#did you know I like persona 2 yet

[just-aake]

Detecting Love Part 2

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel to Detecting Love. Can a spy who's been trained to lie her entire life show the person with the power to detect lies the truth what it means to be loved?

Warnings: fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 5171

Natasha Romanoff lies.

Now, that’s to be expected, considering she is one of the greatest spies in the world. Ever since she was a child, she has been trained to be able to deceive everyone she meets.

Lying comes as easily to her as breathing, and deception is woven into every fiber of her being.

A charming smile here. A flirty wink there. 

Sweet words flow from her lips like honey.

Making everyone fall in love with all of the different false personas that she created for herself.

With a life and a past as shadowed as hers, it makes sense why she never even dared to imagine finding a person who can tolerate, let alone embrace, someone like her.

Then, she met you.

With your unique power to literally see through lies, you can detect the truth from her even when she’s at her most convincing. And despite learning about who she was and how she is, you accepted her unconditionally, not just as a friend, but as a partner.

For Natasha, being with someone who can truly see her is scary, and yet, that feeling is also better than breathing itself.

The two of you have been dating for several months now, and Natasha has never been happier.

Even if she sometimes occasionally struggles to express her affection openly in public.

As the two of you stroll through the compound, her eyes drift down once again in contemplation to your hand swinging casually at your side.

As if sensing her silent deliberation, you suddenly ask her curiously.

“Do you want to hold my hand?”

Natasha straightens at your question and faces forward, responding promptly in an even tone, “No.” 

Now that is sure to sound honest to anyone else who heard it, but you’re different.

Natasha makes sure to trail back slightly behind your line of sight in an attempt to hide the glow she knows you’d probably see around her.

You don’t comment on her evading action, but a faint smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you maintain your pace toward the Avenger’s personal elevator.

The two of you stand side by side, waiting for the elevator to arrive when Natasha suddenly feels the back of your hand lightly graze her fingers before quickly pulling away.

She narrows her eyes in suspicion at you, but you maintain an innocent expression, your gaze fixed on the decreasing numbers above the elevator doors.

Facing forward once more, Natasha is about to dismiss the action as an accidental touch when she feels it again – the fleeting brush of your hand against hers. 

This time, she doesn't hesitate to shoot you an accusing stare. Yet, you continue to feign ignorance, your expression a perfect mask of innocence. 

A couple of seconds pass before your hand makes contact with hers for the third time. 

Before you can retract your hand, Natasha swiftly catches it and intertwines your fingers with hers before letting out a defeated huff.

You don’t utter a word about her actions, but a subtle smile curves your lips, exposing your amusement at her reaction. 

With a soft squeeze of her hand, you pull her into the elevator, the door closing shut behind the two of you.

It's moments like these that remind Natasha why she fell for you — your ability to see past her lies, even the most trivial ones.

Once the elevator door slides open to the private floor, the two of you are met with sounds of a heated argument between the Asgardian Avenger and his visiting brother.

“I know you did it, Loki! This is not the first time you’ve taken and hidden a treasure of mine!”

“Oh, would you stop being so dramatic? We're talking about a mug, not some enchanted artifact.”

You raise a questioning brow at her, silently asking her whether you two should come back at another time, but Natasha shakes her head resolutely in response, not willing to let anything prevent her from missing her morning coffee.

As the two of you walk past the brothers, Thor finally notices the new presence in the room.

“Y/n!” he calls excitedly. 

His hand lands on your shoulder, catching you in place between the two of them which in turn pulls your hand from her grasp.

Thor’s other hand points accusingly at his brother.

“Is Loki lying about taking my mug?”

Realizing that you’re being dragged into the middle of the argument, your eyes dart to Natasha for help, only for her to give you a thumbs up in encouragement as she takes a sip of the coffee that she just poured from the freshly made pot.

The other Asgardian crosses his arms and snickers derisively at his brother.

“Do you really think that this simple mortal can expose the literal god of mischief? I didn’t take your stupid mug, and she can’t prove any—”

“He’s lying,” you answer plainly, seeing the red aura surrounding the Asgardian.

Loki shuts his mouth in surprise, blinking at you for a moment in disbelief, before pointing at you with a disdainful look.

“I don’t like her,” he states bluntly.

“Ah ha!” Thor exclaims victoriously. “You did take it!”

The two continue with their arguing as you discreetly sneak away to Natasha’s side.

She hands you a cup of coffee which you accept with a soft thanks before an alarm on your phone rings, showing your reminder for the day. 

You groan lightly in disappointment, causing Natasha to raise a questioning brow at you as she raises her cup for another sip.

“I have some interviews to get to this morning, so I’ll have to see you later,” you tell her before pressing a quick kiss goodbye to her cheek.

“I love you,” you whisper against her skin.

Swallowing her sip quickly, Natasha turns her head towards your direction, the reciprocating words also on her tongue.

“I—”

But you’ve already rushed away around the corner, disappearing from view. 

“…love you too,” Natasha finishes in a soft disappointed tone, her lips twisting at your action. 

Public displays of affection aside, Natasha has no problem wanting to tell you how much you mean to her.

But for some reason, you always seem to conveniently find ways to escape whenever she’s about to say those words to you.

“Now I’m no expert on relationships, but that right there was some cunning evasion tactic,” Loki comments, smirking at Natasha. “It appears that she’s not really interested in receiving such words from you.”

A slap on Loki's shoulder propels him forward a couple of steps as Thor reprimands, “Stop trying to cause problems for them, Loki.” 

He then turns to Natasha with a firm nod. 

“Don’t listen to him, Nat. Y/n loves you.”

Of course, she knows that. 

You whisper those words against her skin every morning when you think she’s still asleep and then again against her lips when you wake her up. 

The problem is that it seems that she never gets the chance to return the gesture before you find some way to rush away from the room or keep her mouth otherwise occupied and distracted.

A thud on the counter pulls her from her thoughts as Loki leans against the table with a mischievous grin.

“That girl can detect lies, right? Then why don’t you just tell her that you don’t love her, and then she’ll see the truth. That should be easy enough for you. After all, lying is your specialty,” Loki remarks before a smug expression forms on his face. 

“Unless that is, the truth is that you don’t actually love her,” he taunts.

Natasha glares at him silently, refusing to fall for his baiting provocation. Not wanting to give the trickster god any more amusement, she quickly downs the rest of her coffee and leaves for the meeting room, deciding to try again with you later.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

With the briefing finishing early, Natasha decides to visit your office during this break in between her meetings. Conversations flow around her as she walks past the front desk toward the administrative part of the building.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t let you enter without an appointment.”

“Well, is there any way you can just send a message to Y/n to let her know I’m here?”

Natasha’s head snaps up from her tablet at the sound of your name and curiously turns to the person who said it, only for her eyes to widen slightly in surprise at their identity.

Your ex-fiancée 

Stopping in her tracks, Natasha redirects her attention to the two of them.

“What did you need to see Y/n for?” she asks.

Your ex turns to her at her question, and an expression of amazement crosses her face.

“Oh, wow, you’re Black Widow.”

Brushing off her awed exclamation, Natasha crosses her arm expectantly as she repeats, a slight tone of protectiveness entering her voice.

“Why are you looking for Y/n?” 

Noticing her serious gaze and intimidating demeanor, your ex fidgets with her hands nervously as she responds.

“It’s kind of a private matter with an old case that I need her help with,” she explains.

Despite being the one who broke your heart, your mutual break up with her meant that the two of you are still somewhat friends, and as much as Natasha wants to, she can’t prevent your ex from seeking you out, especially since it seems she needs your help.

With an internal displeased sigh, Natasha gestures with her head towards the direction of the elevators.

“I’m heading over to her office right now if you want to come with me,” Natasha offers, nodding at the receptionist reassuringly to indicate that it’s okay, before walking away without another word. 

Natasha hears your ex scramble to follow quickly after her once she processes her words.

As the elevator doors close with the two of them inside, Natasha pulls out her phone to send you a warning text.

I’m on the way to your office with your ex.

A read message quickly appears under her text, indicating that you have seen it, and then a text bubble promptly pops up as you respond.

?!?!?

“So, do you and Y/n work together often?” your ex asks, trying to fill the silence with casual conversation.

Natasha looks up at her question, tucking her phone away. She crosses her arms and leans back against the elevator walls, adopting an intimidating posture, as she gives her a hard stare.

With a calm yet assertive tone, she tilts her head curtly and replies with the truth. 

“She’s my girlfriend.”

An awkward silence fills the small space after her answer, and your ex’s eyes dart around the enclosed space, seemingly realizing she’s essentially alone with the Black Widow who just revealed that she is in a relationship with you. 

Sensing her nervous energy, Natasha relaxes her posture, offering a more friendly demeanor.

“Relax, if I was going to do something, I would have done it already,” Natasha reassures. 

Your ex nods hesitantly, acknowledging Natasha’s attempt to diffuse the tension. After a moment of contemplation, she gathers the courage to speak up again. 

“So, you know about Y/n and her ability?” your ex asks, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“Yes,” Natasha confirms, adding, “And about what happened between the two of you.”

The revelation hangs heavy in the air, plunging the elevator into an uncomfortable silence once again. 

Honestly, Natasha knows she shouldn’t keep putting your ex in these awkward positions with her responses. 

However, just because you are on friendly terms with her doesn’t mean Natasha has to be, especially considering she never held any goodwill toward the woman before.

Natasha redirects her focus to the digital display above the door, silently cursing and blaming Tony for the sluggish pace of the elevator. 

“I-I honestly did love her,” your ex confesses, breaking the silence once again.

At her statement, Natasha regards her with a raised eyebrow, silently prompting her to elaborate on her sudden declaration.

"I mean, Y/n’s great. It’s just…it got hard to imagine being with someone who always knows if you’re telling the truth or not,” your ex explains with a small sigh, offering a tiny sympathetic shrug before asking. “I’m sure you understand that feeling too, right?"

Irritation flares in Natasha’s chest at your ex’s words, her protective instincts surfacing in defense of you.

"Maybe the fact that she can see someone for who they truly are is what makes being with her so special," Natasha counters, her voice firm with conviction.

The remainder of the elevator ride passes in tense silence until the doors finally open with a ding, signaling their arrival at your floor. 

Throughout that time, one part of the conversation continues to bother Natasha, and she finds herself asking, wanting to know the answer.

“Did you tell her often?”

“What?” your ex asks, blinking in surprise and caught off guard by her sudden question. 

Natasha presses her lips together momentarily in displeasure at the topic before clarifying, “Did you tell Y/n that you loved her often, you know, before your feelings changed?”

“Oh, um, kind of,” she admits, a faint chuckle escaping her lips. “It’s actually kind of funny. Y/n would always have this cute little shy smile whenever I said it, so I ended up saying those words to her a lot.”

The irritation in Natasha’s chest intensifies at her answer, and her feelings must be evident on her face because your ex starts waving her hands frantically in a slight panic.

“But I’m positive Y/n won’t react the same way if I said it now,” she adds quickly.

Instead of responding, Natasha leaves the elevator without another word. 

Your ex’s reassurance does little to ease the irritation that she feels at not yet having been able to say those words to you herself.

The two of them arrive at the door of your office, only to find it locked with the lights turned off.

Just as Natasha is about to text you to ask you about your whereabouts, you emerge from around the corner, skidding to a stop in front of her.

Confused at your flustered state, Natasha gives you a questioning look as she asks, “Why are you rushing?”

You take a couple of deep breaths to catch your breath before answering.

“Because…I didn’t want to…to leave you waiting.”

Natasha feels her heart flutter at your words, her posture relaxing for a moment.

“…wow…you look good, Y/n,” your ex comments.

Natasha’s body immediately tenses again at the reminder of your ex’s presence, and she becomes further annoyed when she takes in the state of your appearance that prompted the remark from your ex.

You are in your usual workout outfit, a standard black tank top, showcasing your body with a gleam of sweat still on your skin, evidence of your workout session.

As if sensing Natasha’s increasing irritation, your ex gestures awkwardly in fear toward the waiting area some distance away.

“I’ll just wait over there.”

Natasha watches your ex walk away with a slight glare in her eyes. 

When she turns back to you, her expression instinctively softens with affection and curiosity.

“Where were you?” she asks.

“My last couple of interviews had to cancel, so I decided to go train for a bit,” you answer with a slight shrug. “You know, since you suggested that I try training whenever I’m bored and have some free time.”

Natasha's lips twist slightly in conflict at your response. She's happy you took her suggestion to heart, but now she's also upset that it led to you appearing in front of your ex in such a state.

Gesturing toward your ex, you ask, “Did she say why she’s here?”

Natasha sighs and shakes her head.

“She only mentioned that it was an old case that you can help her with.”

“Okay,” you say, nodding in understanding, probably already knowing what she’s referring to. 

Then you look at Natasha with a cute tilt of your head. 

“After I finish up with her, do you want to go out for some lunch?”

A small smile forms on Natasha’s face, her earlier irritation melting away at your suggestion. 

However, she knows she might not have enough time to wait and go out before her next meeting.

“How about I go ahead and pick up some takeout first, and then we can have lunch in your office when I return?” Natasha offers as a compromise.

You smile at her in response and press a soft kiss against her cheek.

“It’s a date.”

As you’re about to move past her, Natasha presses her hand firmly on your shoulder, stopping you and pushing you back to your original position.

You give her a questioning look in confusion.

“Did you take my hoodie again?” Natasha asks accusingly. 

Your eyes dart guiltily to your office before you mutter under your breath with a soft pout, “Maybe.”

Natasha nods slightly in contemplation, her eyes glancing at where your ex was waiting and then back to you.

“Put it on,” she says plainly.

You raise a brow at her in confusion and gesture to your body.

“Nat, I’m covered in sweat. I didn’t get a chance to hit the showers before you texted,” you explain.

“That text didn’t mean that you should come here all hot and sweaty in front of your ex like this,” Natasha remarks pointedly, crossing her arms.

A teasing grin pulls at your lips as a look of understanding crosses your face.

“You think I look hot right now?” you ask happily.

“Seriously?” Natasha deadpans. 

Unbothered by her signature intimidating gaze, you pull her closer by the loops on her belt and lean in with a slight tilt of your head.

“Are you jealous?” you tease lightly, your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you try to hide your pleased grin.

Natasha rolls her eyes, though her lips quirk up briefly in amusement. She knows whether she responds truthfully or not, you probably already know the answer without the help of your ability, so she responds instead.

“Keep it up, and I’ll just come back with one takeout box for myself,” she warns.

You laugh lightly at her response, nodding your head in concession.

“Alright, I’ll put it on,” you promise, before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. 

As you pull away, you whisper, “I love you,” the words brushing softly against her lips.

Natasha’s eyes had fluttered closed at the touch of your kiss, but they snapped open when she remembered she wanted to say those words back to you too.

However, to her disappointment, before she realized it, you had disappeared from her side. 

Turning around, she finds you already in your office, putting on her hoodie.

A mocking chuckle sounds beside her, and she turns to see Loki leaning casually against the wall.

“Oh, you didn’t even try that time,” he taunts.

Without hesitation, Natasha raises her wrist and shoots a widow bite at him. It flies through his body, dispersing the apparition that he had left there.

Groaning in annoyance at his presence, Natasha quickly leaves to go get your lunches before he can reappear and provoke her further.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“So this is the one lie detector that you can’t beat,” Fury comments with intrigue, as he examines your file.

Natasha closes the folder promptly and takes it from the table in front of him, stating firmly, “Her name’s Y/n, and no, you can’t have her. She’s just going to help review the list of potential recruits for you. Nothing else.”

She gives him a pointed look, stressing, “Especially not any SHIELD interrogations.”

Leaning back in his chair, Fury chuckles amusedly and raises a brow at her.

“Protective, are we?”

Before she can affirm the lengths she would go to minimize the risks you have to take, the door slams open, and you stroll in, giving her a wave and a charming smile. 

You stop in front of her, taking her hand suddenly in yours and giving it a light swing. 

“Ready to get started?” you ask. 

Natasha’s eyes narrow in suspicion. Something about your behavior was off and unlike you. 

She examines your expression critically, and then in one swift, fluid motion, she grabs your wrist and upper arm, pivots on her heel, and shifts her weight, seamlessly flipping you over her shoulder. 

With a resounding thud, Natasha slams you down onto the meeting table, the impact rattling the room.

Fury whistles lowly with a slight wince, a mixture of sympathy and admiration in his tone.

“Tough love, huh?” he remarks to her.

Natasha rolls her eyes at his comment and shakes her head, reaching to her side to grab something. She takes one of “your” wrists and snaps a golden cuff onto it. 

Immediately, the figure on the table shifts from your face and form to Loki’s. 

His eyes glare at her as he gathers his bearings, giving a slight grunt of pain when he moves.

“As if this woman knows anything about love,” he scoffs, standing up from the table with a groan.

Fury hums curiously at the sight of the trickster god, turning to Natasha.

“Who let him in here?”

Natasha sighs as she crosses her arms, replying, “Unfortunately, Thor and he are on friendly terms at the moment.”

Loki raises his hand and waves his finger at her in reprimand.

“Exactly. Now, is this any way to treat a guest of yours?” he taunts with a smirk before his eyes drift to the cuff on his wrist. His expression falls in recognition. “Where did you get this?”

A smirk forms on Natasha’s face as she answers, “Thor lent it to me when I asked. Since I know better than to just take his things.”

The cuff in question is an enchanted artifact that temporarily blocks the magical abilities of the wearer as explained by the god of thunder.

Loki scoffs in disbelief, placing one hand on his hips while waving his other wrist at her. 

“Hilarious, now take these off,” he demands.

Natasha’s smirk remains fixed as she shakes her head.

“I don’t have the key,” she admits, tapping her chin thoughtfully before revealing, “It must still be with Thor. But I’m sure you’ve already apologized to him for earlier, so you’d have no problem asking him to release you.”

Loki scowls, his expression darkening with disdain, and then he swiftly turns toward the exit.

“It’s no wonder that girl doesn’t want to accept any love from the likes of you,” he spits out angrily.

Natasha’s lips twist downward at his words, but before she can respond, a knock on the door interrupts the tense moment. 

Taking a calming breath, she calls out, “Come in,” already knowing who it is.

You open the door at Natasha’s invitation, only to dodge out of the way as Loki storms past you out of the room, muttering angry curses under his breath.

Turning back to Natasha, you notice the telltale red aura fading from around her and wonder what was the lie that you assume she had just told him.

As you approach her, Natasha’s contemplative, sullen expression quickly shifts to a neutral one when she catches your concerned gaze.

Before you can question her about it, Fury claps his hands firmly, looking between the two of you.

“Alright, let's finish this quickly then.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Seated on your sofa, Natasha hugs a cushion pillow closer to her chest, seeking comfort as Loki’s harsh words echo in her mind.

Is it just a coincidence that you manage to avoid her every time she’s about to say those words to you? Or is it possible that the truth is you don’t actually want to hear those words from her?

You place a bowl of popcorn on the table in front of her, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts as you finish explaining what your ex needed from you.

“So, I just need to submit my notes on the case so that the court can close it out,” you explain.

Natasha hums absently in acknowledgment, but her mind drifts back to her insecurities.

Was Loki just messing with her or were all of your previous evading actions really on purpose?

Unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Natasha decides to settle this once and for all.

As you take your seat next to her and start the movie, Natasha initiates her plan. She quickly maneuvers herself over your lap, straddling you as her hands rest on your shoulders, pressing you firmly against the sofa with her body.

Your hand automatically rests on her waist and begins tracing light patterns against her side, but your lips twist into a small pout of confusion as you remark, “As exciting as this is, I thought this movie was your favorite.”

Natasha closes her eyes briefly, internally groaning at your adorable words and how incredibly in love she is with you. 

If only you could hear it from her for once.

Determined to not fail this time, she tries again.

“I lo—”

Her words are cut off, swallowed by you, as you pull her down into a deep kiss. 

Instinctively, she melts against your body, sliding her hands to caress the back of your neck, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss as she gets lost in the feeling of your lips moving against hers. 

Then, realization hits her, and she snaps her eyes open and pulls away. 

“Hold on, I’m trying to tell you that I—”

“I know,” you interrupt, your hand covering her mouth to stop her mid-sentence. 

That’s when Natasha sees it.

The fear in your eyes.

“I know,” you repeat, giving her a look of understanding before swallowing nervously. 

You close your eyes as your head drops to your chest, a sad chuckle escaping from you. 

“You know, in all my life, I have never been afraid to discover if someone was lying to me,” you admit, shrugging lightly. “I’ve always known that people can lie, so it’s never really surprising or hurtful when it happens.” 

You let out a weary sigh and look up to meet her gaze with a sad smile. 

“Except for that one time.”

Natasha knows what moment you are referring to — the night your powers revealed that your ex no longer loved you.

The memory flashes in your mind, vivid and raw, as if it happened only yesterday. The betrayal, the heartache, the crushing realization when the red aura appeared around her after she uttered those fateful three words to you.

Your attention returns to the woman in front of you, the one who helped heal your heart. The one who now holds it. 

The one who also has the power to hurt you in the exact same way, even though you know she won’t.

“I love you so much, Natasha,” you say with breathless adoration and honesty, but your expression pinches in fear as you continue, your voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t think I'm ready to hear it from you yet. Just…not those exact words.”

You sigh sadly, understanding how unfair your words are to her, and your chest tightens guiltily as you apologize, “I’m sorry. Look, I’d understand if you want to leave.”

You look away from Natasha, your mouth pressing together tightly, fighting the urge to cry. 

The silence stretches out in the room before Natasha gently cradles your face, bringing your gaze back to her.

“You make me happy,” Natasha declares firmly.

You give her a confused look at her words.

“Wh-what?”

Ignoring your question, Natasha continues, asking meaningfully, “Am I lying?”

Your eyes observe her for a moment, but you don’t see any indication of a red aura appearing.

“No,” you answer in confusion.

Natasha nods before continuing, “I don’t mind that your powers reveal truths about me, like the moments when I want to hold your hand or when I’m jealous.”

She tilts her head at you in question.

“Am I lying?” she asks again.

Still not seeing any red aura appear around her, you shake your head at her in response.

Natasha rests her forehead against yours, letting out a deep breath, before continuing, “I’m afraid that one day…” she pauses, taking in a shaky breath to prepare herself for what she’s about to admit out loud. 

“…one day you’ll wake up and decide that because of who I was, who I am now is not enough for you to stay with me anymore.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you go to reassure her, “I wouldn’t—”

“Am I lying?” Natasha interrupts, not wanting you to worry about comforting her at this time.

Your eyes soften sadly when you see the vulnerability and fear in her eyes at her words. 

You reach up to cup her cheek, your thumb caressing her face gently in comfort as you whisper, “No.”

Leaning against your touch, Natasha lets out a steadying breath to compose herself for the final part of her point.

“So when I say I can wait…” she pauses, looking into your eyes with a serious and determined expression, making sure you can see the sincerity of her next words. 

“…I’ll wait for as long as you need so that one day I can say those words to you…am I lying?”

You watch her carefully for a moment, but nothing appears to counter her claim. Realizing her intentions to reveal her feelings in another way, your heart fills with love and adoration for her as you answer with a soft smile. 

“No, you’re not lying, Natasha.”

She gives you a gentle grin and cups your face, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before admitting, “That’s because when I’m with you, Y/n, it never feels like I’m living a lie.”

A breathless, awed gasp escapes from you at her words, and you can’t help but pull her in closer, her red hair falling around you like a curtain.

“I love you,” you whisper against her lips, the words filled with genuine adoration for the woman.

Natasha smiles softly at your words and closes the distance between the two of you once again, her kisses tender and filled with all of her unspoken feelings. Her lips move against yours with gentle urgency, conveying everything she can’t yet say aloud.

The warmth of her touch, the sincerity of her kiss, and the way she holds you protectively — all of it reassures you. 

It doesn’t matter that those three words haven’t been spoken explicitly — her actions, her presence, the look in her eyes says it all already.

Natasha may be considered one of the greatest spies in the world thanks in part to her exceptional ability to lie, but even she can’t hide the truth from you.

Without needing to hear her utter those fateful three words aloud, you already know the truth in your heart.

That Natasha Romanoff truly loves you too.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading and for all the love that you all gave to the first part! I hope you enjoyed this one too!

[shawnxstyles]

panty stealer

DATE: JANUARY 14, 2023

summary: flash forces peter to sneak into the girls sorority and steal a pair of panties as a dare. stumbling into the nearest room to save himself from being caught, he doesn’t expect you to be there, and to let him steal the panties you’re wearing.

request: yes!

words: 5.1k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [fingering, oral], praise kink, slight dacryphilia kink, dirty talk, and protected sex), language, alcohol, mentions of weed, and a bit of fluff.

note: frat!peter x sorority!reader / peter masterlist / PART 2

—

“are you serious right now, flash?” peter groans with a pinch to his nose. his eyes screw shut in annoyance at flash’s obnoxious behavior.

“of course i am, penis parker!” flash shouts, shoving peter towards the large, white sorority house. “you have to do the dare or else.”

peter groans again, hating himself for ever agreeing to do this stupid game with flash.

the night had started calm and for once, peter was grateful. friday nights were the craziest day at the frat house, but this week, everyone was a bit too busy with schoolwork. except flash apparently.

like all of his other roomies, peter loves a good party. he doesn’t mind thrashing his house every week if that means he can have fantastic parties at his place (okay, maybe he minds a little bit. it gets tedious cleaning up garbage after a while). he knows he won’t be young forever, so what the heck, right?

people never would have guessed that peter was the leader of the frat. shocking, right? everyone would assume it’s flash for his obnoxious and party boy persona or brad for his attractiveness and charm. but what do those qualities have to do with being a leader? everyone else (besides those two) agreed that peter should be the head of the house because he is responsible and smart, unlike those boneheads.

peter often asked himself if he was attractive and if he had charm.

he did, right?

brad was good with the ladies. one glance and a wink made the girls melt into puddles at his feet. every morning when peter woke up early to go to class, a different woman would waltz down the stairs with a glowing, uncontrollable smile in nothing but a t-shirt. peter knew without a doubt that every one-night stand that stumbled down was brad’s; it was rarely flash or the others and ned had a girlfriend who was in the sorority across from us.

peter hooked-up once in a while. he found it more difficult to be like brad when he had college to concentrate on and lives to save inbetween it all. being spider-man in high school was overwhelming at first because it was impossibly hard to hide it. but now, having more freedom in college made everything a bit simpler. just a bit.

flash being spider-man’s “#1 fan!” still made him chuckle every time it came up.

speaking of flash, when peter stumbled through the door in the evening expecting a chill friday night, flash just had to crank up the energy. as per usual.

“what is this?” multiple bottles of liquor were splurged across the dining table when peter walked into the kitchen. flash crossed his arms with a huge smirk plastered onto his face, while ned looked concerned and stressed.

“i tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me,” ned shook his head in disappointment before walking away to his room.

“we’re having a party. it’s friday, penis,” flash said with an obvious tone. peter could easily have him removed from the frat, being the leader and all. yet he still keeps him here. why must he do this to himself?

“flash, i said no parties today. everyone is tired and stressed, and has a lot of work to do—”

“stressed? i think that’s the best reason for a party. you need to get laid, my brotha,” brad interrupted with an arm around peter’s shoulders and a firm pat to his buff chest. brad is way taller than peter, which some might think intimidates him. but peter is mainly intimidated by intelligence, and brad had the iq of a stick.

peter rolled his eyes at the predictable statement. flash rambles on about how parties are a tradition on friday nights and peter sharply cuts him off with a strict tone.

“ugh, fine! no party, party-pooper parker. but we will be drinking tonight. or else i’m sending an invite to 50 people.”

—

peter had no choice but to comply. flash, ned, brad, himself, and the other boys are seated on the furniture with the drinks displaced in the center. flash gave peter an ultimatum; play truth or dare or he rings the entire sports program of a party. peter growled and folded.

soon later, there is a sharpie drawing on flash’s ass, a ruler that measured brad’s dick, a flushed ned from downing too many denied truth shots, and laughter bubbling throughout the whole room. peter is the only one who hasn’t gotten asked anything yet and he honestly feels a bit left out. but he also just wants to do his homework and then go to sleep.

“what’ll be, penis parker?” flash inquires with a mischievous look on his face. “truth or dare? or should i say drink or dare?”

peter, not caring at the time, chose dare. “dare.”

“oh, you’re so in for it.”

—

so in all, peter was basically held against his own will to sneak into the girl’s sorority house. even though he denied the dare profusely and took three shots to make up for it, flash still dangled the party invites over his head like an iron weight waiting to drop.

peter snarled as flash nudged him again impatiently. he thought of an idea that might work. peter would have to do this dare, but would he have to do it alone?

“if you come with me, i’ll give you $50 bucks—” peter sells with raised eyebrows. he licks his lips as the cold breeze rustles the trees and sends slight shivers up his arms. the sky is pitch-black as the heavy clouds cover all the stars. peter felt a storm brewing and he really didn’t want to sneak into the sorority soaking wet.

“pfft, parker, please. i have enough money—”

“—in weed.” peter finishes, causing flash to halt his words. peter knows that flash can never find a good supply because he complains about it all the time. marijuana wasn’t legal on campus, let alone in the state. the trade had the cogs turning in flash’s head.

“alright, deal,” flash gives in and elbows peter as a form of agreement. then flash motivates brad and ned to join, heading straight for the zone as a group.

their goal was to grab a pair of underwear and leave without being caught. as spider-man, that should be easy, right?

—

for some odd reason, the back door was unlocked. you’d think girls would be more secure and observant than guys, but maybe they forgot. after hopping over the trimmed gardening hedges, the four boys crept through the door and into the kitchen.

unlike peter’s frat, the sorority girls had two big rules that they made known to everyone; no hook-ups allowed and no frat guys. ever. the girls didn’t throw parties like peter, they only went to them, so their place was like a holy sanctuary.

when the guys tiptoed into the kitchen, peter wasn’t surprised the place was damn-near spotless. most of the interior was pearly white; couches, love-seats, tables, counter, cabinets— it was like walking into an insane asylum with minor color accents.

it was at least midnight by now, so the girls had to be asleep. tiptoeing as silent as possible up the stairs, peter leads until they’re all standing in the middle of the large hallway with rapid, contained breaths. flash, being the scaredy-cat he is, follows last and nervously trips over the final step. he slips, tumbling down multiple levels with nosy thuds and bangs of his elbows and knees. all of the guys sprout wide eyes and strained, silent gestures to warn him to stop falling and making an absurd amount of noise.

peter gets goosebumps, hair rising on his skin as he gets a shiver down his spine. his hearing intensifies, picking up mumbled whispers and light footsteps with his spider sense. his eyes wander frantically as he scatters his brain for an idea. nothing comes to mind fast enough, as a door down the hall creaks open. brad and ned drag flash up the stairs, but freeze when they hear the door. out of instinct, peter sprints to the nearest door, slyly slipping inside. he closes the door gently, contradicting the pounding of his heart, without a noise being made. he releases a sigh as his forehead rests on the doorframe.

“what are you doing?” peter nearly shrieks when you casually question him. he stares at you, eyes impossibly wider than before. your arms are crossed as you sit on the side of your bed. peter swallows harshly, gazing at your appearance.

your legs look smooth and supple, and very much bare. he assumes you have underwear on under the t-shirt you’re sporting, and is proved correct when you shift to dangle your legs off the bed. his eyes are drawn to the small sight of your panties that tease underneath your shirt. you smirk, arms still crossed as you let him check you out.

“i-um-uh,” cheeks wildly red, he swallows and averts his eyes to the ground. how does he explain such a stupid thing without sounding like a jackass? i was dared to invade the sorority house. sorry. oh, also, can i have your panties? “it was a dare.”

“to sneak into my room?” your head tilts as you lift yourself off the bed and stalk towards him. peter’s cheeks grow redder while his heart pounds brutally in his chest.

besides the embarrassment flowing like blood through his veins, you were the simple kind of gorgeous that made his knees weak. the kind that is stunning in their own skin and that radiates beautiful energy like magical fairy dust. and peter nearly fainted when he saw your lack of clothes.

he’s seen you many times before; you share a class with him and came to some of his parties. he never talked to you in fear of rejection, but now he doesn’t really have a choice.

usually, he has more confidence with girls, but this is a very unfortunate situation where he lost every skill he’s ever known. even talking.

“no—” ear-piercing screams interrupt peter’s stuttering from the other side of the door. footsteps run all over the wooden floor as low profanities leave the guys’ mouths. “i think she found them.”

“you think?” you clip with raised eyebrows. peter inhales, losing some of his anxiousness at his thoughts of the boys being caught.

poor ned. betty’s going to kill him.

flash deserved it, though.

brad is probably getting one of their numbers.

peter shakes his head and sets his thoughts straight.

“okay, look. flash dared me to do this… stupid thing and i convinced them all to do it with me. i wanted to do nothing but relax tonight,” peter admits with a stressed exhale. you glare at him with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what has him so worked up. it’s not like he got screamed at and kicked out like the other guys. knowing some of your roomies, they might be a lot worse than just kicking them out. you get closer to him and ponder what he said.

“what was the dare, parker?” you shoot a harsh glare at him, daggers that force him to answer. your head tilts with curiosity as your heartbeats sporadically. you’ve never had a guy in your room before, and for that first guy to be peter parker has your heart bouncing around your chest like a boomerang. you’ve had your eye on peter for a few months now; not crazy obsessive, but you won’t deny the blood-rushing crush you’ve grown for the frat boy.

how did you stumble that low? a frat boy? jeez.

peter can’t be too shocked that you know his name, let alone his last name, but you saying it still causes him to forget some of the words on his tongue. many shouts are heard from outside the door, but your chests are nearly touching as you gaze up at him and then the outside world is practically silenced.

“i had to steal some… panties,” he mumbles, voice low and quiet. why does it sound so dirty?

“panties?” you repeat in a hushed voice as your surprised eyes blink a few times. you swallow, clit beginning to throb at the word out of his mouth.

“yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “do you have any that i can…borrow?”

your mind hazes at his question. you tried to remember where your underwear was and if it was clean. but as a clear opportunity lies in front of you, you decide to run with it. you look down with a racing heart, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt.

“i…i have these ones,” you lightly ball up your t-shirt, revealing your laced panties to peter. he quietly coughs, cock starting to harden behind the zipper of his jeans. you glance up at his reddening expression through your eyelashes, devilish eyes hiding behind an innocent facade. confidence and lust ease your anxiety. “will these work?”

“um, yeah,” peter coughs again as rosy embarrassment crawls up his neck and blood rushes to his cock. you strut over to the mattress, rocking your hips teasingly, and peter instinctively follows with his heart in his throat. you lie on your back and spread your legs, arousal dripping from you at every movement. peter watches from a side angle, holding his breath as the tension rises.

“well, you’re not much of a panty-stealer if i just give them to you. come and steal them, parker,” you say with as much confidence as you could muster up. your heart was so loud in your ears you almost couldn’t hear yourself. speechless, peter walks to the front of the bed and kneels down, eye-level with your pussy.

he crumples the shirt over your hips, your legs automatically spreading wider. his senses heighten and pick up on the scent of your arousal. a small patch of it can be seen in the middle of your underwear, sending painful pulses down to his forever hardening cock. his thumbs dance around the laced hem, teasing you to see how much he can go.

he would say some of his confidence is back now.

he hooks his fingers under the band, sliding the flimsy fabric down while sticky arousal slings to you. he stuffs the damp material in his back pocket. both of your hearts rack and hands tremble at the extreme intensity, waiting for someone to do something. anything.

peter decides to be that person and resumes his fingers to your hips where the hem used to be. your folds glisten with pent-up arousal, just begging for him to touch you. your puffy clit throbs, neglected, and your thighs subtly spasm trying to remain open. peter grinds on his molars, nearly moaning at the glorious sight. his rough pads trace your smooth skin as he drags lower, dangerously close to where you’re yearning for him.

“peter,” you whisper, holding your breath, so you don’t move a muscle, even though they’re involuntarily shaking with need. he hums, the dirtiest thoughts flowing through his mind. “d-don’t you have to go? what if you get caught?”

“i can spare a few minutes…” his gaze is hazy and distracted, voice gravelly with lust. you clench desperately around nothing as you quietly plead for him to do something. his thumb tests the waters and finally begins circling on your clit, sending electricity up your body. you yelp at the sudden pressure, naturally grinding your hips for more friction. “hmm? don’t you want me to spend a few minutes with you?

his words are taunting and condescending, making your mind go blurry while the words disintegrate from your tongue. the rough pad of his thumb rubs faster while you clench around nothing again, chest heaving.

“i want more than a few minutes,” you moan as his middle finger pets along your soaking slit, teasing you painfully until your eyes roll back. you can sense the smirk growing on his face based on the satisfied hum he responds with.

“more? greedy girl,” peter slides his middle finger into you without warning causing you to release a long string of moans. “shh, you don’t want them to hear you, do you? then we’ll both get caught.”

you shake your head.

“then be a good girl and be quiet for me,” peter demands softly. you nod shakily, as another finger pumps into you rapidly. he thrusts brutally into you, fingertips brushing over your g-spot. you melt as bliss laces throughout your body.

“it’s always the quiet ones who are the loudest,” a devilish and dirty smirk dances on his lips while your teeth sink painfully into your bottom lip. you slap your palm over your mouth to remain quiet as thrilled moans threaten to pour out of you. your revolving hips are halted by his strong forearm, allowing him to curl his digits deliciously into you. you mewl with screwed eyes, back arching at the immense pleasure.

“i’m so close, peter,” you whisper, scared that if you speak any louder your moans will betray you and alert the whole neighborhood. peter subtly grinds his hips into the front of the mattress, cock dangerously hard from your whimpering and whining.

“can i taste you? been dying to since you opened your legs for me,” peter asks while your thighs tremble and your pussy contracts tightly around his digits. you mumble out a shuddery please before his mouth is devouring you.

he never removes his fingers, pumping ruthlessly while his mouth explores your slippery folds. he sucks harshly on your throbbing clit, a muffled wail escaping through your hand. warm and soothing, his tongue glides curiously and sneaks into your undeniably soft cunt. the moan you release is unholy and way too loud. at least right now.

peter wants nothing more than to hear your sweet, sweet moans crying his name while he makes you come in several different ways. but tonight was not the night. he wasn’t trying to get reported and have intruder as a new notch on his belt.

he had a good feeling you wouldn’t run off and report him though.

the idea of it all got him off much more than he would have ever thought. and looking at you, he could say that same.

his mouth plops off of you, lips swollen and puffy from sucking.

“come all over my tongue. let me taste you, sweet girl,” his tone is euphonious and seductive, yet demanding. his fingers savagely thrust into your seeping hole that clenches tightly around him. your back arches off the mattress as your thighs shake from the upcoming euphoria.

peter’s words send your body into overdrive. your muscles contract and your stomach tightens as your orgasm ripples through your body like a heavenly wave. cum oozes out of you and onto his tongue, slurping up every ounce of your juices until there is nothing left.

“such a good girl,” peter praises while he licks away your arousal from his rosy lips. heat crawls up your neck at your sudden vulnerability. you attempt to close your legs to hide, but he keeps them spread with his rough hands. “you’re going to hide yourself after i just ate you out? we’re just getting started, baby.”

peter pulls his shirt off deliberately, showcasing his bulky abs and muscles that made your clit pulse with desire again. he looks like he was man-made, a real-life sculpture with chiseled muscles and perfectly ridged abs. you were insatiable to this man, who snuck into your room to steal something— you should be mad at him. furious. but when his boxers fall down his legs, only dirty and needy emotions and thoughts are left.

your eyes widen at his impressive length; you’ve only been with a few guys in the past, but none of them were this big. you were scared, yet excited to feel his cock stretch you out sinfully. you imagined how long you would feel him inside of you afterwards, soreness like a good workout at the gym.

“you’re so big,” you mumble, not hiding the fact that you were blatantly eyeing his raging cock with hunger, fear, and lust.

“it’ll fit. don’t worry, doll,” he hovers over you, smoothing your hair away from your worried eyes. “do you have a condom?”

you stretch out your arm into your night stand, blindly grabbing a tin-foiled package. you seductively rip it with your teeth, causing peter to groan in impatience. he snatches it away from you and swiftly slides it onto his sturdy cock.

“such a fucking tease,” he hisses, running the tip of his cock along your folds, which were already soaked in arousal again. “are you ready?”

you nod your head surely, more than ready for him to fill you up.

“you’re one to talk,” you sass, rolling your eyes, which were no longer as worried, but full of needy anticipation. he huffs out a single chuckle, eyes strained on his dick rubbing around your wetness tediously.

“speaking of talking, don’t,” peter thrusts into you savagely, making you gasp and shriek. your hand immediately goes to his shoulder for leverage, nails digging desperately into the meat of his skin. the other tightens securely onto your mouth to keep quiet, even though it’s probably useless now.

hoarse profanities fall from his lips as he shifts around your snug hole. your velvety walls choke his cock so fucking good, he doesn’t think he’ll last any longer. and then you clench even tighter around him, sending peter’s eyes rolling back into brain.

“you’re so fucking tight,” peter groans in your ear, flicking his hips upwards into you. your body trembles in overwhelming pleasure, muffled whines begging to be released.

slapping skin and hushed moans fill the air. peter fits a hand between the two of you and rubs your throbbing clit perfectly. his lips travel down from your ear to your neck, kissing along your skin. his tongue discovers your soft spot, sucking harshly until you’re clutching onto him for dear life.

“you’re so good, peter. so deep, too, oh god,” you can’t help the lusty wail that tumbles from your raspy throat when he rapidly rolls his hips, repeatedly touching your sensitive g-spot. he growls at the praise, every action being intensified by the comment. you notice this and smile with a hint of devilishness behind it.

“you may be smiling now,” peter pants, muscles popping and flexing from the position. “but you’ll be crying soon.”

if possible, his thrusts got harder. and deeper. and faster. he was pounding into your cunt like there was no tomorrow, buckets of arousal leaking from you and all around him. peter would pull his cock fully out just to slam it back in, and it made you wither away into another dimension. his balls beat against you harshly with every brisk thrust of his body. his skilled thumb pets your clit, electrifying all your nerves into blissful flames.

there was so much to feel; the biting of his kisses on your neck, the rough texture of his thumb pad on your clit, the long, thick length plunging barbarically into you, and the heaviness of his weight above you. you were so overwhelmed by the pleasure, water brimmed at your tear ducts. soon, full-blown tears are streaming down your face from the euphoria running through your veins.

that familiar wicked smile curls on peter’s face with your appearance; wild hair, tear-stained cheeks, and swollen lips. he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful in front of him.

his cock twitches when you whimper loudly underneath the palm of your hand, begging to let you come. contracting on his shaft, your nails stab his shoulder blade until crescent moon marks appear. a strangled moan leaves him when your body rolls up towards him, back arching harshly.

“need to come. so bad, peter,” you whine. his name from your lips drives him mental.

“fuck, y/n,” he sighs heavily. “come around my cock like the good girl you are.”

with those words, your second orgasm tumbles through your body like a thunderstorm. peter slams his lips against yours to keep you quiet, all your pent-up moans turning into needy hums in your throat. stars spot in your vision and you thought you might pass out from being fucked into oblivion. you wouldn’t even be mad— it was worth it.

summoning all your energy, your muscles tense as the liquid floods out of you. your back arches, making your bare breasts push up against peter’s chest. at the same time, peter comes with a string of curse words against your plush lips. he shoots his load into the condom, balls tightening while his eyes screw shut. he steadies his pumps and slowly pulls out of you, never wanting to leave.

you whimper at the emptiness, already missing his cock. he ties the knot and tosses it into the garbage under your desk. peter slips into his boxers and immediately finds the small box of tissues on your night stand. grabbing a few, he cleans you delicately like an antique doll as if he didn’t just ravish your body and soul.

you were beyond dumbstruck as he wiped you up. the few people you have been with never stayed long enough for aftercare, and even though it should be a necessity, the action still made your heart lurch for peter. speaking of your heart, it was beating a mile a minute. sex was a physical activity, yet having a huge crush on someone felt a lot more physically demanding. but you really liked the feeling.

a million thoughts brisked through your head; how does he feel? does he feel the same? did he hate it? did he love it? you shake your head. if you didn’t stop yourself, you would ruin any chance you might have by overthinking too much.

when you refocus your eyes to the moment, peter has his jeans fully on and his shirt in his hand. he slides it on and then looks at you worryingly, seeming as though you’re still naked and haven’t moved.

“are you okay? did i go too hard? fuck—”

“yes—i mean no! shit,” you stutter after interrupting him and close your eyes in embarrassment. “yes, i’m fine. i’m more than fine. that was… really good, peter. like really good.”

peter’s tensed shoulders relax as his face melts from a concerned expression to a soft one. you slip your large t-shirt on and stand up from your bed. your legs are a bit unbalanced and wobbly, and peter can’t help but chuckle as he holds you steady by your hips.

“stop laughing! you did this!” you whisper-yell with a faked angry face.

“oh, i know. next time, i’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, let alone stand,” he winks with an arrogant smile cascading his lips. familiar heat creeps up your neck and ears, making you all tingly inside at the idea of a next time with peter.

“next time?” large rings of hope surround your irises as you stare into peter’s. his arrogance slightly fades as he itches with nervousness.

“yeah, if that’s what you want, of course,” why is he holding his breath? why is his heart beating so unhealthy fast?

“if i say yes, does that mean you’re going to try to steal my panties again?” you try to hold back your grin as you joke, peering up at him with squinted eyes.

“are you going to let me steal your panties again?” he clicks his tongue with his all too familiar smirk. he loves your playful demeanor and your attempts to withhold a smile.

you pretend to think, really debating. peter can’t help but stare at you in awe. you were beautiful, and he regrets not approaching you earlier because you were… well, he didn’t really know you yet, but he wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. even if you told him to fuck off and never to see him again, he knew that he would never forget you or this night.

you push yourself closer to peter, chest to chest. you can both feel the rapid beating of your hearts through your shirts. however, you stand, gazing confidently at peter. he watches you as you lean right in like you were going to kiss him.

“mm maybe. you might just have to find out yourself,” your breathy words linger on his lips as you back away and casually get into the bed. you unfold the comforter and tuck yourself in, like you didn’t just give peter a semi-hard on in his pants.

suddenly a loud crash is heard from outside, alerting both of your heads to peer out through the window.

“my car!” flash cries so high-pitched and whiny, he probably woke up the entire neighborhood. peter isn’t surprised that one of the sorority girls destroyed his car because he deserved it. someone needed to humble him anyway. you both laugh behind the palm of your hands at flash’s girly scream.

with that, peter realizes that he has to go and that he no longer has any minutes to spare. flash, brad, and ned probably weren’t worried about peter while they were out-running the girls. but now that the girls had done the damage, the boys would soon realize peter’s absence.

“better hide your panties. this isn’t over,” peter walks over to the side of your bed and kisses your forehead delicately. he cracks open the window, turning to you with half his body out. with a wink from him and a gasp from you, he jumps down the two-story window without hesitation. your heart flutters at his gentle kiss that lingers on your skin, fingers pressed against the spot his lips last touched.

rain begins to splash on the glass as sprinkles of water drip into your room through the open window. you purposefully don’t close it, even when you know the carpet will get soaked throughout the night. you welcomed the idea that if peter wanted to come back, he could, simply by sneaking through the window the same way he left.

so many other thoughts cloud your mind, making you lie wide awake. you wondered if his heart was still thumping hastily like the rain pattering on your window and onto your floor. you wondered what he looked like when he was drenched in natural rain water. probably breathtakingly beautiful; soaking wet hair and a childish smile adorning his rosy face while he laughs wholeheartedly.

as you roll over to turn off your lamp with a wistful sigh, you remember that you never even got his number. while trying to guess which set of numbers fit peter parker the best, you fall asleep with a yearning heart, flapping its wings adoringly in your chest.

oh, god, you were down. and it was bad.

what you didn’t know was that peter was down too, but even worse than you.

—

tags: @raajali3

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[ozzgin]

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

[bbydoll18xx]

She's Such a Good Girl (Part 3)

You get drunk off Paige, and confessions come out.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 2k

Themes: mentions of self pleasure, idk thats really it i think, still prob 18+

Masterlist

Part 1 - You move in across the hall from Paige Bueckers. It doesn’t take long before she tries to shatter your innocent persona. And you just let her. 

Part 2 - Paige continues her assault on your innocence, leading you to spiral.

A/N: sorry this took longer than expected lol but we got here (also i wrote this while watching Shrek LOL) Let me know what you think. If you want a part 4 let me know but i think 5 parts total would work!

Also I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who commented/reached out regarding me talking about my struggles with my sexuality on part 2. You guys are so kind, and as someone who never really talks about my feelings, I appreciate you giving me an outlet to do so :)

Here we goooo

~

The music was pounding in a way that would typically give you a headache, and the way people at the bar couldn’t seem to mind their personal space usually would’ve pissed you off. But you were floating on a cloud from Paige’s touch and the drink you’ve been sipping all evening, and all thoughts of worry had vanished from your mind. 

Your hips swayed in time with the music, moving in a way you did not think you were even capable of. You had done several things, though, the past few days that were completely out of character. You liked this new you. The newfound confidence was refreshing, leaving a satisfying tingle lingering on your skin.

Paige’s touch was fucking intoxicating, and in the moments since the electrifying kiss, the confidence you were feeling had grown substantially. Her hands had yet to leave your body, alternating between your hips and your waist, swaying alongside you as your butt grazes her pelvis. 

She spins you around, so you’re face to face once more. You attempt to avoid glancing down at that plush bottom lip of hers, pink and glistening with the sparkly lip gloss you had reapplied early in the night, but to no avail. Her mouth beckoned to you, lips turned in a smirk that made your knees want to buckle, and you grabbed onto her waist to steady yourself. 

The effects of the alcohol were palpable, and your inhibitions were nearly gone as you pulled Paige closer to you, desperately needing more. The tension was thick as you look up at her, batting your eyelashes with a coy look that had Paige’s stomach rolling with unquenchable want. 

Little did you know, though, that the second Paige had seen you tonight, she knew she would have to have you. Your innocence was intriguing, and she knew you weren’t putting on a show.

Paige always had to be a little wary about who she was letting into her life. People were freaks, and she had been burned before by people trying to take advantage of her fame and her kind persona. But your own disposition, one of pure goodness, made her believe that things were going to be different this time. 

“Hi,” you beamed, nose crinkling in a fond smile as you look up at Paige, who is unable to hold back a smile of her own. 

“Hey, yourself,” she answers, enjoying the closeness that you were initiating, finally feeling more comfortable around her.

“Not that I have much to compare it to, but that was a really good kiss,” you mutter before even thinking about the words that were now leaving your mouth, and a blush blooms across your cheeks as you hear yourself.

“Think I need a reminder,” Paige says seductively, pulling you in by your belt loops to connect your lips in another searing kiss. 

It was nearly impossible to hold back a moan from the pressure of her lips sliding across yours. And while the earlier kiss had been almost tentative, as if Paige was afraid to break you, this one was filled with unbridled passion and sheer want. Her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, causing you to slightly gasp, your mouth opening to invite her deeper into you.

It was raw, hands grabbing at her shirt to ground you, as you move your lips in unison with hers. Your belly is fluttering, and the neediness inside you ignites like a fire, the flames licking at your insides and sliding down to your most intimate area. 

You had been horny before. You were a perfectly healthy college girl, but this was something new, and the irrepressible want was taking control over your carefully curated image you had worked so hard to maintain. 

The two of you eventually pull away, chests heaving and heads spinning from lust and the alcohol. 

“Yeah, definitely good,” Paige affirms, pecking your lips once more, and you giggle. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t have much to compare the kiss to,” she asks, her head cocked to the side cutely.

Oh fuck. She hadn’t let that slide.

“That…was my first real kiss,” you mumble, looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to look Paige in the eyes.

She moves her hand to your jaw, gently forcing you to meet her soft gaze. “Hey, no shame in that,” she says, stroking your cheek soothingly. You lean into her touch, getting drunk on it, and nod your head. Of course she understood.

She guides you away from the crowded dance floor, seeking solace in the less congested perimeter of the bar and she sits down beside you.

Her hand never leaves your soft skin, and she rubs small circles onto your flesh. Her next question has your cheeks flushing in embarrassment once more, blooming down your chest in a not-so-subtle display.

“So if that was your first kiss, I’m assuming you haven't done anything else?”

You shake your head, not trusting your words at the moment. 

“That’s okay, baby,” she reassures you, her eyes boring into yours. “Have you just not met the right person or…” she trails, trying to gauge why a 21 year old as pretty as you was so inexperienced.

“I have a bit of a habit of liking people who are wildly unavailable,” you mutter, thinking back to your celebrity crushes and the wildly humiliating encounters with the football players at your high school.

“And I’ve always just been terrified of rejection. So it’s been easier to just keep to myself,” you explain. “But now I’m getting older, and the thought of dating when I’m so inexperienced makes me even more nervous.” You bow your head to avoid her gaze, playing with your bracelet to self-soothe.

Paige listens intensely, wheels turning in her head as she does so. “What if you had someone to walk you through it?” She asks.

Your head shoots up, eyes widening in surprise at her question, and your heart rate skyrockets.

What the hell was she even asking?

“Someone meaning…you?” You clarify, and she nods her head, a small smile stretching across her face.

“Why don't you think about it,” she says, not wanting to make you feel pressured. “And if you want to, you know where to find me,” she adds with a wink.

The rest of the girls of the team quickly flock over to join you and Paige, pulling you from your musings, and the night ends soon thereafter.

~

You had always prided yourself on being in control. You were in control of your grades. You controlled your environment to absolute perfection. And you certainly had control over your behavior and emotions. 

That was until Paige Bueckers came into the equation and sent you absolutely fucking spiraling. 

In less than 48 hours you had abandoned your previous stance of trying to remain rational and grounded, almost irritatingly logical in favor of floating on a mercurial high. 

You had skipped through your door after being dropped off by Paige, the taste of her chapstick still lingering on your lips. And you were still riding that high a week later.

Your roommates took great pleasure in your recap of Saturday night’s events, and the look of glee never left your face as you recounted Paige’s intoxicating touches and the effects of her kisses. 

You were programmed to be the tiniest bit cynical, though, so you had woken up Sunday morning, mentally preparing yourself to be let down easily by the tall blonde. You knew someone who was as adored as Paige had many options, so you were prepared for the worst. But it never came. 

She had welcomed you into her circle with wide arms, and that was becoming even more glaringly obvious as you checked your phone after your night out. Drunk messages littered your home screen, and your heart soared at the outpouring love you felt from your new friends. 

The week passes quickly as the new school year begins. The classwork is unrelenting, but it was a nice distraction. Your thoughts had been clouded with images of Paige’s eyes and her hands. You could close your eyes and almost smell her perfume, and you could nearly feel her touch, leaving goosebumps scatter across your sensitive skin. 

You consider Paige’s proposal for the millionth time. Was it completely ridiculous to want to give in and do it? You were worried that the friendship you had built with Paige and her friends the past week would get ruined in the weirdness that would inevitably develop, yet the idea was so gloriously tempting. 

Your mind floats back to the kisses you had shared last weekend, and a building ball of want stirs in your belly. You groan, flopping back into your mound of pillows, your hand resting on your bare stomach. You trail it lower, grazing over your panties, causing a jolt to run through you. Your hips stutter as your middle finger dances over your clit, experimenting with the pressure. You had dabbled in self-pleasure before, but typically avoided it out of embarrassment and a general lack of knowledge. 

Pulling aside your panties, you run a few fingers through your folds, gathering your slick and carrying on with tight circles. Pressure starts to build before you hear your roommates outside your door, effectively killing the mood. 

You sigh, pulling your shorts back on and head into your bathroom to wash your hands. As you dry them, you gaze at yourself in the mirror. You had decided. 

Paige Bueckers was going to teach you everything you needed to know. And while the thought absolutely terrified you, the temptation of Paige’s touch gave way to any fears. You knew that you could not continue being the shy, timid girl forever, and someone who you liked actually liked you. The thought of remaining innocent and untouched any longer was nearly unbearable. So before you could talk yourself out of it, you send a quick text to Paige, letting her know that you had finally decided. 

She quickly sends back an enthusiastic reply, sending a wave of butterflies through your belly in anticipation.

‘Of course, I will help! Aubrey will be gone tonight. Want to come over around 8?’

‘Sounds good :)’ 

Shit. Things just got real.

The day flies by, and before you know it, you are once more standing in front of Paige’s day, struggling to gather the courage to knock. You do so, hesitantly, and she wrenches the door open with a huge grin, pulling you into a hug. 

“Are ya ready?” She questions, waggling her eyebrows at you to lighten your nervous mood, and she takes your hand, pulling to sit on the couch. 

You sit down next to her, the warmth of her closeness clouding your senses. You bite your lip in anticipation and play with a lock of hair with your free hand.

“Hey,” she whispers, wanting you to meet her heated gaze. Her bright blue eyes were ablaze with desire and determination. “You still want to do this? We can go as slow as you want. You’re in control, baby,” she reassures, the tone of her voice lulling you into a calmer state of mind.

“Course I do, P,” you say, already moving forward to pull her in for a kiss. 

Paige’s eyes widen at your sudden boldness before she smirks and pulls you in, meeting your lips with the delicious fervor you had grown accustomed to. She lets you take control this time, and as you reach up to cup her jaw, she lets out a quiet moan. It adds fuel to the fire, and you detach your lips to place hot, open-mouthed kisses down the base of her throat.

“Fuck, baby,” she mumbles hoarsly eyes still closed in pleasure. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Books,” you giggle, hands covering your mouth as you laugh at the hilarity of it. 

She chuckles, shaking her head. “You gonna let me teach you all of my tricks now?” She asks smugly, fingers dancing across the exposed skin of your upper thigh.

“Please do,” you nearly whine, the build up leaving you breathless and needy, and Paige pulls you in, determined to show you the many benefits of being with an experienced woman.

And boy, were there a lot. 

~

Thanks for reading I love you guys!!! Hope you enjoyed :)

xoxo katy

Part 4

Part 5

[ceilidho]

prompt: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 3. (part 1 here) (part 2 here)

-

The man at your till is making you feel increasingly uncomfortable. 

He’s a stocky man, not quite as imposing as John, but still big. He’s particularly unnerving because the man has been standing by your till for the past few minutes without having anything in his hands. No basket in sight. Not a rutabaga or a bushel of carrots or even a single jar of olives.

It’s as if he just blew in off the street; dark hair mussed from the wind, shabbily dressed for the winter as if the cold weren’t even an issue for him. The intensity of his stare makes your skin crawl though, and it’s even worse when he decides to strike up a conversation with you. 

It’s like he only came into the shop to stare at you and make creepy, suggestive comments. Laswell comes out from the back when his presence starts to make even the other customers uncomfortable, but all that does is relegate him to the parking lot, where he’s free to loiter and stare at you through the window all he wants. 

You delay the inevitable for almost half an hour because you keep talking yourself out of calling John. It’s not like you’re not familiar with each other by now—he’s taken you to diners and cafés, and you’ve brought him tupperware filled with stew and casserole on the days when you’ve watched him slump up the steps of his front porch, looking haggard and about to fall on his face—but it feels intrusive. A favour you wouldn’t normally ask of him. It almost feels like you’re using him, actually. 

Still though, after some time you almost feel like you don’t have a choice. You either call John or the police, and the latter option is vastly more unappealing. Then you’d really be causing a ruckus for nothing. 

Since your phone is stored under the desk by the till, you take a second in between customers to dial John’s number, listening to it ring with your back to the window. That makes your shoulders tense up even more, acutely aware of two eyes burrowing into the back of your neck. The anxiety puts a cramp in your belly until you hear John pick up.

“John,” you whisper into the phone, hand cupped around the receiver. There’s static on the other end before you hear him grumble your name. “Are you—is this a bad time?”

“No, s’good a time as any,” he says, voice thick and heady. “What’s the matter, honey?”

The sound of his voice makes you shiver like it always does, but the effect is muted under the droning of your anxiety. Like a pale imitation of its usual force. 

“I just was wondering if—would you mind coming down to the shop for a bit?” 

“What for? Need help stocking the shelves?” he asks, still lighthearted. Maybe you’re keeping your cool just a bit too well because he hasn’t yet detected the undercurrent of fear making your voice almost tremble. You glance over your shoulder again and shudder when you see the same man still loitering in the parking lot, eyes locked on you. When he smiles, it’s mean. 

“Actually I—I hope this isn’t rude but there’s…this guy’s been hanging around outside for a bit and…” you start, then stop to chew on your lip. “Well, he’s really starting to freak me out.”

You can almost hear him straighten up on the other end. “What’s that?”

Now his tone makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You’ve never heard him sound like this before—alert all of a sudden, a hard edge to his voice that you might have associated with his work persona if you’d ever seen it before. It fills you with comfort and worry all at once. 

“He came in earlier and he was…well, he kind of came in looking confused and then—I think he noticed me looking at him strangely or something, which I—well, I don’t think I was making like, a weird face or anything, but—”

“Did he say anything to you?” John asks, cutting you off. 

You cup your hand even more around the phone so it muffles your words. “He said I smell…fecund? I don’t even know what that means, but…”

He goes silent for a moment before he speaks again. At first, you think he sounds almost calm, but you clock the way his breathing pattern abruptly changes. “I’ll be there in a few. Don’t move, honey.”

He hangs up before you’re able to say another word. You hold the phone to your ear for another couple of seconds before your eyes inevitably dart back to the window, where the other man is still staring at you, his upper lip curled. 

You try your best to focus on your job, checking each new customer out while steadfastly avoiding looking out the main window. It wouldn’t do you any good anyway. In your peripheral vision, you see the dark shadowy form of the man still leaning against his car, eyes still trained on you. It won’t be dark for another hour or so, but the fact that your shift only ends when it’s well past the daylight hours makes your hands tremble when you scan a container of hummus. You mess up the code for artichoke three separate times.

You don’t see the moment John pulls into the parking lot, but you hear the commotion and your head whips around just in time to see him dragging the other man into the woods behind the grocers, one big arm wrapped around his neck. He’s somehow bigger than the man you’d thought towered over you, making his struggle seem pointless as he's dragged off by John. 

It’s over so quickly that when the two of them disappear past the treeline, you almost think you imagined it for a second. Then another second goes by and you find John’s car haphazardly parked in the lot, the door still open. At least he managed to turn it off.

“Kate, did you—” you say, turning towards when you remember last seeing her restock the boxed panettone display only to find your manager standing in front of your till, staring out the same window as you. 

“Shit,” she says, blinking. A bit awed. “Never seen John that mad before.”

“He’s, uh—I called him because that guy wouldn’t leave. I thought maybe he’d…I don’t know what I thought he’d do, honestly.”

“You know, we could’ve called the sheriff.”

You don’t want to admit that your first thought was always John. Not the police. “Oh. I guess.” 

The two of you keep staring out the window. Neither man emerges from the treeline. 

“Should I—”

“Don’t even think about suggesting that you go check on him. He’s a grown man and you’re still on the clock.”

“Got it,” you mumble, a bit peeved.

Kate looks at you from the corner of her eye. “Besides, John’ll have my head if he finds out I let his favourite cashier chase after him into the woods where he just dragged off a man harassing her.”

“He wouldn’t do that—”

You’re cut off when a customer waiting at your till clears their throat, forcing you to leave your station at the window. Kate’s smug smile haunts you while you ring the impatient customer up. She heads back to her office before you’re able to say your piece, leaving you to stew in silence.

There aren’t usually many customers in the middle of a random weekday, so you have nothing to do except stare out the window and fret. Your heart skips a beat any time the trees sway with the breeze. Another customer gives you a bit of a hassle over a two-for-one deal that your scanner didn’t pick up and you almost snap at them. 

You finally make the decision to leave your till when the trees rustle and your heart stops for a second before John steps back out into the parking lot, looking dishevelled but no worse for wear. His hat is gone. There’s a nasty cut on his lip and it seems like his shirt has been fully ripped open, exposing a wide, hairy chest and two thick pectorals. You do not stare at the way the hair on his chest whorls around his brown nipples. 

His eyes are locked on you through the window and his brows furrow when he watches you jog to the doors. When they slide open, you hear him shout from across the lot, “Back inside.”

“I can—”

“Get back inside.”

You pout, but listen, taking a step back in and letting the doors shut with a whoosh. You wait anxiously on the balls of your feet until they slide open again when John finally crosses the parking lot in only a few short seconds. He zips up his coat before coming inside, depriving you of the view. You have to school your face so that your pout doesn’t deepen.

“Are you okay—” you ask when he steps into the grocery store, but no one in this town seems to be able to let you finish a sentence because he cuts you off almost immediately.

“Where’s Laswell?” he asks, almost rhetorically because he sidesteps you after a brief touch to your chin to tilt your head up, eyes tracking across your face as if looking for something to rile him up even more. “Kate.” 

You shush him when you trail after him towards the back where Kate’s office door is wide open. His voice carries on a good day; after his tussle out in the forest, it seems to boom across the store, drawing curious eyes. You smile weakly.

“Busy today?” It’s the first thing out of his mouth when he reaches the door of Kate’s office. Her chair is already turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest and blonde hair pulled up into a tight bun.

“It’s normal,” Kate says, almost like a challenge. “Business as usual.”

“Good. I’m taking your cashier home then. That gonna be an issue?”

Kate rolls her eyes. “I’m trembling. You didn’t get all of this out with the other guy? Still need a good fight?”

“Please, John, I can stay—I’m really sorry about all of this,” you say, turning from John back to Kate, a bit frazzled now that it’s sunk in. A faint tremor works its way through you. You don’t even realize the way you unconsciously grip John’s jacket, anchoring yourself in place. 

“Honey, we’re going home,” John stresses, fitting a hand against your low back, drawing you a bit closer. You move into him without a thought, like a natural pull. 

Kate’s eyes soften when she meets yours. “It’s fine, I can cover the till for the rest of the afternoon. John’s right—just go home. I still know how to work a register, you know.”

He doesn’t let you stay a moment longer to argue or insist that you stay and cover your shift. He sweeps you out the door with a warm hand still low on your back, letting you briefly grab your coat and bag before hustling you to his car. It’s freezing inside from the wide open door, so he blasts the hot air until you slump into the passenger seat, the heat lulling you into a stupor. 

The drive back home—whatever home at this point means—is long. Part of you wonders whether he’ll drive you to work tomorrow to pick up your car or if you’ll be forced to take a bus, but it isn’t the time or place to be thinking about those things. 

“What’d you do with him?” you mumble, turning your head to stare at the side of his face. The cut of his jaw is hard, obscured somewhat by the beard growing in heavy with the winter, but deeply masculine like something out of an old western. You think you’d happily count every bristle without complaint if he let you.

“Taught him to mind his manners,” John says. The answer is short, to the point. It makes you tremble. 

“Like, to respect women?”

He turns his head to look over at you. It’s just for a moment, brief in the grand scheme of things, but it feels significant. Pointed. Sustained. “To not touch what isn’t his.”

The truck never so much as wavers on the road.

[extensionallydefined]

Okay, so, I need to talk about the relationship between Persona 5's ending and Persona 5 royal's ending, because I think it isn't discussed enough how one puts into question the themes of the other and in doing so it elevates everything that came before.

Spoilers are coming, you've been warned.

The main thing that's given me an outlet to think about this is a few quotes from the Phantom Thieves when they're in the Velvet Room after being Thanos-snapped by Yaldabaoth. Specifically these quotes:

Ann: "I... I never want anyone to have to go through what I did!"

Yusuke: "Just as art is meant to break boundaries, people should be saved even if they frown upon it. I won't allow the justice I believe in to be shaken any further!"

Ryuji: "We're doin' this to make sure people don't go through the same crap we did. It doesn't matter if they think we're just or not. We gotta do what we believe in!"

Futaba: "I can't let people suffer like this, even if I don't know them personally"

They mention some core ideas: 1. They want to prevent people's suffering because of the suffering they've felt. 2. They must do this regardless of if people want it, because they think it's the right thing to do. 3. Their justice is worth fighting for by virtue of being what they believe in.

Does this seem familiar? Maybe makes you think of a certain therapist who shows up in Royal?

I think Takuto Maruki serves a decent amount of purposes narratively and thematically, but one of the most genius things about him is that he serves as a foil to both the Phantom Thieves and Akechi, and in being that foil, he is, deep down, following the principles that the Phantom Thieves fought for - In the end, it was largely Joker who inspired him to fight for his reality.

Maruki fights for a reality where suffering straight up doesn't exist, because he doesn't want anyone to feel the suffering he's had to endure. Maruki wants the Phantom Thieves and Akechi to never feel suffering anymore, regardless of their stance on the matter. He is "saving" them regardless of their wishes, and will fight them to keep the reality he wants. He thinks the world is unfair, so his "justice" is to make a perfect world for everyone - and that's what makes it worth fighting for, because that's what he believes.

Maruki's rationale to fight against the Phantom Thieves and Akechi is (partly) the same reasoning that the Phantom Thieves use to regain their motivation to fight the Holy Grail/Yaldabaoth.

So, narratively, Maruki serves as a mirror that's telling things not to be told for the Phantom Thieves to look into and to see the ugly parts of their own way of acting. Can they really fight Maruki, knowing that he is just acting how they did?

I see people sometimes refusing Maruki's reality because it "wouldn't actually work" or "it's imperfect". But as far as I'm aware, it's imperfect because it hasn't been completed yet - I think the game is a lot more interesting under the pretense that Maruki truly has the power to erase all suffering, once his reality is complete, past the deadline. I also see the argument, and even the game uses it, that Maruki's world "isn't reality". But did we listen well to Morgana's speech before he disappeared in the Yaldabaoth arc? The world itself is made up of cognition, reality is born from the points of view of everyone. Maruki *can* change reality, and the real question of the game is not about the logistics or "ontological dignity" of his reality, but rather - Do you want a world where all your wishes are granted and no suffering exists?

In the end, the game shows the Phantom Thieves that "sticking to their justice" will make them fight against people with similar ideals as theirs. It's funny, in a way, how Akechi was the one fully willing to fight Maruki from the start. His rebellion has always been more individualistic in nature than the Phantom Thieves' - he wanted revenge for himself, then redemption for himself and now he wants a reality where he isn't under anyone's control anymore. To him, Shido's country, Yaldabaoth's ruin and Maruki's world are all the same - Maruki just has a nicer, more therapy-speaky way of presenting his proposal, and sees people as his equals rather than as insolent masses, but his goal is the same. They're all worlds that shackle you for the "greater good". And in the end, Maruki, and Royal, force the P5 gang to become more like Akechi - to value their individuality in the face of the public's "justice".

To fight for what you believe in you will face people with the same determination as you. They will be your equals in many, many ways. In the end, you can only stick to your guns and hope that what you believe in is worth more than what they believe in.

I have a lot more to write about these topics but I'll leave it there. Maybe about the relationship between Maruki's reality and individuality next? That could be fun ^^

Btw - Special thanks to @thedaythatwas for inspiring me to write up stuff about Persona 5 Royal!

[justwonder113]

Head over heels - Lee Know

part 2

Warning: Mentions of drinking, Minho is a bit tipsy but he's sober by the end of it. Rader is getting hit on by some weird dude. Slightly suggestive at the end. Minho is staring at the reader's chest. GN reader. Not proofread. Please tell me if I missed anything

Word count -1.8k

Masterlist

A/N- I'm finally back!! Thankfully I got over the virus and more than dedicated to write as much as I can. I have many ideas and can't wait to write all of them. Thank you for all the love and support you've given me it truly means the world to me. Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. If you have any requests too feel free to do so. Take care of yourselves, love you all❤️

When is the right time to say that you're head over heels in love with someone? Perhaps when they do something really romantic and/or selfless. Something probably really kind and generous, something really cool... Probably not when they are dazed from having a bit too much to drink and look like they are about to fall asleep any given second now, right? Yup, you were definitely weird, probably the main reason you and Minho clicked this well. Okay in your defense you knew you were smitten with him for a while obviously, who wouldn't fall for him? it just downed on you though how down bad you actually were.

Really though. To think that you would realize that you're in love with your best friend when his like anywhere but this world is beyond crazy, even for you.

"Pretty boy do you want me to bring you some water?" You asked after seeing him blink slowly yet another time. You were at this club Hyunjin had invited you at. The music was blasting on the full volume and everyone was having the time of their life, well maybe except you and Minho. Normally you would be also be having fun with your friends but now everything felt a bit dull. Maybe because you didn't drink anything. You had bad flu earlier and you just didn't feel like drinking today. As for Minho, normally the drinks didn't get to him that easily, but he wad been overworking himself a lot lately and due to the fatigue even such small amount of alcohol as two or three shots got to him pretty easily.

Minho looked at you with dazed eyes for a second or two, as if trying to gather his thoughts. Something glimmered in his already sparkly eyes and he gave you a small smile. God, he looked so squishy and cute like this you wanted to pinch his cheeks. Not that you would, he had this tough persona to keep. Also not to sound weird but you didn't want others to notice how cute he was. Let's just say you wanted to gatekeep him for yourself.

After Minho gave you a small nod you got up and headed to the bar. There were a lot of people in line so you would probably have to wait quite a while to get something as simple as glass of water. You texted Minho that this could take a minute or two and started waiting for your turn. Meanwhile from the corner of your eye you saw someone shamelessly check you out, like, could they be any more obvious about it? You prayed that he wouldn't approach you while you also crossed your fingers for the bartender to hurry up. You decided to ignore it. You didn't see anything.

Unfortunately your prayers hadn't been answered, the sleazy man decided to approach you, honestly the audacity some people had. You tried to keep your distance but it was all in vain. The man stood in front of you now. He even made a show of slowly checking you out. God what a pig. You really tried your best to compose yourself, you really didn't need to make a scene now.

"Hello. Gorgeous can I buy you a drink?" God even his voice was so annoying. You reminded yourself that you needed to keep calm. With the most polite voice you could muster you answered that you were good and that you were with someone. But the dude still kept pestering, making your blood boil even more. Who the hell did he think he was? You had enough of this, you were about to warn him that you would call the security on him, when hands wrapped around you. You stiffened for a second, but relaxed when you noticed that it was Minho. The strange man grumbled. "Shit, boyfriend of yours?"

Minho answered before you could, his hands tight around your waist, his glare cold as ice. "Yes, now fuck off." The man was about to argue but Minho's death glare shut him up quickly. The man slithered away to disturb someone else you guessed. You noticed to yourself to nitify security about him. He seemed shady.

You turned your full attention to Minho, who kept hugging you and now had rested his head on your shoulder. He still felt sleepy you guessed. "You took too long." He grumbled after a few seconds of silence. You turned your head and kissed the top oh his head. Minho grunted again. "Sorry pretty boy. Let's get you that water." You took a step towards the bar but Minho stopped you.

"Don't want it anymore."

You fully turned to Minho and started closely examining him, his face was unreadable though.

"Hey, how are you? Are you okay?"

"Just tired. Can I stay at yours?" You thought for a minute jokingly which Minho didn't really appreciate which he showed by softly pinching your side. Really, what was up with him being all cute today? You couldn't help yourself and you gave him a little peck on his cheek.

"Sure." Minho didn't say something, and you couldn't read anything on his face. He held his hand towards you and after you held it he started leading you to others so that you could say your goodbyes.

The walk to your house wasn't long. You appreciated the comfortable silence between you two. It was peaceful. You also loved how extra protective Minho was over you, he didn't let go of your hand whole way. Your heart felt like it would burst from joy.

You sighed in relief once you walked into the safehold of your house. It felt so good to be home. Like the two youthful people you were you immediately started getting ready for bed. You of course on top that pestered Minho to drink plenty of water before going to sleep. You didn't want him to wake up with a hangover. Surprisingly he was being obedient. You also couldn't help but admit that sleepy Minho was absolutely adorable. To you he just looked so soft and squishy all you wanted to do was to cover his whole face with kisses. And from the way how whiny he was, telling you that you should hurry up already and come to him he would most likely let you.

You didn't know when you crossed the boundary between being friends and well something more, but here you were now. You were always touchy with each other and flirting was a regular occurrence too, you didn't know when these playful banters became meaningful and made your heart flutter, you didn't really know when did you get so extra affectionate but you loved it if it meant that maybe you two could become something more.

You tried to get ready for bed as fast as possible, but the chains you had worn today didn't really let you. They managed to get stuck and you didn't really feel like going to sleep in them. So you turned to Minho who laid across on your bed. Diagonally like a sweet person he was. He had changed into the sweats and oversized shirt he had left at your house, but as it seemed he got lazy to get under the covers. "Min can you help me with these?" You asked sweetly as possible. Minho didn't answer and you thought that he fell asleep again laying diagonally on your bed, but he got up after a couple of seconds. He looked at you with unimpressed eyes waiting for you to ask what you wanted. You motioned towards your bundled up chains. Minho grumbled again but immediately started working on it.

The chains were more tangled up than you could imagine. Minho kept grumbling about how he should just snap them but still kept diligently working through every knot. You had no idea how did they get so tangled up on your neck. You got curious on what was taking so long and looked down and only when did you notice that upper buttons were open and you were showing quite a decent amount of cleavage. You felt shy for a second but then as if on cue you noticed how Minho's eyes kept shifting down towards your exposed skin. Let's just say it was a nice ego boost. Subtly as possible you even straightened up a little so you could show off your assets better. You didn't know if Minho knew you did that on purpose but his eyes sure did appreciate the sight. You didn't even realize you were staring at him, before he looked up and your eyes met. Suddenly you felt lost at words. How was he so gorgeous? You could use every word in dictionary and still it wouldn't be able to fully express his beauty. You wondered for a second if he was aware just what he did to you. God, you could just stare at him for hours.

"I did it." He spoke calmly as he placed your chain on your hands. "I think I know how you should thank me." Was it you or was he really close? You could even feel his breath on your skin. Your eyes couldn't help but shift from his eyes down to his pretty lips. What were you even doing? Minho noticed your wandering eyes, his gaze also shifted down to your lips.

His finger touched under your chin and slowly lifted your face so that you were eye to eye again.

"What do you have in mind?" You found your voice after a few long seconds of being rendered speechless.

"I want to kiss you so bad." Minho's confession sent shivers down your spine. Good thing that you were sitting on your bed, you felt like you would fall otherwise. You felt like fanning yourself, your whole body felt so hot.

"What's stopping you then?" You quipped back, he was so close now with each breath your lips slightly grazed each other.

"Nothing." His voice was raw with emotion. You didn't even get to say anything, his lips were on you in matter of milliseconds. The kiss was raw, passionate. It ignited you, you felt alive now that you had the taste of his lips. It was everything and so much more, it was like he tried to convey his feelings with this kiss.

Guess you were not the only one head over heels for the other.

[flowerfreya]

Hockey AU

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Content: Reader is in a secret relationship with Simon, who is a famous hockey player. Simon is injured in this and the reader needs to see him.

Masterlist

Simon is pissed. 

You can tell because he’s shit talking the other team. You see, Simon is usually quiet when he plays hockey. He’s focused. He just wants to play and win, but when his team starts losing, that when the shit talking starts.Simon is a sore loser, a hater to his core, and he knows that to throw off the other team is to shit talk. 

Simon is playing against a team that is okay , middle tier, they should be blowing them out the water instead the score is 2-1 and Simon has missed most of the shots that he took. You see him slam his stick on the ice, he does it so hard the stick breaks in half. 

The ref blows the whistle. That’s when you see the other player , wind back his hockey stick and swing it like a baseball bat to Simon's ankle. 

Simon’s ankle that been fucked up ever since his first game in professional hockey. The sports analysts talk about it every time that Simon has a game. Everytime Simon’s a little slow to goal they mention,”The ankle”. Meaning everyone knows that Simon aka Ghost on the ice has a bum ankle and the revival team just broke his stick against it. 

Simon doesn’t go down, but you see his back arch and then a yell. There is shoving from each side , a little bit of shit talking but not fighting yet. The player gets sent to the box and Ghost lines up and waits for the puck to drop. 

The ref blows the whistle and drops the buck but that seems like the least of their worries. Simon flings his stick to the side and throws off his gloves and just starts hammering the other team. In fact, all of them are fighting. Soap, Gaz, and Koing. You know how hockey players are, what that player did to Simon , it was like he did it to all of them and now they have to pay for that. 

You're not worried about Simon, he’s done this before and skated away. He probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow but you’ll just have to find a way to get him to stay in bed. 

The next play has you worried though. They are skating fast gaining traction then like a duel they start heading towards each other each pumping their legs trying to go as fast as possible but SImon already hurt, he’s always hurt , he never lets himself recover. He is always sore and stiff. 

The other player leans forward and bulldozers into Simon. 

Simon is on the ground, spinning, and then stops. The crowd lets out a collective gasp. You wait 15 seconds, you know the drill.He just got the wind knocked out of him, he’s fine. He will get back up. He doesn’t get back up. 

You start to move toward the tunnel, you know they won’t let you on the ice. Shit, they probably won’t let you in the tunnel. No one knows about you and Simon. Simon wants to tell everyone but his agent thinks it will hurt the Ghost persona he has. That means this relationship is just between you and him ( and maybe Soap … and Price … and Gaz, but he doesn’t know that and neither do you). 

You get there quick enough to beat the chaos that is about to ensue but you can only get so far before someone is stopping you. 

“Ma’am you can’t be back here, it’s a secure area”, the officer is looking at you strangely. You know you look crazy, wide eyes, and breathing too fast to be normal. But you know Simon is hurt. You know Simon is hurt, bad.And you need to see him. 

“Right”, you're trying to think fast , how can you get past him?How do you see Simon?, how to make sure he’s okay?

“You see I need to get back there, one of the player’s is hurt and I need to see him”

“You're on the medical team?”, he looks at you skeptical, he doesn’t believe you. Shit, you don’t believe you. 

“Yes”, you nod , you can hear the actual medical staff coming and you do something crazy. You dart past the security guard, you hear a hey!, but he can’t catch you. You wind up in the locker room and look for Simon’s cubicle and then you hid. 

You can hear Simon before you see him, “I’m fine, just took a hit , it’s hockey”, he growls. You hear Price say to him as calm as possible, “You passed out, we can’t allow you to go back”

“I’m fine, give me the head test, I’ll pass and you can put me back in”

“No” 

“Why?” 

“You try to go back out there , you’ll be missing more than this game”, Price answers back. 

That's when the security guard you ran past, whips into the room and asks if they have seen you, he describes you perfectly and they both shake their head, no. 

Simon waits till everyone clears out the room , before he calls your name, and you slip out of his locker. 

“First, you need to power wash this locker.Second, are you okay?”, you walk up to him trying to scan his body but he still has all his gear on making it harder to tell. 

Simon has never lied to you about being hurt and how much sometimes he just doesn’t want to do the work today, “My head feels like someone is taking a hammer and is just going to town”, he takes a seat and starts taking off his uniform. 

[voidzphere]

☆ MASTERPOST // INTRO !!!

[ ALL THE BLOGZ I RUN: @killzbitezz (sideblog) @killersanz (killer sans askblog) @dailykillerr (daily killer sans that i have not posted on yet erm) ]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

╭───────────── * ˚ ✦

HII !! im killer, but my friendz + mootz call me killz !! welcome to my blog ^_^ i luvv my prtnerz !! @mewobrute @sharkk-fin @glitchy-skull <3 (more stuff under the cut!!)

╰───────────── ✧.* ⋆

✩ ABOUT ME !!! >_<

FIRST OFF, HERE ARE SOME OF MY FLAGZ !!! :3 ↓↓↓

my main prnz are he/it/bite, but i alzo use vamp/fang/bone/skull/blood/gore/knife ! (plz dont refer 2 me w they/them)

my special interest is undertale + utmv ! (if that waznt obv enough..)

i love love LOVE horror gamez .. some of my favz rn are kinitopet, imscared, house, ddlc, rental, and bonnie's bakery :]

I HAVE A PERSONA ! u can find itz ref sheet here :] i uzually draw myself as either him or juzt killer sans !!

I LOOOVE MY MOOTZ, FRIENDZ, AND PARTNERZ <333

some of my current hyperfixationz are fionna & cake, smg4, regretevator, atsv, invader zim, adventure time & dialtown !

i have a guestbook !! leave a little note for me to read if u want :3

some of my fav bandz/artistz are talking heads, misfits, bad brains, rio romeo, lemon demon, will wood, pixies, melanie martinez, alex g, 6arelyhuman, goreshit, sex pistols, potsu, the living tombstone, etc. !

some of my fav songz are alien blues, vampire culture, laplace's angel, dr sunshine is dead, seriously?, genius of love, at the movies, charlie's inferno, etc. !

✩ my tagz !

#killz art - my art !! :3

#killz rb - reblogz

#killz yapz - my yap sessionz

#killz answerz - answerz to my askz

#vent kinda - my (kinda) ventz

#tag/ask game - self-explanatory

#killersanz - stuff related to my killer sans ask blog !

#killz fingie doodlez - stuff i drew w my finger :3

#killz srb - self reblogz

#killz sans - my sonaaa ^_^

✩ dni

basic dni criteria

istz + phobez

epiciller, /r + /sx errorink, etc.

pro/dark/comship (or whatever you call your weirdo selvez..)

irl doublez (unless i knew u beforehand!!) (im irlz of killer, reaper, & epic.)

minorz who post nsfw cuz ion wanna see that shit man go do ur homework

slander of my interestz/special interestz + hyperfixationz like stfu

mockery of me and/or my traitz (i.e my typing quirkz)

unwanted criticism, especially if i didnt ask for it. stfu part 2

anyone i've had drama with + my exez (fuck you)

HOMESTUCK. and hazbin hotel + helluva boss (tbh i dont rlly care if you like these mediaz and interact with me, just dont talk abt it in front of me yknow)

✩ byi + boundariez

i have autism + adhd, BPD, & typing quirkz !! tone indicatorz are optional when talking to me, but i appreciate them.

i'm an irl + fictkin ! i have a few c-linkz as well.

im not a roleplay account btw /srs

my art requestz are alwayz open ! can't promise i'll alwayz do them, but they help me out with inspiration though :3

DO NOT REPOST MY ART. i will find you

if you use my art, credit me. you dont alwayz gotta ask me before usin my art, but i appreciate it if you do !!

my askbox + dmz are alwayz open !! i love meetin new people n gettin to know em :] im fine w tagz, commentz, & spam-likez/reblogz too !

i might accidentally spam-like (i get too excited).

just because i make suggestive jokez and im hypersexual doez not mean i'm not sex-replused from time to time.

im a DID system and use i/me pronounz. i don't talk about my DID often becauze i see it as unimportant to other ppl.

i'm nonhuman !! plz do not refer to me as human. i prefer skeleton termz over everything else. im ur favorite homozexual cryptid-skeleton :3

i tend to ramble, say thingz that are out-of-pocket, have trouble with volume control/typing in all capz, make inappropriate jokez, flirt with & tease my close friendz, etc. if u ever find any of this bothering, plz inform me and i will stop.

i love drama + gossip, i will argue with strangerz on the internet just to spite them bc i find it funny ^_^ (only if theyre in the wrong and deserve it.)

i have strong opinionz and will shit-talk you if you're a weirdo who deservez it.

my blog, my rulez <3

★ last updated: 9/13/24

[outsideratheart]

Us (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: I have no idea where this came from but it has been stuck in my head for a few weeks. I hope you guys like it!

You had been in the most important meeting of your career when you received a message.  You never turned your phone off in case there was an emergency but you did put it on do not disturb. The small vibration in your pocket told you 1 of 2 people were trying to get in touch with you. Your manager was in the meeting with you so it only left one person.

I need you, please can you come over.

As far as Alexia was aware you were in England. Your mind went to the worse case scenario because it had to be something bad if she was asking you to get on a plane and fly to Barcelona with no explanation. 

In the politest way possible you excuse yourself from the meeting and leave your future in the safe hands of your manager, who upon seeing your face backs your decision to leave without asking any questions.

A quick text is sent to your girlfriend saying that you are on your way but there’s no response. You try calling only there is no answer. By the time you get to her apartment building you are filled with worry and you waste no time in running up the stairs having no patience to wait for the elevator.

When you knock on the door you are not met by your girlfriend. 

“You’re the lion?” The resemblance was even more striking up close. You had met Alba once or you had at least been in the same room as her.

“Technically I’m a lioness” 

It makes a little more sense now. No one was aware of your relationship and in order to keep the questions at bay you didn’t save each others phone number under a name, instead it was an emoji. Yours was a lion due your national team’s nickname and your on pitch persona. Hers was a crown because she was your queen and known by the fans as La Reina.

“Alba let her in” another woman, Alexia’s mother, guides you through the apartment even though you have been here enough times to know your way around.

“You’re the girl my daughter has been seeing”  

“I am and I will happily introduce myself and answer any questions you may have after I have seen her”

“She’s in the living room. When we came she was crying and she won’t talk to any of us” one of Alexia’s best friends says.

It didn’t look good. Her mother, sister and best friend all at your girlfriends apartment yet she is refusing to talk to any of them

The three woman give you some space as you enter the living room. All of them hoped that you would have more luck at finding out what was wrong.

“Hello you” you crouch down so that you are at her level and without saying a word Alexia wraps her arms around you tightly. The speed of it almost sends you both to the ground but you steady yourself just in time.

Once on the sofa Alexia buries her face in the crook of your neck.

“How are you here?”

“That doesn’t matter. Alexia, what is wrong?”

“They won’t leave me alone. It’s like they are obsessed with my personal life. I’m happy, why isn’t that enough for them? Why do they need to get involved and keep bringing up the past?”

You were at a loss. Yes you were aware of the spotlight that was constantly on Alexia, one was on you as well but you had been dating for almost 2 years now and nobody was the wiser. 

“Who cariño?” Eli asks from the other side of the room. 

“The girls. They think that because Jenni signed for Atleti that we are going to get back together. We finally got back to a good place during the World Cup and no one seems to understand that we are just friends. We are Y/N, I promise nothing is going on” Alexia turns to look at you.

During the World Cup you saw the rumours and they spread quickly given that everyone assumes Alexia is single. At first it bothered you but the two of you talked about it and you realised that you were jealous for no reason. Alexia was your girl and only yours.

“I know” deep down you hated that she was still getting linked to another woman but it wasn’t a threat to your relationship so you let it go.

“They are going to ruin everything. They don’t even know and they are ruining—“

“Alexia, nobody is ruining anything. Let your friends talk. At the end of the day it is me and you”

The three other women in the room watched and listened as you talked Alexia through her panic. You were able to calm her and bring her peace in a moment that was very overwhelming for her.

“But Jenni is—“

“Jenni is your past and that cannot be changed. What have I told you?” You ask your girlfriend.

The woman who is still cuddled into your side mumbles something incoherent and you know she is mumbling because she doesn’t want the other women to know the words you told her during the summer.

“She’s your first love Alexia, I intend to be your last” you kiss the corner of her mouth. 

The sound of awes burst the little bubble that you had formed around you and Alexia. Clearly embarrassed, Alexia once again hides herself. 

Knowing that the two of you can’t ignore the introduction that the women are waiting for, Alexia officially introduces you to Eli, Alba and Miri as her girlfriend. 

“What happens now?” Alexia asks you “Do we tell people? I don’t want our bubble to break, everything is normal with you. We are Y/N and Alexia but when people find out we will be captains, players and rivals”

“Hey, calm down. They will change but we won’t. Do you want to be us normal or what everyone else expects us to be?”

“Us normal”

“Well then I am going to drive you back to your training facility, open the door for you like I always do, I’ll kiss you goodbye and then you’re going to go to work”

Your confidence was reassuring to all in the room.

Alexia tells you that she is going to freshen up in the bathroom which leaves you alone with three of the most important people in her life. Your media training comes in very handy as you are able to answer all of Alba’s and Miri’s questions without hesitation or breaking a sweat. However, Eli’s question catches you off guard.

“You’re the reason why Alexia didn’t come back to the room after the awards show in Dubai aren’t you?”

“Guilty but nothing happened” technically it was the truth, nothing did happen that night “We spent the night in the hotel bar talking then went to the beach to watch the sunrise”

“Can I ask you a question?” Alba says “If you were in England when you received the text would have come?”

“I would have been on the first flight out, yes”

It seemed to enough to please the younger Putellas because she simply nodded her head.

Once Alexia was ready you did as you said. The two of you drove to Joan Camper, Alexia quizzed you the entire car journey because you still hadn’t told her why you were in Barcelona. You open the door for her as expected but what Alexia didn’t expect was you to walk with her into the facility.

“I love that you care but you don’t have to do this for me, I can handle it” 

“Who says I’m doing it for you”

The two of you stop in front of the canteen. It was surrounded by glass windows and you can see the majority of the team eating their lunch.

“Us normal?” You ask Alexia and she nods her head. As you normally would whenever you visited her or she visited you, you kissed her once on the lips and then once on her hairline as she hugged you goodbye.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Alexia asks as you don’t go in the direction of the exit. 

“You asked how I’m here. Well, I have a job interview with your boss” 

[skywalker1dream]

Obsession in Overdrive

Jenson Button x journalist!reader

note: so I was writing part 2 of web of obsession and I accidentally deleted it, I really don't know how I did it (I want to bang my head to something like dobby banged his head with lamp)

Summary:You are a dedicated and ambitious journalist covering the world of Formula 1. Your latest assignment brings you face-to-face with Jenson Button, a charismatic and skilled driver. However, beneath his charming exterior lies a dark and obsessive personality. As Jenson becomes fixated on you, what starts as innocent professional admiration quickly spirals into a dangerous obsession, leading you into a web of passion, control, and peril. (you will find out that in part two)

Warnings: Im not good with warnings T_T sorry....

--

The roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber filled the air, the unmistakable ambiance of a Grand Prix weekend. You adjusted your press pass, the laminated card dangling from a lanyard around your neck. This assignment was a dream come true covering the world of Formula 1, where speed and glamour intertwined.

The paddock was alive with activity. Engineers tweaked car settings, team members rushed about with tools and equipment, and the drivers, the stars of this high-octane circus, moved with an air of focused determination. You had been following the sport for years, but being here, amidst the chaos and excitement, was a different experience altogether.

You were here for one reason: an exclusive interview with Jenson Button, the seasoned driver known not just for his skill on the track, but for his charm and charisma off it. He was a favorite among fans and media alike, and getting time with him was a coup for any journalist.

You arrived at the McLaren team’s hospitality suite, a sleek and modern area buzzing with activity. The room was filled with a mix of team personnel, sponsors, and a few journalists, all engaged in animated conversation. The decor was elegant but functional, with the team’s colors prominently displayed.

You spotted Jenson almost immediately. He was deep in conversation with a team engineer, but as soon as he saw you, his face lit up with a smile. He excused himself and walked over, his stride confident and relaxed.

“Ah, you must be [your name]” he greeted, extending a hand. His grip was firm yet gentle, his touch lingering a fraction longer than necessary.

“Yes, thank you for taking the time to speak with me,” you replied, trying to maintain your professional demeanor despite the fluttering in your stomach. He was even more handsome in person, his blue eyes sparkling with a mix of intelligence and mischief.

“Anything for a lovely journalist,” he said, his tone smooth as silk. “Shall we?”

He led you to a quieter corner of the suite, where a small table and two chairs had been set up for the interview. As you settled into your seat, you couldn’t help but notice how his presence seemed to command the space around him. He was effortlessly charming, his smile warm and inviting.

The interview began with the usual pleasantries. Jenson answered your questions with ease, his responses peppered with humor and insight. He spoke about his passion for racing, the challenges of the season, and his hopes for the future. His answers were thoughtful and articulate, revealing a depth of character that went beyond his public persona.

Yet, as the conversation progressed, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze lingered on you, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of your face. His eyes would occasionally flicker down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You shifted in your seat, trying to maintain your composure. This was just another interview, you told yourself, albeit with one of the most charming men you’d ever met. But there was something about the way he looked at you that made your pulse quicken.

“So, [your name],” Jenson said, leaning forward slightly, “what got you into journalism? And more specifically, why Formula 1?”

You smiled, appreciating his genuine interest. “I’ve always loved writing, and I’ve been a fan of motorsports since I was a kid. There’s something about the combination of speed, skill, and strategy that fascinates me. Plus, the stories behind the drivers and teams are incredibly compelling.”

Jenson nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s true, there’s a lot more to this sport than just racing. The dedication, the sacrifices... it’s a whole world unto itself.”

You continued talking, sharing stories and laughing together. Despite the professional nature of the interview, it felt more like a conversation between friends. Jenson had a way of making you feel at ease, his genuine interest and warm demeanor drawing you in.

As the interview came to an end, you thanked Jenson and began to gather your things. “This was great, Jenson. Thank you so much for your time.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied, standing up and extending his hand once more. “I hope we get to do this again soon.”

His hand was warm around yours, and as he held your gaze, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of something more than professional admiration. You quickly pushed the thought aside, reminding yourself of your role and responsibilities.

“Take care, love,” Jenson said, his smile lingering as he watched you leave.

As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your encounter with Jenson Button was just the beginning of something much more complex and intense than a simple interview.

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

Later that evening, you returned to your hotel room, still buzzing from the excitement of the day. You had a lot of work to do transcribing the interview, writing up your notes, and preparing your article. But before you could get started, a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts.

You opened it to find a hotel staff member holding a small, beautifully wrapped box. “Miss [your name] this was left for you at the front desk.”

Surprised, you took the box and thanked him. As you closed the door, curiosity got the better of you. You carefully unwrapped the package, revealing a delicate silver bracelet with a charm in the shape of a racing car. It was exquisite, and clearly expensive.

There was a card inside, written in elegant script: “A token of appreciation. – Jenson.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was a thoughtful gift, but also oddly personal for someone you’d just met. You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, admiring how it caught the light. It was beautiful, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it meant something more.

Pushing aside your unease, you sat down at your laptop and began to write. Yet, as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back toJenson his smile, his charm, and the intensity in his eyes. This was supposed to be just another assignment, but you had a feeling that it was going to be anything but ordinary.

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

Over the next few weeks, you found yourself running into Jenson more frequently. At first, it seemed like coincidence, he’d be at the coffee shop you frequented, or passing by the media center just as you were leaving. Each time, he’d greet you warmly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“You again,” you joked one afternoon, unable to hide your smile. “Are you following me, Mr. Button?”

He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Just lucky, I guess. Besides, I enjoy our little chats.”

His attention was flattering, and you couldn’t deny the growing attraction. Yet, beneath the surface, there was something unsettling about his constant presence. It was as if he always knew where you’d be.

One evening, as you left the paddock, you found Jenson waiting by your car. “Let me take you to dinner,” he offered, his tone more commanding than requesting.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have a lot of work to do,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

His smile faltered, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Another time then,” he said, but his tone suggested it wasn’t really a question.

_______

The next morning, you received a text from an unknown number: Good morning, [your name]. Hope you have a great day. – Jenson. (-sent from my iphoen) (iykyk)

You stared at the message, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. You hadn’t given him your number, which meant he must have gone out of his way to get it. Part of you was flattered by his persistence, but another part couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort.

As the days passed, Jenson’s presence in your life grew. He sent you flowers, left small gifts at your hotel, and always seemed to be around. It was becoming harder to focus on your work with him constantly on your mind.

During a press conference, you caught Jenson’s eye from across the room. He was surrounded by reporters, but his gaze was fixed on you. He smiled, a knowing look in his eyes that made your heart race. After the conference, he made his way over to you.

“Can I steal you away for a bit?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

You hesitated, glancing around at your colleagues who were busy typing up their notes. “I really should finish my article.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he promised, his hand gently guiding you towards a more secluded area. “I wanted to give you something.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a small, wrapped box. “Another gift?” you asked, your voice tinged with both curiosity and caution.

“Just a little something to remind you of me,” he said with a smile.

You unwrapped the box to find a delicate necklace with a pendant shaped like a steering wheel. It was beautiful, but the personal nature of the gift sent a shiver down your spine.

“Jenson, this is lovely, but you really don’t have to keep giving me things,” you said, trying to sound gracious.

“I want to,” he insisted, his eyes intense. “You’re special, love. I feel a connection with you.”

His words made your heart flutter, but also triggered a warning bell in your mind. “Thank you, Jenson. I appreciate it, really. But I.....I have to get back to work now.”

He nodded, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t giving up. As you walked away, you felt his gaze lingering on you, a constant, almost tangible presence.

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

Later that week, you were sitting in your hotel room, working on your latest article, when your phone buzzed. It was a call from Jenson. You hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hello?”

“[your name], I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring.

“Not at all. What’s up?”

“I was thinking we could have dinner tonight. There’s a great restaurant not far from your hotel.”

You bit your lip, considering his offer. Part of you wanted to say yes, to enjoy an evening with this captivating man. But another part of you was wary of how quickly things were progressing.

“I don’t know, Jenson. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Come on, just one dinner,” he coaxed. “You have to eat, right? Consider it a break.”

His persistence was hard to resist, and before you knew it, you found yourself agreeing. “Okay, fine. One dinner.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, a note of triumph in his voice.

That evening, Jenson arrived at your hotel right on time. He looked impeccable, dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated his athletic build. As you walked to the restaurant, he kept the conversation light and engaging, his charm easing some of your apprehension.

The restaurant was elegant and intimate, with soft lighting and a view of the city skyline. Jenson had reserved a private table, away from prying eyes. As you sat down, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Throughout dinner, Jenson was the perfect gentleman. He listened attentively as you talked about your career and passions, sharing stories from his own life that made you laugh and feel at ease. Yet, beneath his charm, there was an intensity in his gaze that made your heart race.

[seoltzuki]

Persona pt.2

jihyo x afab reader

pt.1

fluff, smut, not proofread

You exhale deeply, surrendering to the soothing cascade of warm water in the shower. It's been an exhaustive day, but finally, you're home, able to unwind.

Home—a concept once foreign to you. You used to evade the notion of settling down, fleeing from the grasp love and commitment. Yet, here you stand, in the sanctuary you share with Jihyo. Sweet Jihyo, whose tender care has become your solace.

With a grin, you reach for her body wash, ready to cleanse the day’s weariness away. Memories flood your mind—the flowers she surprises you with, the endearing notes scattered around your home, the affectionate texts that fill your days with warmth, her beautiful smile that brightens your day…

You reminisce about the journey you've embarked on together—the slow, deliberate pace she took to unravel your layers, to love every facet of your being. It wasn't until after numerous dates that intimacy blossomed between you, both nervous and shy.

But the anticipation was there. So ready to explore what makes the other’s heart race and send shivers down their spine.

It was perfect.

Blushing at the memory of your first intimate moment with Jihyo, you step out of the shower, feeling a delightful warmth lingering on your skin. Quickly, you wrap yourself in a fluffy towel, its softness a comforting embrace. Heading towards the bedroom to change, you revel in the tranquility of your shared space, the scent of Jihyo’s favorite candle wafting through the air.

As you begin to rummage through your wardrobe, the familiar creak of the front door opening catches your attention.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Jihyo’s cheerful voice echoes through the halls, filling the apartment with an air of joy. Unable to contain your excitement, you giggle and call out, “In the bedroom, baby!”

Listening intently, you hear her hurried footsteps approaching, the rhythmic patter of her feet a familiar melody that brings a smile to your face.

"Baby!" She exclaims as she enters the bedroom, her face lit up with the biggest smile, her eyes twinkling with affection. A goofy chuckle escapes her lips as she adjusts her crooked backwards cap, adding to her endearing charm. "I bought dinner!" she announces, her voice brimming with excitement as she walks up to you.

Feeling her warm hands slipping around your waist, you melt into her embrace, reveling in the closeness and comfort of her touch. The scent of her perfume envelopes you, filling you with a sense of home and belonging.

"How was work?" you ask, your voice filled with tenderness as you cradle her face gently in your hands, your fingertips tracing a delicate path through her hair. "Hope everything was smooth for you today," you add, your concern evident in your words, as you offer her a reassuring smile. You know it’s hard being a youth worker.

"It went well. I believe the kids are starting to warm up to me, which is nice," she reflects with a soft smile. "Oh, and today we played ball hockey, and guess what? My team won!” Her eyes sparkle with satisfaction as she shares the joyous news.

"I'm happy for you, Zyo," you say, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, your affection for her evident in the gesture. She beams at your words, her eyes sparkling with gratitude as she squeezes your sides with tenderness. Her hands glide over the soft towel wrapped around your waist, a silent expression of her love and appreciation for you.

"You smell good," she says, drawing closer, her head tilting towards you, her nose grazing your cheek and inching up towards your ear. "Did you use my body wash?" she whispers, her voice soft and playful, as she plants a sweet peck just below your ear, her affectionate gesture sending a shiver down your spine.

"Maybe," you respond cheekily, leaning into her touch as her fingers gently caress your waist. "I ran out of mine, but don't worry, I'll buy some tomorrow."

"No need, I like it when you smell like me," she murmurs back, her fingers going down and tracing gentle patterns over your thighs, sending a tingling sensation through your skin. With a tender peck to your shoulder, she leans back, sitting down on the edge of the bed, her eyes filled with affection as she admires you.

"Let me put some lotion on, and I’ll be there with you for dinner," you say sweetly. She adjusts her hat again and raises her eyebrows, a strange glint passing through her eyes.

"Let me do it for you, beautiful."

You grab the lotion and bring it to her, eyeing her suspiciously, knowing all too well that she's never one to be normal about these things. She has ulterior motives, you realize, as she takes the lotion from your hand with a sly grin, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

She gently grabs the back of your calf, guiding your leg up until your foot rests on the bed beside her. Without a word, she begins to lather your skin with lotion, her touch both tender and slow.

"It seems like your face is warming up, y/n," she teases, looking up at you warmly, her hat shifting back slightly with the motion. "Not sure if you’re blushing or-"

"I just got out of the shower," you cut her off, heat creeping up your cheeks, your words betraying what you’re truly feeling.

"Right, got it," she playfully responds, a knowing twinkle in her eye. "Other leg, baby," she adds, her tone teasing yet affectionate as she continues to pamper you with gentle strokes of lotion.

Her hands move with skillful precision, fingertips slightly digging into your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Rising higher, they glide along your leg until they disappear under the hem of your towel, her touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

"You're lingering," you hush, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you hook a finger under her chin and gently push up so she can look up at you, your eyes meeting hers with a tender intensity.

"I'm not lingering, I'm appreciating," she simply states, her voice filled with warmth and sincerity as her hand moves towards the inside of your thigh, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

Jihyo, you don’t have to—” you start, but she interrupts you with a curious “What?” before affirming, “Yes, I need to do the inside of your thighs. Do you want me to stop?” Her gaze meets yours, filled with sincerity and a hint of playful mischief, awaiting your response.

"No," you answer, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation, and she giggles, dropping her head on your knee, her laughter filling the room with warmth and affection.

The laughter dies down, and she squeezes your calf gently. "Hey, look at me," she says softly, her eyes full of warmth as her cheek squishes up against your knee. "You look so pretty. You're so beautiful," she whispers, her words sincere and heartfelt, causing your heart to swell with love.

She drops a soft kiss onto your thigh, and you gasp quietly. “Zyo…” you whine softly, your voice filled with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

“Hm?” she responds, looking up at you innocently, her lips brushing against your skin as she drops another kiss. Her actions eliciting a soft sigh from you.

"Wanna do something for me?" she mumbles against your skin, her breath sending shivers down your spine as her hand moves up to slip her stupid backwards cap off her head.

“What now?” you ask, biting your lip, your breath catching in your throat as you feel her lay more soft, almost wet kisses on your inner thigh.

“Do you want to take one of those pretty hands of yours and put them in my hair?” she whispers, her cheeks dusted with a rosy pink hue. “Yeah, like that. Now grip a little bit and put my mouth where you actually want it,” she adds, her voice barely above a whisper, her desire evident in every word.

You’re slightly taken aback, your jaw dropping in surprise, momentarily speechless at her bold request.

Jihyo notices your reaction and playfully interrupts, saying, “Oh, we can keep being coy, or we can—Hmph!”

You pull her head forward eagerly, a soft moan escaping your lips as her mouth connects with your wetness, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

She hums against you, her warmth enveloping you as she digs her head forward even more, her tongue swirling with sinful precision. Pulling back slightly, she looks up at you with a sweet smile and whispers, “Thank you,” her lips glistening and her voice filled with affection, leaving you breathless and so captivated.

Gosh, she’s so gorgeous…

Her big eyes looking up at you, a twinkle of love shining within them. Her furrowed brows from your taste, her curls flowing freely, tousled from your gripping hands. You give a small tug, and you watch as she rolls her eyes back, a soft moan escaping her lips as she leans into you, lost in your whole being.

“You taste so good,” she mumbles against you, her voice a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine. With deliberate sensuality, she makes a show of slipping her tongue into your dripping heat, her movements slow and tantalizing, each touch sending electric sparks of pleasure through your body. You can’t help but arch your back, your breath hitching as she explores you with an intoxicating mix of passion and desire.

The sounds are so lewd as she feasts on your wetness, a symphony of mewls, groans, and moans filling the air around you. Between each obscene sound, she pauses to ask, “You wanna cum, baby?” Her voice is sultry, as she seeks your words, eager to push you over the edge.

Your breath hitches at her question, desire pooling low in your belly. With a desperate nod, you whisper, “Yes, please,” your voice barely audible amidst the symphony of sounds echoing in the room.

She responds with a wicked grin, her movements becoming more fervent. Her tongue and lips working tirelessly. Your senses are overwhelmed with pleasure, every touch, every stroke pushing you closer to the edge. And then, with a final, deliciously agonizing twist of her tongue, you topple over the edge, crying out her name as waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving you trembling and breathless.

As you come down from the high, she pulls you onto her lap, wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace, her lips finally pressing against yours. With a lazy yet passionate movement, her mouth moves against yours, allowing you to taste yourself on her lips.

“Thank you,” you whisper against her lips, giving her another gentle peck before dropping your forehead onto hers.

“Thanks for what, baby?” she asks with a smile, nuzzling your cheek affectionately.

“You’ve had a long day, and the first thing you did when you came back home was… you know…” you say shyly, locking eyes with her piercing gaze filled with love.

“I was supposed to come home to my love in a towel and not make them cum?” she scoffs playfully, her eyes dancing with amusement as she teases you.

You huff and lean in to kiss her again, trailing your lips to her jaw and neck, eliciting a soft whine from her. “Let me return the favor, yeah?” you whisper against her earlobe before giving it a playful nibble.

She hisses in response, squeezing your thighs gently. “No need,” she breathes, her voice thick with desire. “Tasting you was enough. I can wait for later, after dinner.”

Another sweet peck to her lips, and you respect her wishes, leaning back slightly. You gaze at each other adoringly, a silent exchange of love passing between you. “You okay?” you ask, a hint of teasing in your voice. “You seem… flustered,” you add, a playful twinkle in your eye as you observe her.

Jihyo shrugs, clicking her tongue as her cheeks turn even redder. Switching the topic, she gently tugs at the towel wrapped around you. “I’m surprised this stayed on,” she chuckles. “Can I? I’d like to see all of you,” she adds, her tone soft and affectionate as she meets your gaze, her eyes filled with longing.

You nod, giving her permission to remove the towel. Once it's off, she exhales softly, her eyes traveling all over your exposed skin. Her hands rise up, barely ghosting over your skin as she takes in your beauty.

"You're so beautiful," she says in awe, her admiration evident in her voice. "And so goddamn distracting! Okay, let me shower, and then we'll eat." With the cutest smile, she heads towards the bathroom, leaving you feeling adored and cherished.

But she then runs back to you, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. "I love you so much, y/n," she says earnestly before darting back to the bathroom.

“I love you so much more, Jihyo! Be quick!”

She makes you feel like the luckiest person on earth.

[dollypopup]

so now that season 3 is done and dusted can we FINALLY admit that Colin got the WORST hand for his season, and in the entirety of the show? And about how people were so rude to Luke Newton (and continue to be) because he isn't excited to have been given absolute crumbs in the entirety of the season as a lead? Like look me in my eyes and tell me otherwise. No other character is just an accessory to their love interest like they made him be. No other character gets hardly any backstory or screentime, least of all in their own season.

here's some proof, if you don't believe me

SOURCE

Colin got 138 minutes of screentime in his own season. He didn't get much of any POV in previous ones, so comparing that to Pen's 168? And Anthony's 181? When Anthony and Pen were BOTH main characters with ample screentime in previous seasons before their own?

Yeah, paltry. Hell, Kate got 170 and Simon got 150. And they weren't the Bridgertons of their season.

In the episode titled after HIM, 'Romancing Mr. Bridgerton', Colin got. . .drumroll please. . .FOURTEEN minutes of screentime.

Fourteen.

One. Four. 14.

Viscount Who Loved Me? Anthony got 23. Kate got 22. Duke and I? Daphne got 35. Simon got 25.

Penelope got 20.

Colin got 14.

FOURTEEN.

There is never, not once in Season 3, a time when Colin, the Bridgerton of the season, got more screentime than Pen. Not. One. Time.

So, what exactly are we meant to think, then? Colin is the ONLY Bridgerton so far, and likely for the entirety of the series, to get less screentime in his own season than his love interest. Even if you say he IS the Love Interest, and Season 3 was Featherington instead of Bridgerton- he STILL got peanuts as he got the least screentime of ANY character thus far!!!

And it SHOWS!

What is Colin's narrative? Tell me. And how much of it DOESN'T serve Penelope's? What is JUST Colin's narrative?

His first heartbreak with Marina? Serves Penelope's story, as she had a hand in breaking them up.

His travels? Well, he even said Penelope was the one who inspired him, and we didn't get any insight into them, or POV of him having them.

His writing? And how much of that did we actually see him grapple with? How much screentime did it actually get? And in the end of it, it intertwines with Penelope ANYWAY because she becomes his editor.

His 'friends' in season 3 and suave personality? Well, the show said that since Penelope ghosted him, that was why he adopted that persona in the first place.

Colin is my FAVORITE character. I adore him, so do not take this as an attack on him, more so as a question and an indignation at how poorly he's been treated: because who even is he to this show? If you say that he's a character in his own right, you're lying. Colin exists as a prop in the confines of Bridgerton. He has no relationships that are allowed to exist outside of Penelope. His relationship with Eloise? In season 3, near all their conversations are about . . .? His entire family hardly responded to him on his travels, yet the only discussion about a lack of response is Penelope's. Part 1's narrative? Pursuing Penelope. Part 2's narrative? Accepting Penelope.

What about him? What about Colin?

Who are his friends? What are his interests other than being a 'wife guy'? What are his hobbies? When will we actually see them? What do we know about how he grew up? Why didn't we see him and Fran's relationship? Him with Hyacinth and Gregory? In the background, he's always watching over them, but there's never any weight to that in the narrative. Conversations with his mum about ANYTHING other than Penelope? Conversations with ANTHONY about anything other than Penelope?

Season 3 was meant to be HIS season- and what did he get out of it?

No wonder Luke Newton wants to be far away from it. Between the blatant ableism he's had to deal with (I won't forget how of everything, they chose a MAD LIBS interview where he's been open about having dyslexia, and Nicola has been open about being a former English major) and the lack of screentime and character development (near everything about him was told behind the scenes, Luke Newton is the ONLY reason Colin has any depth at all, since the writing denies it of him), hell, I'd be running far away. Especially with a fandom as rude as this one.

The show doesn't care about him and neither does this fandom. There's no fleshing out of his character. From jump we've only ever seen him as an extension of Penelope, and thus he only exists in Polin as an accessory. That's why people can say 'Oh, we'll get Polin S4!' and it's just conversations about Pen grappling with Lady Whistledown.

Colin's only narrative was to fall in love with Penelope. Now that he's there, what's his purpose? His role? To continue being an accessory to her.

Is Kate an accessory to Anthony? Is Anthony an accessory to Kate?

Was Daphne an accessory to Simon? Was Simon an accessory to Daphne?

You know damn well Benedict and Sophie won't be accessories to one another.

So why is Colin dealt this hand? Why is he the only one denied backstory? The only one denied personhood and depth? The only one who has to just exist to soak up his partner's light- indicating he's lesser than her?

The production has even said, flat out 'I don't think Colin's smart enough for Penelope'. They don't respect him as a character, and I don't think they respected Luke as an actor.

Colin got less screentime as a Bridgerton in his OWN SEASON than love interests in theirs. Don't say it's because he was already established- we got no POV for him in Season 1 or Season 2, so he's at a deficit, and now all the articles and conversations about Polin in Season 4 continue to be about Colin serving Penelope's story.

This fandom would gleefully replace him with a cardboard cutout or a sexy lamp and have no issues.

He deserved better.

WE deserved better.

[girlfromflor]

atsumu and his infatuation with stoic!reader - part 1

wc: 1371 | tw: some swear words ig | a/n: i did not proofread this lol, part 2

atsumu was never one to think too hard about other people’s actions. he always thought that when someone said something, they meant it. when they didn’t say anything, well that’s just because there is nothing to be said. he was just as simple, so why worry, right? but that was before he met you. 

he still remembers the very first time he saw you come over practice. you seemed so lost, trying to speak to the coach and see if there was any chance you could be part of the club, only to have your voice completely drown in the loud sound of the balls hitting the court’s floor. atsumu was stunned, he had never seen you around and yet it felt like you were known, like that one person he can always count on. you were so gorgeous, your hair matching your pretty face and soft eyes. he almost immediately asked you to marry him. his eyes worked unceasingly to memorize every part of you. how you were a bit shorter than him, how the school uniform wrapped every part of your body oh so nicely, and he wondered how you would look rid of all those layers. so he gathered all his courage and after a deep breath he approached you, “uh, hi. i’m miya atsumu, do you need help?” 

you, with your ever so practical and stoic persona, had the immediate reaction to just say no. usually not one to chit chat or kill time doing something so trivial as talking about ordinary and banal things. but as you turned to answer the atsumu guy, you freezed. probably it was the first time you ever stood in a situation like this, but god, he was so absolutely gorgeous to you that your whole demeanor changed. you were a loss of words. flustered with your own traitor thoughts and, as you realized you were taking too much time to answer a simple question, your mind went blank for a minute. “sorry, what…?”

he laughed. and god, what a cute laugh he had. he wondered if you were always this distracted. “do you need help? with whatever it is that you’re doing…” and gave you a smile, trying his hardest to not add a random ‘love’ into the phrase. to his surprise you didn’t smile back, face expressionless as you said, “oh, right. yeah, i think i could use some help. i need to subscribe to some club activities and i thought maybe i could be part of the volleyball team… do you think that can happen?” after having a few seconds to recompose yourself you managed to mutter, thanking whatever wave of luck that allowed you not to stumble over your words.

and after that, atsumu knew he was in for a long journey. being head over heels for someone that he later learned to be a first-year, that he now would most likely see everyday and that – much to his dismay – did not utter a single word towards him, unless absolutely necessary. he did not understand any of it. why he felt so breathless around you and why you seemed so oblivious to his advances. he didn’t know how to deal with all of it, he just wanted to know you completely, to have access to your deepest desires and wills and have you share all parts of you and your life. 

but you never really seemed to realize how intensely he cared for you. and nowadays all he can do is to be deeply attentive to everything you do. whenever you say something – or when you don’t, for that matter – he’ll find a way to read your words and actions over and over again. he’s obsessed with it. he can’t imagine why in the world you are so little affected by the things he says and does. how could you not have any sort of reaction when he was around you doing all types of things to get your attention. it wasn’t until a random practice day that he realized just how much you actually noticed him.

he couldn’t help but reminisce that afternoon, it was very meaningful to him. after a few months of coexisting, he managed to remain well behaved with you. only exchanging a few words of politeness whenever you two met. he had just thrown another bad set to one of his teammates, growing frustrated and bothered by the minute. you don’t notice at first what’s wrong. nevertheless, you are the very first to really understand the problem. while all of the boys swim in confusion as to why atsumu seemed so lost in his thoughts during practice, you decide it’s time for him to focus already.

“atsumu” you call, waiting for him to look at you. he lifts his eyes slowly, so caught up in his frustration to notice the soft glint of affection in yours. “yes…?” he answers at last, still not paying you full attention. 

“i know you’re stressed over exams…” and that’s enough to have him looking at you with attentive eyes, wondering how did you know that since you’re not usually aware of those things, always having the best grades of your class. “but it will be okay. you studied harder than ever, if that’s not enough then i don’t know what would be…”

he lets out an amused chuckle, thinking that you’re just trying to be practical and make him not waste a whole practice just because he’s worried. but then it clicks, he never mentioned exams. during the whole time he spent studying, he did not mention it once. he was pressured enough, he didn’t want anyone else to add up to his stress. he questions then, why would you assume that, of all things? 

little does he know that you noticed how he was getting a few minutes later than the others at practice, because he was finishing a summary of his exams topics. how he would look at the paper in his pocket from time to time to check if he had gotten the right answers to the questions he was mentally doing over and over. how he stopped staying after hours so he could get home sooner, probably to go over his notes about that one topic he never really manages to understand just right.

so he tilts his head a bit to the side, still looking at you with some amusement in his eyes and says, “is not only that, you know… i have to study so much to get good grades and can’t even set right while doing so, it makes me wonder if i won’t ever be able to do two things at the same time…”

and for that you just giggle. a light, sweet sound that just makes atsumu drown even more in his infatuation for you. you raise your eyebrows, hardly believing these words had really left his mouth. “atsumu…” is soft, trying to not sound aggressive, but all the boys that are paying attention can see that you’re actually dead serious when you say, matter-of-factly “you’re recognized as the number one high school setter… what are you so concerned about?”

and that just hits him like a fucking punch, because you are not saying it to encourage him nor is it to make him feel better. you stating a fact, he is indeed one of the best players in high school, he should be able to study hard and still play well, it comes naturally to him anyway. his eyes fill up with something you can’t quite point out, his smirk spoke volumes though “well, i guess it just gets hard to remember that sometimes”

after that short dialogue you two shared, he managed to not miss one move throughout the rest of their practice. his humor all but recovered as he wonders just how much you watch him around and that, maybe, you think of him just as much as he thinks of you. but nothing could have prepared him for the next day, when he was changing at the locker room and found a note that said “so you don’t have a hard time remembering it” with a simple black bracelet underneath that had “best setter” engraved on it.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 2

Hello! This story is coming along quite nicely. This part originally was part of the first chapter, but it got so long I split it up for Tumblr.

Dustin hyperfixates sooo hard in this. Eddie gets annoyed.

Part 1

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Dustin leapt to his feet and handed the magazine to Eddie. “I do have their first album. It’s really good. My favorite is “Brother”. It’s just so touching.”

Steve bit his bottom lip and nodded, forcing himself not to look at Robin just then.

He came back with his Walkman and a pair of speakers. He got it all set up and pressed play. Then while they were listening to the CD, he dashed back to his room.

“I haven’t gotten their second album yet,” he shouted over his shoulder as he ran back. Moments later he came out with a couple of rolled posters.

“I have more of their posters in my dormroom but I bought these a few months ago and haven’t put them up yet.”

He unrolled one of them and it was the album cover blown up large. It had four men in long hooded coats and masks. There was definitely a color theme for each of the members of the band. The drummer was all in black, the guitarist in red, the bassist in blue, and the lead singer in white.

“What’s with the masks?” Robin asked, leaning over Steve’s shoulder.

Dustin bounced up and down. “That’s part of their personas. They’re fallen angels. Well, and titan. The bassist is named after the titan of the night sky, Astraeus. But all the others are named after angels.”

Eddie winced at the poster. “They’re a little much, don’t you think?”

“Like there aren’t other metal bands wear makeup or masks before them,” Dustin said rolling his eyes.

Eddie wrinkled his nose. He did know. It was actually something that was really prevalent in the genre for awhile. He just thought it was gimmicky and took away from the actual music.

Music that was coming out of Dustin’s Walkman in beautiful waves. That brought Eddie up short. They were good. Like amazingly good. “Whoa.”

Dustin beamed. “I know, right?”

Steve made a twisted kind of frown. “I mean it’s great if you like that sort of thing.”

Dustin whirled on Steve like a viper sensing its dinner. “Just because you don’t like metal, Steve,” he huffed in derision, “doesn’t mean that you can just dismiss it.”

Steve looked over at Eddie and rolled his eyes.

Eddie snorted. “Nobody is dismissing anything, Dusty. In fact I would say that what Steve said was anything but dismissive.”

“I just don’t know why you don’t like metal,” Dustin replied with a heavy sigh. “I know that if you just listened to it, you would like it.”

This time the look Steve shared was with Robin. “I’ve listened to a lot of metal, remember? You’re the one that hacked my radio so that I couldn’t change it off the metal station.”

Dustin snorted. “Well at least Simon and Shane have taste.”

Simon Olsen and Shane Kendrick were two friends of Steve’s that had bonded over Corroded Coffin playing over the speakers of the coffee shop. Another thing that Dustin had insisted on. But Steve wasn’t about to tell Eddie that. Together with Spencer Peters, the four of them were almost as tight as the Corroded Coffin boys.

Eddie himself was conflicted about their relationship, if he was honest. Yeah, it was great that Steve had friends outside of the Party, but at same time, he suspected that at least one of them was gay or bisexual and he worried that they would swoop in and take Steve off the market before Eddie got up the courage.

That was a problem for future Eddie, present Eddie had to redirect Dustin before he began screaming at Steve all the reasons he should join the masses of fans for Corroded Coffin and now apparently The Fallen. Steve had a migraine and Dustin’s ranting would only make it worse.

Eddie smacked his shoulder. “Am I still taking you out with me in June to see your mom when I go visit Uncle Wayne?”

Dustin was happy to change tracks, and Steve mouthed ‘Thank you’ to Eddie.

“Yes! You have to take me,” Dustin insisted. “Ma got me tickets to see The Fallen in Indy while I’m there and I don’t want to miss it.”

“The band is going back on tour again so soon?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side. “I thought they just got off a tour.”

“They did,” Dustin agreed. “But according to the press release, they said that they were trying to get as much hype for their current album as possible because music sales were down all over the place.”

Eddie nodded. He could see that. With a band as new as The Fallen, if they didn’t keep up the momentum they could lose a lot of fans between their first and second album. There was a reason a band’s second album is often called a ‘sophomore slump’ and if these guys wanted to avoid that, that meant touring nonstop for their second album.

He wished them well...provided they didn’t steal Dustin away from him and the guys. He turned to Steve. “So what are you and Robin going to be this summer? Anything fun?”

Robin scoffed. “No. They’ve got us back on tour, too. New management, they want us to shadow this band and basically make sure that everything they want is provided.”

Eddie and Dustin grimaced.

“That sucks!” Dustin huffed. “You guys just got home, why are they making you go so soon? Don’t they believe in breaks? Sheesh!”

Steve hugged him close. “I’m sorry, bud. I talked to your mom, though and she thinks that when you go back for the summer, she’s willing to let you apply for MIT for your masters.”

Dustin’s eyes lit up. “Wait, seriously?” Claudia had always been fearful that he would get into trouble, but she had seen how much work he had put into his school work and how much Steve didn’t need to be looking after the almost twenty year old.

Steve nodded. “Yup. That’s why she got you the tickets as a way to soothe her nerves a bit.”

Eddie looked over Dustin’s shoulder at Steve and they shared a sad smile. They would miss Dustin when he went out to Boston, but they knew he would shine out there. And that was worth more than all the stars in the sky.

Eddie left soon after, stating his own fatigue and even though Steve was sad to see him go, he wanted to sleep for the next three months. Dustin was staying over at his girlfriend’s that night which left him alone with Robin.

He glanced at his watch. It was almost ten and he looked up at Robin with his big puppy dog eyes and pouted.

She let out a long sigh. “Fine. You can go to bed. Provided you actually get a shower and brush your teeth. By that time it should be late enough for you to just crash.”

Steve sighed, but nodded his agreement. He got unsteadily to his feet and ambled over to his bedroom. Robin followed close behind.

She leaned against the door frame, watching Steve gather his things for his shower.

“So Dustin is a Fallen fan, huh,” she muttered.

Steve shrugged. “I guess so. This is the first of me hearing about it, so it must be new.”

She licked her lips. “And you aren’t worried?”

He stopped what he was doing and straightened up. “Why? Do you think there is a reason to be?”

Robin crossed her arms. “I mean his nickname growing up was ‘genius child’. It’s possible he could be a problem.”

Steve scoffed. “He’s also the one that harped on us being a couple for a few years there.”

She winced. She had even told him that she was gay and he still wouldn’t let it go. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

He walked over to the en suite bathroom and turned on the hot water. “I love that kid, but he has a few major blind spots when it comes to actual people.”

“All right,” she said, nodding. “I’ll tighten up the defenses, but I think you’re right.”

“I am right some of the time,” Steve scoffed. “You do know that, don’t you?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “I guess even a broken clock can be right twice a day.”

Steve stuck his tongue out at her and then began to strip. Robin just waved at him and wandered over to her side of the apartment. Well to call it that was an understatement on its sheer size. It would be better described as a penthouse.

It only had three bedrooms, but it had three bathrooms, a full sized kitchen, an actual dinning area, a living room. Steve’s studio was off to the side and always kept locked. It even had a god damned bio lock that only Robin and he could open.

He hated the secrecy and all the cloak and dagger bullshit but it was absolutely imperative.

But the room was massive and no one had clocked that as unusual. Steve sighed deeply. It was what it was and what it was, sucked.

****

To say that Eddie was annoyed was an understatement. The whole flight to Indy and the long drive to Hawkins was filled with nothing but talk about The Fallen and their latest album. It was shooting up the charts faster than Eddie could guess the Metallica song from a few hummed bars. Which was pretty damned fast.

Steve and Robin had already gone, so Eddie didn’t even have his favorite distraction when Dustin got on his latest hyperfixation.

Then the other shoe dropped when he pulled up to the Henderson’s driveway.

“You’re coming with me, right?” the little bastard asked, all pouty lip and puppy dog eyes.

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to go with you?” Eddie huffed, more than little pissed the punk dared to ask.

Dustin rolled his eyes and started counting off on his fingers. “El and Mike won’t get in in time, Max and Lucas already have plans that night, her mom is getting married for the third time that day, and Will doesn’t like metal. He’s still a staunch alt rock fan.”

Eddie winced. And with Steve and Robin off to parts unknown, he really was Dustin’s last greatest hope. But he wasn’t going to give in that easy. He was going to make the butthead work for it. He crossed his arms and pouted.

“I don’t know, man,” Eddie said, wrinkling his nose, “I’m starting to wonder if Corroded Coffin is even on your radar anymore.”

Dustin’s jaw dropped. “What? That’s not true! Corroded Coffin is my number one. How could even suggest that?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to list the reasons alphabetically or chronologically?”

Dustin’s mouth closed with a snap. He ducked his head. “I haven’t stopped talking about The Fallen since you picked me up from Steve’s, huh?”

“Nope!”

He let out a slow breath. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m just so excited for this concert. According to Ma the tickets were really hard to get and now I don’t have anyone to go with me and I–” He sniffled.

“It’s just you know how you get with new things,” Eddie pointed out.

Dustin nodded. “I know. But I promise I still love Corroded Coffin. When are you guys going back into the studio?”

Eddie smiled for the first time that trip. “After I get back from visiting Wayne, I’ve got a couple songs already lined up for it.”

“And how many of those songs are about Steve?” Dustin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie cheeks colored a deep red. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll go to that concert of yours and you don’t mention to anyone that I write songs about Steve, deal?”

Dustin tilted his head to side and looked up, tapping his lips thoughtfully. He stuck out his hand and Eddie shook it.

“Deal.”

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

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[imraespace]

FINAL: TOGETHER!

YUUTA X READER

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"at my dorm."

You mumbled as you shut off your phone.

You rose from your bed and walked over to your mirror, making sure you atleast presentable to visit Yuuta.

Of course he wouldn't judge you, you could look like a clown yet he wouldn't care.

After that, you put on some shoes and made your way towards his dorm.

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Even though he said it wasn't something bad, you still felt scared.

What if he changed his mind on everything?

But all negative thoughts left your mind as you arrived at his room.

Slowly, your hand reached up to the door and softly knocked on it.

You heard movements inside until it finally stopped and the door opened.

You were greeted with a smile as he let you in.

As you entered, you noticed how clean his room looked like, cleaner than yours.

"You can sit anywhere you like to, as long as you're comfortable I don't mind."

Of course he will say those words to you, that's one thing you love about him.

You decided to sit on his bed, taking the chance to get comfortable, you removed your shoes and crossed your legs on the bed.

Soon he joined you as well, closely sitting besides you as you both just stared at the door infront of you.

"..so what's the reason for my invitation here..?" You asked.

"Is it wrong to ask you out?" He joked.

But you didn't realize he was joking, quick to apologize but he stopped you.

"I'm kidding, there is an actual reason."

You turned your head towards his direction, him doing the same.

"Remember what I told you yesterday in the storage room..?" He asked.

The memory made you blush a bit yet you nodded.

"I wanna tell you more about it."

"More?" You replied.

"Yeah, I told no one about how I felt through out the school term."

He turned his whole body to face you, causing you to follow his movements.

"I think it was during the second week into the term when Inumaki and Maki told me that someone was going to join us with our short walk to the mall and then I found out that person was you, I think was the first time I actually really blush at a girl in my whole teenage life." He started.

"HUH?" You perked up at his words.

He stopped, letting you to talk.

"So long ago? I think my feelings for you developed like 2 weeks before Yuji made that gaming club. But you can't blame me, I barely hung out with you all anyways.." You told him.

"I know, that's why I was a bit shocked when I was told that you like me."

He started back the story he was telling you.

"Anyways, I kept it a secret, like you but really that was because I had Rika with me."

The mentioned of her name made you cringe internally.

"Do you miss her?" You asked him.

Quickly, he shook his head no.

"If it was younger me, I would've said yes but throughout the years she's been a bit manipulative, I'm kinda glad she's gone now.."

"For me, she had a false persona, ever since in the club room I had no clue she really acted like that. Maybe she didn't hurt me physically but she made me cry alot though." You confessed to the boy.

"She did..?" He mumbled.

And you nodded, which caused him to sigh.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault." You comfort him.

"Oh, when I was told you had liked Yuji I think I just wanted to crawl in a hole and cry." He confessed as well.

"YOU DID?" You gripped his shoulders, on your knees this time.

Your reaction made him blush a bit yet he softly rested his hands on your hips, guiding you to sit back down on the bed, hand still on your hips.

"Yes but it's okay, we're together now right?" He asked.

You gave him a small "mhm", trying to ignore the fact that he has his HANDS is on your HIPS.

He let your hands stay on his shoulder as his own snaked around your waist, guiding you to come closer towards him.

Out of instinct, your hands snaked around his neck.

You both was now closer, but not close enough. Not yet.

"I think I got my point thought right?" He asked softly.

"That you had always liked me from the starting..?" You replied, in the same soft manner as he did.

He nodded and finally, he pulled you in closer.

Honestly you thought he wanted a hug but that thought suddenly left you when you felt his lips on yours.

Your heart began to race as you returned the kiss, closing your eyes and letting him take control.

It wasn't a heated kiss, it was a soft one that held a lot of love in it.

But one thing for sure was that his lips felt amazing on yours, you wondered if you might get drunk off of it..

Sadly though, he pulled away causing you to look at him.

"I'm sorry, you wanted more..?" He teased you a bit.

You looked away as the blush took over your face causing him to laugh a bit.

Suddenly you felt his arms that was wrapped around you, get a bit tighter as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"So, I think this is where I ask you if we can be official." He mumbled.

"What do you think Yuuta?" You asked, out of habit actually.

"I think yeah.."

.

.

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MASTERLIST | <-PREVIOUS

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note: it's finished... what do I write abt now.

also writing abt kissing makes me giggle and blush HELOME