’s make the most of it.”

“I thought I had you for an hour.”

“Yes, and you were late so that hour has turned into thirty minutes. I’ve got things to do, Ms. L/N. I can’t wait around for you all day,” he replies, picking up a black ballpoint pen. “Let’s get started.”

“I’d much prefer it if you called me, Y/N,” you say, leaning back in your chair. “And you’re Jimin, correct?”

He nods curtly. “Alright, Ms. L/N, your form said you have an upcoming paper that focuses on the themes from Nella Larsen’s Passing. What part of the story are you at?”

You roll your eyes but choose not to correct him about your name and instead just answer his question. “I’m not on any part.”

His eyes brighten. “You mean you’ve already finished? Well, great, let’s jump right into discussion –”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not on any part because I haven’t started the book.”

Jimin looks at you as if you grew another head. “Your essay for the book is due next week. The book is less than two hundred pages. What do you mean you haven’t started yet?”

You shrug. “I figured since it’s such a short book I could probably finish it and write the essay in the same day.”

“And what day were you planning on doing that since our study session is right now?”

That day was last night but as you both knew you had gotten caught up with … other things. “I guess I figured we’d start the book together and I’d just get the essay done next week.”

Jimin sighs. “Ms. L/N, whatever you manage to vomit onto paper will not bring your grade up in the slightest if you follow your method. I guarantee that.”

You find yourself rolling your eyes – again. “That’s what you’re here for. You’re my tutor so tutor me in the right direction.” Jimin studies you for a moment and then he begins carefully putting his things away into his messenger bag.  “Wait. What are you doing?”

“Ms. L/N, you can reach out to me once you’ve read the book but until then, we have nothing to discuss. I only meet with students who are serious about their education,” he places his bag over his shoulder and nods toward you. “Have a good day.”

“Um, hello! You can’t just leave,” you say, getting out of your chair.

“I can and I am,” Jimin replies, and with that, he walks out of the study room. You begin to follow him but decide against it. What good would that do? He was rude and had judged you from the moment you walked in the door. You didn’t need a tutor like that.

You decided you were going to go to the campus café, buy a large coffee, and then go home to take a much-needed shower.

. . . .

“He was a jerk,” you tell your best friend, Winter, taking a long sip of your mango-pineapple smoothie. “He left right in the middle of our session.”

Every Tuesday was the same. A morning class and then a lunch date with your bestie, Winter, at your favorite smoothie place about twenty minutes away from campus.

She shakes her head but not at him. “Y/N, I love you, but you were late. You didn’t read the material, and you had the nerve to have an attitude. I would have walked out on you too.”

Harsh but it was the truth. You weren’t quite ready to admit that you were somewhat at fault too. “Okay, but I’m saying, he didn’t have to be rude about it though.”

“What’d he look like?”

“He would be fine as hell if he wasn’t so rude,” you answer honestly.

She shakes her head, amused. “What did you end up getting on your essay anyway?”

After the last encounter with Jimin, you decided you’d find another tutor, but in the meantime, you were going to stick with your tried and true. You did exactly what you had told Jimin you would do. You read most of the book in one evening and managed to type up a paper in the same night, confident that you had aced it. But when you looked online, checking your grade, you realized Jimin had been right. Regardless, you weren’t going back to him.

You sigh. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Winter replies. “Because if Jimin is right, then I think you should give him a call.”

“Jimin Parker?”

You and Winter look up to see Jennie Kim hovering above you. Her freshly dyed blonde hair cascaded in waves down her slender face. You may have been the resident party girl, but Jen was the resident party queen.

“Hey Jen,” you say, motioning for her to take a seat. “Yeah, Jimin Parker. You know him?”

She sits between you and Winter. “You mean that gorgeous senior? Ugh, I had him as a tutor last semester.”

“How’d he do?” Winter says, giving you a knowing look.

You lean forward. Jennie was known for many things but having good grades was not one of them. In fact, you wondered how she managed to make it this far without being kicked out. But, if Jimin could manage to get her grades up, then he truly was a miracle worker.

“Amazing,” Jen gushes. “I got an A on my last three papers. I wanted him again this semester but apparently, he’s all booked up.”

You groan as Winter gives you another look. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and dial Jimin. “Hello?” You reply as he answers. “Hi, yeah, Jimin, it’s Y/N. I was wondering if we could set up a session …”

…

For his sake (and mostly yours) you schedule an afternoon session and this time, you show up prepared. When he arrives, he’s shocked to see you already in the study room.

“Good afternoon,” he says, rounding the table to sit across from you. You get a whiff of his cedarwood cologne. “I see you’re on time.”

“I’m early,” you correct him. “You’re on time.”

“That I am,” he says, taking a seat. You watch him closely as he carefully takes out various pens and pencils, notebooks, and flashcards. He really is handsome, you think, even if he is an ass. “I see we’re studying Oedipus Rex by Sophocles?”

You nod your head. “I read it. I don’t understand it.”

“What exactly don’t you understand?”

“Not a single word in that book. They might as well be speaking Greek.”

He sighs. “Well, it is a Greek book.”

“Clearly,” you reply. “So where do we start?”

“I guess at the beginning.”

. . . .

Things were going smoothly. You found yourself actually understanding the material and surprisingly, enjoying it. But you also found yourself getting lost in Jimin at times. The more time you spent with him, the more you developed a crush. Your mind would wander as your eyes looked over him. You wondered how soft his full lips were. You wondered what his eyes looked like in moments of passion. You wondered how good it would feel to be wrapped up in his strong arms.

Your eyes were on his arms when he called your name. “Huh?”

“I asked did you want to go over the scene between Antigone and Polynices again?”

You shake your head. “No, I think I understand. Antigone wants him to call off the war, but Polynices’ pride won’t let him.”

“Correct,” Jimin replies with a smile.

Fuck, you think. Jimin had a smile that would make anyone melt. “Jimin,” you begin and mentally kick yourself for what you’re about to ask but you’ve started so you might as well finish. You put on your best flirtatious smile. “What do I get if I ace my next paper?”

He seems to know what you’re hinting at. “You get an A and the satisfaction of knowing your hard work paid off.”

Well, if that wasn’t a blaring rejection, you don’t know what is. “Do you have a girlfriend?” You blurt it out before your brain can even process whether the question was appropriate or not.

He blinks, slightly taken aback. “Yes, yes, I do. Why?”

You shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though you feel as if you’ve just gotten stung by a million honeybees. “No reason. You just seem so into your academics; I didn’t think you had time for that kind of stuff.”

“Well, a human being still needs a social life to thrive,” he replies coolly. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You nod. “Yes, and his name is Jose Cuervo.”

He laughs. “I’m sure you have a line of men knocking on your door.”

“Nobody I want though,” you say, mostly to yourself.

. . . .

If crushing on him wasn’t enough, now you were dreaming about him. A week of erotic dreams plagued you. They felt so real. You could smell his signature cologne as he pushed in and out of you, your legs on his shoulders and his arms wrapped around your thick thighs. Each dream ended the same though, just as he was about to finish, your alarm would wake you up and you would spend a good five minutes finishing yourself off before getting ready for the day.

Instead of a study room at the library, Jimin asked you to meet him at his apartment for the study session. He mentioned something about time constraints, appointments, and being unable to book a study room but your brain had been stuck on, “Wanna meet me at my apartment? We can have a quick recap sesh before I have to run out?” He could barely finish his question before you agreed to it.

So, sue you for being curious.

It’s not like anything will happen, you thought as you parked, he has a girlfriend.  You arrived twenty minutes early. Your excitement had gotten the best of you and you knew how much Jimin liked it when you were on time. When you knocked on the door, a man almost as handsome as Jimin answered.

“You must be Y/N?” he asked, sticking out his hand. “I’m Taehyung.”

You nodded, the thought of becoming a Wattpad heroine and having two incredibly attractive men fight over you danced around in your head. You shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

As he let you in, he explained he had somewhere to be, but that Jimin was in his room and to head right in. You gave the door a light knock but didn’t receive an answer. The door was slightly ajar, giving you the smallest view of a very neat bedroom. You spotted Jimin at his desk, looking at something on his large computer monitor. It looked familiar. Your curiosity ate at you, forcing your hand to ever-so-gently open the door further. This time you could see what Jimin was looking at clearly.

It was you. It was your Instagram feed. He was scrolling through your pictures, pausing at every photo that was a bit risqué.

“Fuck, Y/N …”

That was your name. Leaving his lips. In a moan. Your heart fluttered with excitement. But wait, was he …

As you tilt your head to get a better view, you can see the tip of his elbow on the armrest, bobbing up and down. And up and down. And up and down.

Oh, he definitely was.

You slap a hand over your mouth and tiptoe back to the living room. A few minutes later, you hear a shower turn on and ten minutes after that, you see Jimin emerge in a navy blue V-neck and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Hey,” Jimin looks at you with a face full of guilt. You can’t help but smile. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago,” you lie, looking up from your phone that you were pretending to be engrossed in. “I haven’t been waiting long.”

“Good, good,” he says. “Let’s go to the kitchen. The lighting is better in there.”

. . . .

After three weeks of hard work and several study sessions, you submit your paper with all the confidence of Scott Disick. Winter, the best friend that she is, decided that this was the best time to reward your good behavior with a couple of jello shots at your favorite bar. You gobble up the first two and then decide to sip on a blue Long Island iced tea. That’s when you spot him. Sitting in a corner, next to his roommate and another man with tattoos up and down his arms. Instead of his usual tweed blazer and grey slacks, his outfit looks more modern, more casual. A white graphic tee hugs his toned body, and you can’t help but eye his biceps. His cheeks are slightly red, his eyes are glossy and he’s laughing harder than you’ve ever seen him laugh. He looks delicious but you turn around and decide to order another shot from the bar.

You spot Winter getting her mack on with a fellow classmate, Karina, and it’s then you realize that you’re probably going to be alone for the rest of the night. Just as you begin to grab your wallet to pay your tab, a familiar figure approaches you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he’s wearing a smile you’ve never seen before, and it makes your insides flutter.

“I could say the same thing,” you reply. “I never thought I’d see Jimin Park in a bar.”

“I don’t spend all my time in the library,” Jimin says.

“Could have fooled me,” you tease, taking a sip of your drink. “What brings you out among people?”

He orders a whiskey sour before turning to you. “I, Y/N L/N, am finally a single man. My girlfriend of two years has decided that she no longer wants me.”

He’s smiling but you can see sadness behind his glossy eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly. “Her loss.”

“Oh definitely,” he says with a slight slur. “You want to know the real reason she broke up with me?”

You shrug. “Lay it on me.”

He leans in close, so close his body is pressed up against yours. He angles his lips to your ear and whispers, “I was too much for her.”

“Oh …”

“Yeah,” his words spill out in a rush, his eyes darkening as they take you in. They pause at your mini-skirt before crawling up your body slowly. You suddenly feel exposed, as if he just completely undressed you, but it would be a lie to say you didn’t love it. His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “You don’t seem like that though.”

“Seem like that?”

“Like I’d be too much for you.”

“In what way?” You ask, genuinely curious.

He leans toward you, his lips brushing past your ear, forcing every hair on the back of your neck to stand up. “Sexual. You look like a good girl who knows how to take a pounding.”

A million thoughts ran through your head as Jimin broke out into a sardonic laugh. You were called back to that time you caught him masturbating to your pictures. You began to wonder if the prim and proper Jimin was just a façade to hide the sexual deviant he really was. His eyes look over you in a way they never have, and you swore they were clouded with lust. He licks his full lips, and you want nothing more than to kiss them, but you don’t. Instead, you take a step back and laugh, motioning to his roommate. Jimin was drunk and even though it looked like he wanted to bend you over the bar and give it to you, you knew better than to take advantage of a drunk man.

….

A week later, when you enter the study room, the moment you and Jimin exchange glances, you feel awkward. He looks embarrassed as he gestures for you to sit down.

“We need to talk,” he says. “I want to apologize about the other night at the bar.”

“It’s okay, I barely even gave it a second thought,” you lie. You had thought about that moment ever since it happened.

“No, it was inappropriate, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Jimin, you were drunk, it’s fine. Besides, it was nice to see a different side to you,” you reassured him with a smile.

“That’s not a side that I would like to be representative of who I am,” Jimin admits. “I don’t want to be known as the guy who makes people uncomfortable.”

You laugh. “Believe me, I was the farthest thing from uncomfortable.”

He locks eyes with you for a moment before clearing his throat and motioning toward your phone. “Have you checked your grades yet?”

You gasp, suddenly remembering the paper you had submitted a week earlier. You quickly bring up your most recent webpage, searching for the most recent grade listing. As your eyes glance over your paper and the notes, you realize that Jimin lived up to his reputation. You get up, shoving the phone in his face, squealing.

His eyes brighten, and he gets up as well. “You got an A!”

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jimin, to your surprise, doesn’t push away. Instead, he pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. You take the moment to breathe in his intoxicating scent. The both of you remain intertwined far longer than you both know is appropriate but for some reason, neither one of you makes the move to let go.

Finally, Jimin relents first. He stares you in the face and says quietly, “I knew you could do it.”

You let out a small laugh. “I couldn’t do it without you. Thank you, Jimin”

“As a reward, we can end the session ten minutes early today,” Jimin replies and sits back down.

You find yourself shaking your head. “Can I request a different reward?”

Jimin looks up at you and nods. You look around the small study space. The room you chose was in the back, the library was relatively empty today and the small window the room provided was on the door and could easily be covered up the shade provided. You mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to say next. Things could go downhill, fast, depending on his reaction. Still, you steady yourself, look Jimin in the eyes and say, “I want a kiss.”

“What?”

“A kiss,” you repeat confidently. “I want you to kiss me as a reward.”

“I can’t kiss you,” he replies back, taking study materials out of his messenger bag. “That would be highly ina –”

“Jimin, if you don’t want to kiss me, just say so but don’t use the tutor-student relationship as a reason.”

He sighs. “I …” You watch as he struggles to find the right words.

“You were right about me,” you say, giving him a flirtatious smirk. “At the bar. I can take a good pounding.”

His face turns a beet-red, but he quickly recovers. He stands, walking to stand in front of you. “Just one kiss?”

“One kiss,” you repeat.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips, lingering for only a few seconds before breaking the kiss. “That good?”

You shake your head. “I hardly think that’s worth all the work I put in.”

He smiles, genuinely amused, and says, “Really?”

You nod. “Maybe if it was longer …”

Jimin sighs. “Y/N, if it’s longer, you know what that will lead to …”

“Then let it lead to that,” you challenge, you push. “I don’t know why you have to act so anal-retentive all the time. Not everything has to be perfect. Just k—”

He cuts you off with a deeper kiss. It’s slow and sensual. His hands wrap around your waist, one of them running down the curve of your ass as he palms it slowly, indulging in the fleshy softness. You can feel his dick hardening on your thigh as he slips a tongue into your mouth.

Jimin is using both hands to palm your ass now, his dick grinding into you and a low, deep, moan leaves his mouth forcing an electric sensation to shoot down your spine and vibrate in your core.

“You sure you want this?” he asks through a searing kiss.

“Yes,” you think you say but you’re not sure. Your head is spinning that this is actually happening.

He responds by lifting your pleated skirt and smacking your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room. Fingertips dance between your ass crack, and he uses a knee to part your legs slightly further. You break the kiss, throwing your head back as you feel Jimin’s fingertips slowly rub your pussy from the back. He slips a finger into your underwear, running it up and down your slit.

“How long have you wanted this?” He asks, nipping at your neck. “You’re already so fucking wet.” You try to answer but all that comes out is a moan as he slips another finger inside. “Shh,” he tells you. “You want the whole library to hear you?”

He gives you a bit of a reprieve when his hands slip away. You watch as he pulls out one of the chairs and sits, beckoning for you to stand in front of him. Your skirt is still at your waist, so he pulls your underwear down before pulling you close. You feel his large hands grope your ass again, peppering kisses up and down your hips. Another smack echoes through the room before he uses a hand to caress clit. You move your hips in response, holding on to the table for balance.

He pauses. “Turn around and bend over.” He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You obey, and not a second later, you feel him placing one of your legs up on the study table. “Arch that back, baby.” Your ass juts out just a little more as you follow his directions. A moment later you feel a cool, wet, sensation going up and down the slit of your core. It’s slow at first, as if he’s taking the time to let the taste of you marinate on his tongue but he quickly picks up his pace. The tip of his tongue flickering over your clit. Meanwhile, you can feel his thumb, massaging your anus.

Jimin was an ass man, and he was making that very clear.

Both hands were gripping your ass now as he guided your pussy over his tongue. You work your hips in tandem, stifling a loud moan as your world begins to go white.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

He moves his tongue from your pussy up to your anus, and you jerk, having never quite felt something like this before. You can hear an amused laugh leave Jimin’s throat as he begins to massage your ass with his tongue. His fingers working your pussy, begging for another orgasm. You oblige, your wetness dripping all over his fingertips.

“Don’t move,” he demands. You can hear his belt unbuckling, followed by the tips of his dick moving up and down your incredibly wet slit. He slides it in with the patience of a saint, excruciatingly slow, forcing whimpers out of you, begging him to go faster. “You sure you want it faster?”

“Please,” you moan.

“Please, what?”

“Please, Jimin,” you manage to utter out.

He gives you your wish and begins to pound you like he said he would. His pace quickens and you can feel every inch of him inside of you. Your pussy wraps around him which causes him to smack your ass, and a deep moan leaves his lips.

You realize he can’t have all the fun though and you begin to throw it back on him, your ass bouncing against him, and he lets you. You can hear your wetness as you begin to drain his dick. You can hear his low grunts of satisfaction as you pick up your pace and when you look back, you can see his dark eyes looking at you in a way you never wanted to stop. “Good fucking girl,” he whispers in a low voice.

You make eye contact which forces him to grip your hips and pound into you harder, faster (stronger).  “One more time baby,” he says to you, maintaining eye contact. “Cum on this dick.” You had already been close, and his words only sent you over the edge further than you had ever gone. You close your eyes, your body shaking in pleasure as you have your third orgasm on his dick.

He follows suit, his cum shooting deep inside of you. You feel his body on top of yours as you both try to catch your breath.

“Was that worth all your hard work?’ He asks.

“I think I’ll have to get A’s for the rest of the year,” you reply.

“The rest of your life.”

[shdo-xplosion]

HEAT • e. todoroki •°. *࿐

warnings: stepcest, periods, period sex, fingering, infidelity (not really dwelled upon), use of “daddy”, enji is a human heating pad *1.3k words

notes: its about to be that time of the month *sob sob* and i am in a bad brain mood that makes me wanna do nothing except cuddle with my heating pad so here we are! manga cap colored n edited by moi (*꒦ິ³꒦ີ)

Enji hates seeing you like this, his little angel, overtaken by fatigue and pain. You’ve been lounging on the couch for most of the day, moving from one position to another in hopes of finding temporary relief. Enji had been eyeing the calendar in preparation, picking a few things up from the nearby store so that you wouldn’t have to worry your pretty head.

But soft silicon discs and organic chocolate can only do so much. You keep swapping out your heating pad for the full heated blanket, keep curling up only to get up and walk around, and Enji can only take so much whining. It’s not that he’s irritated—never with you—he just hates seeing you in pain.

“Come here, baby,” he sighs, taking a seat on the far end of the couch and patting one of his humongous thighs.

You look at him with a hesitant sort of hope, “are you sure, daddy?” waiting for him to nod before scrambling over and slotting yourself on his lap.

You sit facing him, chest to chest, your head resting on his burly shoulder as Enji allows his hands to heat up. He slips them under your threadbare shirt, placing them on the small of your back just over your kidneys. Your relieved sigh comes out as more of a moan, your body melting against his.

Enji has gotten better about keeping his hands off of you, his precious step-daughter. What started as a curiosity turned into an accident that formed a habit. A very bad habit. It isn’t illegal. You’re in your twenties for Christ’s sake. But, it isn’t right. Enji shouldn’t be touching you like this. But, you want him to, especially on days like this.

“I know you’re the number one hero n’ all,” you hum, nuzzling against his throat, “and your job is to fight villains, but… I think your true calling is period relief.”

Enji laughs deeply, slowly working his thumbs into your back. “I don’t do this for just anyone, you know.”

“I know, I know.” You place a feather light kiss to his neck, and Enji damns himself when he feels his cock twitch under you. “Just saying. If hero work doesn’t pan out…”

He doesn’t respond, trying to stay in his right mind as you shift over him. You get comfortable where you lean against him, legs parted on either side of him, and for a little while Enji just sits and watches the asinine drama you have playing on the TV, rubbing small circles into your muscles.

It isn’t like he’s had these feelings since you were young. You and your mother came into his life when you were nearly 18 already, and his mind didn’t start betraying him until a few years after that. Enji isn’t sure if it’s the slew of worthless boys you keep bringing around to meet him, the constant threats on your life, or his own struggle with mortality, but something has Enji going a little crazy in recent months. Something is giving him an insatiable need to protect and take care of you. To make you his.

He doesn’t look at you the same way he looks at his other children, nor does he see you the same way he saw Rei or how he sees your mother. You're something else entirely. Quirkless but fearless, a force to be reckoned with yet so easy to be brought to your knees when it’s your dear daddy asking.

It was just a one time thing when you came home crying after a break up and Enji helped you forget about that stupid boy. Just a special occasion when you got all dressed up for the gala and Enji took you in your bedroom after everyone else had gone ahead. And, all the nights he saunters into your room while you’re knuckle deep in your pussy, trying so hard to get yourself off—that’s just so you can both get some rest. He doesn’t want you like that because it would be wrong. No way for the Number One hero to behave or think. They’re just little lapses in judgment here and there.

“Daddy?”

Enji grunts in response, toes curling at the sound of your voice cooing such a suggestively innocent title.

“Still hurts,” you whisper.

He warms his hands against your back a bit more, palms probably an uncomfortable temperature to anyone who isn’t seeking heat therapy.

“Any better?”

You shake your head, rubbing your face back and forth into his neck. “Inside. It’s…” He can hear your teeth slide against one another as you clench your jaw tightly. “Just hurts.”

He feels the way you spread your legs further, bearing down on him. It isn’t subtle. You may not be saying it with your mouth, but you’re all but rubbing your covered pussy over his hardening cock, a silent plea.

“You think that’ll help?” Enji questions, well aware of his baritone voice and the effect it has on you.

You shiver in his lap and nod. “S’long as you’re gentle.”

Tilting his head to the side, he guides your chin on his shoulder until you’re eye to eye with one another. “Aren’t I always?” Enji hasn’t always been known to be a soft man. In fact, his reputation has always been about being cruel, harsh, with no room for mercy. Things change over time, though, and even if they hadn’t, you would be the exception.

He helps you off of him so that you can shimmy out of your cloth shorts and panties. You tell him these are special made for periods, to absorb blood, “but if you want me to put a disc in really quick…”

Enji hushes you, fighting not to roll his eyes. “I’m not scared of a little blood, honey.”

To prove his point, he guides you back to his lap, slipping two thick fingers between your folds. Enji doesn’t push them further, just gathers the warm fluid coating your lips, teasing your hole with it. You grip his shoulders, face scrunched up.

“I’m going to give you one now, hm?” he warns, slowly delving his middle finger into the heat of your cunt. You take him easily, aided by your arousal and blood. As promised, Enji is slow and careful as he stretches you, watching for your expression to relax before adding his second finger.

“Alright, turn around, sweet girl,” he softly commands, waiting for you to face outward before guiding your hips down to meet his. Your body tenses when his fat cockhead slips into you, and Enji holds still so that you can adjust to his size. He lets you set the pace from there, delighting in the way that you slowly ease yourself down on his cock. Little by little, inch by inch, your walls spasming around his length until you settle right in his lap.

You let out a shaky breath, legs trembling, but it all goes away when Enji ushers you to his chest, letting you lean back as he places his hot hands over the lower part of your tummy. The angle has his cock pressed against your front wall, spongy tissue swelling around him, and just like that you find your relief.

“Feels so much better,” you say. Your voice isn’t slurred or all pleasure-rich despite Enji being able to feel your body’s reaction to him. No, you are content, at peace after a full day of discomfort.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod and giggle, “need to remember this for next time. Who needs Midol when I can just have this cock?”

Enji groans, shifting his hips to push his tip straight against your cervix.

“You can have it whenever you need, angel,” he mutters, brushing his lips over your shoulder and expertly kneading the tender skin of your hips. “Just say the word and daddy will come to your rescue.”

2023 ©️shidou-x. please do not plagiarize or repost my work in any other platforms.

[jjuniehao]

[02:39 pm]: bang chan

“come on, you need some fresh air!” you whine, squeezing chan’s cheeks when he still won’t budge, “maybe touching some grass, too. all you do is sit in this stuffy room, you probably have brain cells dying by the minute!”

chan breaks through his straight-faced demeanour and snorts at you, hands finding your waist and pulling you onto his lap, chin resting on your shoulder.

“baby, i’d love to, really. i wanna go on a real date with you so bad, but right now i just can’t spare the time, i’m sorry,” he mumbles, imagining the scowl you’re most likely wearing on your face right now, pressing a kiss behind your ear in hopes of soothing you a little.

his hopes be damned. though.

you groan, taking your boyfriend by surprise when you rise up from his lap, placing your hands on his shoulders and bending your knees to be on eye level with him.

“listen, mister. i get it, okay? i get it so hard— really, i understand, work is demanding and it’s hard to stay on top,” the serious look on your face makes him break out in a goofy smile, nodding along in hopes of maybe, perhaps receiving some praise for being such a diligent, hard worker from his favourite person…?

“but,” your tone drastically changes, furrowed eyebrows and lips pulled into a pout he’d really love to kiss instead of having you rip into him and his “capitalistic victim mindset” that “keeps him working until he eventually disintegrates with no trace left since he lived to work instead of working to live.”

pretty dramatic, but he gets your point. kinda.

“i’ve tried it all. i tried to be all caring and gentle to get you to take a break for just one night, i even brought cupcakes!”

“they were so good, ba—“

“i tried to be strict, i tried to be all smart and brought up all the health issues overworking and stress can cause,” chan looks at you sheepishly, feeling a little guilty for getting you so worried and desperate, though it also makes his heart flutter in a weird, twisted way.

“so i’m just going to be honest, and maybe a little selfish, and you’ll be the good boyfriend i know you are and agree with me, okay?” chan blinks at you, and before he can even come up with a counter, you have his cheeks cupped in your hands, determined eyes boring into his.

“i miss you. i miss spending time with you. i want my boyfriend. you always say i’m allowed to be a little selfish, so i’m cashing that in right now. i want to be selfish and i want you to go and have this cute little picnic i prepared. i even made mini sandwiches. do you know how annoying it is to cut lettuce into little squares?” chan stays quiet for a while. every second of silence makes the confidence you had built up shatter a little more, your eyes starting to nervously dart all over his face.

suddenly, you’re pulled back into his lap, face in his hands, cheeks squished, frantic kisses planted all over your face.

“wah, you’re so cute. what am i gonna do with you? how am i gonna work from now on when all i’ll be able to think about is your little speech?” he whines, pressing a kiss to your lips every few words, making you burst out in giggles he loves so much. “is that a yes?” the hopefulness in your voice makes chan melt, stealing another quick kiss from you.

“yeah but also no? i have maybe,” he reaches towards his phone laying on the desk, checking the time, “around 20 minutes. think we can make it outside, eat, and be back in that time?” chan is almost sure you’ll refuse, upset that he can’t spare you a little more time. instead, you practically shoot up from his lap, “well, then what are you waiting for?”

and with that you’re flying out the door and down the hall, chan scrambling to catch up with you, stupid lovestruck smile on his face.

part of the bucketlist boyfriends series

*i can’t link it since it messes w the tags </3

[minnaci]

POST-SHOW AFTERGLOW

contents: heartsteel!shieda kayn x afab gn!reader (reader's anatomy is described using the words "pussy", "cunt", "clit", and "cervix"), bottom!reader, use of insertive sex toys by reader, kayn walks in on reader masturbating, established relationship, bedsheet banter, fingering, penis-in-vagina sex, cervix mention, light dumbification, creampie, post-coital cockwarming

watching kayn perform live never fails to get you hot and bothered. luckily, kayn is always willing to take responsibility.

or, kayn fucks reader after a heartsteel concert. it's ridiculously good.

there's a wild sort of energy that ebbs and flows around kayn post-show. adrenaline— lightning in a bottle. he's on top of the world. he'd win any fight. he's ready for anything—

his train of thought comes to an abrupt end as he nudges open the door to your bedroom, and immediately, every cell in his body is subsumed by the low-burning embers of arousal.

he is not ready for this.

blankets lay crumpled around your spread legs. you're an angel, every curve caressed by soft light, and your eyes are squeezed shut as you fuck yourself on a thick dildo.

kayn recognizes that toy. it's the one that's the closest to his size and shape. you only use it when you're feeling particularly needy for him, or when you miss him. a soft, tender ache blooms in his chest.

"kayn," you whimper, sugar sweet. you don't seem to have noticed him, lost in your own world of pleasure. "kayn, please, please, i need you, please—"

your voice breaks on a sob, and kayn's mouth goes dry. his fingers curl with the need to take.

"what a nice surprise." kayn's smirk widens into a full, cocky grin when your eyes fly open and you squeak with surprise.

"kayn!" your hands scramble to pull the toy out, and kayn greedily watches as your pretty hole gapes ever so slightly, fluttering around air. another shot of heat, straight to his cock.

"oh, don't stop on my account," kayn says. "i'm just enjoying the show."

your resultant pout creases right between your eyebrows, and he lets loose a laugh, crossing the room in three eager, bounding steps to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. his tongue flickers out, and he licks into your mouth. he loves how you melt in his arms, how you always let him in so easily. you're so perfect for him. he's just about to crawl into bed and show you just how perfect he thinks you are when—

"shower first," you murmur against his lips, as if you hadn't been making a mess of the sheets for hours before he came home.

"but—" kayn knows exactly what you're about to say. he's got "dirty" clothes on, so he can't get on the bed, which is "clean". but can anyone really blame him when you look so tempting, so obscene, that his brain hurts from how hard his cock is?

"kayn—"

"hear me out." he presses a few sweet, pleading kisses to your cheeks, relishing in the way you melt under his easy affection.

"...fine."

"you're so beautiful, baby. look at you all fucked out. do you really expect me to make it a whole shower without jerking off? and if i jerk off, i'll cum, and there won't be anything left in the ol' sacks to fill you with."

you raise an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. damn it. looks like kayn has to bring out the big guns.

"...i'll wash the sheets after we're done," kayn adds. "so they'll be clean again."

"you really want me so bad you'd do laundry for me?" you swoon dramatically— a feat when you're already laying in bed. "is this what it means to be loved?"

"you're a menace," he says. it can't be legal for you to be both cute and devastatingly sexy at the same time. fuck, he loves you so much he swears he'll explode with it. his chest tightens. his fists clench. he can't stand it.

he pounces onto you, heart singing at the elated little yelp you let out as he presses a flurry of kisses to your face.

"i love you," kayn growls, incongruously aggressive for how sweet the words are. his fingers find their way between your thighs, rubbing where you want it the most. he dips inside, just a little, but you tense as if he's shoved all five (and a half!) inches inside of you at once.

"love you— love you too, kayn—"

fuck, he could listen to you saying his name just like that for years, and he'd never go soft.

"relax for me, baby." he stretches you in gentle, practised movements, head spinning as you obey, body going pliant under his covetous hands. you're so perfect for him, already soft and wet from your earlier stint with your toy. your lips find his weak spot— the tender patch of skin right between the junction of his neck and jaw— and he groans, feeling a little insane as you rock back against his fingers, dripping sweet and sticky like warm honey.

"i can't hold back much longer," he says, voice strangled.

"so don't." your breath catches as the tip of his finger brushes against your sweet spot, so he does it again, just to hear you gasp. he could get lost in this, this pleasure of playing your body like the finest of instruments, pulling sound after needy, dripping sound from your pretty mouth.

"kayn— kayn, please, stop teasing, don't hold back, please, i need you—" the sheer desperation in your voice makes kayn's blood sing with pleasure, and he gently removes his fingers from your aching hole, much to your chagrin. you line up the head of his cock with your entrance, shuddering as it pulses a thick glob of pre-cum over your skin. "inside, inside, please—"

-

there's nothing quite like the initial stretch of kayn's cock as he bullies his way inside of you. he's so thick, and the way he's got you folded makes him feel even bigger. your jaw hangs slack, every nerve trembling with anticipation.

the tip of his cock nudges inside, and you both let out twin moans. your cunt is hungry for it. desperate, even— your gaze goes hazy and unfocused as your pussy sucks softly at his tip.

"so fucking good," he groans. "how are you so fucking good every time?"

if you could speak, you'd say that you could ask him the same thing, but any semblance of coherent speech is knocked from the forefront of your mind as he eases deeper into you. every additional inch of his hot, throbbing cock only serves to make your mind go blank with pleasure. your eyes roll back, flutter shut.

"fuuuck, that's it, baby. feels good, doesn't it?" kayn shudders as he bottoms out. the very tip of his cock kisses a spot deep inside, so sensitive that it sends a thrill up your spine. "there it is— there's that weak spot. yeah, let me use it against you, baby. 'm gonna fuck all that resistance right out of your pretty hole..."

he rolls his hips once, twice, giving a few deep, experimental thrusts. true to his word, his cock massages over your sweet spot. you can't fight the onslaught of sensation, and even if you could, you wouldn't want to. it's so, so good— too good to resist, too good to fight. pleasure melts your brain, turning every coherent thought you might have had to gooey bliss.

your jaw hangs slack. your head spins. pleasure curls around your limbs, pulling you to new heights of mindless need.

"yeah, that's right. this is what you needed, isn't it?"

you don’t have to reply— the answer is written in the slight crossing of your eyes, the subtle trembling of your ribcage, the thin line of saliva that drips from the corner of your mouth. heat builds in your core, spreading like fire across your skin, and you let loose a long moan.

“kayn…” you struggle to make eye contact, lucidity slipping through your fingers with every devastating thrust.

“no thinking,” he says. his thumb finds your clit. the added stimulation makes it all too easy to obey. any semblance of logical thought dissipates into hazy pleasure. you wouldn’t be surprised if your brain was leaking straight out of your dripping cunt.

“no thinking,” you repeat dumbly, looping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. your fucked-out gaze meets his, and he curses under his breath, cock pulsing inside of you. through it all, he continues rubbing those maddening, mind-melting circles on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

heat envelopes you, swallows you whole and digests you, transforming you into a being of need and pleasure. your nerves sing with molten arousal. every touch, every breath, every heartbeat only sends you spiraling further and further into the depths of debauchery.

“that’s it, baby, let me make you feel good, yeah, yeah—” kayn babbles, his hips stuttering out of rhythm. it makes his cock slide in that much deeper, makes his thumb slip just right against the hood of your clit, and— and—

you fall apart on his cock with a wail, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure. it burns through you, sets the stars ablaze behind your eyelids. your sanity shatters as you all but convulse, gorging yourself on decadent sensation.

thick, creamy warmth floods your insides, and you practically purr at the way the tip of kayn’s cock kisses the sensitive mouth of your cervix. he’s still mumbling mindless praises against the soft skin of your neck even as he fucks you through both of your orgasms. his voice takes on an edge of wretched desperation. “so good, so good, it hurts, baby, hurts good, i— i— fuck…”

he collapses over you, sheathing himself balls-deep with a groan. the last dregs of his cum drool from his tip, dribbling over your sensitive walls. your pussy flutters around him in response, hungry for every last drop of him, and he nearly whimpers at the added sensation. pain and pleasure swirl around you in a heady cocktail of hormones as you come down from your highs together.

when kayn kisses you, it feels right— the natural product of the raw desire that connects you. his lips move against yours sweetly, softly, and he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. the afterglow is made for kissing, for heavy petting, for the cooling of sweat and softening of breaths.

"what was that all about?" kayn murmurs in the hazy quiet, pulling you closer to him. you grumble a bit as his soft cock shifts inside of you, threatening to fall out, and he makes a soothing little noise, ignoring the pricks of painful overstimulation and focusing on keeping you nice and warm and full.

"what was what all about?"

"don't play, baby. what had you so needy tonight?"

"...ah." your face heats up, and you bury your nose in his chest. still, it doesn't muffle your next words. "you looked really, really good on stage tonight. i couldn't stop looking at your stupid bulge through your stupid leather pants."

the honestly is unexpected enough to subvert kayn's knee-jerk instinct to be insufferable and smug. he gapes at you. "you're so fucking cute."

“mhm,” you hum in agreement. “and you’re beautiful. so we match.”

there’s a frazzled sort of silence as kayn short-circuits from the praise. for someone who presents with such an inflated ego, his reaction to genuine compliments is nothing short of charming.

"so... the sheets?" you break the silence, only half-joking.

kayn groans. “i’ll wash them tomorrow. let me enjoy this, baby.”

“i’m holding you to it.” you bury your face in his chest, heart melting a bit as his lips brush over the crown of your head. dirty sheets or not, there’s nowhere else you would rather be than here, limbs tangled with his, soaking in your shared pleasure.

tags: @enchantedforest-network @angelshub

[tetsutits]

ᰔ cw — female reader, rindou calls you a‘smart’ & ‘sweet girl’. ummm this is just me projecting lol rip it’s finals szn rn *cries*

“alright,” rindou sighs, “how about arterial depolarization?”

you pause, eyes zeroing in on the flash cards sitting between his veiny fingers. he waits a few seconds for your response, and when you don’t say anything, he tilts his head at you.

“w-wait! don’t say it! i know it,” you wave your arms around, “just gimme a sec,”

your boyfriends eyes find their way back to you, violet and half-lidded. in his hands, he holds over thirty flash cards with definitions and terminologies written all over them.

you huff, crossing your legs and tucking them to your chest, wracking your brain for the definition. at this point, so damn late at night, the words just scramble to gibberish in your brain, information overload at its finest.

“need help?”

“no!”

he smirks, watching the way you stare hard at the carpeted floor you both sit on, a pretty little pout on your lips and your brows furrowed in concentration.

you are too damn cute. even like this, late night study sessions where you think you look the worst, he thinks you’re still the prettiest girl he’s seen.

still, he gives you a few moments to gather up an answer to his question. seeing the gears turn in your head, linking up thoughts and finally, the response hits you.

“oh, oh!” you gasp, springing up to your knees, “it’s the P wave in an ECG,”

rindou hums, signaling you to keep going.

“it’s when the electrical current passes through the heart… and umm, it’s kinda like, basically arterial contraction.”

“okay, and what’s the opposite of that?”

“repolarization. and that’s just relaxing, so…” trail off, searching of a conclusion, “those electric signals kinda just make up the heart pumping mechanism.”

you smile, clapping your hands together in small victory.

he leans back on one hand, nodding his head silently, and you wait for his confirmation to tell you that you’ve either got it wrong or right.

after a few beats of silence, he finally speaks. “what a smart girl,” little smile at his lips, “look at you, baby, i’m so proud of you.”

your breath hitches, freezing all your movements and feeling the heat rise all the way up to your ears. you bite the inside of your cheek upon hearing his validating words.

“see? you’ve got nothing to worry about.” he continues, dropping the flash cards on the floor.

he leans in, crowding your surroundings so he can tuck a flyaway hair behind your ear. his touch sends shivers all over you, making the baby hairs at the back of your neck stand straight.

“my sweet girls gonna ace this final tomorrow,” he whispers near your ear, swallowing up your reaction like a starved man.

you feel your heart beat erratically against your chest, and breath deep before asking, “you think so?”

he smiles, pinching your cheek playfully. “i know so.”

[technicalthinker]

I haven't even rewatched Rogue One yet but I realise I am still so incredibly emotionally compromised by the ending, specifically the ending Cassian and Jyn scenes. Seeing gifs, bits of it in edits or just thinking about it gets to me and god I rly need to rant about it and explore why (under the cut bc it got long lmao, warning for rogue one spoilers obv if you haven't seen it)

This breakdown is mostly from memory so I've prob misremembered details that is gonna ruin me on a rewatch.

Like ofc we have all the baggage of the entire movie, their conflict and the way they've connected in the background. But I think it's how in the end they're both battered and bruised. They're worn down, struggled to reach this point, and at the end Cassian managed to get up there to save Jyn with his last strength. It is all just scrambling for a win, giving it all they got to just do this one thing (the way everyone on their team has sacrificed themselves to get them here really just enforces that)

And then the moment in the elevator is just... not a word said but it gets me because it's so vulnerable. Both these characters have hard exteriors that they project to the world but in that moment they just look at each other with so much emotion and love. Cassians look especially is just so tired and yet love and admiration for Jyn. The performances here rly are.. it hits me. It's also physically intimate but in a way that just feels calm, soft, like they're resting. And it hits the feeling of, the realisation that exists between the characters from here on out "oh maybe we could've been something-".

and then out on the beach, they're proud. "do you think anybody's listening?". and the thing is, we know SOMEONE IS LISTENING. they did win. this isn't a tragedy of them trying and still failing, they've completed their mission. and they don't know it, but we do, they've saved the galaxy. because they decided to hope and love and do the right thing.

But the tragedy is that they're not going to make it. The fight is over. They're not going to survive this, but there is no fight left to take. They've done enough fighting, so for them to in the end face something so unavoidable is almost peaceful you know? The fact that they get to face the end together is beautiful, but that they have to die at all is so damn unfair. The comfort they share, the support, and god I think Diego Luna summed it up pretty well in the clip that "that hug represents everything that could have been but didn’t happen" ( x ). And so it is sad to mourn what they're losing, that they don't get to live in the galaxy they've saved. They don't get to see the end of the rebellion.

So in the end there's sadness between them as well, sadness and fear of the end, but they hold each other and find comfort in the other. Both emotional, but also as a reminder that they did win this together. Once again, the performances and the shots and everything is just beautiful. It is soft, intimate and the last closeups of their faces as they just hold the other will be stuck in my brain forever.

So in summary, I think the reason why it gets to me, that I'm feeling when typing this out, is that there is this blend of so many different emotions happening in this one sequence. This is also why I've been struggling with grasping it, because there's so much at the same time that captures different things from the human experience.

The vulnerability they dare to share with each other, the pride of winning, the fact that instead of doubt they embrace the hope of their rebellion! But then the sadness and sorrow of what could've been, fear of what to come, but also the comfort of having each other, having shared this experience and saved the galaxy. It is both that we feel what the characters are experiencing, but for the viewers that know they're faith isn't misplaces, that light will prevail, that someone is listening, that really just hits it home for me.

[thewcllingtons]

🕯️ (Derin)

send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character.

❝ What the fuck—❞ is the only phrase that he could muster in his brain as he held the empty pregnancy test box in his hand.

Derek wasn't even sure why he had the notion to look inside of inside of the trash bin in his bathroom. He never had the inkling to check before. Surely, Erin definitely didn't mean for him to see it whatsoever, since the box was wrapped in toilet paper before shoving it in towards the bottom of the bag. Maybe it was the weight. The man wasn't some controlling weirdo that looked through his trash. It definitely felt heavier than before. He didn't want his suspicions to be correct in any way; he might have been obvious to certain things, but he wasn't an idiot.

Erin had been acting distant lately. Derek chalked it up to his own personal actions. The manor's ending still had a strong hold on him. There were some days that were better than others. The male had himself nearly convinced that he happened to be one of the unaffected ones. He learned that hard way that it was wrong. His depression caught wind to his small window of freedom and brew a wildfire in him. The weather didn't help in easing out his depression since it rained damn near every day. Erin's presence almost felt like a blur to him. Outside of random conversation at dinner and random bouts of sex, he didn't tune into the world around him.

It's why he didn't recognize her complaining about her period like she did. The random moodiness. The random texts about cravings at 3 o'clock in the morning. He should've known. Yet, he stood herebaffled by the fact that it took up for this point for him to realize that he might be a father. The scariest part to this is his inability to find the one object that would confirm his fate, the pregnancy test. ❝ —Where the fuck is it? ❞

❝ Erin isn't dumb enough to go all this way, hiding the box, and not doing the same with the pregnancy test... ❞ Derek didn't hesitate to rip open the bag, searching for the slinder object, regardless of how disgusting it was. When he couldn't find it there, he decided to search every single garbage bag inside of the house. Tearing his apartment apart trying to find the damned thing. ❝ Where the fuck would she put it if she took it here? ❞

❝ Maybe it isn't recent? ❞ The thought hit him like a ton of bricks before he stopped to convince himself otherwise. ❝ No way... She would've told me if she knew that it was serious, right? That's what we do... We tell each other things. Not just little things. It's a fucking baby— Our baby— My baby. Is it my baby? No— Fuck— It has to be here somewhere. ❞ His thoughts scrambling for another thirty minutes before he grabbed the crushed box and threw it to the ground as his eyes welled up with tears. ❝ Why the fuck would she leave the box and not the test? ❞ The only thing running through his mind screamed from the pit of darkness living inside of him. ❝ Isn't it obvious? Who the fuck would want a kid from someone like you? You can't even go a day without falling apart. I wouldn't tell you either. ❞

Not negating the voice in his mind,❝ Maybe I'm not someone whose capable of being a father, but she would at least try. She could hardly keep a secret from me and we haven't been able to keep our hands off each other since the damn wedding. We haven't talked about kids— or hell— whatever it is we are— But I love her enough to know that it's at least worth a fucking conversation and that she wouldn't do this to me. Hiding it from me just because— ❞

It's almost like thinking of the word love and Erin within the same mental conversation caused her to spawn. If Derek could count the times that it happened, he'd be a billionaire by now. Yet, you'd think otherwise, with the look he had on his face. The blonde walking in on Derek standing in the middle of the room with his apartment an utter disaster, garbage strewn all over the floor, some pieces moved in a corner in case of it possibly being a pregnancy test, and the hot tears still pouring down his face. Derek, a man of little words and few expression could only muster the simple question. ❝ Where did you put the test, Erin ? ❞

[kithtaehyung]

OH IM SHAKING SO HARD RN RYEN??

new favorite chapter. idc. I was at the edge of my SEAT the whole time and I had to reread so many parts to make sure my brain processed everything right 😧 I’m definitely going to reread after sending this and maybe before I go to sleep.. and maybe during wor- 🫣

the sex scene was so fucking HOT oh my god I did not expect yn to bite back either shes so hot oh gosh 🫣 possessive yoongi and yn.. what a combo my mind is scrambled.. TBH I had a feeling yoongi was going to sneak through the window when you dropped the title a few days ago and when that scene came into play I was on CLOUD NINE.

OH AND U WERE SO DIRTY FOR GIVING ME SCARED WITH 3TAN BRO I was screaming every time bro appeared or cockblocked 😭 and I was audibly telling him to go away 😭 BUT BESIDES THE NASTY STUFF ( I would’ve wrote more but im still processing everything my mind is blank HDJCJSJ BUT JUST KNOW IT RUINED ME. PISSED OFF YOONGI? I WAITED FOR THIS ONE. )

YN AND YOONGI GETTING MATCHING JEWELRY OHH MY HEART! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH I HOPE THEY’LL BE ABLE TO WEAR THEM WITHOUT GETTING SUSPICION 🥹

AND SUSHCUDJFNSK JIN KNOWS NOW HDJDISNE I SCREAMED AND JUMPED FROM MY SEAT WHEN HE SAID THE LAST LINES..

THANK U SM FOR SERVING US A 5 COURSE MEAL RYEN! DEFINITELY MY FAVE CHAPTER AS OF NOW !! now im a little bit nervous bc im sensing theyre about to get caught by bro from the amount of ppl finding out abt them.. AHHH

- 🍷

i came to a realization jin did not know AND I READ TOO FAST WHOOPS BUT EVEN SO TAE SAYING THOSE LAST WORDS .. PHEW

- 🍷

WINE OMFGGG new fave?? no flippin way that is absolutely fantastic! i wanted it to be tense bc it needed to be (the premise?? the suspense? too good to pass up.) and it was also a nice way to practice tense situations bc i don’t think i’ve written too many scenes like that, if ever. it was playing in my head and writing that out was super interesting. hope it translated well enough! 

READER IS A BRATTT like we know reader is pretty independent and from what yoongi has said about them, he already knew about this bossy side. i can only imagine what was going on his mind... it’s almost as if he wanted reader to be mad for a long ass time just to see what would happen L O L i want both of them so fcking bAD.

HAHAHAH BRO THROUGH THE WALLL i wanted to fcking yell! if you were yelling at your screen, i’m cacking. that’s too good hahahah PISSED OFF YOONGI FOR THE GD WIN. AND THE JEWELRY HELP MEEEE we’ll see if this is canon or not and if they do wear them :’))) 

i’m so damn happy you enjoyed this one, along with the ending that gave me stitches lmfao. it was a blast to write despite giving me some headaches!

[blackkatmagic]

Prompt! Mace is stuck in a time loop of evening he fought Palpatine. He’s a little surprised at first at how willing the CG commanders are to help him commit murder, but he appreciates it

Mace is scorched, bleeding heavily, and missing a hand, still out of breath from his last fall before the section of looped time reset, when he staggers in the Coruscant Guard’s main office, then locks the door behind him.

Halfway out of his chair, Fox freezes, eyes widening. “General Windu!” he says sharply, and reaches for his comm. “Thire, go get Medical—”

“Only a Guard medic,” Mace says, and Fox goes still, Thire frozen halfway to his feet on the other side of the room. Mace meets Fox’s narrowing eyes, feeling the wash of suspicion rising, and can't even manage to hide the exhaustion in his voice when he says, “I don’t trust anyone else.”

He’s failed to kill Palpatine four times now. Four betrayals, four falls out the wide window, four times surviving just to watch the Jedi Order fall right alongside the Republic. Exhaustion is the very lightest word for what Mace feels right now.

Fox glances from Mace to the door to the other commanders, then deliberately reaches over, switches off the comm, and engages the privacy lock on the office. “We have an hour before the shift change,” he says.

Stone rises, pushing past Thire, to approach with quick steps. “I've got bacta,” he offers.

The best possible outcome. Mace tries not to stagger as he heads across the office, but he must look bad enough that Thire meets him halfway, grabbing Mace's arm and supporting him right to the empty chair across his desk. It’s a familiar seat, and Mace collapses into it with a sound that might be a groan, tipping his head back. thinks, a little grimly, of how he’s going to get Fox to agree to what he needs help with, but—Fox is the best shot in the Guard, the most fearless man Mace has ever met. If he can't do it, no one can. And all of his commanders are intensely loyal and well-trained and brave. They’re necessary, too.

All Mace needs is to not sound like he’s gone mad for the next hour.

“No caf this time?” he asks, then sets his teeth against a gasp as Fox pulls his robe away from the long, jagged slash that’s sheeting blood down his side. The third fall, Mace thinks. He wasn’t able to stop all of the glass as it fell after him.

There's a pause, careful, and then Fox snorts quietly. “You didn’t even call ahead this time,” he says, and from the tone of his voice Mace might almost believe it’s one of their weekly meetings, nominally to discuss security but more often to drink caf and complain about the idiocy of senators. “Not a Jedi. Don’t expect me to read your mind.” With a quick, ruthless jerk, Fox pulls a shard of glass free, then catches Mace's shoulder before he can do more than cry out and slaps a bacta patch over the spot, sealing the edges.

When the world stops lurching like one of Anakin's crashing ships, Mace opens his eyes, and finds himself pressed face-first to hard plastoid, as red as blood.

“My apologies, Commander,” he manages, though picking up his head feels like rather too much effort right now. “I would have called if I could have.”

Above him, there’s a quiet breath, and Stone sets a hand on his shoulder. “Sir,” he says quietly. “What happened to you?”

Fox’s hand curls around the back of his skull, holding him carefully in place, and—after three years of war, trooper armor feels like safety. Even seeing what the 501st was forced to do, all Mace can feel right now is a deep, desperate sense of shelter, like finally finding a light in a storm.

“We’ll murder them for you,” Thire says on Mace's other side, conversational and easy, like it’s the predetermined outcome, without question and entirely within their ability. “Just give us the name, General.”

Mace opens his eyes, staring at red and white plastoid, and takes a breath. “The Sith Lord,” he says. “I found him.”

Fox’s indrawn breath is a vicious hiss. “Thire,” he says without hesitation. “Those slugthrowers we seized the other day, in the lockup, and the ammunition—”

“On it,” Thire says grimly, and then he’s gone, across the office and into another room. Fox himself doesn’t move, and Stone’s hand curls more tightly around Mace's shoulder, holding him steady.

“General Windu,” Fox says, quiet. “Just give us the name and we’ll take care of it.”

They will, Mace thinks, and it’s almost astonishing. Within ten seconds, Fox had a plan, and that’s—well. Precisely why this is where Mace came when he’d run through all other options and was on the verge of collapse.

“I need to come,” he says, though when he goes to lever himself to his feet, Stone gently pushes him back down. “You may hesitate, and I need to guard you if you do. He’s powerful—”

“Hesitate,” Fox repeats, frowning. He glances up as Thire returns, carrying two locked boxes. “Why the kriff would we hesitate? He’s a Sith Lord. He did this to you. He’s the one behind this whole karking war.”

Right. The difficult part. Mace takes a breath, carefully pushing himself upright, and says, “His identity. You might think I'm lying.”

There's a pause, and then Thire snorts, thumping the boxes down on top of Fox’s desk. “With all due respect, sir,” he says. “I can't even pictureyou lying to a clone.”

Stone makes a sound of quiet amusement. “What he said.”

Mace glances up, meets Fox’s eyes. “I'm going to ask you to help me murder someone very important and highly-placed,” he say quietly. “With no proof but my word.”

“And your injuries,” Fox says ruthlessly, though his hand is careful on Mace's throat. Mace should likely be thinking of troopers in the Temple, executing children, but all he can picture is Ponds on his left, Razor on his right, Stak asleep against his knees in front of the fire. It makes him close his eyes again for just a second, leaning into Fox’s touch.

“It’s Chancellor Palpatine,” he says clearly, as steadily as he’s able to. “Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord. I need your help to kill him.”

There's one beat of stunned, frozen silence. Then, careful, Thire clears his throat. “You want us to kill the Supreme Chancellor?” he asks.

“Yes,” Mace says, and when he sits back, all three commanders are staring at him. Something in his chest sinks, grim and resigned. “I can't—”

“Thire, get those damn boxes open,” Fox orders. “Stone, we need some kind of distraction. Grab some detonators.”

“Sir yes sir,” Stone says, and scrambles to obey as Thire lunges for the lock boxes. “That rotary blaster—”

“No blasters, just slugs,” Fox says firmly. “General Windu, if he sees you—”

“He won't remember my attempt to kill him,” Mace says automatically, though he can't quite get his brain to click over and accept that he can see in front of him. “I—Commanders—”

“No backing out!” Thire says over his shoulder. “It came from a Jedi, it’s an order, just let us do it this one time—”

“No take-backs,” Stone agrees, dumping a bandolier full of grenades over his head and settling it quickly. He also grabs for a very large vibrosword that’s leaning against the wall. “Even if you’re wrong, sir, we’d better just check, right?”

Fox snorts, and as soon as Thire gets the box open, he reaches for one of the slugthrowers. “Call it a birthday present,” he agrees, and glances at Mace, considering. “Sir, if you stay here—”

“I'm not staying,” Mace says firmly, and pushes to his feet, just managing to catch himself as he sways. “Use me as a distraction. Put me in cuffs and tell Palpatine that you found me trying to sabotage the power grid.”

That, of all things, makes Fox hesitate, but after a moment he nods. “After that, we’re taking you somewhere secure and dumping you into the softest bed I can find,” he promises. “Sir.”

Mace won't object. He might even drag the three of them down with him, just for that little bit of extra safety. If they manage to kill Sidious, they’ll all deserve every bit of rest and safety they can get.

[On AO3]

[love-toxin]

plagas; leon.

a/n: in the midst of some writer’s block i stumbled upon an old concept i never finished. enjoy some good ol’ plaga leon <3

warnings: parasitic possession, yandere leon, female reader, violence, blood, groping, leon’s teasing is just straight up bullying, pet names, almost noncon, slight boot kink, chasing. 

word count: 1.9k

“Leon..?”

The sun had set on your terrifying journey, and cast a shadow over the room you'd found yourself trapped inside. Not by locks this time, or villagers, or Saddler himself...but by the person you had trusted throughout this entire nightmare. The man that had saved your life stood between you and your only way out, and even then, you doubted that you'd be able to escape if you managed to slip past him. The road home was so long and the stifling, smothering Spanish heat had made way for a chilling cold that breezed through your body in the night and froze you to your spot.

And Leon was gone. His mind and body had succumbed to the disease he'd been injected with, the parasite that he'd protected you from...but instead of saving you, now all you felt was panic, fear, and dread when you looked into his eyes. 

“You can’t suck the poison out of this wound, sweetheart...but I won’t stop you if you wanna give it a try.” 

Leon took slow steps around you, his footsteps echoing in the marble hall of the castle as he eyed you up like you were his prey, while his fingers spasmed and twitched at his sides, like they were itching to either grab you or wrap themselves tightly around your throat. So much had happened since he'd rescued you from the farmhouse, and reassured you with infectious confidence that everything would be okay. It felt like a lifetime that you'd known him, even if in reality you'd only spent less than a day together--but running and hiding and waiting for Leon to dispatch any threats made the hours seem so long and torturous. You prayed for his safety at every turn, and felt terror grip your heart as you waited for him to come back and retrieve you from hiding…

And now you were here.

"Saddler wants me to kill you, you're not worth the hassle to him. But to me...you're my treasure. Mine." 

The way that word rolled off his tongue sounded like an echo in your brain. He said it once before, and it stuck with you awhile--but hearing him say it now was like having it permanently seared into your head. 

It wasn’t a secret anymore. You’d fallen in love with Leon, as so many had before. You fell for his confidence, his strength, his effortless teasing and sincere concern for your safety, and maybe it was all just backed by your appreciation for him saving your life and playing the hero so well. But even if it was temporary, you were in love and you wanted him to survive just as much as he wanted to save you, and even if he succeeded and brought you home just for you to never see each other again, there would always be a part of you that loved him, and you had accepted that fact. 

But things had changed. Seeing Leon no longer filled you with relief and happiness, that smug grin on his lips as he greeted you after fighting off monsters you could only imagine in nightmares. He took a step towards you, and this time you took a huge one back--and he chuckled, his tone dark and biting, before continuing on and piercing through you with blood-coloured irises. 

"I found you, I get to keep you. Finders keepers, huh sweetheart? That's fair, isn't it?"

His gaze held nothing less than a deep, ravenous hunger within him, the unsettling smirk on his face in no way easing that tension that weighed heavily on your mind. 

“Maybe I’m just a monster, now...if I am, then so be it. If being a monster means seeing that look on your face forever, then I gotta say, it feels pretty damn good!” 

"Y-You're not Leon!"

His shoulders suddenly tensed like he was about to lunge for you, but letting him have the upper hand would mean the end for you. You knew that fact so well that you acted on instinct, and unsheathed the knife whose handle you'd been stealthily gripping this whole time, to stab it into the eye of the man you wished you could have a life with. And you missed, the realization both relieving and terrifying, as the blade clanged and stuck into the wall behind him and barely clipped a few strands of his light-coloured hair. 

"Is this my knife? Now that's pretty cute,"

A shudder violently wracked your body as Leon's tongue slipped past his lips, and he turned his head to lick a slow stripe up the gleaming, bloodstained blade. He'd ended plenty of lives with that thing, but it seemed as though his own had yet to be one of them. 

"I've played the hero long enough. I want a reward for all my hard work...I want you."

His hand crept up your waist before you could react to it, rough fingers spreading warmth through your stomach as they grazed the exposed skin of your hip. But once you tried to break away from the touch you wished you didn't crave more of, his other hand shot out to grab you by the waist and keep you pressed uncomfortably close to his body, so close that your lips were mere centimeters from his neck and breathing in gave you a good whiff of that faint scent of cologne that still lingered on his skin. 

"Don't fight me, pet. I can already hear you crying for me to use you...you know, you're so cute when you're scared."

You squirmed even still, thrashing and shoving against his chest to try and find some way to twist out of his hold--but moving him was like trying to push a brick wall, and his grip on you got tighter and tighter until you whimpered with pain. The things he was saying just didn't make any sense, and you never wanted the real Leon more than you did in this moment. Knowing what it felt like to have his strength used against you instead of to protect you...it was becoming too much to bear, and in your terror you found comfort in Leon's touch again even if it was brief, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin and working to relax you enough that you weren't so tense. 

"You're gonna forget all about that fear when I'm balls deep inside you." 

What little comfort you found was gone once he whispered that into your ear. You felt your eyes widen and Leon's fingers worked their way under the waist of your shorts in a moment, the danger so imminent that your reaction ripped itself from your throat in a scream, and you returned to struggling against the unmistakable stiffness that dug into your inner thigh through his tight pants. 

"Leon, stop!"

You wailed, beating your fist against his chest and even catching him in the jaw, not that you really noticed in your frenzy nor did he react save for his brow furrowing in fury. It didn't last forever though, it was easy for him to use his leverage to shove you off, your back hitting the ground hard enough to sting while he loomed over you and watched with sick glee as you trembled too hard to get up. 

"You don't want me to stop. Be honest, doll." 

You weren't expecting this kind of violence from him, especially not when he brought his foot down right between your legs, as was evident by the way you shrieked and tears pricked at your eyes at once. Somehow he managed to aim the heel of his boot right at your clit, and you were certain now that it was by no way an accident by the way he ground into it in slow circles, and watched with a smirk as your hips shakily followed his rhythm of their own volition. 

"You want me to take everything from you, and I swear to you I will. I'll strip you of every inch of your pathetic life and make you mine." 

The pressure was starting to hurt, and your arms shot out to grab his calf and try in vain to wrench him off of your sensitive areas. It seemed to just entertain him, however, and his taunts were starting to sting your broken heart even more than any physical pain he had inflicted. Even worse was watching him lick his lips as he reveled in your suffering, and one of his hands descended beneath the belt of his trousers to stroke himself under the tent that was so clearly obvious. He loved watching you in pain, and nothing but rage bubbled up in your chest from the humiliation of loving somebody so depraved, even if he wasn't really Leon anymore. 

"I hate you,"

You muttered through gritted teeth, trying so hard to hold back your tears that your whole body was shaking. He let slip a soft moan as he twisted his grip on his cock, and didn't stop even as he focused those bloodred eyes on yours and growled in time with an especially rough tug. 

"Liar." 

Leon's grip fastened on your shoulder, but instead of pushing you back down to the filthy ground, he yanked you forwards and crushed your lips against his. Nothing but heat and the scent of blood overwhelmed your senses, your eyes fluttering closed when he started sucking on your lower lip and grazing it with his teeth. You wanted to hate the shivers that snaked up and down your spine from his kiss, but when it was from the man you still loved, it was difficult to brush those feelings aside. It wasn't impossible, however, because when he prodded past your lips with his tongue and moved in close enough for you to feel his cock twitching through his pants, panic flared up in your throat and you bit down on instinct, the coppery tang of his blood flooding your mouth at once. Leon shoved you off him much harder this time, but with the pain causing him to stagger you managed to scramble to your feet and back away a few steps to get some distance. But the fear of turning your back to him kept you frozen in place.

"You wanna be a brat, huh?"

Despite inflicting some much deserved pain, his glare barely wavered as he pulled his hand from his pants and wiped the blood that dribbled from his mouth, eyes gleaming with a lust for violence that you feared right now more than ever. 

"I'll let you have a ten second head start then, sweetheart. Better hurry."

You hesitated, his offer confusing you for a moment, but once the realization dawned on you your feet moved on their own. Sore and stained with tears and blood, you tore off down the castle corridors to search for an escape, and if not, then just a place for you to hide until Leon gave up on you, which would never happen. The thought of monsters barely dwelled in your mind when the most dangerous one was Leon himself, but little did you know that it would only take a short while for you to realize how fragile you really were when he wasn't protecting you, and that escaping without him was just simply not possible. 

"...Cheeky little slut. Let's just see how far you get before you come crawling back to me."

[evacado3]

I'm sorry I accidently deleted it but this was the request!

Lovelorn

Word count: 675

The cell rattled as you were thrown back in by the guards, desperately chasing for the air that was knocked out of your lungs.

You laughed in amusement while panting sharply, running your fingers through the knotty hair that hasn't been washed for days. You hugged yourself and grinned when that man appeared again. Right in front of your lonely chamber, he mocked

"Had fun?"

"Hell yeah, shit this hurts like fuck though. Yujin give me those pills already."

"I thought you liked the pain y/n, isn’t that why the renowned assassin sold herself to Workers?"

"Shut up! As if you know shit. Damn that guy was strong, where's he from again?"

He threw you a black container of tiny tablets, without thinking you gulped in five, after all, pain isn't something even you could ignore. "He's from Gangseo I recall, don't eat them all at once."

"Uh, it is just me or it's kinda blurry in here?"

"Then the pills are kicking in nicely, rest well my love."

"Heyyyy you said there are no after-effects. Yujin you-" the place spun as your vision blacked out, and with a thud you hit the floor. You could slightly make out a shadow crouching, an arm reaching through the bars. Then a warm hand caressed your cheek, and lifted your chin towards him.

Yujin smiled warmly, "What a pretty thing, for a psycho. If you weren't such a masochist and had more brains, you could've gotten far. It's okay though, I'll keep you here forever, right in this dungeon."

"But I know what you're planning. Don't you underestimate me princess, I can always track you down. Remember, I'm the only one who is willing to love you even at this state."

His threats went unheard as your brain shut down, the only feeling left was the heated hand withdrawing from your face, leaving you wanting for more.

-----

Cold sweat trailed down your forehead to your neck, nightmares have been reappearing in your dreams lately.

You breathed in and out trying to compose yourself, after that horrid experience you've started to have anxiety attacks, making you unable to continue your old career.

It’s was nearly a two years ago, but you haven’t felt much adrenaline after escaping that hell hole. Maybe, just maybe you would like to feel it again, but pain is a drug. The effects that has imprinted on you is more than enough stop this behavior.

And you got pretty stable this year, getting a small apartment was already a great achievement on its own. Not to mention the easy job you have now as a waitress.

"Y/n! It's your shift, come out." your friend shouted from outside, remind me how you slept in the backroom again?

"Y-yeah, hold on!" you scrambled up and grabbed your apron, rushing out to the counter.

"Hello there, what can I get you?" the man looked down on you, what is he staring at? He has got to be at least two meters tall, with a colorful-looking tie and matching pants.

The uniform looked awfully familiar to your conviction, though you couldn't exactly recall where it's from.

"Can I get a small americano please, thank you." he smiled as he recognizes you. You nodded and signaled him to the waiting area. Goosebumps rose when you felt a pair of eyes from afar, you immediately turn to that man, but he was only checking his phone.

You shivered from the unpleasant feeling, not realizing the limbo outside hid the real culprit.

Yujin stared, those lovesick eyes might fool anyone, but they don't hold any good intentions. "That's the girl you were hellbent on retrieving?" Samuel questioned, he knew he wasn't supposed to meddle between this, but you seemed so ordinary he finds it hard to digest.

"It's her, it’s my princess." Yujin didn't turn back from the window, attention locked on your frowning face whose still trying to find his prickling eyes. 'I missed you so much I thought I was insane'

"I could reclaim you with a click of my fingers now love, you can't run away no more." ====================

The fic is not too long cause there’s another Yujin one(including nsfw hcs) coming out soooo enjoy this for now haha. I do have more ideas for this but I wanted to post something before studying my ass off. Hopefully this fic doesn’t sound too rushed

And I’m having severe problems on trying to name these fics (lovelorn is just another word for lovesick)

[silversatoru]

Hi love! ❤️

Mkay so like.... Suguru walks in and finds out his gf has a cam acc- and just like straight up ruins her online

This has been on my mind all day but idfk how to write it

a/n: AHAH hey babe!!! this concept is 😌👌 so i hope i did you proud w this. also if ur really into the whole getting-ruined-online concept and you fuck w dabi may i recommended @katslutski ‘s smile for the camera series; it is one of my favs

getou suguru x f!reader

tags/warnings: masturbation, degradation, humiliation, dumbification, filming, facial, mild bondage, mild overstimulation

w/c: 1.4k

you rubbed your clit in rushed circles, projecting a cluster of fake high-pitched moans and arching your back for the camera. it really didn’t feel that great, but you were damn good at pretending it did — and the cash was flowing in as a result. 

you could see the notifications of donations and new patrons popping up on the side of your screen and you let a soft sigh of satisfaction leave your lips. these fuckers were so horny that they’d send you stacks of their income just to see you fondle your cunt — pigs.

between the blood rushing to your ears from your approaching orgasm and the soft music playing through you room you didn’t even notice the sound of your front door opening. you were completely unaware of your boyfriend’s presence in your home until he was standing in your bedroom doorway — a confused but amused expression across his face. 

“am i interrupting something?” he cocked an eyebrow at you. 

“suguru! i thought you were busy today, i-” you scrambled to explain yourself and grab a sheet from your bed to pull over your exposed body. 

“plans changed,” he shrugged and cut you off, entering your bedroom, “maybe you should start locking your front door when you’re doing shit like this”. 

you stared at him with horrified eyes, worried that he might break up with you for this kind of thing — he didn’t seem mad but he definitely wasn’t happy either. you quickly lunged for your laptop/camera set-up, attempting to end your livestream, but suguru moved quicker. he grasped your wrist in his strong fingers and looked at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

“leave it on, doll,” he purred at you, releasing your wrist and pushing you back towards the bed, “go ahead and finish the show for them”. 

completely stunned, you fell back onto your elbows and gave him a hesitant look. it’s not like you were embarrassed or anything— shit, you did this like every day, but you were severely confused by his reaction.

he nodded at the computer screen with hazy eyes, “they’re waiting. why are you so shy all of the sudden? you should be used to having an audience”. 

after a final moment of hesitation you leaned back, fingers returning down to your clit to resume where you’d left off. it was a little more awkward with suguru watching, but the way he was ordering you around was kind of hot, so your stiffness quickly faded.

and you knew your body well, what worked and what didn’t, so it was only a matter of minutes before you were rocking your hips into your hand and letting exaggerated whimpers slide between your teeth. the orgasm was mediocre at best, but you had to dress it up and wrap it in a bow for your precious patrons.

at some point during your little show suguru had rid himself of his clothing and was now climbing into the messy sheets with you. 

“let me see your hands,” he stated blankly, his fingers gripped around the belt that had been looped through his pants just a few minutes ago. 

“this is live you know,” you gave him a concerned look — you were confused but not opposed, holding your hands out behind your back.

“oh, i know,” he took care in gently wrapping your wrists together as tight as the belt would go and then helped you onto you knees.

the duskiness of his eyes filled you with a splendid mix of fear and excitement, but before you could even get a good look you were being shoved into the bed.

“put your face in the pillows, doll,” he ordered lazily as you faceplanted into one of the several pillows at the head of your bed.

his strong hands were quickly gripped around your hips, the tip of his rock-hard member brushing teasingly against your entrance. you were already practically dripping, the sticky liquids from your earlier orgasm still glistening around your edges. it made his access easy, his aching cock sliding with little effort.

“let’s show all of your fans how much of a dumb cock-whore you become when i’m inside you,” he thrusted using hard, firm strokes right from the start.

and of course he was absolutely right — you lost any inkling of a coherent thought once you were stuffed full with his length. you moaned, whimpered, and squirmed underneath him like the pathetic little cam girl you were. but with suguru, none of your performance was a façade — he truly knew how to make you melt under his touch. and melted and useless was exactly how he liked you, so he had every intention of fucking you dumb in front of your audience today.

and that’s exactly what he did. it was his own foul way of punishing you; turning you into a drooling cum-slut who had completely forgotten she was being broadcasted live. if you wanted to be a whore for a living, he’d show everyone just how much of a whore you were — but only for him. 

you’re not even sure how long it’s been — all you know is that you’re orgasming for the fourth time; or was it the fifth? sixth? you’d lost count somewhere along the way.

dull waves of pleasure racked through your body and sent quivers under your skin. you whined and wriggled, murmuring incoherent babbles as you rocked your hips back and forth on his cock to milk the most out of your climax.

“that’s five times, baby,” suguru’s voice sounded miles away, “my dick feels good inside you, doesn’t it?”

you thrashed your head up and down against the pillow, mumbling the word yes over and over as your body twitched from overstimulation. glistening mixtures of fluids were squelching out as he continued thrusting into your cunt, some dripping all the way down your legs.

and he didn’t let you take any breaks — nonstop fucking you even while your pussy was throbbing with sensitivity. the overstimulation was excruciating, and you were a complete mess of trembles and whimpers.

“so pitiful,” you heard a dark laugh rumble from his throat, “there’s thousands and thousands of people watching you be my disgusting little fuck-toy right now, and you’re just gonna keep taking it, aren’t you?”

you weren’t even sure what he was saying, honestly. your brain had short circuited a while ago, and you were just absent mindedly nodding your head and mumbling agreements to everything he said. the pillowcase beneath your head was nearly soaked in saliva now too, your feeble mouth hanging open while drool continued to seep from the corners of your lips. 

“i think i want you to finish me with your mouth, doll, how does that sound?” he slowed his pace, pushing lazy thrusts into your hips while you mindlessly nodded your head again. 

“pathetic little baby; you have no idea what i’m even saying to you right now, do you?” you heard suguru laughing from behind you; but all you could manage in response was a few scattered whimpers. 

he abruptly unsheathed himself from inside you, and strangled whines escaped your throat at his sudden absence. no! more, please, please, suguru please, you murmured with an embarrassing lack of control and your boyfriend couldn’t do anything but laugh at you in your shameful state.

“turn around and open those pretty lips,” he reached down and helped you to flip over before straddling your chest and pressing his hot, sticky member against your lips. 

you opened them graciously, too braindead to even notice the bitter taste of his precum mixed with your own fluids. he mouth-fucked you with obscene force, the walls of your throat painfully expanding every time he thrusted in. you choked and sputtered, drool leaking down your lips and all over your chin. 

when suguru’s own orgasm was right on the cusp he removed himself from your mouth and sprayed his seed all over your face. from your forehead to your chest you were coated in sticky globs of semen, and you sucked down the drips that made it into your mouth like they were liquid gold. 

“lets see how many of your precious viewers come back after this — now that they saw you disintegrate into the helpless little cum slut that you are, now that they know you’re mine”. 

[fraddit]

I wanted to do a fic rec list for buddie, but also I hate deciding things and I'm bad at writing pretty things about the fics I like. So I went through my roughly 200 ao3 buddie bookmarks, pulled out the ones that, as stated above, made my brain go !!!, and put them in alphabetical order.

There's 50 fics in total, so I broke it down to 5 more manageable posts of 10 fics each. This is post number 3. I hope you enjoy.

Part One | Part Two | Part Four | Part Five

i close my eyes (all the stars align) by @hattalove (T, 2k)

“Eddie Diaz,” she says, in a voice that makes Buck cower, “tell me this isn’t what it looks like.” “I don’t know what it looks like,” Eddie huffs. “My fucking eyes are closed.” “He didn’t see me!” Buck steps in. “And I didn’t see him either. We’re playing by the rules.” who would win? a centuries-old tradition that forbids you from seeing your spouse on your wedding day, or two silly firefighters in love?

i don't swim and you're not in love by @hattalove (T, 32k)

She turns to Eddie and says something else, but Buck is busy fighting the headrush he gets at the sound of Ana Flores calling Eddie and Christopher 'the boys'. Like they belong to her already. God, what’s wrong with him? What is this? or, eddie cooks, chris domesticates a slug, and buck tries to figure out why he hates his best friend's girlfriend. to everyone's immense shock and surprise, it goes badly.

I know you’re hurting (but so am I) by justhockey (NR, 4k)

Eddie understands better than maybe anyone else ever could, how it feels to have everything unravel in the palm of your hands. He knows frustration - he knows fury. He’s painfully familiar with that burning rage that crackles in the tips of your fingers, that makes your skin hot and chest tight, and makes you want to punch anyone that dares to even look at you. But that doesn’t give Chim the right to lay a damn hand on Buck.

I was late but I arrived by justhockey (NR, 5k)

Buck has people who love him, and that’s not going to change, even if Eddie isn’t one of those people anymore.

I’m gonna give all my secrets away by @an-optimist-prime, @tails89 (T, 2.5k)

“Truth or dare?” "Really?" “What? Would you rather play I spy?” Buck asks, rolling his eyes. “I spy something brown...surprise! It’s the shitty panelling in the elevator we’ve been trapped in for an hour.” - Or, the one where Buck and Eddie get trapped in an elevator during a blackout, and play truth or dare to pass the time.

in my heart i wanted more by @woodchoc-magnum (M, 47.5k)

Set post-Season 5, Episode 4 and 5 - in which Buck and Taylor's relationship is slowly crumbling, Eddie has some big realisations about his sexuality, and true feelings are revealed.

in silence, a train runs off its tracks by catching_paper_moons (T, 3k)

So 3 am at the firehouse finds Eddie the only one awake, his heart pounding too hard for him to actually relax. It’s not like he needs to, exactly; lord only knows how long he’s gone without sleep at this point, but now that he can’t hear Buck, Hen, and Ravi’s breathing, it’s too quiet, the lights down too low. He needs some sort of distraction. He wants to go to sleep. It’s just— Sleep doesn’t come very easily to Eddie these days. (aka Eddie and Buck try to talk)

in the arms of the ocean by @littlespooneven (T, 7k)

“Someone wanted to come say hi before we head home,” Eddie says, voice a little gravelly around the edges, and Buck can only imagine how worn out he must be by now. He has no idea what Eddie faced today but he can’t imagine it’s been much easier than anything Buck endured. Buck opens his mouth to say something but no words come out. Instead he just stares in awe as Eddie picks Chris up under his arms and deposits him onto the cot on Buck’s right side. Buck scrambles to put an arm around him to hold him in place but it’s not really necessary when Christopher immediately curls into him anyway. He tucks his face into the crook of Buck’s neck and mumbles out a tired but relieved, “You’re okay.” All the breath in Buck’s body rushes out of him at once at that and he wraps both arms around Christopher, pressing a kiss to the matted hair at the top of his head. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, voice hitching around the lump in his throat. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t find you, buddy.” * After the tsunami, Eddie takes Buck home.

keep them in your eyes by @archerincombat (G, 2k)

“Well I wasn’t going to bring Buck,” Chris replies, walking rapidly towards a bench overlooking the Pacific Ocean. “Though he took me to visit mom the other day. It’s like my trauma world tour.” “Chris-” “My therapist suggested it!” “Oh, that makes it better.” Chris grins. “Sorry, Dad,” he says, though he doesn’t sound all that sorry. “If it makes you feel better, I got the sarcasm from you too.”

This is mostly an Eddie and Christopher fic, and it's beautiful.

keep your eyes on the road by @evanbucxley (M, 4k)

Buck used to speed through yellow lights; now they’re his favorite part of the drive. -- or; a glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

[seijorhi]

Inescapable

Part 2 of Always - another soulmate au with extra angst!

Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Miya Atsumu x female reader

TW toxic relationships, implied abuse, blind reader

“Stay here,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing briefly against your cheek before you feel his warmth retreat.

It’s an effort to quell the fleeting panic that rises in his absence. Japan is your home – was your home – but Tokyo… You’re not supposed to be in the village. Only the athletes, trainers and the support crew for the national team were supposed to stay there. It kept out distractions, made it easier for security, gave the athletes the space to focus on what they’re there for; to compete. To win. 

You don’t know how he did it, what strings he had to pull, but somehow he’d managed.

A room for the two of you. Just the two of you.

“You’re staying with me,” he’d told you when you’d brought up the possibility of going home to Miyagi to visit your family, or even spend a few days with Makki and Mattsun. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The words had been whispered, a soft, teasing purr as lips curled into a smirk at your neck, but you know what he’s like when he’s competing. The focus and obsession he’ll throw himself into. 

Especially when you both know who he’ll be competing against. 

Nevertheless, you’re here. Alone now, standing in a sea of strangers talking too loud in a cacophony of foreign tongues while Tooru left to go find his team–

Strong, familiar arms encircle your waist, a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

– but only for a moment.

“C’mon, cutie. Let’s get going – Coach gave us twenty before he wants us at the gym.”

—

You know one or two of the players on the national team from San Juan. They’re friendly enough, and they’ll stop and chat with you on the odd nights you venture out into the cafeterias dotted around the village for dinner. But for the most part they’re focused on other things and Tooru–

Tooru’s possessive enough of your attention at the best of times. 

Which means that you’re either with him, tucked carefully under his arm as he guides you around the village, or you’re stuck in the room, bored out of your mind waiting for him to come home to you. And for lack of anything better to do, you have the games playing on the TV.

Just for the sound of your mother tongue filling the room around you. Just so you won’t be alone with your thoughts for too long.

It’s different, back home in San Juan. But you understand it – why he brought you. 

“Where I go, you go, always.”

“Always.”

And the loneliness is worth it, you think, when he sinks down into the mattress beside you after a long day’s training and pulls you close, nuzzling into your side. This is better than being left behind. You’re here to support the man you love. Your soulmate, the name on your arm be damned. 

His good luck charm, he hums, kissing you in the early hours of the morning before slipping away. 

But even you can’t just sit around the apartment all day long. It’s good to stretch your legs, even when you’re in strange, unfamiliar territory. You tell yourself that what Tooru doesn’t know won’t hurt him, forgetting just for one blissful moment that your soulmate and his team are not the only ones who might catch you wandering. 

Of course, that realisation doesn’t sink in until broad shoulders suddenly barrel past you, knocking you off your feet. And you would have fallen, awkwardly probably, had a pair of strong, lean arms not caught at your waist, steadying you.

“Jeeze, Bokkun! Watch where yer goin’, wouldja!”

The first voice, the thick, drawling Kansai dialect isn’t familiar, but the voice that follows is impossible to misplace.

“Thought I told you two–”

It cuts off abruptly, and in some distant part of your brain you register that the stranger’s still holding you, the warmth of his hand still braced on your hip, but all you can really focus on is the owner of that second voice.

“Iwa?”

Tooru had told you he’d be here, Hinata too and Kageyama. And of course Ushijima, but you’d assumed that – at least up until they played against one another or team Japan got knocked out of the running – they’d be busy and you wouldn’t cross paths.

There’s a surprised intake of air from your left – ‘Bokkun’, you imagine – and he asks, “Wait, you know her, dude?”

And still, the warm body holding you doesn’t move an inch. Not until a familiar, irritated huff sounds, “Get your hands off her, dumbass.”

The body behind you tenses for a split second before obeying, hands ripping themselves away from you as if he’d been scalded. “Shit, sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you murmur with what you hope is a polite smile, only half paying attention because you can hear Iwa striding towards you. In one breath, he’s knocking back your saviour and pulling you into a one armed hug.

“Shittykawa said he’d be bringing you,” he says quietly as you squeeze him back. It’s been such a long time since you’ve been face to face with him. Tooru calls him to catch up most weeks, more often than putting him on speaker so that you can say hi, but it’s not the same. “Didn’t think he meant to the actual village, though.”

You’ve missed him, you realise. Him and Makki and Mattsun, and suddenly there’s a lump in your throat, emotions welling that you can’t name. There’s so much you want to say to him, things he knows but should be said anyway, but–

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your pretty friend, Iwa?”

Your cheeks heat as the two of you part, yet it’s Iwa who answers for the both of you.

“No. You two need to get your asses moving,” he says. “Back to the gym, now. Unless you wanna stay back after everyone else finishes up to run extra drills?”

It’s a clear dismissal, and the two only pause for a heartbeat before grumbling their assent – and one sheepish apology – and heading off to continue their run.

“Let me walk you back.”

Some things never change, you suppose. “Iwa, you have an Olympic team to train,” you tell him with a wry grin. ”I’m not going to risk being accused of sabotaging the Japanese national volleyball team just because you feel the need to be gentlemanly.”

It’s clearly meant as a tease, but instead of the good-natured huff you’re expecting, he sighs. “C’mon. You almost got knocked on your ass, let me walk you back.”

It’s not a suggestion, and as he takes you by the hand and starts leading you back the way you came you’re reminded of high school - he used to do exactly same thing any timeTooru wasn’t around. There’s a slight flicker of irritation at your first breath of fresh air without Oikawa’s overprotective hovering being snatched away, but you know he means well.

He always does.

So you shove those feelings down and offer him a smile. “You know I’m stupidly proud of you, right?” you tell him. “Both of you.”

And something in Iwa relaxes and he laughs, “Yeah well I’m just glad you’re gonna be here to witness me wipe the floor with Shittykawa’s ass.”

—

It’s late, and Tooru isn’t back yet. 

And it wouldn’t bother you except that lunch had been hours ago, and your stomach is starting to growl, hunger settling in. 

Tooru works hard, he pushes himself and stays late when he should be home resting, you know that, but even if you did want to go and find him, pull him back so that he won’t push past his limits days out from competing, you wouldn’t have a clue where to find him – not in this sprawling maze of a complex.

What else can you do but wait, as fifteen minutes turns into half an hour, then an hour, and suddenly it’s almost nine. 

He won’t be happy that you’ve left without him, but either he’ll meet you at the cafeteria, or you’ll get home before he’s back and you’ll have dinner waiting for him. At this time of the night it’s likely to be empty anyway, it’s not like you’re running off in the middle of the dinner rush.

Most of the athletes’ll be back in their rooms, you’re not gonna get knocked around in the mad scramble for food, nobody’s going to pay you any mind.

But once again, you’re proven wrong. 

It’s not quite the roaring din that you’ve come to associate with the dining hall, but you can hear a few quiet conversations scattered throughout the room. At least none of them pay you any heed as you slowly wander the buffet, shyly asking one of the servers to help you pick out something for you and Tooru both.

It’s not until you move to take a seat, hoping that Tooru will get there before you have to try and cart his dinner back to the room that you hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair being dragged back beside you.

“Ya know, Iwaizumi never did end up telling us yer name,” a familiar voice states, settling down into the seat. “He did end up making me ‘n Bokuto run extra laps as punishment for knockin’ into ya, though.”

Out of habit, your fingers fiddle with the sleeve of your jacket – Tooru’s actually – warmth flooding your cheeks. He doesn’t sound pissed off by the fact, and you suppose he probably wouldn’t have sat down beside you if all he wanted was to pick a fight. 

“Oh, I’m… sorry?” It comes out sounding more like a question than anything else. 

He laughs at that, the sound surprisingly warm and pleasant. “Nah, not your fault. Iwa’s a hardass at the best of times.”

“Sounds like he hasn’t changed much since high school,” you muse.

Oikawa might’ve been Captain back then, but that never stopped Iwa from slapping him upside of the head whenever he did something particularly stupid. He was a hard ass, but he was also incredible at keeping the rest of the team in line and motivated, and he kept Tooru grounded. He kept you grounded. Aggressive, tough love was simply a part of that. 

You wonder distantly if his new team realizes just how lucky they are to have somebody like him in their corner.

“High school? Ya knew him back then?” he prods.

He’s a stranger. Not just a competitor, but ‘The Enemy’ just like Kageyama and Ushiwaka. Out of all the teams that Tooru might go up against during the games, you know that they’re the ones he’s most determined to defeat. And you don’t necessarily buy into the whole ‘destined rivals’ thing – Kageyama was never anything but polite to you, but you know you’re supposed to back your soulmate up on this. You know he’d be pissed to find you casually chatting away with any one of them, except maybe Hinata. 

Maybe.

But it’s nice just to indulge in a conversation – even meaningless small talk – with somebody who doesn’t know you as Tooru’s. You can’t help but relax a little, the tension easing from your shoulders, a small smile creeping across your face. 

“I’ve known Iwa since I was six years old. He’s one of my best friends.”

The man hums a little, his chair creaking as he leans back, “Really? He’s never mentioned ya.”

And it’s clear from the sharp intake of his breath that he regrets the words the moment they’re said, but instead of feeling offended, you simply laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it. 

“It’s fine,” you say when he tries to backtrack. “Do you often have deep and meaningful’s with Iwa about his childhood friends?”

He snorts, “Yeah, point taken, I guess. So how come yer here then? Didn’t think they allowed cheerleaders in the village, even the cute ones.”

Something flutters in your stomach at his tone; it’s warm like honey, just a hint of teasing. He’s flirting, you realise, and in an instant you know you should shut it down. Harmless small talk is one thing, but you’re–

You have your soulmate. 

“What makes you think I’m not staff?” you ask instead.

“No uniform,” he counters, and you can’t argue with that. It’s not your fault that you can’t see what everybody’s wandering around wearing. “And you don’t really strike me as the ‘athlete’ type, no offense.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you just shrug somewhat self consciously. He’s not wrong; you don’t really belong here, but you find yourself reluctant to tell him the truth.

The only reason you’re here is because Tooru cheated the system, because he couldn’t bear to be without you.

Or maybe because he knows how much of a mess you are without him. Blind and helpless without him to guide you, even here, back in the country you’d both left behind all those years ago.

“I’m here to support my soulmate,” you tell him instead, and it’s not entirely a lie. No matter what, you’ll always support Oikawa – here, back home, to whatever ends. That was the promise you’d made to each other long before you’d ever left Japan.

There’s a short pause, and you take the opportunity to turn back to the plate of food in front of you – you’d forgotten about it entirely. You half expect that he’ll take it as the perfect opportunity to politely bow out of the conversation. 

You might’ve been blind, but you’re not naive; you know exactly what athletes get up to after the sun goes down in the village. There’s a reason that your welcome packs were stuffed full of free condoms. 

And you’re not interested in that. You have Tooru and he has you. If that’s all that this guy is after; some quick, meaningless fuck, then–

“Volleyball?” he asks, and you almost roll your eyes.

He’s not wrong, of course he’s not, and you suppose considering your connection with Iwa it makes sense that he’d make that leap, but still. One track mind, all of them.

“If I tell you, you might not like me very much,” you say in lieu of an answer.

He leans closer, the chair creaking once more. “So I’m right.” He sounds so smug about it, you almost wanna tell him he’s wrong just to mess with him a little. “What position does he play?”

Not what team, what position. That, more than anything else, mattered to him – and again, you understood it. The pride players took in their position within the machine.

 “You first,” you shoot back instead, because you feel like you have a sneaking suspicion. 

And with a little huffing laugh, he confirms it, “Setter.”

Of course.

And the smile on your face tugs wider, a strange trill running through you, “Ah, and here I thought Kageyama,” you draw the name out, “was Japan’s starting setter.”

He scoffs, dragged in by your teasing jab, “Yer kiddin’, right? Tobio’s talented an’ all, but he ain’t half the setter I am.”

Cocky and smug. You wonder if he has the skills to back it up. Yet just as you open your mouth to pry further, you’re interrupted by a voice.

Several actually. 

“Talking shit again, Miya?”

“Who’s she?”

“Oh hey – Iwa’s friend!”

And your heart skips a beat, your body tensing as those voices close in, more chairs being pulled out, trays of food dumped on the table as his teammates settle down around you. It’s just a name, one name. It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t–

“Atsumu, why don’t you shut– oh. Y/N, hey. Didn’t realise you'd be here. Isn’t the village restricted to athletes only?”

Kageyama’s blunt greeting isn’t intended to be antagonistic, but it washes over you regardless. You’re frozen, heart pounding, a sick, twisting feeling settling into your gut.

Atsumu, he’d said.

Miya Atsumu. 

Two words, and your world stops spinning. 

You’d promised him – Tooru – years ago that the name on your arm didn’t mean anything. It was all just a cruel cosmic mistake because from the moment you met him, you were his, and he was yours and nothing else mattered.

And you’d told yourself that, repeated it like a mantra until you started to believe it yourself. Because Tooru loved you, you were his soulmate and what kind of horrible fucking person would you be to take that gift, that bond and shove it back in his face.

Tooru isn’t perfect, and he’d freaked out and lied to you, but he’s your soulmate. 

The name on your arm didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know whose it was, because you had Tooru. It should have been his.

And you told yourself that for six months, until some blowout fight had Tooru storming out, you following in his footsteps. 

It was a stranger, some random passerby in the street. You can’t remember what prompted you to stop her and ask, why it suddenly mattered when Tooru had all but convinced you that it didn’t, but you had.

Miya Atsumu. The pronunciation had been unsure, her tongue clunky over the foreign syllables, but in that moment when you’d heard his name every lie you’d convinced yourself of had fallen apart.

It was like you’d been drowning without ever realising it, and the second you’d heard that name a hand was dragging you up to the surface and suddenly air was flooding your lungs.

Miya Atsumu.

There are voices surrounding you, somebody laughing uproariously, but it’s all just white noise. 

“Y/N,” a choked, hoarse whisper that shouldn’t have been heard, but it pierces you like a knife, cutting through everything else. It’s too much. 

On shaking legs you stand, knocking your chair back as you grab for your cane. 

The name hadn’t mattered, until you’d heard it. He hadn’t mattered, until he was standing right there in front of you.

“I– I have to go,” you mutter, not entirely sure if they heard you, or if they even cared. You leave your food untouched on the table, stumbling as you step back.

And again, you hear that whisper of your name. There’s a hand that reaches for you – his or somebody else’s you don’t know, you shrug it off regardless. “I have to go.”

Nobody stops you as you skitter back towards the entrance, but for once the cafeteria is silent. The moment you burst out through the double doors, the brisk, summer night air hits you like a slap, and you don't realise that your cheeks are wet with tears until the breeze cuts through, the damp skin prickling uncomfortably. 

And the sob that follows rips through your chest like a knife.

This isn’t what you wanted. 

If there’s a god out there, he must have a cruel sense of humour, because your name is being called again, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek brushing at your tears, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “Cutie, what’s wrong?”

The scent of him, all citrus and summer, invades your nose as you clutch at him tighter. You can’t speak, can’t find the words to tell him, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and burrow into him. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeats, not asking this time. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to go home,” you whisper, clutching at his jersey. “I wanna go home, Tooru.”

A kiss brushes against the crown of your head, and you almost miss the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind you – at least until the interloper speaks.

“You–” Atsumu breaks off, his breath ragged and raw, and you don’t miss the way that Oikawa stiffens, his grip tightening, fingers digging in. “Yer my soulmate.”

Three simple words, and everything, everything just falls apart.

Tooru snarls, taking a step back and dragging you with him. “She’s not your anything, Miya. Fuck off.”

“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”

It hurts, the grip he has on you. He’s trembling, from rage or fear you honestly don’t know, but you can feel his heart pounding a vicious beat as his arms lock around you like a cage.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s my goddamn name on her arm. Let ‘er go, yer hurting her,” he snaps. 

“She’s my soulmate, so mind your own business and run off back home.”

You can’t breathe.

“Not when yer hurting her.”

It’s like the floor’s suddenly disappeared from beneath you, and you’re in free fall, hurtling back towards god knows what. Your head’s spinning, your legs feel like jelly, and if Tooru wasn’t holding you up against him, you’re not sure you’d still be standing. 

You can’t breathe. 

“Leave, right now,” he hisses. “She’s mine. She always has been, and always will be mine!”

You’d promised him that much, hadn’t you?

“Ya don’t scare me, and I don’t give a flying fuck if yer wearing her name on your arm. That’s my soulmate, and you’ll take yer fucking hands off ‘a her.”

You can’t breathe, not as the shouting gets louder and Tooru’s grip gets tighter. 

He takes another step back, pulling you with him, and another hiccuping sob catches in your throat. You try to speak, to stop this before it gets any worse, but the words won’t come–

“You’re hurting her!”

“I LOVE HER!” he screams. “I would never, ever hurt her!”

“T–Tooru, please…” you beg. It’s little more than a whisper, and neither one of them seems to hear it.

But somebody else does. 

“Hey, hey! What the fuck are you dumbasses doing?!” 

Iwa, always your second protector, your best and oldest friend, wastes no time in getting between the two of them, shoving Miya back.

“What is wrong with you both?!” he snaps, grabbing you by the wrist and ripping you from Oikawa. And you don’t fight it when he tugs you towards him, a protective arm wrapping around your waist. 

You cling to him, like a scared child with tears streaming down your face. 

“Iwa–”

“No, shut up. I don’t wanna hear a single word out of either one of you! Not a goddamn word!”

He doesn’t bother berating them in front of you, though you know that’ll come later. He doesn’t say anything to you either, but his hand doesn’t leave yours all the way back to his apartment. Not the one in the village, but the one just outside of the city.

“You knew, didn’t you?” you ask quietly when he drops his keys on the counter.

There’s a beat of silence, and he sighs. “Yeah, I knew.”

It’s hanging in the air between you, like a dark, stormy cloud about to unleash. “Iwa,” you whisper, your bottom lip trembling once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, as honestly as he can. “But you’re gonna stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll call Makki and Mattsun and they’ll come and take you back to Sendai for a little while if that’s what you want. You don’t have to see either one of those assholes, not until…” 

Not until you figure out how you’re supposed to make this impossible choice. 

He squeezes your shoulder as you sniffle. “It’s gonna be alright, whatever you decide to do.”

Neither one of you truly believes that, but what’s left to say?

He hugs you again before he leaves, makes you promise to call if you need him, but you both know you won’t.

Not tonight, not when he has other priorities. 

And then you’re alone, sitting on his couch surrounded by blankets with a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands. You know you should try to get some sleep, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, but every time you close your eyes, you can’t stop thinking about it.

About the way Tooru’s voice had shook, how you’d smiled for Atsumu, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest when the two of you talked and you’d teased him.

And you remember how it was the day Tooru first told you that he loved you, the butterflies in your stomach the first time he’d kissed you, spinning you around and laughing as his lips met yours again and again and again. 

How he’d yelled and screamed and fallen apart in your arms that night, begging you not to leave him. 

You love him, for better or for worse, you love him. 

A loud knock echoes through the apartment, shaking you from your thoughts.

It’s almost 2am, and nobody but Iwa knows you’re here. Nobody should be knocking, and so you sit, frozen in the dark listening as your heart hammers uneasily.

One beat, then two, and then–

“I know you’re in there, just– just please. I need… I need–” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, and there’s a low thud, like his head’s fallen against the door. “Please,” he begs, quieter this time. 

There’s another thud.

“I need ya. Don’t lock me out, I’m beggin’.”