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yandere-kokeshi · 10 months

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yandere ghost yandere ghost yandere ghost yandere ghost yandere ghost yandere ghost yandere ghost yandere ghost yandere ghost

— His Prey

Pairing: yandere childhood friend Simon x gn reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, slight spoilers for the comics; if you haven’t read it yet, I’d highly recommend reading it - stalking, implied family abuse, kidnapping(?), mentions of alcohol, hinting that the reader is slightly older, and smut.

Smut tags: dubcon, public sex(?), size kink, creampie (wrap it before you tap it!!), messy aftercare(?), and kidnapping?

A/N: I hope you enjoy this. This took so long and this is probably my favorite one. But I may take a break from smut, idk 🤷‍♂️

GIF IS NOT MINE || BELONGS TO @/sgt-gaz

You had been missing for years. Decades that seemed to last for millions for Ghost. As a kid, he’d imagine marriage and having kids - something that every kid admires at least once.

It’s true, he did love you, you always took care of him and helped clean him up after every time he had himself a fuck up. Be it romance problems, money problems, or even family problems. You always struck out your head for him. So, why wouldn’t he look for you?

Your family gave up on you, for reasons that are now beyond him. For reasons that disgusted and angered him.

On his fair share, he could understand what you had gone through. His family was also a mess, specifically his father - always screaming at anyone, especially at you whenever you came to visit. It was a mess. Just like he was and still is.

But, when he got the news that you ran away; your loyal image distorted and tainted by your family’s grief and anger.

He was angry. He remembers jumping over fences, ignoring the pouring rain, and running to your home - not believing the words of his father, but when he knocked frantically, your drunken father answering with slurring words and the smell of cigarettes strong, he knew you had left.

Asking where you had gone, all your father did was shrug his shoulders. Talking down to you as a ‘pent-up bitch who deserved to leave’.

Those few nights in jail weren’t fun. He can still feel the blood on his knuckles. The bruises cracked his skin and made them bleed. To Simon, he was a lucky bastard to even still breathe.

It hurts to be left behind, but Simon soon understood. For your own safety and happiness, you had to escape. He knew in his heart and soul that he’d find you again sooner or later.

And when he did, he’d feel your hands hug him tightly. Hear that pretty voice of yours that was addicting to listen to, even if he didn’t know what you were talking about. Those times in your garage, listening to heavy rock and dancing to the embarrassing beats as you pulled him into a messy kiss.

Those memories were precious to him.

You two went your own ways. But now… he grasps the nice times he had with you. Comforting and safe times with you. The ones where he could run to your home - knocking on your window at midnight, covered in sweat from how fast he ran. Your embrace was the best for him.

Tightening his hold on the film in his hands, the one where you two are hugging from his graduation, days before you had left. He sighed; inhaling through his tight teeth, he jumped out of his truck and started walking towards the diner he knew so much about.

You are his mission, for now, and until he dies.

Ghost had gathered enough information about your cold trail to find you. Found a friendly woman on the way, one that was quite nice and oblivious to the dangers - a nice and gentle lady who had offered to give him the location where she had last seen you a few weeks ago.

A sad but comforting word of, love goes a long way. I hope you find them.

Thudding his worn boots against the pavement, he admired the morbidly dead-beat town; a few people passing by him, eyes staring at him as if he was an alien. But, what was weirder was that no kids were running around - no music or loud beeping of cars could be heard.

Only the occasional noises of crickets and wind blowing against the covering of his hoodie. It was uncomfortable.

Approaching the recognizable diner, the lights were flickering. The run-down neon lights of spotted letters buzzed ever so slightly, the humming could be easily mistaken as a wasp nest. The letters were barely hanging on, only having support from the strings above the window; swinging left to right as if it was a lullaby.

The D and R had shut down completely, making the rest of entire letters seem bigger, a series of flickering flashes that made it as though threatening.

But threatening didn‘t scare him. Not anymore at least. It was something he was used to it.

Coming inside, the loud but nostalgic ding! Was nice to hear. His eyes follow the insides of the booth, looking at the familiar retro commercials playing on the TVs and people munching on the greasy food, chugging cheap beer down their throats, and jazzed music playing in the background.

The heavy smell of oily french fries and vanilla milkshakes burned into his nose. A familiar chase of reminiscent, made him shut his eyes as he sighed, stupidly.

What if you weren’t here? What if… all of this was a dream and he was still a beat-up kid? It was something he didn’t wanna think about, but with everything that’s happened - his family, his home, his mind a fucked up place; everything was possible.

Taking a deep but swift sigh, he reopened them, revealing a familiar face on the opposite side of the counter. It didn’t even take a second for him to know who it was.

It’s you. Look at you…

Walking about, doing your job as you unknowingly noticed the man in a giant hoodie. He watched you walk from table to table - seeing your little notepad and the recognizable clicky pen you’ve somehow kept. The black and orange lines on it have yet faded. Didn’t he give you that in high school?

You’ve… grown. Still cute as a darlin’. Addicting as ever.

He saw you smile at your coworker - their voice going into the abyss of his mind. Your smile is so pretty. It still is. Your laugh too. It was way too genuine for this crappy and unsafe place; a place you shouldn’t even call home.

It gave him the chills. The way your voice was nothing but a gift. Such a gentle smile and laugh. Just like in the old times.

The memories hit him like a train. The photos and slow moments of spending most of the summer with you, running away from old men who were yelling at you for stealing candies at 7/11 - you were facetious and flirty, somehow always grabbing his hands, pulling him along to your mischievous plans. Then, it was fun.

After all, in his mind, you were still the gorgeous partner he so loved. A love grew into need. A need that turned into years of searching and trying to find you again.

But looking at you now, Ghost betted a few hundred bucks - that you’d look really nice with his tattooed arm around your throat - those lips promising to be good and treat him well.

You always tasted amazing. Even whilst sweating or crying.

Tonight, you were exactly what he was looking for: his soulmate. Sure, he didn’t believe in that kind of stuff, but he knew you were meant for him. You were everything he could ask for.

Besides, with that adorable smile of yours, you were practically begging to be manhandled and thrust up against the brick walls behind the diner. For now, all he had to do was wait till you were off. And again, you were his mission after all. And he takes them very seriously.

“Night, Rebecca!” You yelled, shutting the door behind you as you started walking towards your apartment. Pulling your jacket more into your figure, you cursed out loud. Jeez, did today have to be more exhausting?

Maybe I could stop at the wine shop. It is Friday after all, you thought. As you continued to walk down the similar path to your apartment, you never noticed the large figure following right behind you.

Though, you were always a bit naïve. Somethin’ that drew Simon in like a rope around a horse.

Suddenly, whilst you were walking, your phone slipped out of your pocket. The brutal hit of your phone screen smacking onto the concrete made you cringe. Your heart banged out of your chest as you immediately let out a wild yelp.

“Shit!” You blurted out, crouching down to pick it up. Though, as you went down, there was a rush of wind and suddenly you were hoisted by hands grabbing you by the waist. You screamed, trying to kick and hit whatever was behind you, whilst trying your best to ignore the anxiety spiraling in your chest and down your body.

The back of your head smacked against the stone of the wall. But before you could react, a hand was placed over your mouth as the stench of incense and light booze crawled into your nostrils; letting you take in the large yet dark figure in front of you which was leveled with the sight of a black hoodie and muscular arms.

“Shh,” a gritty voice growled in your ear. “I won’t hurt you.”

Is this where you’re gonna die? Where the Fox News makes a case for your murder in cold blood?

It was then that you noticed the nature of the voice, the familiar smell of comfort waving in. Home. It smelled like home.

Preparing yourself, you peeked up at the tall and masked man, barely reassuring yourself as the adrenaline of fright from being thrown into a dark alleyway and being held against the bricked wall was starting to sit in.

Though connecting eyes with the man, you released a gasp. Looking into those recognizable brown eyes you could remember anywhere.

“Simon?”

It’s his eyes. Black holes. No stars. The face paint around his eyes burned into them like ash.

He could feel his heartbeat in his hands, a sudden reminder of his given name, sitting nearly forgotten at his hidden identity; whipped away with ‘Ghost’ and ‘The most Brutal Soldier’.

Simon was no longer Simon. He was Ghost. A hulking behemoth of a man. Nothing but pumped full of adrenaline, a dexterity for killing. A cover-up from his messed up, a shit show of the past.

“Holy shit…”

Your gaze made his heart ache. Watching how tears swelled up into them, how blown wide they were. All he wanted was to wipe those away and kiss them better. Comfort you the times you did to him when he’d come to you crying - feeling your small hands wrap around him and kiss his neck affectionately.

“I thought… your family and you–”

Your hands were shaking - fists clenching and unclenching as his hoodie near his chest. Your voice was shaking, almost like a doe-eyed deer trying to escape its predator; thriving at its very last breath as it tried to talk. But, nothing was coming out. All that was heard were hiccups and the slight pounder of cars driving by.

You sniffled, eyes flashing. The sweet look of concern on your adorable face.

His hand went down, pulling away at his gloves before wiping your tears as more came down. Your hands, always delicate and soft, ascended to hover above his face, barely touching his skulled balaclava. He could feel his throat tighten - like a noose was secured around it. Threatening to yang the weapon if he dared to speak.

“Can… I pull it down?”

You expected a harsh no. A quiet negative answer. You could tell he was wearing it for a reason. Hiding something that he didn’t want you or anyone else to see. It squeezed your heart - uncertainty piling into your stomach.

Though, when his fingers curled around the bottom of the balaclava - pulling up and off the mask, your throat went dry.

So much has changed since you were kids, the Simon you once knew: the soft chubbed cheek and rounded smile was now scarred. Everything on his face was bumped, unmetrical. Dry and harsh. Something you’d never expect from your Simon.

“H-how…” You asked, reaching him to touch his warm cheek - your fingers grazing over his littered cheek of scars. He almost didn’t look like the Simon you knew years ago. His eyes and hair stayed the same. But the rest of him didn’t. The tattoos, his demeanor, the scars, the littered marks all over his body and hands that were once soft and hot to touch. Instead of being the scrawny kid he once was, he was now… big and intimidating.

“I know. Not the proudest moment to introduce again,” He chuckled, his giant hands grabbing yours and tightening his hold. He pulled them up to his lips, taking a moment to look into your eyes before kissing your knuckles.

“I won’t let anything hurt ya’ anymore, okay?” He stated, his hand letting go of yours and wrapping them around the curves of your hips, pulling you closer towards him as he pushed his face into your hair, inhaling a sharp sigh.

“Simon. How did you…?” You ushered out, laying your forehead on his chest as you waited for his answer. Simon — took an agonizingly long minute to reply, his hands tightening around your hips as you wrapped your arms around his lower back, feeling more tears rolling down your face.

“It’s a long story, doll.” He stated, digging his face deeper into your hair as you felt your stomach twist and turn into butterflies.

You detach yourself from his chest, looking up at him as your lips quivered. “I- don’t understand Simon. How are you…?”

“How what, sweetheart?” He looked down at you, his hand going up to your chin, quickly wiping the tears that fell as he patiently waited for your answer.

“Your father- he…”

Suddenly, Simon growled out. His grip on your hips tightened, making you grimace loudly. “Don’t. He doesn’t matter. What… happened years ago doesn’t matter right now.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Shh- it’s fine. Jus’... You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He danced his fingers up your chest, making their way to your sternum. Slowly he unbuttoned your shirt, making sure to take his time as his lips attached to your neck, leaving a few marks that he intends to stay.

“S-imon,” Your words were a little above a whisper, peppered with high-pitched gasps that seemed to be enjoyed by the man in front of you; his lips kissing your ear, jaw, and neck. Slowly making his way down to your stomach.

“I know. Me too,” He chuckled, fully unbuttoning your shirt, and pulling it off as it fell onto the floor. “Been waitin’ the right time, for you to become mine again. I promise I won’t be too mean.”

A whine blanked your mind, feeling his hands knead at your soft skin, cupping your arse under his fingers as he dropped your pants onto the floor. “Fuck, n-not here please.” Though, Simon’s answer was a harsh one as you felt something hard poking you on your thigh.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fast then we can leave, yah’?” His chest touched yours, and with his strong hands, he gripped your thighs and hiked you up onto his hips, knocking your knees together which prompted you to wrap and tighten your legs around his waist.

Your hands fisted his hoodie on his shoulder, “What are you—!”

A moan was let out as you felt his fingers dip beneath your briefs, teasing your core as you cried out; feeling him hit that spot that made your knees go weak. “Oh gosh-” you gasped.

Simon drew his face closer to yours and kissed you. The taste of alcohol and tangy smoke blended in with your breath as he kissed you so sweet that you never wanted it to end - your moan being muffled as his tongue explored your cave.

Your fingers traveled from his shoulders up to the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you two hungrily fought for a truce; fighting the urge to smile as he groaned from your sly fingers.

Finally, you two separated for air - heaving deeply as you two looked into each other’s eyes. Suddenly, you felt his fingers push up inside you in a twirling motion. You groaned and writhed beneath him, and as you did, your thigh pushed against his groin.

His harsh breath that blew onto you had goosebumps rise across your skin.

“I need you.” he rasped.

You reached your hand down to slide your hand inside his pants to grip his erect cock. You swallow the words that wanted to come out, feeling how your fingers barely touch around the width of him. Jesus, how could anyone have this size?

You rub your thumb over the tip. He’s leaking pre-cum and when your nails grazed his sensitive head, he shivered. By the time you had removed your fingers, bringing them up to your lips, his hands were already finishing unbuttoning his belt and undoing his zipper; freeing his cock.

He was thick, with a bulbous base. He had building veins. Some on the underlining of his cock, outlining the leaking pre-come, rolling down the length of his cock. He also had a happy trail, a sagittal one that was very attractive.

You ached to feel him inside you, but when you reached down, he shook his head. “Let me taste ya’ first.”

Taking a minute, you nodded, and he took your hips in both of his giant hands; adjusting your position up onto his shoulders, letting your legs hang off them. He then lowered his mouth to your body, kissing and nipping down to your V-line, then worked his tongue and teeth to pull down your undergarment as he came to the sensitive skin where your thigh met your pelvis.

He kissed you there sweetly, breathing in your tainted-sweat skin and scent. Infuriatingly ignoring where you wanted to be touched most.

He groans out your name. Spilling it out like a love spell.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he started to work his tongue over and around you. Circling, sucking, caressing. Taking in your taste like a wolf with its mate.

At first, Simon only kept his left hand on your thigh, watching you unravel from his mouth — bucking upwards into his mouth, seeing you moan out as he growled against you, sending vibrations to your core. His nails dug deeply into your thighs, adding a counterpoint to the intense sensations of his tongue and lips as he made sure you whined out.

It took you a pretty short time before he brought you breathless, pushing you over to the edge with his tongue and hands. The rough fingers of his, the depth of penetration of his tongue, and the wet noises made you go boneless.

Yet, he still didn’t move the heat of his mouth from your hole while you came, admiring how your body clung to the concrete wall and his head for support as your shouts echoed throughout the alleyway. He cleaned you more with his tongue — relishing the taste of you.

“Fucking hell.” he grunts.

He departed himself from the mess he had caused - giving you a quick peck before he hiked you back onto his hips, moving your legs around his lower back as he lowered his slick cock between your parted legs, breathing hard.

“I need you, darlin’,” He growled in your ear.

You panted, nodding slowly as your vision was barely picking up - already overstimulated from how long it has been since anyone else has made you cum quite violently.

His breath was hot. Breathing directly down to your collarbone as he nudged the hot tip of his cock against your entrance. He’s too big, his blunt head snags against your entrance. You breathe through your nose, brow furrowing as you tighten your eyes closed.

“Jesus Christ,” He hissed as he bucks, clearly impatient, needing more as he feels the clutch of your sex.

“Easy.. please,” You try, feeling him draw your forehead against his, the sweaty skin rubbing against each other as you two share the love you two once shared - an act of surface, awaiting till it boils over.

“Fuck,” he mutters in your ear.

You cling to him, desperate and a little dizzy. He’s so big and you’re so full, packed to the very brim as his cock drags against your sensitive walls; you feel his nose press into your cheek, his mouth sliding against your jaw as he grinds into you.

“Ss’good,” he utters quietly, “Fuck, I love ya’ so much.”

You cried out in pleasure - clenching down at his shoulders as you bit your finger. His hips and cock punching against the furthest part of your core. He releases a deep groan of pleasure at your sheer tightness.

“More!” You rasped out, grabbing his cheek and kissing him. He parted his lips and let your tongue taste his mouth. You tasted yourself - but you didn’t mind. All you cared about was Simon. Your Simon.

He plants his feet deeper into the concrete, beginning to really fuck you. Positioning his hips and slamming up inside you until the sound of only your soaked hole swallowing him repeatedly along with slapping skin bouncing off the walls.

It’s overwhelming. The heavy smell of rain. The smell of sex and the sounds of raspy groans. Squelchy noises of your hole being brutally hit as your thighs are turning raw. It’s rasp and chafe. But you were enjoying it. Enjoying every bit of it.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he hushed out, his hips snapping more. “Feels so good.”

He began to move deeper, harder, sharper. You clutched at his giant arms, your legs tightening around his waist as his hips cracked more. You felt his muscles tighten, a slight warning of him crashing down to his peak.

Your toes curled. Entwining up with the sensations spreading all over your body, pounding at your sensitive ears. You could hear everything. Feel everything. Taste everything.

He’s reclaiming you. His hips fully abusing your hips and thighs. His groans and tightened jaw were a sight to see. His eyes shut closed as his body tightened up.

“Come for me.” he says, “I know you need to, love.”

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head. Yet another pleasure crash came over you, consuming you again, and at that, with a bellow that shook to your very core, your orgasm took you by surprise with a scream.

His voice lowers down. His hips sped up even more as your toes curled and head rolled back - eyes seeing white. Your nails dug into his back.

You felt Simon stiffen. The warmth of his spent filling you. His hips spasmed and jerked, his jaw clenching with a long groan, his eyes screwed shut as you felt hot liquid rush inside you, stuffing you full. Even as he pressed his hips tightly against yours, still grinding at the pleasure, you were a moaning mess.

When he finished, he let out a soft sigh. Still sitting inside you, he prepped kisses all over your neck, sliding his tongue with your sweaty skin and dug his nose into it. You felt him mumble some words, but you paid no attention.

Slowly pulling back, making sure to not overwhelm you, he let you back on the ground. Simon had his hands on your waist, ensuring you were still there - almost as if he loosened his grip, even by a grain of salt, you’d disappear.

“That was…” You went to say something, but with dopamine and adrenaline still coursing through your veins, your brain was left blank - possibly melting.

Simon chuckled, leaning over to kiss your forehead before looking you directly in the eye. “You okay?”

You nodded, “Jus’ tired and cold.”

He nodded, adjusting his pants and getting dressed. Belting his pants back up before crouching down to grab your clothes that were thrown on the floor. Standing back up, he handed them to you.

“You should get dressed,” He said.

“Not in the mood to stain my clothes,” You laughed, running your fingertips over your collarbone that was stained with sweat. Simon looked down between your legs, before looking behind you as you felt your cheeks heat up.

“You need to get dressed.” He grabbed the bottom of his hoodie, pulling it off of him as he prompted you to raise your arms. Nonetheless, Simon’s smell gave you an undying amount of comfort. Shoving your arms through the sleeves, he helped you get your head through the top hole before adjusting the bottom of the fabric, making sure it covered you whole.

And that it did. You marvel at how large the damn hoodie is, your fingertips barely peeking at the ends of the sleeves and the end of the hoodie covering most of your thighs. It was astonishing.

“Hey, where’s my—!” Before you could finish the question about your phone, you yelped - feeling yourself get picked off the ground. You were picked up by Ghost, being rested in his arms as he held you with such care. Making sure you were comfortable before resting your head on his chest.

You could feel his heart thumping - picking a beat at the sound of drums. Like tapping your fingers at your desk as you studied a book scenario. It was comforting.

“Why– where are we going?” You asked, looking up at him with a face of confusion as he adjusted his mask; his eyes peering down at you from the balaclava.

“M’ taking you home.” He stated, his hands curling more around your body.

You blinked at him, surprised.

“Home? You don’t even know where my apartment is. How would you—?”

“—You’re gonna stay with me,” he clarifies, ducking his head as the both of you started walking away from the alleyway. Slight embarrassment rises in your cheeks as you realized you just fucked in an alleyway. Not the first time with him.

You huffed out an annoyed sigh, you replied with a quick answer, “That’s not what I meant. Where are we going?”

There was only silence after that, and you had worried that maybe you pushed too far. Possibly angered him. After calling his name twice and no answer coming forward, you decided to quit asking.

You slid your arms around his neck, paying no attention to your surroundings. Unintentionally, you dug your face into his shoulder, taking a deep inhale before you listened to the wind; admiring how quiet it was.

Surely, you could see a smug smirk trail against Simon’s face - but you paid no attention. You were tired. Exhausted at best.

Suddenly, you heard a car; a truck gets unlocked from behind you. You were prompted to look, but when you got sight of the black Chevy truck, suddenly the door being opened by Simon and you being placed in the passenger seat beside the driver, you slumped into the seat.

You waited for him to climb in. Hearing the backdoor to your left open and shut loudly before you heard him get in. He shuffled in his seat, reaching over to buckle in his seatbelt before looking in your direction.

“Here.”

You looked at his hand, a huge white wool blanket being handed to you. You grabbed it, the fabric practically melting into your fingers. It was so soft. And smelled like him too.

You heard Simon chuckle at your reaction before starting up the truck, turning down the radio to ensure you were comfortable. He put on the heaters - readjusting the way of direction to blow so it could puff directly at you.

“Tomorrow, we’ll stop and get your stuff. From now on, you’ll stay with me.”

You nodded. Not saying anything. But when you tucked into the blanket around your form, making sure it covered your shoulders and legs, you felt his hand move over, gripping your thigh as he squeezed three times; his way of saying, ‘I love you’.

It made you smile. Turning your sight over to look into the side mirror, you watched as your town got further away. The lights turned into small gusts of balls as you watched the road become thinner and thinner. Before turning into nothing but a small pan of memories.

You lay there a long time, just listening to the sound of the music and the occasional blinking of the car to signal changing lanes. It was until you found yourself slipping into sleep right after a few minutes. Turned out you’d missed the contact as much as he had. It was probably for the best, that you stayed with him for a while.

Not that he’d let you go.

—

My masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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theecholegend · 4 months

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Blind Legend AU

This is pretty much fanart for an LU fanfiction called What Hyrule hadn’t seen by @sky-squido

This fic is SO awesome I highly recommend it if you like angst angst and more angst, amazing character development, hurt comfort and a lot more! please read it if this is your kind of story and you haven’t read it yet. And if you have read it then maybe it’s time you read it again 👀

#I’m not going to but I could talk about this story for forever #part 5 of drawings I never posted #but it’s only Legend #linkeduniverse #lu legend #linked universe #linked universe fanart #blindness #Blind Legend AU #Echo’s artworks

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 10 months

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sour summer

a/n: this is a prequel to my story the murder at evergreen university. if you haven’t yet, then i highly recommend you to go read that one first.

summary: “were you really always this pretty?”

warnings: Ari Levinson x reader, smut, prequel to this story (so beware that it does contain some spoilers), childhood friends to lovers, neighbours, family friend!Ari, cop!Ari, shy!reader, virgin!reader, slight age gap (in my head reader is 18 and ari is in his mid 20's), pining, cheating, kissing, loss of virginity, corruption kink, size kink, fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirting, manhandling

word count: 6301

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | evergreen university masterlist

After rifling through your closet from top to bottom, you finally gave up on the wild goose chase and stormed out of your room.

“Hey mom?” you called out as you neared the kitchen, “have you seen my cardigan? The grey one with the-,” your whole body froze as you crossed the threshold and saw the unexpected figure leaning against the kitchen island, “oh my god…”

“Y/n,” your mother smile, setting down her mug of amber tea, “look who stopped by for a visit,” gesturing to not only the accustomed visage of Mrs Levinson, who had always been more of an aunt to you than a next door neighbour with how tight-knit your families were, but more specifically focusing your attention on the other much more surprising visage that instantly made the sweater hunt become a task of the past.

“Ari?” the warm sound of his name gushed out of you and spread over every inch of your form, causing goosebumps to erupt as your eyes raked across his brawny figure, “what are you doing here?” you darted to steal a hug, nearly tripping his bulky frame over in the process.

Curiously, he too seemed taken aback by your appearance, almost as if he hadn’t quite recognised you till your mom had called you by your name.

Completely stunned, it took a moment before his tree trunk-like arms hesitantly enclosed around your form, “Y/n?” you pulled back and took in his speechless expression, “um, hi,” he exhaled hazily, vibrant eyes dancing over every change that had appeared since you last saw each other.

“You could have called first,” you light-heartedly shoved his broad chest, his warm palms still glued to your waist, “give a girl some warning.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled in return, “I didn’t know going home to visit my own parents required an official warning or something.”

“Sweetie,” your mom ripped your attention back to the task at hand, “I think you might have left that cardigan out back.”

“Oh, thanks!” you smiled before snatching up one of Ari’s hands and stealing him with you. His palm felt so big in yours, so warm and wide, engulfing yours completely. Dragging him along, you quickly became thankful that he couldn’t spot the flush the buzzing contact caused to erupt across your cheeks. “So,” you hesitantly let go as your toes touched the freshly cut blades of grass, “how have you been?”

Sucking in a much-needed breath, he answered, “I’ve been fine, I’ve been good.”

“Arrested a lot of criminals lately? Anything cool? A serial killer maybe?” you asked excitedly as your eyes scanned the garden, searching everywhere from the raised patio to the majestic oak in the bottom corner that accommodated a treehouse worthy of any child’s dream.

“No, no,” he chortled, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “no serial killers, just everyday boring stuff, you know…”

A giddy squeal emitted from your lungs as you finally spotted the lightweight, crumbled, grey knit draped over one of the white chairs slotted to the oblong patio table.

“So, what about you, huh?” Ari asked as you sloppily tied the cardigan around your hips, the rays of sun kissing your exposed skin warmed you up enough not to need it out here.

“Have I arrested any serial killers lately?” you jested.

“No,” he smiled, “what’s new with you?”

“Well, my mom properly already told you,” a bubble of excitement tickled your belly at the news, “but I got into Evergreen University.”

“No way, really?” he exclaimed, both of you naturally shifting to continue the conversation seated.

“Yeah, I start in a little under two months.”

“Is it still psychology that you wanna study or has that changed?”

“No, it’s still that,” his recollection caused your smile to grow, though in that moment it also dawned on you how intensely he was staring, absorbing every micro change to your features, and heat began to rise in your cheeks, “what?”

Not halting his vision’s lavish journey, he hummed, “huh?”

“Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?”

“No, it’s just-…” his words came out sounding spellbound, “did you always look like this?”

“Um…” you genuinely thought about it a moment, scrambling your brain for a logical answer, “I got a haircut about a month ago, maybe that’s it?”

“No,” a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his piercing gaze carried on, “it’s definitely not that…”

Positively flustered, you awkwardly changed the subject, “so, uh, do you maybe wanna do something fun while you're home?” shifting in your seat as you proposed, “we could go to the beach or something, like we used to.”

“Sure, I’d love that,” he uttered genuinely.

“Cool,” you gracelessly nodded.

Your attention directed to the fluffy, sheep-like clouds got swept away as a figure appeared in the window opposing to the one in your bedroom. All of the air escaped your lungs as your eyes did a double take on the glistening visage closing the bathroom door behind him into his own childhood room.

To say that you were pleased that your childhood crush had returned was an understatement, to say the least.

Fresh out of the shower, there he emerged. White towel wrapped low around his hips, you could almost make out the water droplets still clinging to his brawny back as he yanked open a few drawers in his dresser in search of a crisp set of clothing.

Cursing softly underneath your breath, your jaw hit the floor as he, with his back still turned to you, let the towel fall before stepping into a pair of black boxers. Rotating gently as he tugged the underwear up into place, you swore you saw just the hint of the part of him that made your centre throb most of all, though you had to lean on your overactive imagination to fill out the rest of the masterpiece.

Dreamy head cocked to the side as you peep, it took you a second to realise that he was now facing the window, facing you. Not taking a moment to even check if he actually had spotted you, your knees instinctually buckled and sent you soaring down towards the floor, your hands just narrowly catching onto the windowsill for support.

“Hey, honey?” the voice of your mother shot through the house to find your flushed ears, “can you give me a hand setting the table? The Levinsons will be over in a bit!”

“Y-yeah! Yeah!” you shakily replied, cautiously unfurling from the tense ball you had become underneath your window, “I’ll be right there!”

Mild evening air rustling your hair, you dangled your sandal-clad feet over the edge of the slim deck area that wrapped around the western side of the treehouse. With a part of the fence safely slotted in between your thighs, your eyes were busy raking across the blushing skies that stretched over your neighbourhood as a voice from below suddenly caught your attention.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” your vision flickered down to spot Ari at the base, ready with one hand on the sturdy ladder, the other one dexterously balanced two frosty cones as he offered, “might I interest you in some ice cream?”

The sinful peepshow you had caught earlier that day had made casually sitting across from him at dinner rather overwhelming, both your families' presents not helping to make it less awkward. So as soon as you’d scarfed down your last bite, you excused yourself and ducked up into the treehouse, in hopes of a chance to finally cool down.

“How is that even a question?” you called down, watching as he carefully made his way up the tree.

“Okay,” he exhaled as he settled in beside you, his warm leg ghosting against your own and causing goosebumps to erupt underneath your dress, “so, I’ve got one strawberry and one that’s-,” you didn’t need an introduction to deduct that the other one was exactly the rich chocolate one you always gravitated towards. Snatching it up with an eager squeal before he could even get the words out, he simply laughed, “oh, you’re just going right for it. I don’t know why I even bothered to offer you a choice,” watching as you hummed in delight, the frosty treat being just what you had wanted. Having a nibble at his own, he twisted his torso slightly and took in the familiar playground, “man… this place really hasn’t changed one bit.”

Peaking over your shoulder as well, you shrugged, “of course not,” his attention jaggedly returned to you as your tongue swiped out to lap up the coco droplets already melting down your hand, “this is our place, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he uttered distantly, a warm smile blooming on his lips at the memories of the favoured game back when he used to babysit you, “our little kingdom. What was the name of it again?”

“Uh, it was-, it was…” you scrambled your brain with no success, “I actually don’t remember anymore,” you squinted back at him, too wrapped up in your own thought to feel your ice cream melt further down your forearm, “I feel like it might have started with an E or something?” eyes growing wide, your body suddenly froze up as Ari’s forefinger unexpectedly reached out and swiped up the thawed treat, cleaning the milky streek and bringing it back up to his own lips. “D-do you want a taste?” you blinked, chest heaving as you hesitantly offered your flavour, his intense gaze melting you faster than the ice cream could even keep up with.

Eyes locked on you, he uttered, “I still can’t believe you haven’t got yourself a boyfriend.”

“What?” you giggled breathily, the subject haven come up rather quickly after his yearned for return.

“I mean, look at you,” you felt your palm grow clammy around the cold cone at his affectionate words, “were you really always this pretty?”

Your face surely resembling a tomato at this point, you averted your gaze, “I literally have ice cream all over myself.”

“Y/n, you’re-…” your eyes flickered back up to meet his dusky ones, “it’s just insane to me that there isn’t a line from here till Timbuktu of people trying to get with you.”

Utterly stunned, you found yourself suddenly leaning in, letting the overwhelming high his compliments infused in you push you to press your lips against his own in a chased and timid kiss. Reeling back practically as soon as there was even a fraction of contact, a storm swiftly assaulted your mind.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you gasped, fighting the urge to scream at your own hormonal instincts getting the best of you, “please just forget that ever-”

But your mortified apology was hastily cut short as you felt Ari’s free hand find the back of your head and lead it back towards him for a ravenous kiss. It felt like he had just flipped your world upside down, twisted everything you thought was wrong into the truth. In your eyes, there hadn’t ever been anyone but him. Not that you hadn’t tried after he moved away, you had, but no boy you stumbled upon could ever compare to how he made you feel.

Or how he used to make you feel, because what was coursing through your body now was nothing like you’d ever felt. A kiss had never been so sweet, so hypnotic, so dangerous…

Sensing the cone of ice cream fall from your slackened grasp, the dull sound of it spattering against the grass below ceased to reach your ears. Like a man starved, Ari’s tongue met yours in a flowing dance, your arms timidly coming up to drape around his neck for support as he too tossed his pink ice cream without a care in the world.

Arms around your form, wide palms nearly burning through the material of your thin dress, he then tipped the both of you to the side, sending you farther away from the edge and further inside the interior of the cosy treehouse.

Even sprawled out on your sides, his lips never ceased, staying glued to yours in the heated make-out as if it was oxygen to him. Gripping you tight, his broad palms felt you up, causing your toes to curl in your sandals and a muffled moan to vibrate against his lips, a sound that only kindled his inner flame that much further.

In one smooth motion, he rotated your tangled forms, rolling on top of you and with a firm grip at your bottom, just shy beneath your dress, hauled your shorter form further up beneath his, allowing your lips to remain at an equivalent height.

Fingers digging into your thighs, you clenched them tightly around his hips, lending you to feel even more of the palpable tent that had been so intoxicatingly nudging at your pantie-clad centre, your flowy dress haven already ridden all the way up and granting you to feel that much more.

Mind already two steps ahead of yours, his hips rolled against your own, both of your elated noises melting into one.

Nevertheless, right as his fingers tore one of your straps down your shoulder, a matronly voice called out from the garden below, “hey, Ari? Hon?” both of you froze up at his mother’s shout, effectively rousing you from your fever dream, “your phone is ringing.”

Breathless, you both blinked back at each other as he mustered an answer, “alright,” his voice thick and his eyes still dark, “I’ll be right down.”

How were you ever going to fall asleep? Every single molecule in your body still buzzed of the adrenaline from what had transpired earlier that evening.

Catching sight of yourself in the mirror that hung on the wall, you couldn’t help but giggle as you still felt your lips tingle in remembrance. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a light flicker on in the neighbouring window parallel to your own. Your breath hitched as you spotted your childhood crush already gazing back at you.

Raising your hand, you offered him a small wave, one which he swiftly mirrored, the silly notion conjuring a noticeable chuckle to rumble within his chest.

You still weren’t fully convinced that it had actually happened. Not only had you kissed him, but he had actually kissed you back in such a manner that it was sure to erase any form of doubt about what his intentions might be.

Averting your gaze for what only felt like a moment, your head light-heartedly shaking in disbelief as you blinked down at your nightgown, the material bunched up at your thighs as you sat on the bed, the next thing you knew, the sound of a pebble hitting your window caught your attention.

Had he climbed out of his own window? Went through a door? You couldn’t tell, because all you could focus on was the dimly lit visage of him coming to rest his folded arms against your windowsill.

Getting up, you hastily worked at pushing it open, “h-hi,” you giggled nervously, a hand swiftly shooting up to muffle your laugh.

“Hi,” he smiled, readjusting his grip on the ledge, “can I come in?”

“You wanna come in?” your eyebrows briefly shot up before you attempted a nonchalant, “y-yeah, sure,” your heart hammering against your ribcage at an impossible speed.

Expecting him to walk around to the front door and sneak his way in, he instead just pulled himself up and crawled directly into your room.

“Hey,” he breathed as he found his footing.

“Hello,” you chuckled back, “you already said that. How many times do you plan on greeting me tonight?”

“As many times as you want me to,” he smirked, carefully catching your hands in his and consequently making your breathing become a little more difficult to manage with such dizzying contact. Staring down at your conjoined palms, he then weaved his fingers with yours and spoke frankly, “so, about earlier…”

“Yeah?” you breathed, trying to prepare yourself for the worst.

“That was-…” he cut his own sentence off with a long exhale, a fuzzy smile overtaking his features, his head lightly shaking as his eyes finally lifted to meet yours.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you hoped that you had caught on to the unspoken message, “…it was?”

Vision flickering down to your bitten lips, he nodded softly and confirmed, “it was,” though the kiss he then pulled you into was really what sealed the deal for your youthful brain.

“This is crazy,” you managed to utter between hungry pecks.

“Too crazy?” he pulled back a bit, hands rooted on either side of your head.

“No, just-…” you felt in that moment as if you could faint, “you have no idea how long I’ve dreamed about this…”

“Oh, yeah?” he breathed out a smile before softly capturing your lips once more.

With your hands rooted tightly in his shirt, his hot skin burned through the light cotton, “is this really happening?”

“What do you think is happening?” he challenged playfully, his hands descending, running down your spine.

“Are we really about to-, you know…” you uttered nervously.

“Only if you want us to,” he replied, only for your heightened nerves to finally sink in, “wait, have you not-…” cheeks burning up, you shyly shook your head, “ever?”

“No…” you confessed, an automatic, “I’m sorry…” swiftly leaving your timid lips.

“No, no, that’s alright, that’s okay,” he rushed to reassure you, a hand flying up to cup your flush cheek.

Searching his eyes in the moonlight, “you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t mind?” your brows furrowed, doubting his unexpectedly copious comfort.

Attempting to hide a smirk, he disclosed, “actually find it really hot, so no, Y/n, I don’t mind.”

“Oh…” you breathed, eyes growing wide, “okay.”

Watching you gingerly, he checked once more, “but, you do want to?”

“Yes,” the reply flew from your lungs out of fear that he would take it back, “please.”

“Okay,” he smiled softly, pulling you back in, “but please promise that you will tell me if you’ve had enough, wanna slow down, pause, anything,” eyes flickering up to the corner of the ceiling to list off, “kick, scream, whisper, I don’t care how, just let me know, okay?”

Letting your actions do the talking, you reached up and tugged him down to seal it with a kiss, “okay,” you eventually smiled against his own. After stealing a few additional propitious pecks, your hands trekked down his torso, feeling his muscles flex beneath your travelling touch as they eventually came to a halt at the bottom of his shirt, your fingers weaving in the fabric before you pulled back to ask softly, “may I?”

A gentle chuckle fanned out across your features as he promptly raised his arms up enough for you to tug the soft cotton over his head. It was in no way the first time you’d seen him shirtless, but it sure felt like it as the shirt hazily drop from your fingers at the breathtaking sight.

Running his palms reassuringly down your upper arms, your eyes then flickered between his own and the belt he wore, asking him for permission with your glances.

When his pants hit the floor, so did your jaw, a reaction in which he couldn’t help but smugly flourish in, your eyes glued to the intimidating tent tight within his black boxers, he adoringly plucked up your speechless face and softened the blow with a kiss that took your breath away.

His lips then began to wander, over your jaw, down your neck, and when your heavy lids blinked open, you saw his towering presence begin to shrink down onto his knees before you. Fingers tightly fisting the flowy fabric of your nightgown, he nuzzled his face into your softness on his slow descent, practically growling as he gently nipped at your covered boobs, inhaling your scent in deeply as his fingers came up to lightly teased the pebbly nipples poking him through the material.

Slowly exploring your form over your clothes, gazing up at you with his soulful eyes, he soon settled on his knees. Keeping his eyes locked on yours, he slowly began to plant fluttering pecks all across your exposed thighs, his palms likewise gently caressing your legs. The comforting contact of his slowly ascending touch soon found the hem of your nightgown, gradually lifting it up and granting his lips the access to dance up towards your hips, the kisses occasionally coming dangerously close to soaked panties, though never quite meeting either.

Leaning back, one hand held up your sleepwear as he took in the sight of what effect he had on you. Dragging his other over your goosebump-ridden flesh, he then boldly slid a few of the fingers under the strip of your underwear that stretched over your left hip, securely hooking them there before extending his broad thumb and swiping it over the wet patch adoring your panties.

“Has anyone ever touched you like this?” he asked huskily as your brows knitted together at the pleasure of his teasingly grazing your covered clit, your wayward arms curling up against your chest, unintentionally pressing your tits together for him.

“N-no,” your breath hitched, eyes fighting to stay open.

Leaning forward, he placed a gentle peck over your covered slit, your pussy throbbing beneath his kiss as he glanced up to gauge your reaction, “is it okay?” his hot breath fanned across your centre.

Finding it impossible to speak when he flashed you that look, you simply nodded eagerly and whimpered as his thumb pressed down harder, rolling your swollen pearl over the soaked cotton.

Growing impatient, though also fearing that he’d make you cum before any of your clothing came off, you fervently lowered your fingers and began to tug your underwear down, Ari swiftly catching on and finishing the job himself.

“Fuck,” he stared, the sight nearly knocking the wind out of him, “you’re incredible…”

Nerves still growing under his adoring gaze, you found yourself promptly pulling his physique back up, tugging him close enough for your lips to crash against his own out of hope that it could soothe your understandable tensions.

Fingers still tangled in your nightgown, palming you hungrily through it as your lips ravaged each other’s, your bodies were so close that you nearly climbed him like a tree, though as you then momentarily parted for a breath of much-needed air, he impatiently yanked the shift up over your head and tossed it to the floor where most of his clothing lied in a crumbled pile.

Plucking you up with surprising ease, you felt as your core soaked his bulge on the short journey to your bed. Cradling you against him as he sat down on the edge, his tongue danced over yours as you settled on his lap, the light night breeze, blowing through the still open window, washed over your nude body, though the mild summer air wasn’t to blame for the shiver that ran down you spine.

Giving your tits a needy squeeze, he then murmured, “I feel like my eyes have been closed my whole life,” a hushed moan rushed out of him as you rocked your centre against his, the hardness so deliciously nudging against you, “how have I not seen that you’ve been right under my nose this whole time?”

“I was just a kid,” you stated, threading your fingers in his hair, “we both were.”

“Yeah, well you’re sure as fuck not that anymore,” he snaked a hand down between your tangled forms, sighing longingly as your abundant arousal soaked his fingers. “Has no one really ever touched you here before?” he asked you brashly as he strummed your clit, “not even just a little bit?”

“No, never anywhere,” your nose bumped against his, “only ever kissed, but it never felt like this,” your lips grazed his once more, pointing out the spark.

A sharp gasp left your body as Ari’s middle finger breached your trembling opening after teasingly nudging it for what felt like an eternity. Already being agonisingly fired up before your clothes even hit the floor, now that you felt his thick digit tenderly pumping inside of you, working you up for more of his fingers, as well as his hot breath tickling the rabid pulse clear on your neck, it seemed like an impossible task to stop the crash that was about to transpire.

Broad thumb steady on your puffy clit, he just managed to slide his ring finger in beside the other before your world came tumbling down around you.

Crumbling down, your face nuzzled into his sturdy shoulder as your pussy clenched onto his now motionless fingers for dear life. With his free hand gently stroking up and down your back, he breathed, “you wanna keep going or was that enough?” tilting his chin to plant a soothing peck on your hairline as you regained your breath.

“More,” your hazy voice vibrated against his skin, “I wanna feel you, I wanna feel all of you.”

“Well, you should probably know that I don’t have any condoms with me,” he reluctantly informed you, “so we can still do a lot of fun stuff, but we properly shouldn’t do everything-,” the rest of his sentence then crumbled as you hastily jumped up and yanked open the small drawer in your bedside table, “what are you doing?”

Pushing aside the books you used as a cover, you picked up a slim, flashy box containing the lacking item in question and showed it to him, “one of my friends gave it to me as a joke for my last birthday,” you explained in an adorably timid manner.

Blinking back at you, he then let out a genuine laugh, the warm and relieved sound rumbling within the room as you felt the sensation of your juices running down your inner thighs.

“You’re so amazing, you know that right?” he bubbled, pulling you back into his arms and capturing your lips in an adoring kiss.

Hooking the tips of your fingers in the waistband of his boxers as you kissed him back, it took you a second to muster up the courage to tug them off. Peeking down, you swiftly let out a breathy, “oh my god,” as you watched his intimidating girth spring out. Blinking up at him with wide eyes, then back down again, he attempted to swipe the small box from your hands, but you wouldn’t let him, determined to try yourself.

“You’re not gonna hurt me, baby,” he poked fun at how feathery and careful your touch was as you gingerly rolled the latex on. Gentle pride blossomed on your face in the form of a smile as you successfully finished the task, Ari then promptly scooted you both back further onto the mattress, a manoeuvre that caused your torso to drop down, your back melting into the mattress from the way he had manhandled you into place.

Resting on his knees with your legs draped over each of his thick thighs, he smiled down at your molten form and yanked your hips closer, “come here,” he uttered hoarsely over the giggle the rollercoaster of a move triggered within you, although the laugh quickly faded away as the hefty weight of his dick in his hand came down to tap your puffy clit.

Watching with heavy lids as a dollop of spit dropped from his lips and down upon your already sodden folds, he then lavishly spread it around your pussy with his hard length, coating the excess over himself. Fucking your petals, parting the mess, and nudging your clit till you were wiggling out of your skin, his hands then slid under your spine and pulled you back up into his lap.

Hugging your arms around his neck, your eyes never left his as you gently lifted yourself up, one of his burly forearms swiftly scooping under your bottom in support as he dragged the flush head of his cock through your dripping heat, your forehead dropping down against his at the buzzing bliss.

So slowly that it felt as if time had stopped itself, you sank down, gasping as only the tip stretched you out.

“Shit,” he uttered quietly, fingertips digging into your ass to control himself from not just slamming you down all the way. Forgetting how to breathe, overwhelmed by what little you had received, by what little you felt brave enough to conquer, you gazed back at him as he whispered, “you feel so good…” sensing your pussy clench around his vast girth at his silky words, your eyes fluttered closed at the intensity, “so fucking warm…” he sloppily planted a few comforting pecks along your flush cheek, “gripping onto me so good…” the hand not under you drifted up to trace the curve of your spine, your lungs jaggedly expanding underneath his palm.

Unhurriedly, your body eventually relaxed and gently began to move, shallowly fucking the very tip of him, even though just that already felt like more than you could handle, the way the bulbous head stretched you out being unimaginable.

“Oh my god,” you whined as the hand on your back slid around your form, sweetly coming up to brush the wild hair out of your face as he stared deeply into your eyes, “it’s so much!”

“Is it too much?” he asked, burying his face in the swell of your tit.

“I don’t-, I-,” you choked out, incapable of deciphering the correct answer at this staggering moment, “it’s just so much!” blubbering as his lips captured your pebbly nipple, “you’re so much, you’re just so-, oh my god!”

On the verge of cumming again, your hand shot down to rub your clit, his enthusiastic words crashing into you like a wave, “yeah, rub your clit,” grunting as he craned his head to look at the crude vision, “rub it, make yourself cum, come on, I can feel how close you are.”

With lewd moans reverberating off the walls, your body trembled in his grasp as your pussy clamped so tightly that it completely expelled his throbbing tip. Hearing him quietly curse into your ear, you slumped down against his form, your cores still aligned just right for the essence of him to slip back into place, your limps desperately clinging onto his shoulders as you caught your breath.

“This doesn’t even feel like real life,” you mumbled into his skin, the tip of his cock still feeling like a rock inside of you.

Gently tilting your head back, his eyes found your dazed ones as his deep voice washed over you like a warm blanket on a cold winter's night, “it is real life.”

Lip trembling with emotion, you asked, “you promise?”

With the hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, he let his forehead meet yours as he verified softly, “promise,” thumb soothingly sweeping across your cheek, “you need me to pinch you or something just to make sure?”

Giggling airily at his bad joke, the rumble then swiftly morphed into a hiss as your sensitive cunt consequently contracted around him, “oh fuck, how are you still so big?”

“Uhm,” he chuckled, “I’m sorry?”

“I just wanna feel all of you,” you whined light-heartedly, “but I don’t know how I’m ever gonna get there because it already feels like you’re all the way up here,” you motioned in the direction of your solar plexus.

You knew that you could technically just let go and sink down, but it felt too much like standing at the end of a diving board, too scared to jump even though you knew you’d be okay, the rush of the drop was just too much and led you to chicken out every time.

“You really wanna feel the rest?” he asked, readjusting his hold on you.

Staring back into his eyes, you exhaled into a pout, “I do. I really, really do.”

Capturing your lips in a kiss, you then felt the world tilt as Ari dipped you both down until your back hit the mattress. Distracting you with his tongue, dancing it against your own, he abruptly began to move his hips, fluidly thrusting them forward till his pelvis nuzzled against your own. All the air in your lungs was knocked out as his kiss muffled the loud moan you let out.

“There you go,” he smirked down at you, settling his arms on either side of your face, caging you in and declaring him as your entire reality, “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Incapable of replying in a more eloquent way than just primal moans, your thighs trembled on either side of him as he slowly pulled back out till just the memory of him remained. Brows knitted together, you glanced down to take in the striking sight of his fat girth splitting you apart.

“Look at how good we look together,” he followed your eye line, strings of your mess keeping his pelvis connected to yours like a carnal spiderweb, even when he slid out, reaching down to briefly glide the underside of him through your sloppy petals, ending by giving your puff a tap so rude that your entire body jumped beneath him, “such a good girl, taking it like a champ,” he buried himself once again, groaning lowly in bliss at the pleasure, “fucking knew you could take it,” he then emphasised each word he uttered next with a merciless thrust, “every god damn inch,” rocking into you so hard that the bed rattled beneath you.

With his dark eyes fixed upon you, absorbing the way your features contorted in ecstasy, the desperate sounds of your wetness were more overbearing than the clapping of skin colliding.

Sneaking another breathless kiss, he then dipped down and nipped along your neck, “fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, lips wandering up to graze the shell of your ear, “sucking me in so fucking good,” fingers trailing down your quivering form, they dug into your thighs and primally tugged them up, resting your legs upon his sturdy shoulder and bending you in half like a pretzel, “best fucking pussy ever.”

“A-ari!” you whimpered, completely spellbound by the intense sensation of how impossibly deep he went, shaking under him like a leaf as you felt yourself tumble over the edge again.

Tilting his head to catch your eyes, watching how hard they fought to stay open, “I know, I know,” he simply murmured, “don’t push me out, I know you’re gonna cum, but please keep me inside, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel you,” not changing his speed one bit as you felt your pussy begin to shower him with love, soaking the sheets below as your cunt choked his cock.

You didn’t even register how obscenely loud you got as the overwhelming orgasm seemed to go on forever, his own selfish efforts in relishing in the sensation did nothing but draw it out even further, his rhythmic thrusts stayed steady till he’d emptied himself in the latex and you had nearly passed out from pleasure.

Peering up at him through your wispy lashes, tangled in the dewy aftermath, you began to giggle softly.

“What?” he chuckled groggily.

“I-… no, never mind,” you squashed the thought, “it’s silly…”

“What is it?” his palm slid up against the side of your cheek.

Vision flickering from one of his eyes to the next, you timidly spoke from the heart, “it's just that my wish came true. I always wanted you to be my first,” an unreadable expression crossed his features at the softness of your confession. He didn’t say anything, simply reached out and kissed you bittersweetly, though your blissed-out antennas didn’t catch onto that detail in the slightest, “you know, Evergreen isn’t too far away from where you work…”

You didn’t know what hour you had finally fallen asleep, but apparently, at some point, you had, as you now found yourself stirring from your dreams, soar and a hazy smile still plastered upon your lips. Gliding your hand over the covers in search of your neighbour, you didn’t bump into his form and blinked open your eyes to find that he had gone.

Trying not to freak out, you figured that maybe he didn’t wanna get into a sticky situation if your parents were to spontaneously waltz in at the crack of dawn and had therefore sneaked out.

Though when you peeked out your window to spy through his it was completely void of any sign of life. Could he unexpectedly have gotten called forcing him back to work or was there another reasonable explanation for his absence?

Shrugging on the minty, terrycloth robe that hung on the knob of your closet door, you strolled out of your door. Entering the kitchen where your mother already sat, she glimpsed up from her newspaper and flashed you a bright smile, “good morning, honey.”

“Morning, mom,” you cracked open a cupboard, seized a glass and held it under the tab which you swiftly turned on.

“Oh,” she excitedly perked up from behind you, “have you seen what finally came in the mail?” glass full, you turned to see the opened envelope she was referring to, the swirling words that were scribbled upon the cracked open card instantly made you’re your blood run cold and the glass nearly slip out of your grasp, “I still think it’s silly that they actually sent out ours with everyone else’s and didn’t just toss it over the hedge, but sure, I do get that there is something very romantic about sending and receiving wedding invitations in the mail.”

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vmpiires · 2 months

Text

﹆₊ 画家‧₊˚ THE BLOOD PAINTER, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ art; the painter‘s hidden identity is made known. wc, 3.42K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m back with this storyyyy. getting near the good part which also means the end but not just yet sooo just keep reading. hope ya enjoyyyy and reblog to support meee.

␥ tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3 PART THREE

the art class was bustling with students, the scent of paint and clay wafting through the air. choso sat at his usual spot stealing glances from you. the professor announced a small project; drawing and painting your partners. but there was a twist—only two colors could be used.

choso’s heart raced as ideas began to flood his mind. everyone scattered around to their new seats and the male instantly scooted next to you. he smiled at you. it was something about that shy smile he gave you before he quietly asking if he could draw you.

“let me draw you first,” you smiled. “i don’t want you getting caught up with me and i completely forget to draw you.”

“oh, i don’t know…i’m not really good with posing or anything. and i’m not able to sit still for very long.” choso warned but you only smacked your lips as if the boy was spewing nonsense right out of his teeth.

“quit doubting yourself. you got nice style and your face would literally be perfect on a magazine cover maybe even in the art show that’s coming up.”

“art show?” choso raised a brow. for someone that loved art contests and taking trips to museums just to stare at the portrait hanging on the white walls encased in an embezzled gold frame, he seemed surprised about this information.

“yeah. don’t know how you haven’t heard about it but i was thinking of putting my painting of you in once it was finished.” you looked down at your blank canvas that was resting flat on the table just as it did when you first arrived to class.

“oh, no, you shouldn’t—i mean..you can if you want to it’s your painting but…i really don’t like being the center of attention. i don’t really like being stared at.” choso explained. he bit down on his lower lip and he sighed.

“come on, it’ll be a powerful piece.” you beamed. “i feel like it’ll really make an impact on the audience. and i promise i won’t use your name if you don’t want me to.”

choso hummed, his lips pursed before speaking again. “um…well if you think so highly of the piece then i guess i can’t say no. just promise you won’t tell anybody it’s me.”

“sure. now just hold still for me.” you say with a smile.

classes finally end for the day and the two of you made progress on your art pieces. you decided to ask choso to spend the rest of the day together, to which he agreed to without hesitation.

you both gathered your items and headed out into the bustling city of tokyo. the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. you and choso arrive at a cozy cafe and settled into a booth by a large window, surrounded by the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

the two of you had been there for a good thirty minutes talking about whatever came to mind, bouncing from topic to topic and bookmarking whatever part of the conversation you thought was interesting for another time.

“so, choso, you’ve always been into art?”

“yeah, well, i’ve always had a creative side, but i never really pursued it until recently. art helps me express things that are hard to put into words, you know?”

you nod. you never seen his art before and you just wondered how he had done things. your eyes travel over to the tote bag that was sitting flatly beside choso’s thigh. you fixed your lips to speak but a camera flash went off. you were pretty used to his off guard photos ever since the two of you started to hang out more often.

“can i see?” you leaned your body over the polished wood table before choso lowered his camera.

“not yet.” he answered. “mmm…i’ll show you when the project is complete. until then, i’ll have to hold off on showing you.”

you pout but you could understand why choso was being a bit selfish with his crafts. instead of begging to see a photo of yourself, which you prayed you didn’t blink in, you pointed to his bag.

“why don’t you finish your sketch? i mean, we have a lot of privacy right now and we don’t have any classes tomorrow. i also wanna watch you paint. its something about watching an artist in action is just so satisfying.” you say.

choso, lost in the depths of his own world, takes a sip of his green tea when he hears your unexpected statement. he recently started drinking it a bit more since that was the only thing he actually liked besides ice water.

feeling a surge of nervousness and excitement, choso shifts in his seat. painting in front of someone, especially you, made him feel vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to.

“i’m not sure…” choso looks down at his cup half filled with tea, which still had smoke billowing from it because of how hot it was. “i’ve never painted with someone else in the room before. it’s a pretty personal process for me.”

“c’mon, please? just for a minute.” you pleaded, clasping your hands and intertwining your fingers to be dramatic. choso chuckled at your silly behavior and simply sighed.

“let’s head back to the school and you can watch me work in my room, fair?” choso looks at you, awaiting an answer. of course, you agree.

back at jujutsu tech, you and choso were settling in, slipping your shoes off once you entered the room and placing your bags together against the wall.

you were amazed at how much space he had and how organized he was. the books on the bookshelves were all in size and color order and so were the cute little jars of paint that were on another shelf but you noticed that there was no red paint.

the desk was neatly organized also with choso’s laptop and ipad with its stylus side by side, charging. there was a mug with a bunch of pencils and pens and another cylinder item that looked handmade and painted with brushes in them. you assumed choso made it.

there was an easel in the corner of the room by the large windows that had blinds that would be shortly opened to let in some of the remaining light as the sun set. choso grabbed a few brushes and the rolling chair that sat at his desk and pulled it over in front of the easel and sat down. the male then reached for the canvas that had the drawing of you from his bag and placed it onto the easel. he looked pretty prepared now.

“you mind filling me a cup of clean water from the faucet?”

the question snaps you out of your awe-stricken mind and you nod. you went to the kitchen area and grabbed a cup that didn’t look like it would be used any time soon and filled it with water then brought it back to choso. he directs you to place the cup on the desk before thanking you for the simple gesture.

you noticed choso had his eyes closed now, taking a few breaths before removing the bandage on his nose and trashing it. you saw how blood shot from the black mark running over the bridge of his nose and onto the palette that was in his lap.

choso picks up one of the brushes and dipped it into the crimson liquid that had also been running down his face and began to paint. once the brush hits the canvas, all his nerves seem to dissipate, replaced by the familiar focus that comes with creating.

as choso dips his brush into the blood-infused paint, the room falls silent. the only sounds are the soft scrapes of the brush against the canvas and the occasional drips of paint.

you watched as colors of red and black filled the canvas. you weren’t familiar with the meanings of specific colors but the way you were drawn on his canvas as royalty, you could see sophistication and passion. choso put the brush down and rolled up his sleeves and began to use his fingers to paint. smearing the colors together with his knuckles.

your eyes sparkled, entranced, as choso’s knuckles danced across the canvas, blending the deep reds into the black that was present. the male was aware that he was in need of a palette knife but he’s never gotten the time to buy any.

“the way you use blood for your art is actually unique.” you spoke, breaking the silence. “i guess it adds depth and richness that’s hard to describe. it looks like the painting is alive almost.”

you were seeing it with your own eyes, his art style was hauntingly beautiful. you never seen anything like it. this whole scenario made you wonder if blood was often used when he painted or was this just a perfect coincidence. you slouch in your chair, in thought once again.

“blood has always been a part of me. a part of everyone, i should say. but mine is a curse and a blessing. incorporating it into my art feels natural to me. it’s like i’m putting a part of myself into each piece.” choso murmured.

“um…you know, i never heard you talk about your parents much, only your brothers. they must be really proud of you…you being all smart and artistic and such.” you say softly.

choso’s hand freezes mid stroke, his expression darkening. he sets down his brush and turns to face you. you see how that empty expression of his appeared onto his face again.

“my parents…they’re not in the picture. my mom isn’t alive and my dad was never proud of me. he only saw me as a tool, a weapon to be wielded. i’m happy he left me behind…”

your expression softens. on the outside, choso looked like he had it all. he was attractive, smart, talented, hell if he wasn’t the smartest guy around he probably would’ve gotten in just for being attractive and talented. he seemed perfect. but in reality, he was living in a fucked up world holding on to his creations for comfort.

“i’m so sorry, choso. i probably shouldn’t have brought that up and make you relive painful memories. but despite your past, you managed to create something beautiful out of the darkness. that takes a lot of courage and strength.”

choso nods, his gaze returning to the painting. he picks up his brush once again, lost in thought. he exhaled from his nose. though the topic did hit a nerve, he felt like he could trust you.

“it’s…fine i guess. it was a while ago. my brothers were the ones who helped me escape that life. we all live for each other and nothing can make me change that narrative. they’re my family and we’ve been through a lot together.”

“they must be really important to you, huh? you see them often?” you query. choso nodded again.

“as much as i can. i don’t really have the funds to constantly take train rides back and forth from my house to here and vice versa. we try to stay in touch, the most i can do is call them each night. yuji and eso are busy with their own business and you know they have to keep kechizu close because he’s pretty childlike and clings to eso like he’s his savior.”

you noticed the small smile on his face as he spoke of his brothers. him being the eldest, you would’ve expected him to severely despise his brothers but it seemed like he couldn’t even say the word ‘hate’ when talking about them. it was actually pretty sweet.

as the evening comes to an end, you find yourself standing outside of choso’s room and he’s leaning against the doorframe, his sleeves still rolled up, revealing thin strips of stitches along his forearm.

“what happened to your arm?” you point, making choso break his gaze and follow your finger to where you had been pointing. he only shrugged.

“a stupid accident. nothing too much to worry about.” he answered, rubbing the brand new bandage he had over his nose. his cheeks were still a little red from the blood that had been running down his face earlier.

“you should keep your bandage off. that mark is a part of who you are, and you know i accept that.” you say. choso is taken aback by your words, his hand instinctively touching the bandage again.

“it’s…not easy. people have always been afraid of me because of what what i am. it’s just easier to keep it hidden.”

“but you don’t have to hide from me. i see you, choso, for who you are, not what you are. you’re a human just like any other person here. and i think your mark is pretty cool, actually.”

choso couldn’t help but smile at your words. maybe—just maybe you had a point. maybe it was time for him to change his ways. get out of his comfort zone a little.

“um…yeah, thanks. i’ll think about it. goodnight.”

“goodnight, choso.”

“and this one would be called ‘the blood painter’.” the announcer spoke as the crowd followed around. it was perfect. better than anything else being displayed. choso stood in front of the painted canvas, staring at his own face looking down at his own partially painted portrait with a crimson liquid dripping from his nose and onto the canvas. there was a white cup filled with tea, which had been leaking from the sides as if it were overfilled.

his hair flopped down into his face before lifting a hand to brush it back with his fingers. he was awestruck. how could you have painted something like this with almost no experience. he could’ve sworn you said you were horrible at this kind of thing…maybe his memory was faulty.

“it’s perfect….” you hear him mumble as he stepped closer to the portrait. he was so tempted to touch it but he abided by the rules of not touching or taking any photos of the paintings being displayed. “how did you do this? you couldn’t have—no, you did…but this is so different from your drawing.”

“it was only a sketch. a way to get your features and everything properly. but a few days ago when we hung out, i thought i’d make something more expressive.” you grinned.

“i’m impressed.” choso’s eyes sparkled. “it’s like you captured my soul onto the canvas. i mean, i’ve seen art that expresses the soul of another person but this one is—wow.��

the male looked at you and his cheeks flushed a little. “maybe i got a little too excited. you did a nice job on your painting. hopefully you got a passing grade on it.”

you smiled at choso’s excitement and love for the art you made of him. you both knew it was simply for an assignment that would be graded then tucked away forever or thrown into a nearby dumpster but this was a sentimental thing. it was like a piece that needed to be preserved.

as you both stood in the middle of the large crowds, you two could hear people praising the painting for its raw emotion and style. one patron mentioned that it gave off a bit of a edgy feeling despite the cozy looking background.

choso was a bit surprised and delighted by the positive reactions, he felt a sense of pride in his portrait and the artist that created it—you. he turned to you with a smile on his face.

“i never thought my own portrait would have an impact like this.” choso said shifting his weight onto one leg. “see, now i kinda regret not letting you reveal my name.”

“you’re okay. it’ll make you a mystery man like the mona lisa…well she’s a real person but you get it, don’t you?” you chuckle lightly and choso does just that right along with you.

“i get it. but i’ll never be as known as she is. i’ll only be a mystery man that’s occasionally seen in shibuya.” he said. you threw your arm over choso’s shoulder and waved your hand dismissively.

“sure you will. one thing will lead to another. when you start seriously pursuing art and get your name out there, people will realize that you’re this man in the picture.” you pointed to the portrait, lightly tapping your nail against it as it created a hollow sound. you knew that you weren’t supposed to touch anything but you didn’t seem to care that much. you even went out your way to take a quick picture of it—it was surprisingly clear.

“they’ll call you signore kamo.” you added.

“you know italian?” choso raised a brow, a bit surprised by your pronunciation and how casually you said that word.

“nope, i googled it.” you smile innocently. choso released a breath as if he had been holding it for a while and returned a soft smile to you.

the art show ends and you and choso found yourselves walking close by each other on the sidewalk. the streetlights and neon lights from buildings illuminating your way as you walked back to the university. choso saw that you were on the left of him, closer to the street so he stoped to trade places with you.

“what was that for?” you ask as you put your hands down into your pocket. you had a feeling on exactly why choso did what he did but you just wanted to hear it from his mouth.

“well, just in case something happens, i’ll be hit first and you won’t have to worry about getting hurt.” choso stated, glancing at the street littered with parked cars. your instincts seemed to be correct but your lips involuntarily stretched into a smile anyway and you felt your face heat up a bit.

upon arriving back to the dorms, the two of you stood in the commons, your shadows stretching long in the dim light. since quiet hours were approaching, it was about time the two of you part ways once again until tomorrow. you turn to face each other, a mixture of contentment and longing in your eyes.

“i guess this is where we call it a day. thank you again for everything.” choso says and you nod.

“of course.” you beamed. “i had a really nice time with you today. and don’t forget that you don’t have to hide who you are around me. your true self is beautiful.”

“i’ll remember it.” choso replied before being caught off guard by your sudden hug. you flung your body into him and squeezed his sides a bit. his violet eyes widened as he contemplated on leaving you to cling onto him or hug you back. no one besides his brothers had ever given him a hug.

slowly and awkwardly his arms snaked around your body, finally returning a hug back to you. you both lingered there for a moment, holding on to each other before breaking away.

“hey, dinner on friday?” you ask.

“it’s a date.” choso replied, only making your smile grow. you both say your goodbyes and wave to each other before walking off in the opposite direction to head off to your rooms for the night.

but then another guy came along.

“hey, you got a second?” kashimo whispered. choso never interacted with the guy much but they’ve spoken enough to know how one another looked and each other’s names. sighing, choso obliged.

“i noticed the way you talked to that girl over there just a few seconds ago. you seriously scored.” the cyan haired male smirked at choso. “obviously, there’s something special between you two. maybe i could offer you some advice on that front?”

choso’s eyes narrowed, and as usual, his defensive walls go back up. he was never really comfortable with talking about his personal life, especially with someone he didn’t know all that well.

“i don’t need help with my love life, kashimo. i’m handling it perfectly fine.” choso crossed his arms. kashimo would put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“no pressure. i’m just saying that sometimes it’s easier to open up to someone who isn’t directly involved, you know? sit with me at lunch tomorrow. we can discuss this later.” the other lightly punches choso’s shoulder before heading out of the entrance doors.

“he’s weird.” choso muttered.

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#𝐾𝑂𝑇𝐴 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆 書く #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #jjk x reader #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso x black!reader #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #art #hajime kashimo #jjk kashimo

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aeternallis · 1 year

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A Deep Dive: Kim’s Fight Scene in Yok’s Bar

I’ve been thinking about this scene a lot lately, and I just have so many thoughts on it.

Like low-key, but imo what makes this scene so mesmerizing yet also chilling at the same time is the fact that Kim never eliminates the possibility of Chay turning around at any time and witnessing Kim kill in order to protect him.

Whereas Porsche tends to protect Chay by keeping him from seeing the reality of the mafia life (and tragically blindsides both himself and his brother because of it; Chay because he remains ignorant of his new environment and Porsche because his judgement of the risks in keeping Chay ignorant is impaired due to his overprotectiveness), Kim protects him only from the danger of it.

It’s an all around interesting narrative choice from BOC, especially considering that it’s Kim’s one fight scene in the entire series.

I’ve seen many posts on here before of how Kim leaves the dead bodies for Chay like a feral cat or that he really took the mantra “nobody disturbs my man” up a notch or two, and while I definitely agree with all that on a surface level, I can’t help but think there’s so much more going on. Dare I say, maybe even a little manipulative? Hmm.

Because for reals, there’s a reason why this fight scene makes such an impression on so many fans--the KimChay fans (including myself), in particular--and I think it’s because so much of the context of the fight, as much as the fight itself and the events leading up to it, reveals so much about Kim’s character post-break up w/ Chay.

Like yes, there’s the aesthetic reasons and ofc, Jeff Satur and that beautiful face of his that looks like it was sculpted on a Saturday by the gods, but there’s just so much to be said in the way he’d fought and more importantly, ended the fight.

@wildelydawn wrote up an amazing meta post about how Kim fights, for which I highly recommend y’all read if you haven’t already. I definitely agree with the idea that Kim likes to play with his prey when he fights; he knows how to improvise and use his environment as sources of weapons, and he’s definitely got a bit of a sadistic streak going for him, lol.

Now, where am I going with this? Well, let’s very briefly look at the events leading up to the fight: from the moment they break up in ep 11, to one of the very last scenes in ep 13 when Kim finds out that Porsche and Chay have left the tower, somewhere in between those events, Chay had become Kim’s singular goal and most important priority. Whereas before his goal had been to investigate Porsche and Chay’s connection to the Theerapanyakun family, directly after the break up is when this plotline falls through because his investigation hits a dead end at the temple.

For me personally, methinks it’s the moment he finds out that Chay skipped his college interview in ep 12 and what a massive fuck up he’d just committed. As much as I adore him as a character, I don’t really think he knew the repercussions of his own actions until it was too late, alas. Ultimately, he’s not responsible for Chay’s choices, but he can’t deny that his previous actions influenced them.

Whether it was wanting to confess his own feelings to Chay, or perhaps setting him straight because he skipped his college interview, or wanting to keep him safe, or even just to talk to him and clear the air--the point is, regardless of his reason(s), getting to Chay becomes his next target. And more than that, once Kim sets his crosshairs on a goal--especially on this one person he’s got a romantic attachment to--he is positively ruthless.

You barely see it from how fast the camera cuts out, but if you pause at just the right moment, you can see how Kim’s expression is absolutely seething when Korn stops him from going to look for the Kittisawasd brothers (or perhaps even just Chay himself).

This is the expression of someone who’s more than willing to obliterate anyone who gets in the way of him and his goal. This is an expression of utter resentment. This is the expression of someone who’s itching for a fight, because the universe dared to get in between him and his goal.

(Side bar: I’m pretty sure part of the reason Jeff got the role of Kim Theerapanyakun is because of how intense his method acting can be. He doesn’t have many roles under his belt just yet, but if you haven’t seen He She It, I recommend giving it a go. His acting in that mini drama is a little rough around the edges, but the raw intensity by which he plays the character of Mike definitely highlights some of Jeff’s natural talent. He knows how to act with his eyes and his entire body, and when given the right director to guide him, as we’ve seen when he portrays the role of Kim, he truly thrives in his role.)

Yet still, for all his anger at being prevented by his father from getting to his goal, he’s mindful enough to know that he can’t just go against his orders either. Korn is the enemy of an entirely different caliber, and Kim perfectly knows how and when to pick his battles.

But it isn’t until we see him in the next ep quietly watching Chay from the bar that another facet of his character growth is revealed to us: by this point in time, he’s comfortable in his feelings for Chay enough that he can finally allow himself to luxuriate in his presence, even whilst knowing he’s in the metaphorical dog house.

His arms are propped up, his legs are loosely crossed, his body language is relaxed, whilst still very much aware of his surroundings. Keep in mind, this is the first time since the morning of the kidnapping that we see him perfectly content in Chay’s presence, now fully aware that there’s no reason for lies between them anymore. The only one left is the one he has to fix.

Yet, after all this time of trying to get ahold of Chay ( @bitacrytic wrote an interesting piece about Kim’s unsettling behavior when he realized Chay had cut him off, which I also highly recommend), why didn’t he take the opportunity to talk (or whatever it is he intended to do) when he was finally within sight? The camera shot of Chay talking to Yok on his phone, as well as of Kim sitting on the stool, lingers for a good 20-25 secs, so the audience is given a hint that Kim has been there for a while.

So why not take advantage of this chance?

And the answer to this question, I think, is what’s at the heart of the matter and basically defines the connotation of the entire fight.

Kim is not a fool, he knows for the time being he’s number 1 on Chay’s shit list. And because of this, it may be a stretch to say it, but I will anyway: perhaps off screen, from the moment he had him within sight, Kim may have realized that it would do him no good to talk to Chay at that moment. Not when there’s an imminent threat lying in wait, not when the heartbreak is still too raw for both of them.

Most of all, Chay has no reason to trust him right now; it would just be a repeat of their disastrous confrontation in the club.

And he knows all too well that he cannot afford to sabotage what truly little standing he has left in Chay’s good graces. So he plays it cautious and takes the next best thing: he’ll bask in Chay’s presence, keep him company (albeit one-sided). If you scroll back up real quick and see his expression in the promotional image, it’s almost as if he’s thinking to himself, ‘keep your eyes on the prize--on him. he’s the only one that truly matters.’

But even so, Chay’s safety is his priority for the moment and there’s just so many reasons Kim is itching to vent some anger and frustration: the boy he loves has cut him off completely, Daddy is hatching up some plan again, besides the ongoing 4D chess game he’s got going on with all his sons, his investigation led him nowhere. Yet lo and behold, here comes some goons who not only disturbed his peaceful serotonin-gathering session (unbeknownst to Chay), but are also looking to either use the love of his life as leverage in a conflict that barely has anything to do with him, or just outright kill him.

Really, no one can blame Kim for going a little overboard, not when these poor suckers basically offered themselves to him on a silver platter. Lol

While I won’t go too deep into analyzing the physicality or choreography of the fight itself, I’d like to instead focus on all the things Kim chose/chose not to do, which again, says so much about his character and brings me back to my overarching thesis for this long ass rant: Kim never eliminates the possibility of Chay turning around at any time and witnessing Kim kill in order to protect him.

Kim doesn’t call out for Chay to run: this makes sense, it’s a practical choice; he doesn’t want these men to draw their attention on Chay. So long as they’re focused on him, so long as he distracts them--he can kill them one by one.

Kim doesn’t draw the men away from the bar: an interesting choice that seems like it never crosses Kim’s mind. He’s more than agile enough to have led them away from where they’d entered, yet he keeps them all inside.

Kim didn’t wait for them outside: another interesting choice. Arguably, it would have been more efficient for him to have taken some bodyguards and do a stake out. Further still, it’s also arguable this choice is more an emotional one (he wants Chay where he can see him, dammit), but that’s up for debate.

Kim waits until the last possible second to use a gun: a risky choice, but he pulled it off quite well. He doesn’t go for the gun until the goons have him surrounded within Chay’s vicinity, so he goes for fast kills to end the fight even if it’s not his personal preference. Imo, it’s very obvious throughout the fight that he finds some satisfaction in twisting limbs and breaking bone, so good on him that he got to indulge for a bit.

And finally, immediately right after the fight, he never tries to pull this one over Chay’s head:

This one is pretty self-explanatory, I think. Hahaha.

But after Kim shoots the last man, he doesn’t linger for too long. Which again, why doesn’t he take advantage of yet another chance that’s fallen onto his lap to talk to Chay? The danger has been dealt with for now, after all. Why not at least attempt at some sort of clean up, maybe pile the bodies on one corner so Chay doesn’t trip over them? :’D If not to talk to Chay, why not at least linger in the shadows, to make sure Chay is all right (he’s bound to turn around eventually)?

Instead, he walks away, still panting a bit from the fighting and without a doubt, from the adrenaline rush. His body language is hard to read because his silhouette is blurred, but it’s at this point that BOC could have easily concluded this scene.

They could have left this scene as is, and made the aftermath of the fight as vague as possible, because for what it’s worth, it would have still accomplished one of the main points for KimChay: Kim’s priority is Chay’s immediate safety.

But it’s not the end of the scene. BOC made damn sure that we would see the aftermath, and with it--the changed dynamic between these two characters and the very implications of it. They didn’t leave it vague whatsoever, they pretty much shoved it in our faces.

This scene--this f*cking scene RIGHT HERE--blows wide open a potential trajectory of KimChay’s love story if/when we ever get a season 2.

I think for the first and only time in the show, this shot of Kim sitting on the stairway, enjoying a cigarette after a murder spree, mind you—is the first time we see him fully stripped away of any pretenses in not only the way he loves and protects someone, but how far he can get lost within his own emotions when he has no reason to hold back. He doesn’t even look the least bit concerned for Chay’s emotional well-being, because that’s not his priority when he chose to leave those men lying on the bar’s floors.

If anything, in this specific situation, not holding back benefits him greatly.

For the first time, his character in the show is explicitly elevated to the same level of batshit insane as Kinn and Vegas, perhaps even beyond them.

We’ve seen how WiK had won over Chay, of how tender Kim could be with him, but the fight in Yok’s bar and the conclusion of it afterwards, demonstrates how far Kim’s sharpest, most deadliest aspect of himself—Kimhan, will go in order to win back Chay. Even in trying to get Chay within his orbit once more, he remains just as calculating: he doesn’t let his own gut instinct (actually wanting to talk with Chay) get the better of him; he uses the situation, in this case--even Chay--to give himself the best advantage. Can you imagine how terrifying that is?

It’s no wonder Korn calls him the strongest, yet most dangerous of the Theerapanyakul heirs: regardless of whether Kim holds back or not depending on the given situation, he remains just as sharp, just as deadly, just as cunning. In the first KP novel, Korn presents a question to the readers indirectly: in their world, is love a weakness or is it strength?

For Kim, the answer is obvious: it’s a weakness, but he won’t allow it to be one for himself or for Chay.

And due to all this, there’s only one conclusion I can come up with as to what this shot of Kim sitting on the stairway outside Yok’s bar was trying to accomplish:

Kim—this conniving, devious, gorgeous motherfucker—absolutely wanted Chay to see the dead bodies now littering Yok’s bar.

In fact, I can even argue that he seemed to have been waiting for confirmation that Chay saw his “present.” That he had all the time in the world to make sure his bae got a good look at his kills.

Why, you ask? Simple. Kim trusts Chay’s backbone made of steel. He trusts him to be able to handle it. Why else would he let himself enjoy a smoke after killing 6 people in 6 mins? Why doesn’t he look concerned?! Why not give Chay some comfort, goddamn...! We know this fucker is in love w/ Chay, the dumbass was crying over his polaroids earlier that day. //sobs

But in all seriousness...Kim has firsthand experience of going up against it, doesn’t he? He himself saw how determined Chay could be when he cut himself off entirely from Kim, both from when he pulled his hand away in the club and then blocking his number a day or two later. I don’t necessarily think it’s that Kim overestimated Chay’s love for him, but rather he initially underestimated Chay’s resilience in keeping him away after breaking his heart so terribly.

This son of a bitch (affectionate) sobbed his pathetic heart out after finding out Chay blocked his number, probably took a good look at himself (and Chay’s cute polaroids), and came to one conclusion: “yeah, Chay can handle me. I can go all in now.”

In fairness, Chay’s steadfastness can only improve and strengthen from here on out. Kim--although in love with Chay, but does have his moments of volatile moods and cold verbal wit--is not an easy person to love, as Chay is slowly finding out the hard way. He must be able to confidently call Kim out when the latter needs to be reminded to respect him, that Chay will not take any of his shit.

Ironically enough, in creating an original story for these two characters in the show, it also brings them closer to the dynamic they have in the novel, imo. I myself have only read parts of the novel, and because we barely see KimChay in the book, it’s hard to tell how much closer show!KimChay is to novel!KimChay, but there’s hints of some similarities here and there in terms of character dynamics. Make of that what you will~

Let’s play Devil’s Advocate for a hot sec though, and address the rebuttal: “but won’t this only drive Chay further away from Kim and a life in the mafia?”

My answer to that is: will it though? Chay has more reasons to stay in the world Porsche forced him to enter than he ever has in leaving it. BOC cemented this fact when they decided to keep Namphueng alive, nevermind the fact that Chay’s one positive, healthy parental figure, is now the minor family head and as much as he’d like for it not to be true, he’s still in love with Kim.

But to reiterate, Kim trusts Chay’s backbone made of steel in a way that Porsche doesn’t (again, due to aforementioned overprotectiveness, which also serves as the fundamental difference in how they both protect Chay). But the reasoning behind placing his trust in Chay isn’t entirely selfless either.

He trusts Chay to be able to handle the disturbing scene of the dead bodies he left behind, because he has something to gain from it.

By leaving behind the dead goons for him to find, Kim inadvertently breaks another piece of Chay’s upright perception of the world, ensnares him further into Kim’s reality—and most of all, to Kim himself.

It’s a terrifying level of honesty (and wooing??) coming from Kim because it’s so brutal in its execution. What makes it even more frightening is that he’s genuinely doing this out of his desire to be with Chay. His priority during the fight is Chay’s safety, yes, but his overarching goal after their break up remains the same: to get Chay back.

It drives home the fact that although Kim loves only a handful of people in his life, he loves them fiercely to the point of questionable insanity.

#kinnporsche #kimchay #kim kimhan theerapanyakul #porchay pichaya kittisawat #meta #kinnporche the series #kpts meta

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storiesoflilies · 23 days

Text

Of Angels and Curses

Synopsis - In a world where Angels and Curses are locked in a never ending war, an unsuspecting seraph becomes entangled with the very thing she is fated to eradicate.

Pairings - Curse!Toji Fushiguro x f!Angel!Reader. Curse!Ryomen Sukuna x Reader. Angel!Satoru Gojo x Reader.

Warnings - Descriptions of violence and injuries, eventual smut. Cannibalism(?) (idk it’s Curses eating each other), violence of war. Toji being a lil spicy ;)

A/N - Apologies for the delays with this one! The edits for Chapter 6 and 7 really took it out of me (if you haven’t re-read them yet, then I highly recommend you do!) Anyways, enjoy this chapter! Ko-Fi.

-•-

Chapter 8

It was frightening how easily Y/N slipped back into the dance of war.

But then again, it was second nature to her; a tune to a song that had been sung for a thousand years. It was etched into her very being, she’d heard the words sung from inside her mother’s womb, felt its resonance the moment she was born, and sung it herself when she descended to Earth from Heaven. No Angel, from the dawn of time, had ever escaped the call of this haunting song.

However, the song had a far different tune in Hell than it did anywhere else.

Battles won on Earth had been marvelous victories, where just a bit more sin had been cleansed from the world. But here in Hell, sin multiplied tenfold, especially after a battle was won. Y/N didn’t know why every victory she won felt like a loss. Perhaps it was the sight of her own soldiers feasting on the corpses of the dead, both enemies and comrades, their greed knowing no bounds as black blood gushed forth to make the ground muddy. Perhaps it was the fact she took no prisoners of war, leaving none alive because the severity of torture they would face would be a waste of her soldiers time. Or perhaps it was the persistent feeling that, despite every victory, the end was nowhere near in sight.

Naoya and Jogo’s soldiers proved relentless, pounding against Geto’s borders without pause.

Again.

And again.

And again…

Y/N hadn’t slept in seven days, and how could she? There was no time, and it was far too dangerous to sleep. She hadn’t seen Geto for nearly a month; any and all correspondence was done via Suda, who never rested either as she relayed messages between all Geto’s different battalions throughout Hell. While her brother fought more offensively, assembling his most savage and strongest Curses to directly attack Jogo and Naoya within their own borders, Y/N was charged with defending their own lands. Their enemies could instantaneously appear in the hundreds – if not, tens of hundreds – across various locations.

For this reason, Sukuna’s ring of teleportation had been particularly invaluable for her defense.

It was eerie, almost as if the King of Hell had somehow predicted the war and their strategies. Y/N had been reluctant to even put the ring on, but as soon as she did, sliding it on the exact same finger as Toji wore his, it had shrunk and hugged to the exact size of her finger. She told herself it was a necessity, as there was no way she would have worn it otherwise. Y/N often wondered what Sukuna thought of all this, if he even cared that his Curses were busy slaughtering each other instead of the seraphim. But this wasn’t the first war of Hell, and she guessed that if he hadn’t intervened previously, then it was unlikely he would care now.

Despite when Geto had claimed, even challenged, that this would be the most bloody and violent war that Hell had ever seen.

Y/N often found herself lost in thoughts of what might have been. Amidst the seemingly endless time loop of a fight, her body moved with pure instinct in the dance of death. She didn’t need to use her mind to fight, and so it often wandered to a future that didn’t exist – one where she had become Gojo’s wife, fighting alongside him against the Curses she now fought beside. That would have been a holy and noble war, enacting God’s justice against those that turned against his light. Sometimes, Y/N glanced at her fellow soldiers, and wondered if she would have been forced to kill them in a world where she remained an Angel. A world where Satoru loved her, and she returned it equally. So strong was her daydream that her old soul almost took over, and time seemed to slow as her blade hovered dangerously close to her own soldier’s neck.

Until its maw opened unnaturally wide, and its razor-sharp teeth buried into an enemy Curse’s head. Y/N pulled back sharply, her mind and soul snapping back place as her body recoiled.

How had she not noticed her foe approach her? She would have been deep within its clutches if not for her fellow Curse, whom she had almost contemplated killing.

She cracked her neck with an audible pop and rotated her wrists, feeling the tension release with each twist, and nodded at the Curse who had saved her. It stared at her expectantly like a lost child, haunting vulnerability in its eyes, pink flesh dangling in shredded ribbons between its stained fangs. In one swift motion, Y/N swung her katanas in her hands, and her companion startled out of their momentary trance, returning to the savage dance of the battle around them.

There was something so beautiful about that moment, but Y/N couldn’t place her finger on it.

She wanted to chase that feeling.

If this war was to be so vicious, then Y/N embrace it all and return it tenfold. She readied her body to dance as her soldiers rallied around, completely surrounding her. The notion might have once frightened her, but not anymore. There was nothing to fear, only death and the beautiful song of war.

And then, hellfire started to rain from the sky.

Jogo…

Now this, is what the end is supposed to look like.

“Y/N!”

Miguel’s familiar voice shouted from a distance, causing Y/N to swiftly turn in its direction. In an instant, he was next to her. “Y/N! Suda has just informed me; Geto has begun the siege on the Zenins!”

Her eyes narrowed. “So Jogo sends his soldiers here. He thinks we cannot fend him off with only half an army.”

She surveyed her own force, rapidly formulating strategies in her mind. It was unclear how many Jogo had sent to the border, but one of the Curses was definitely one of his higher-ups, judging by the hellfire. Y/N doubted Jogo himself had come, not yet anyways. Suddenly, a blast of fire erupted outside her circle as a droplet landed beside them, and a Curse screeched in agony.

“Find Curses to form a barrier above us,” Y/N said urgently, shielding her head as another bout of fire erupted near her. “We cannot defend ourselves with this.”

Miguel nodded, sweat beading on his forehead. “And you? Do you need more soldiers?”

She looked at the Curses surrounding her, their gnashing teeth and pounding legs thumping the ground, as if they were her hellhounds eager to be off their leash. Y/N shook her head. “No, these are all I need. Send more to protect the supply outposts. We cannot afford to lose another.”

Miguel nodded and disappeared, leaving Y/N to take charge. She roughly dragged a Curse from the circle closer to her, then placed a hand gently on its head, as if seeking to make amends. She whispered softly, her voice like a soothing prayer that she found Curses responded well to. "Go and find me the one responsible for the hellfire.”

The Curse blabbered nonsense, its cloven feet stomping into the dirt, before speeding off into the fray, barreling into enemies and swinging them into the air with reckless abandon. Y/N raised her katanas over her head and launched herself against their foes. Her soldiers followed closely behind, swept up in the fervor of her charge. Y/N was the relentless tide crashing against the shoreline, the herald of a catastrophic tsunami that would engulf them all.

It was some time before her hoofed Curse returned, it’s battered and bloodied form charging towards her. With a powerful thrust, it impaled into an enemy Curse that Y/N had suspended high into the air with her katanas. The Curse snarled and spat, but she knew to follow its lead. And through the maze of death and corpses it led her, a twisted beacon amidst the darkness and chaos.

Straight towards Jogo’s second in command.

Hanami.

For a split second, Y/N was gripped by sadness. Why had fate forced them to cross paths? Yet, it seemed inevitable; the two generals of the Kings must be the destined to confront each other. Why did God make such things come to pass? Hanami was innocent, a Curse born from the fear of Gods own nature that he himself had created. What was there truly to fear? Hanami embodied nature’s beauty as much as much as its cruelty. Thorns and vines coiled around Y/N’s soldiers, ruthlessly tearing them apart, but she couldn’t shake the memory of her fever dream. The voice that had condemned her to be scratched into pieces. Was it actually a vision from this very moment? Was Hanami to be the orchestrator of her demise, strumming the strings of her death like a harp?

Y/N thought it was what she deserved, to be killed by God’s nature from which she had turned her back.

Hanami seemed to finally notice her, releasing the soldiers entangled within her thorns and spreading out her arms as if welcoming Y/N home. She wanted to cry; both with homesickness and with the sickly sin she was about to commit. For she had no intention of dying, even if it was what she deserved. Yet, tears slipped from her eyes regardless.

“Why do you cry?”

It was Hanami’s voice in Y/N’s head, and it startled her. All the Curses around them had turned to fight each other, paving a makeshift pathway directly between the two of them.

“Do you cry for yourself? For your mate who shall surely grieve you?”

“No, I cry for you.”

“For me? You don’t know me.”

“And I never will, but I would have liked to.”

“I have been charged with your death, and I will not fail as Mahito did. If you must know me, then know this. I do not hate you, I only seek a world where my nature can thrive. You and your brother stand in the way of that.”

How cruel, God why must you do this to me – to her? She would have been a wonderful Angel.

“We should have been on the same side then, because I don’t hate you either.”

With that, they launched themselves at each other through the garden of thorns and ruby roses. Each step brought forth a flurry of petals, swirling around them like a tempest. Y/N's blades sliced through the flowers and roots, yet Hanami countered her with a strength and speed that seemed to match the blooming growth around them.

They collided in a chaotic tangle of petals and gleaming metal, the air thick with the sickening scent of blood and blossoms. The behemoth Curse’s vines and thorns twisted and writhed, entangling Y/N in a deadly embrace, and the ground beneath them trembled with the force of her strikes against the roots. The air crackled with raw energy, as victory remained shrouded in a misty cloud. Through their bond, Y/N felt Toji’s essence urging her on desperately, and she clenched her jaw in determination.

This would end, one way or the other.

-•-

She trudged through from the portal with a slight limp, dragging the full weight of Hanami’s body behind her.

Y/N hated how this was so undignified for Hanami. She deserved a proper burial, or at least a smiting, but Y/N had no more divine energy to spare for that, and Curses would never bury their enemies. This was the way it had to be done, what was expected of her. The village she had teleported to was one of the largest at the border, serving as Y/N’s base to travel between. As the Curses around her stared, taking in the lifeless body of Jogo’s general, they erupted into frantic joy. Y/N was too tired for it, too saddened by what she had done, to find any enjoyment in hearing chants and cheers of her name in reverence.

Her bones ached, and her eyes felt as dry as sand. Y/N knew she needed to sleep, but she could hardly bring herself to do it. Every time she closed her eyes, she was haunted by that nightmarish red color, and a phantom pain bloomed over her face where Mahito had touched her. To sleep felt like a death sentence now, and it was beyond infuriating that their enemies had stolen her very basic right to rest and sleep.

On top of that, Y/N missed Toji fiercely.

The exhausted part of Y/N wished she had taken him up on his offer, because then she would have been at peace and safe. But the rational part of her would never allow it, standing firmly in her resolve not to run away from this war. But still, Y/N felt as if their bond had shifted to something more… intense. It was as crippling as it was exhilarating.

Suda and Miguel were waiting for her outside an old stone house that once belonged to a local villager, but now served as her own personal quarters. Miguel looked exhausted, but still kept up his cool demeanor in front of Suda, whose eyes widened into saucers as she took in Hanami’s body.

Y/N finally stopped dragging the body and let go, and it thumped loudly as it hit the ground. “Bring her head to my brother,” she instructed, making it clear that she would not be maiming any corpses herself.

Suda grimaced further, lip curling in disgust. “Anything else?”

“Tell him not to worry about us, and to focus on the siege. Just let us know when he needs supplies so we can send a group to transport it quickly.”

Suda nodded and looked at Miguel for support, who began to drag Hanami away from Y/N. With a sigh, Y/N pushed open the door, stumbling through and hoping nobody saw her. Hanami’s thorns had cut through parts of her armor, creating deep welts that throbbed and bled. One of the vines had gripped Y/N’s ankle so tightly that it was a struggle to walk straight. She knew she needed to sleep; it would help heal her wounds, and probably her ankle. But the sheer amount of obsidian blood covering her body, red rose petals clinging to it like feathers in tar, was a reminder that sleep was out of reach.

Y/N knelt at the edge of the bed, clasping her hands together as her knees scraped harshly against the floor. Prayer kept her from falling asleep, and from staying awake, fearing an assassin lurking in the night. And in some strange way, she felt as if God was still listening, even all the way down in the depths of Hell.

“Dear God in Heaven,

I ask that you deliver me from this darkness.

Help me cleanse this sin, and bring forth light an-”

“What are you doing?”

She’d never sprung into action so fast in her life. Her body acted on pure instinct, all speed and rage as she crashed directly into the bulky form of the stranger in her room. It was unnerving, frightening, that Y/N hadn’t heard anything approaching her, especially after swearing to herself that nothing was going to sneak up on her again. Her attacker grunted in surprise, and they wrestled for just a moment until Y/N registered Toji’s bright green eyes and familiar shaggy black locks. She had him pinned to the floor, her forearm pressing deep into his neck, and her dagger delicately close to his temple. He was breathing hard, nostrils flared in alarm, and tense.

“It’s me,” Toji whispered, with just a hint of panic in his eyes. “It’s just me.”

Y/N groaned, her head hanging low as her heart pounded, as if it took great effort for the muscle to pump anymore adrenaline through her veins. “I-uh, sorry.”

He tentatively rubbed her arm, the metal still pressing uncomfortably hard into his neck. “S’ok, you want to let go now?”

She awkwardly rushed to get off of him, and extended her hand for Toji to take. He accepted it and pulled himself up, his intense gaze weighing and sizing her up.

“When’s the last time you slept?” he asked gently, still hesitant, as if she was going to attack him for the slightest thing.

“Tch! It doesn’t matter,” Y/N muttered, moving over to the edge of the bed and sitting in a slump.

“It matters,” Toji started, and she could feel the beginning of a lecture coming on. “When you can’t even hear someone approach you. Why don’t you just sleep?”

“You know why. Just leave it.”

He moved over towards her, sitting beside her, his spread knees touching hers. “You still pray,” he stated, more of an observation than a question.

“Yes,” Y/N replied, the exhaustion creeping back into her voice as the adrenaline left her body. “It helps. It keeps me awake and stops me from thinking.”

“About?”

Flashes of pain.

Burning blood and bones.

Foggy visions of something seen long ago, but never to be remembered.

Y/N cracked her neck suddenly, feeling her bones crunching. “Mahito, I suppose. And Geto fighting so far away.” Toji hummed, and she suddenly felt quite nervous. “You’re not going to… judge me for this, are you?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “For praying?”

“Yes.”

“It’s something you do alone, and if it helps, then why stop? It has nothing to do with me, so I’m not going to judge.”

For some bizarre reason, the anxiety and tension she had been holding in her chest dissipated, and Y/N sniffed as she wiped her nose.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, voice cracking.

Toji looked at her strangely and said in a low rumble. “There’s no need for that. I told you before that I don’t care about Fallen or Angel customs.” He looked away shyly and added, “I just want you to be well.”

She blew out a deep breath and slumped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I will be when this war is over.”

He slowly joined her, their shoulders and knees touching. “And how’s it going? I heard Geto has started a siege on my old home.”

“Oh, yes he has. Mei-Mei?”

“Her crows are everywhere.”

“Even here?”

“Especially here.”

“If you want to see me, then you should just do that. No need to spy, Toji.”

“I’m not spying, just… keeping an eye on you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Toji looked over and gave her a pointed look. “Of course I do.” He looked back at the ceiling and huffed quietly. “Stupid thing to say.”

Y/N snorted, perhaps due to her exhaustion, but also partly due to a giddy nervous part of her soul that came out when Toji was around. She couldn’t help herself, and erupted into a fit of giggles. He looked over at her in amusement, and chuckled lowly along with her. They eventually settled into a comfortable silence, with her head slightly tilted towards Toji’s. Suddenly, he took her hand in his, observing her bloodstained nails and thorn cuts.

Displeasure…

“I killed Hanami,” Y/N confessed, as if bursting forth a deep secret she couldn’t withhold anymore.

Toji nodded, his fingers tracing the lines of her hands. “Good. It will take Jogo some time to re-organize his forces.”

She hummed, quiet tears spilling from her eyes onto her cheeks. “I suppose so, yes.”

He looked at her with concern deep in his emerald orbs, and gripped her hand tighter. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I just… really didn’t want to kill her.”

“Why’s that?”

Y/N didn’t really know herself, and so it took her some time before she could finally come up with somewhat of an answer. “She was part of nature. It felt like killing an Angel.”

Toji was moving each of her fingers back and forth. “Hanami was no seraph. You should have heard the things she’s done to Angels.”

“I’m sure it’s not much different to what Angels have done to us.”

“Do you not think you could do it, then? If you ascended and came across a seraph.”

No.

Y/N didn’t need to say it aloud; Toji knew her answer from her soul speaking volumes through the bond. They lay together in hushed stillness, interrupted only by Toji curling her fingers into a closed fist. His hand covered hers, offering silent reassurance.

“You need to sleep,” he finally said gently.

“I know, but I can’t.”

“I’ll stay with you, then.”

“Won’t you get tired?”

“Pft! No.”

“Toji, are you sure?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about it. Just sleep, nothin’ll get past me.”

Y/N smiled softly at him, and moved up higher onto the bed, not caring about dirtying the sheets with the stains of battle. Toji stood and pulled over a chair closer to the bed, spreading his legs out and crossing his arms. The flickering candlelight cast a shadow on his chiseled features, adding to his alluring enigma, and she wanted to keep discovering everything about him. His gaze darkened, and she knew that he could sense her desire trickling into the bond like a gentle rain.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Y/N huffed, burying her face into her pillow.

“Like what? I’m supposed to be watching you.”

“Yeah, but not like that.”

“What do you want me to do, stare at the ceiling?”

“No…”

Y/N heard the chair scrape even closer to the bed, and she peeked out from the pillow to see Toji resting his upper body on the bed while still remaining seated on the chair. He nestled his head on his crossed arms, alarmingly close to her face, and closed his eyes.

“Better?” he quipped.

“Mhm.”

“Good, now sleep.”

-•-

Toji’s hair was the first thing Y/N saw when she woke.

The top of his head was directly in front of her, black curtains spilling onto the bed. His arm extended out, as reaching out to try and touch her. He seemed like he was asleep, but Y/N knew he probably wasn’t. This was the most peaceful she had ever seen Toji look, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him alluring. She reached over and softly stroked his hair, and Toji groaned softly.

“You slept well,” he grunted, pushing his head closer to her and leaning into her touch.

Y/N hummed, twirling strands of his hair between her fingers. He moved his head, resting his chin on his arms, green eyes trained watching her toy with his hair.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“You’re beautiful,” Toji remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. She smiled widely, humming again, but more shyly. He took her hand that was playing with his hair and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, igniting a wildfire deep within her.

More…

His green eyes blazed with emerald flames, and he pressed featherlight kisses along each of her fingers. Her breath hitched; nothing else in the world felt real anymore, except the sensation of his lips on her skin.

One.

Two.

“Did you dream of anything?” Toji rumbled, rubbing his cheek into Y/N’s fingers.

Three, four…

She shook her head, looking at him with eyes wide and pupils blown. “No, nothing at all.”

Five.

He moved to her other hand, and Y/N wondered just how far she would let him take her.

One, two.

“So, you want me to stay with you every night?”

Three.

“You couldn’t do that.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you wanted me to.”

Four.

“Of course I do, bu-.”

“Shh! Then that’s what I’ll do.”

Five.

His hands enveloped hers, rubbing them tenderly.

“Toji!”

“What?”

“Toji, you can’t do this every night! And I don’t expect you to either.”

“Y/N, if it means you’re safe and sleeping well, then I’ll do it.”

“But your people need you more than I do.”

“Fucks s-, why won’t you let me help? You won’t stay with me, so why can’t I stay with you?”

Y/N cupped Toji’s face, her thumb stroking his cheek. She craved him; he made her pliable, like clay in a sculptors hands. In that moment, she wanted to give him everything he wanted. There was nobody else more willing to help her pass the time in the night. Who else could say they could fight off her nightmares with his bare hands? Toji was made of smoke and steel, breaking through and sliding between every crack and crevice inside her.

“I want you to, but we can’t indulge this,” she whispered, her tingling lips almost unable to speak. “Not now, not until the war is over.”

Toji groaned with exasperation and fell silent. Y/N could feel him thinking hard, and she indulged in his distraction, exploring his face with the pads of her fingers. She traced his furrowed brows, smoothing them out, moving on to the strong bridge of his nose and his smoky lashes.

“What’s the point of praying?” Toji asked suddenly. “How do you know God even listens?

Y/N’s finger froze, just as she was about to trace the scar on his lip. “It’s just what faith is. There’s something that happens when you pray. You can feel God’s presence watching and listening.”

“So, you can still feel it? Even here?”

“Not anymore, but I think he’s still able to listen. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, I like to know how you think. I want to know what you expect from me, because I don’t really understand your… customs.”

Toji stood up, almost reluctantly, and Y/N’s inner voice cried out as he untangled their souls from their intimate moment. “Where are you going?” she whispered, urgency lacing her words.

“I’ll be back here tonight. Wait for me,” he replied, stroking her cheek before disappearing.

Later that night, true to his word, Toji was there waiting for Y/N, but he wasn’t alone. He was with a with a girl, her shaggy cropped hair framing her face, with a thousand and one angry scars crisscrossing every bit of her skin. There was an undeniable connection between her and Toji; their auras mirrored each other, as if they were cut from the same cloth, made of the same blood and flesh.

Y/N hesitated slightly but approached them nonetheless, regaining an air of authority as she walked. Today’s battle had gone awry; Jogo’s soldiers had overwhelmed them completely at a supply outpost. It took both Miguel and Larue to drag her away from the fight, so strong was her desperation to defend their resources. Now, she was left drained and filled with dread, knowing that Geto’s army, as well as her own, had lost even more supplies for their war.

I’m sorry, brother. I will do better.

Concern…

Y/N shook her head at Toji, hoping he understood that now was not the time or place to discuss her feelings. He frowned, seemingly conceding, and introduced the girl beside him. “Y/N, this is Maki Zenin.”

She raised an eyebrow at Maki, though not entirely surprised at the revelation of her relation to Toji. “Zenin?”

“Not anymore,” the girl interjected, her tone a touch sour. “Just call me Maki.”

“I see,” Y/N replied flatly, unimpressed with Maki’s tone, and turned her gaze back to Toji. “And why exactly is Maki here?”

“She left the Zenins and joined my court,” Toji answered, looking at Maki with reserved interest. “But I think she would be able to help you win this war.”

“Is that so?” Y/N sized Maki up, assessing her from head to toe. “Why did you leave the Zenins?”

Maki’s demeanor seemed to shatter and harden instantaneously, her voice strained as she muttered through gritted teeth. “They murdered my sister.”

“And you want to join us because you want revenge? This war isn’t your emotional playground.”

“It’s not, no. And I don’t want to join Geto, just you. Fushiguro is the only family I have left, family that I’ve chosen, and you’re his mate. That makes you my family too, and no more of my family is going to be murdered.”

Y/N’s resolve softened, and she glanced at Toji, who regarded Maki with just a slight hint of pride. He turned to her, and said lowly. “She’s not like them. I trust her to fight alongside you and watch over you when I can’t.”

She clicked her tongue in thought and nodded. What was there really to lose? If Toji trusted her, then Y/N would too. “Fine then, Maki. You can join us.”

Relief…

“Maki, give us a moment,” Toji said, and the girl nodded before walking off into the hustle of the barracks.

“You didn’t think I’d let her stay?” Y/N questioned, her gaze following Maki as she was stopped by Larue, who immediately seemed to be trying to provoke her.

He sighed and stood beside her. “I didn’t think you’d let just anybody get that close to you.”

Y/N hummed. “She doesn’t seem like just anyone if you let her stay with you.”

Toji’s eyes darkened, and he muttered. “I know how it feels to be chewed and spat back out by that family.”

Larue poked Maki’s scarred arm, and she swiftly had him pinned to the ground in a headlock. A group of Curses gathered round, egging on the confrontation, their appetite for violence and bloodshed insatiable. This was the brutal hierarchy of their world, where strength was the only clear language understood. Maki could either overcome it, or crumble. Y/N expected her to survive, otherwise Toji’s plan would have failed before it even began.

“She’s fast,” she commented, and Toji nodded.

“Maki’s like me, nearly fights exactly the same. Through her, I may as well be fighting this war with you.” He nudged her gently, his gaze softening. “What happened today?”

Y/N sighed, pinching her nose. “We don’t have the numbers to defend ourselves and our supplies. We’ve lost too many resources already, and Geto needs all the help he can get to wage out the siege.”

She knew that Toji wasn’t going to offer aid. Doing so would risk openly aligning his kingdom with theirs, and subjecting his people to the wrath of two layers. It would plunge nearly all of Hell into chaos, and subject his people to the same suffering that Geto faced.

Nearly all of Hell.

But not all…

“What will you do, then?”

As Maki brought her clenched fist straight into Larue’s throat, the beginning of an idea started to form in Y/N’s head. Toji chuckled beside her, the ghost of his hand next to hers, as he watched his younger cousin establish her dominance. Though he may not have realized it yet, by bringing her to Y/N, Maki’s willingness to switch allegiance opened up new possibilities.

“I think I might go and visit someone.”

-•-

taglist:

@kkhaosxx @tadabzzzbee @gabrielle2013 @angelheavensblog @cyberang3lic

@justmarlen3 @pinknipszz @moonwingeys @luzzbuzz @hornabbyyy

@mitsuyasblackwifey @chosolover736 @spookyjyestha @elisqq @sillyrings978

@littlekittensoftpaws93 @starryluv4 @99k4manii @maid4nanno @limerence08

@iloveitwhentheyrunnn @kamoslut @rubyrose2014 @hannah5max @transparent-nature

@katsvgou

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turtleblogatlast · 1 month

Note

hey!!! this is less of an ask and more of a fic rec tbh 😭 but have you read 'I May be Invisible, but I Still Look Good" by Dandy over on Ao3???? It's after the movie AND Leo-centric and like he gets cursed so his spirit is ripped out of his body. It's like 125k words of wonderful storytelling

OH- but for an actual question, do you have and fic recs?? or any AU's you think people should go check out?

I tried answering this before and it erased my reply orz

ANYWAY YES I HAVE read this and I absolutely love it with every fiber of my being.❤️ 100% one of my top fics to read in this fandom that I even go back to for a reread more than once. The characters are perfectly done and the set up for the story is believable with a fantastic payoff, highly highly highly recommend to anyone who hasn’t read it yet.❤️

As for recs, I’ve always been terrible at giving recs since my memory is very bad especially for ones I haven’t read in a while.😭 Off the top of my head I can recommend (note these are practically entirely Leo-centric since he’s my special guy you understand (the others aren’t forgotten at all though!!!) - and most of these are very very well known so you’ve likely already read them…):

[Note many of these are unfinished and may remain that way - please no one harass the writers for more, let them write at their own pace if they choose to write at all]

- The Neon Void by sugarpastels is absolutely incredible, the dramatic irony of it all as we follow Leo in the state he’s in and see just how broken all the Hamatos are by his “death” is just 👌👌👌 The fact that this places with one of my favorite tropes aka “Leo being in the Prison Dimension longer than canon” is just so good. Genuinely a thoroughly gripping tale that I highly recommend. It’s not complete yet (a lot of this list isn’t) but what is there is so amazing please read (though you most likely have read it already haha)

- little kid with a big death wish and firefight by remrose are another two you’ve likely seen but by god are they worth the read. Firefight isn’t done yet but it and death wish are so amazingly well written and really go into how trauma affects people differently and how ties with family can be tested in traumatic situations. Hard subjects definitely but very maturely done. (Also I misread firefight as firelight for way too long before I realized it-)

- Power Up and Times Five by pickedcarrotsandradish are both unfinished but I can’t care because what we were given is so good that I’m fine with them as they are. Both deal with Leo’s insecurities and bad feelings about himself and, very importantly, the fics go into how these insecurities establish a base for Leo’s very real flaws and how those flaws push him to act the way he does. Very interesting and compelling stuff here!! Power Up especially does really cool things for the boys’ mystic power ups, especially Leo’s, and I loved reading about the ins and outs of what they could do.

- Race Against Life, Death, and the EPF by Cass_Phoenix is just so engaging to read??? Like I love the entire set up for it - it’s feels so fresh and like you’re in Leo’s desperate situation yourself. I was so excited whenever a new chapter came out because the atmosphere was so well done.

- A Mixed Bag by GreatlyBlessed is SHOCKINGLY not Leo-centric for once haha. It’s not completed, but again, like the others above it is so good that I recommend it anyway. This story is actually a crossover between four sets of TMNT (‘87, ‘03, ‘12, and Rise) and the dynamics set up in it are SO fun I love it. Team 2 is my fave because you have literally all my faves on that team how could I not?? I also highly appreciate that everyone gets a chance to shine and that there’s no bashing at all, they’re all just very much in character and it’s refreshing to read ❤️❤️❤️

There’s a LOAD more that I could recommend I’m sure but I don’t remember them off the top of my head at the moment.😭 If I remember I’ll come back and add them in!

(Forgot about AU’s- honestly there’s some that I see and catch up on when I see them but there’s just so many that it’s a bit difficult to keep track of sometimes! I’d have to go around and fully look through many before having a solid answer haha! The ones I do see are always so well done though, I may come back and add them here if I remember 😅)

#non au ask #it’s killing me to not remember them all orz #I swear there’s so much more #‘are they all Leo centric’ yeah LMAO #maybe one or two are more ensemble but yeah haha…#my special interest hyper focuses on my fave sorry 😭 he’s also just the most fun for me to read personally #but yeah I’ll come back and add more when I remember them lol #wracking my head to remember #gonna tag this as #turtle fic recs #so I can find it again later

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notsoattractivearenti · 8 months

Text

Goodbye, Summer (Christian Pulisic x Reader)

Song Inspo: Summer Love - One Direction (listening to the song while reading is highly recommended!)

WC: 2.7K

Warnings: cursing, angst

A/N: after a few months i finally finished this fic!!! this is my first christian angst it felt kinda strange to write one for him lol and just so y'all know i haven't been able to write angst with a happy ending so, be aware. and the start of the ‘summer love’ is a lot different than usual hopefully not too weird for your liking tho. also this wasn't proofread, sorry if this turns out to be shit. anw hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any grammatical errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

–

“Cause you were mine for the summer

Now we know it's nearly over

Feels like snow in September

But I always will remember”

—

Summer has come to an end. Well, technically summer hasn’t ended yet – but Christian had to move to Italy and this move wasn’t exactly planned but quite expected – so yeah, to me, summer is about to end. And the moment Christian hops on the plane, there goes my summer of love. It was fun while it lasted – though I wish it would never end.

Christian told me he was leaving just a few days prior. He had been back to the States two days after the end of the Premier League season and ever since we had been spending the summer together. I knew this was coming as we agreed we would only be together for the summer but I didn’t think it would be this hard.

—

I met him through a mutual friend last year when he was briefly in Florida to visit his family and friends for Christmas. I still had a boyfriend at the time – even though my relationship ended the very next day, it was already broken to begin with – so we became strictly friends and I had no intentions on dating him. Jokes on me, because I had caught feelings for him but I was so wounded by the heartbreak I wasn’t even aware of it. He did catch feelings too, though he thought I needed time to process the breakup so confessing his feelings wouldn’t be appropriate.

I didn’t want a serious relationship for a while – or so I thought – therefore I didn’t even think of dating since my last one. Christian and I would sometimes text each other, but it wasn’t a constant thing. We hadn’t really seen each other in person since because of the distance, but I watched every match he played and usually texted him to give my support before the match.

One night within the second week of May, he told me by text that he was going back to Florida for summer break and looking forward to spending the rest of the summer with me. I thought to myself: why would he spend his short break with me? I responded to him by asking why just me and not his friends and family, hoping he would say something funny and odd like he always does and instead he said something I didn’t see coming.

“Because I like you and I want to be with you.”

My heart stopped the second I saw that text. Christian… Likes me? My goodness, what an oblivious idiot I had been. I was deeply wounded by my past I didn’t see what was going on in front of me the whole time. I didn’t know what else to say and I accidentally left his text on read that night.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“I’ve freaked you out haven’t I? Fuck I’m sorry!!!”

Oh shit. I woke up to those unread messages from Christian – I just remembered I hadn’t texted him back last night. I immediately tried to reply but as my thumbs touched the screen to type, no words came to mind. I honestly didn’t know how to react, if I tell him I’m not looking for a relationship would it hurt him?

“I…”

“Christian…”

“If you want a relationship, I don’t know if I’m the right person for you…”

I locked my phone screen right after I sent those messages. I hoped I wasn’t being too harsh to him, but being put in this position was so overwhelming and I didn’t know what else to say. I just… I wasn’t ready. And I couldn’t tell when I would be. Not to mention he lives thousands of miles away from me and I didn’t think I could handle the distance.

An hour later, I finally heard back from Christian.

“I get it and I respect that.”

“What if we just… Be together for the summer?”

“We don’t have to think about what’s gonna happen after. Just be in the moment… You and me.”

I gave that idea of his a thought – a not-so-long thought because I was assuming I didn’t have enough time. I’d admit, while I found it interesting, I couldn’t help but wonder: would it be worth it? Would someone get hurt at the end?

Before the day ended, I finally made up my mind.

“Okay. I’m in…”

“But just for the summer.”

“And only if nobody is gonna get hurt.”

—

When he arrived, I was the one who picked him up at the airport. We absolutely spent our summer together everyday – there wasn’t a day that went by without him by my side and vice versa. He invited me to spend some time with his family and friends on their boats, and I had him spending time with mine on either the beach or my family’s home.

We were well aware we only had each other for the summer, thus we made sure every moment counts no matter how little or big it might be. We knew once this summer ends it also marks the end of our time together and go back to live our own separate lives. I didn’t want to think about what will happen next – I just want to live in the moment.

The more I spend my time with him, the stronger my feelings grow. It’s been messing up my mind, but I couldn’t let it ruin my summer. This was the best summer I’ve ever had in a long time, and I would not take it for granted. The memories we were creating throughout will forever live on in my head.

—

In the middle of our “summer of love”, Christian came to an agreement with AC Milan, and by that his time in Chelsea had come to an end and he had to relocate to Italy. And the club wanted him to join them for preseason, meaning his summer break had to be cut off sooner than he planned.

When he broke the news, I was stunned – not that I wasn’t happy about his move to Milan, I just needed time to process it. I also wasn’t ready for our summer to be over, but the circumstances forced us to cut our time short. It was pretty saddening for us that we unfortunately had to burst our little bubble.

“So… That’s it for us then?” I carefully asked.

“Let’s just not talk about it.” He refused.

I didn’t want to cause a fight at the time, so I agreed to let it go.

The entire time, I felt like I had to walk on eggshells around him. But eventually I couldn’t do that forever. You can't escape the reality no matter how much you want to.

—

Christian was packing his bags as he had a flight to catch the next morning. Yes, I couldn’t emphasize enough that we know our whatever-you-called-ship is coming to an end. In every hello there is a goodbye, right? But why does this feel so hard?

We have tried really hard not to mention anything about the fact that our summer love will be over soon but it is an inevitable topic. There is no way we can escape the conversation, especially on our very last day together. And I have to be the one to bring this up because Christian clearly didn’t want to – he might be the one who suggested the idea, but he is the one who is more in denial.

“Chris, you know we both have to say something, don’t you?” I tried to start the conversation.

“Can we not? Please.” He whimpered.

“We have to.” I insisted.

He kept packing in silence, not wanting to talk about the painful reality. I was sitting on the corner of his bed while he was standing across from me, avoiding eye contact since I started talking. He was looking down all the time – organizing his belongings – and not once he took even a little glance at me. I looked closely at his face, paying attention to every little detail I could. His face was red, eyes were puffy and watery, lips were tight – it was obvious to me he was trying so hard not to cry.

“So are you just going to freeze me out the entire time or?” Still no answer from him.

I went and sat a lot closer to him and he tried to look away.

“Stop it, please! At least just look at my fucking eyes if you don’t want to fucking speak!”

And suddenly I saw tears running down on his face. He couldn’t hold them back anymore – his heart was completely shattered and it was obvious he was nowhere near ready to face the harsh reality.

“Chris… Listen…”

“Why can’t you change your mind?”

He asked a question that got me startled.

“What is it about me and the time that we had that made you certain you still don’t want a relationship?” His voice was trembling.

It took me a while to even say one fucking word to him. I felt like the worst person on earth for breaking the sweetest man’s heart. And to be honest, I broke my own heart too – and I was really trying my hardest to conceal it from him.

“Chris, you were the one who said, and I quote, “just be together for the summer”! I was being so clear I didn’t want a relationship yet you still offered me that. There’s nothing wrong with you, it’s just… I’m not ready. And I don’t know when I will be again.” I desperately tried to explain myself to him but I seemed to upset him even more.

“Yeah, right.” He shook his head and smacked his lips. “Whatever you say.”

I sighed.

“Chris… Please, why won’t you believe me?” I asked him quietly.

“I don’t buy your bullshit anymore.” He replied coldly, while wiping his tears.

Now done packing, he grabbed the car keys and put most of his belongings in the trunk.

I still wanted to have more conversation – about us, specifically – but after he was done with his stuff, he refused.

“I’m tired and I have an early flight to catch tomorrow. I think I should just go to sleep right now.” He said as he walked into his room.

“Yeah, of course...” I responded.

I tried to softly grab his hand but he swung his arm further away from me.

“See you tomorrow, Chris. Goo-”

He slammed the door on my face before I got to tell him goodnight. At the moment, I thought to myself: oh no, he really hates me.

—

The next morning I drove Christian to the airport. He was going to Milan with his dad and he was meeting him at the airport. On the way there, we didn’t really talk much. There was so much silence – and somehow it made everything even more painful.

I couldn’t handle the tension any longer, so I tried to break the ice.

“Hey, thank you for spending the summer with me. It was the best I’ve ever had.”

He only nodded.

“Umm, I’m sorry this only lasted for a short while...”

He looked down, he sniffed and rubbed his nose and sighed.

“Well, have fun in Milan! You needed a fresh start and you’re about to get one… Christian, I am proud of you.”

I tried to be supportive and not say anything that could be perceived as “something wrong” because I knew he was in a fragile state at the moment, though it seemed like he wasn’t going to respond the way I hoped he would. I was genuinely proud of him by the way – always have and always will.

He looked up but still avoiding eye contact, let out a slight smile and chuckled a little bit.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“And uh… Maybe you’d forget about me with all the girls you’re going to meet there...”

I immediately regretted what I just said. Shit. What the fuck did I just say?

He finally looked directly into my eyes – a look full of disbelief and disappointment. There was a moment of silence between us. This time, I was the one who couldn’t see him in the eyes.

“Chris, I’m so, so sorry I didn’t m-”

“How could you say that, Y/N?” He cut me off before I finished talking, by the tone of his voice I could tell he was mad at me.

I froze for a minute. I knew I had fucked up but I never thought it would be so much worse – at the moment I was really, really fucking shit up.

“Do you think my feelings for you aren't real enough so other girls can easily make it go away? Do you really think I can forget you just like that? Are you implying that what we had all summer will not stick in your memories?”

“Wha- no, Chris, that’s not what I mean!”

What a mess I had made... And before I knew it, tears started to fill my eyes.

“Well to me it sounded like that. I’m appalled to know you don’t see whatever we were as something real and meaningful. Maybe it was a mistake to even ask you to give us a chance in the first place.” He sounded like he was truly aching and filled with regrets.

I glanced at him for a bit and I saw him biting his lip and his face was already all red. I never wanted our goodbye to be this heartbreaking but well… In this situation it’s bound to happen, isn’t it? Because I didn’t want to escalate our situation any further, I decided to shut my mouth and stop talking altogether. I was aware that whatever I said might hurt him deeper. Fuck, why can’t things be easier?

—

After what felt like a very long ride, we finally got to the airport. We met Christian’s dad, Mark, at the front gate as I helped Christian with his belongings. Mark greeted me and gave me a hug.

“Hey, Y/N! Thanks for dropping Christian off, if only you could come with us to Italy!” Mark excitedly thanked me, not knowing what happened between Christian and I.

I shook my head and slightly laughed to cover my discomfort. Then I saw Christian looking at his watch, and whispered to his dad: “let’s go.”

I took it as my cue to leave, so I said my farewell to both of them.

“Well, have a safe flight, Mr. Pulisic.” I smiled and nodded at Mark.

Then I turned to Christian. He was still visibly upset – I didn’t have the heart to say anything, really. I had caused him a lot of pain, and I was afraid to open my mouth. But at the moment I knew I had to, since I didn’t know if we would ever see each other again.

“You too, Chris. Good luck over there.” I softly tapped his arm.

I waved at them and was ready to walk away when I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I turned around and it was Christian. He pulled me in for a hug – a very, very tight hug, like he wouldn’t let me go. He rested his head on my shoulder and I rubbed his back the whole time. It was a long hug – probably the longest ever for both of us – and we could no longer keep our overflowing emotions inside anymore.

“I’m sorry…” I whimpered.

“I know.” He whispered.

He stroked my head and kissed me in the forehead. His lips stayed there for a while.

“Y/N, I have to go...”

It was the hardest thing to do but I pulled away from the hug. Before he went inside, he took my hands and looked me in the eyes.

“Y/N, you will always be my greatest summer love… I will never forget you.” He said under his breath.

And the moment he walked through the gate, that was the last time I saw him in person. What we had might be short, but I will forever be thankful Christian made my summer unforgettable.

—

“You were my summer love

You always will be my summer love”

–

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x y/n #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic angst #footballer fic #footballer fanfic #footballer imagines #footballer angst

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jbake595 · 1 year

Text

I work with someone who also watches The Last of Us. I asked him what he thought of episode 3. He said “I saw a lot of two hairy men having sex.” I was really disappointed to hear this response, as I was hoping to gush about how much I liked the intimacy and vulnerability and how it broke my heart the way only true art can. All he saw was two dudes smashing, which wasn’t even shown onscreen. There was no panting, no thrusting, no movie-trope just-out-of-view sex scene. There is only a brief moment of seduction which tells the audience the characters are going to have sex, followed by a cut to some time after it has already occurred. My colleague’s take is informed by the same bias that causes deranged parents to berate school boards for discussing the existence of non-straight and transgender people in class. They think gayness is sexual in a way straightness is not. He saw roughly 2 minutes of 2 men being emotionally vulnerable, which led to offscreen sex, and all he could take away from the masterfully-crafted 60-minute love story was that 2 hairy men had sex. Deeply disappointing. Anyway if you haven’t seen it yet, it’s really great and I highly recommend watching it.

#the last of us #lgbt representation #lgbt rights #lgbtq #hbo tlou spoilers

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callsignthirsty · 3 months

Text

Stuck at the Navy Ball

So… I decided I wasn’t done playin’ with the boys.

As this is a continuation of the original Stuck in the Middle fic, I highly recommend that you read through that before diving into this. Could you dive headfirst into this? Yes. There might be a little confusion, though.

Inspired by a comment someone left on SitM over on AO3.

Pairing: Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x F!Reader x Ron “Slider” Kerner Summary: You, Ice, and Sli haven’t lost that loving feeling. So when the flyboys are reunited at the 1986 Navy Ball, it's only natural that they bring a bit of chaos with them. Word Count: 4200 Warnings: Smut, bets and wagers, under-negotiated situations (but everyone involved is fine), fingering Chapter: 1/4 Minors DNI

gif originally posted by neuromancer1888

Chapter 1: Under the Table

The invitation arrives early in September, printed on thick cardstock and addressed to your brother. But if Viper’s words are to be believed—and you’ve yet to hear of a situation in which they aren’t—Pete’s attendance isn’t exactly optional. So the summons finds its way from the trash onto the fridge, rough edges taped back together.

Please Join Us For the 211th Navy Ball. Monday, October 13th Washington D.C.

Cocktail Hour 1700 | Ceremony Begins 1800 Live Music. Food. Dancing.

The same invitation has Carole positively giddy. Born and raised in Virginia, she’s been looking for an excuse to fly east to visit her parents. And for a party? Isn’t that swell! Arrangements are made for Bradley to sleep at his grandparents on the night of the ball before Goose—whose PT-mandated wheelchair has landed him desk duty—is home from work.

Which is how, roughly one month later, you find yourself in Goose’s room at the Hyatt Regency on Capitol Hill, sharing precious mirror space with Carole. Breathing in Aqua Net while putting the finishing touches on your looks.

The hotel calls the four of you a taxi, Goose’s wheelchair is stuffed into the trunk, and then you’re off to meet your date.

Singular.

There hadn’t been a question of if you’d attend or whose arm you’d decorate once Pete’s invite arrived. Officially, you’re at the ball with Ice. After Layton, Ice had made it a point to be seen with you while he was off-duty. Your relationship, which you’d tried to keep on the down-low, was worth showing off publicly after he and your brother had dropped their rivalry in favor of mutual respect. Friendship.

But the other half of your relationship was still very much under wraps.

That fact hadn’t stopped you from nodding eagerly when Ice pulled you close to ask you to attend the Navy Ball with him. Ice wants to climb the ladder, and earning stars is more than clambering into the cockpit every morning or disappearing on a carrier for the better part of a year at a time. It’s politics. It’s achieving perceived milestones on or ahead of schedule. And in October, for Lieutenant Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, naval aviator and promotion hopeful, it’s attending the Navy Ball with a woman on his arm.

Pete wrestles the wheelchair out of the trunk while Goose pays the cab driver. As you step into the crisp October evening, you marvel at the palatial, white-stone building that is to be the backdrop of your night. A steady flow of servicemen and women crossing beneath grand archways with their dates for the promise of a good night.

You aren’t left alone to gawk for long before you catch sight of them chatting with someone or another: decked in their whites, Slider leaning against the wrought iron rail and Ice to his side. Ice’s gaze flicks to you instantaneously, as if he’d felt your eyes land on him. The natural pout of his lips morphs into a grin as he excuses himself from the conversation and moves toward you against the flow of the crowd. Slider follows close behind, ultimately making his way to Goose, Carole, and your brother. But you catch the hesitation in his step. The course-correct.

Events like these will be challenging for the three of you—that had been a foregone conclusion—but this knowledge doesn’t make it any easier. It feels all sorts of wrong to have Slider keep himself at such a purposeful distance when you’re used to his proximity. Even at the O Club, he manages to stand close. Doesn’t shy away.

Before your mood can be irreparably embittered, Ice takes your hand in his and coaxes you into a slow spin. “You’re beautiful,” he coos as he kisses your cheek, and a delicate smile lights your lips.

The dress had been a surprise. Something you’d insisted on buying yourself despite Ice and Slider offering to pool their money for something truly extravagant. But after years spent in the foster system, even the thought of spending money on something so frivolous left a bad taste in your mouth. Instead, you’d taken Carole, your more comfortable budget, and found an old gala dress at a thrift shop. The sleek, black velvet gown up to your collarbones with the slightest sparkle as the fabric shifted beneath the store’s old lights ticked all your self-imposed boxes. A dress fit for an aspirational young officer’s date, even after Carole added a slit up the left side to show a little leg and “bring the dress into this decade.”

“Look who’s talking,” you say, squeezing Ice’s arm as it’s offered to you. Typically, the change of season calls for blues, but the Navy Ball is an exception to the rule. You wonder whose wife you have to thank for that because although your boys look damn fine in both, you have a not-so-hidden preference. “And Kerner didn’t clean up so bad, either,” you shoot in Slider’s direction with a playful grin.

“Surprised?” Slider asks, brow raised. You shrug because, no, you’re not surprised, but you aren’t sure what to say that will fly under the radar. And that’s the name of the night’s game. That doesn’t stop Pete from rolling his eyes as he passes you with Goose and Carole on their way to the building’s ramp.

The closest you ever got to a ball before tonight was prom—not yours; you’d been on staff at the venue. Frankly, you’d half expected you and Pete to have been blacklisted, given your father’s ill-gotten reputation, but they let you in without issue. You wonder if Pete’s face appearing on the front page of every magazine in the English-speaking world has anything to do with it, but you keep that to yourself while Ice, ever the gentleman, escorts you further into the event.

If the outside of the building is beautiful, then the inside is magnificent: all barrel vaulted ceilings decorated with Romanesque gold leafing and warm mahogany. A vast hall that steadily fills as guests arrive for cocktail hour and to mingle before the evening officially kicks off.

Slider spots Carole’s shock of blonde hair by a table with easy access for Goose and herds Ice in her direction. They aren’t alone at the table. “Merlin,” Slider barks, bounding over to shake his fellow RIO’s hand. “I thought you were stationed over the Atlantic. What’re you doing here?”

“Turned out to be an exercise. Over and back in sixty-two days.”

“And just in time for the party,” the woman at his side chips in, and Merlin wraps an arm around her to pull her close.

“Oh! Tom Kazansky, Ron Kerner, my wife, Laura.” Ice takes the opportunity to introduce you in turn. The conversation is easy-going, Ice and Slider filling Merlin in on their time instructing at Miramar.

Slider gets in several quips about Ice having a list of officers whose asses he needs to kiss to speed up a promotion when Ice spies one of said officers. He gently tugs you in the right direction so you can play the part of the doting girlfriend. The officer—a captain—quickly introduces you to his wife before he and Ice talk shop.

You manage to pluck a champagne flute from a waiter’s tray, sipping daintily and nodding along with the captain’s wife. Considering most of your knowledge concerning the Navy revolves around the planes your brother flies and the stunts he’s pulled in them, the conversation goes in one ear and out the other.

Not that it matters. Your role tonight—thankfully—is just to follow Ice around and look pretty.

The captain’s wife finishes her champagne in record time, and though you’re hesitant at first, you aren’t too far behind her. It is at this point, glass empty, that Slider appears like your guardian angel. “Captain,” he nods. “Ice.”

“Captain Reid, have you met my RIO?” Ice asks, knowing full well that Slider has no interest in schmoozing. Much like your brother, Slider is there because it is expected of him. Unlike Pete, Ice doesn’t need his friend’s emotional support or commiseration to make it through such events, mandatory or otherwise. Every opportunity like this is one Ice can use to his advantage.

Slider offers the captain a firm handshake. “Lieutenant Ron Kerner, sir.”

“Your RIO? I thought you were stationed at Miramar?”

“The perks of winning the trophy, sir,” pride leaks through as Slider says it. He and Ice worked damn hard to finish at the top of their class. “We’ve been together since flight school. When Ice took a teaching position at TOPGUN, I followed.”

“And how does a man of your stature fit in the cockpit, lieutenant?” the captain’s wife asks from beneath heavily painted lashes.

The grin Slider offers her is loose. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, but no complaints so far.” The minute narrowing of Ice’s eyes says behave. You nearly avoid snorting, hiding the unladylike compulsion behind the rim of your empty flute, a reflection off the crystal drawing Slider’s eye.

“Actually,” Slider says, hand twitching as if he’s had to stop himself from resting it against your back, “I noticed your glass is empty.” Sli nods toward the bar, an invitation to refill your glass. You look up at him with a grin—a genuine one, not the soft smile that’s grown stale throughout Ice’s conversation—acceptance on your lips when–

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ice’s brow wrinkles, noticing for the first time that you’ve finished your drink.

”I didn’t want to interrupt,” is your bashful answer.

”Don’t be ridiculous,” Ice says. “I’ll come with you.”

”You don’t have to leave.” Slider will take care of me, you don’t say.

Ice picks up on the silent part but blatantly ignores it. His eyes take on that warm, charmed look, tongue peeking out before his lips curl into that honeyed smile you love so much. “You’re too good for me,” he says as if it’s a secret meant only for you. There’s no doubt he means it, but something about the way he’s playing the sentiment up for the brass makes it feel different in a way you’re not entirely comfortable with. No mistakes. “If you’ll excuse us, sir. Ma’am.”

Captain Reid is already turning to walk the room with his wife when Ice’s eyes narrow into what can only be described as a glare at Slider, his arm cementing itself around your waist in a way that probably looks far more relaxed than it feels.

”What?” Slider asks, shooting for casual, but now you’re not sure you’re buying it, either. “I’m just trying to do my part so you can talk to everyone on your list.” The subconscious flex of Ice’s jaw, as if he wishes he could chew out his frustration on the butt of a cig or some gum, doesn’t go unnoticed, but it does go unheeded. “Admiral Benjamin is on your list, right?” You perk up. As in Penny Benjamin? “I think I saw him by the corner with wife number three and Commander Johnson.”

“You know,” Ice says, his grin glacial, “it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if you rubbed elbows at an event like this.”

Slider scoffs, though it’s affectionate. “Why bother? We both know my military career ends when you take a desk job. Besides, I think my time is much better spent keeping your date’s cup full.” You’ve all agreed to go to the bar, but no one is moving. The tension between Ice and Slider is palpable.

”Okay,” you interrupt. There’s something off about their banter tonight. You’ve seen Ice stare down many a handful of people since landing in Miramar, but never Slider. It’s enough to raise a sculpted brow. “What am I missing?”

Slider senses blood in the water. Sees the smoke in the air. The grin he gives you is far tighter than the one he gave the captain’s wife. He opens his mouth, but Ice beats him to the punch. “You said something about grabbing my date a drink.”

Slider’s jaw clicks shut, but his grin isn’t so easily wiped away. “More champagne?” When you nod, Slider picks his way toward the bar while Ice escorts you to the side of the room where there’s more room to breathe and a lesser likelihood that someone will overhear when he presses close. “Sli’s upset that you’re with me tonight.”

That’s it? You hadn’t thought the arrangement would bother Slider so much. The three of you had discussed it and mutually concluded that you should go with Ice. That you had to go with Ice. Was Slider having second thoughts?

“Well, not upset,” Ice concedes at the concern that drags your lips down. “But he was talking a big game.”

Color you curious. “What’d he say?”

“Well,” Ice pulls you closer so his breath tickles your ear and you can smell the mint on his breath, “he thinks he can get you off before we leave the building. Steal you away while you’re being my pretty little girlfriend for the brass.” You gulp. Where is Slider with that drink?

”Oh.”

Ice chuckles. “Yeah. Oh. But I’m not worried.” Two fingers find their way under your chin and lift until your eyes meet Ice’s. “I know you’ll be good for me.”

“What’s the winner get?”

”Bragging rights.”

”And?”

It’s impossible to miss the way Ice’s eyes flit to your lips and linger there because he can. Those are the perks of being your date out in the light of day. “Can’t that be it?”

“Could be,” you breathe and slowly wet your bottom lip with your tongue, delighting in the way gray-blue eyes track the movement, “but it isn’t.”

Ice double-checks that no one is eavesdropping on your conversation. “You remember what got delivered the other day?” Your breath hitches. Yeah. You remember the catalog order you’d put in for a remote-controlled toy. The excitement and disappointment that had come with unfortunate delivery schedules. “Single-night, exclusive access once we’re all home.”

”That’s quite a lot on the line.”

”It would be,” Ice concedes, one large hand spanning the small of your back, warming you and holding you close enough you can breathe in his cologne, “but you can be good for me, right, baby? I’ll make it worth your while.” You nod, a little dumb as you inhale teakwood, sage, and sea salt.

It’s sure to be a profoundly satisfying night as long as you can stick to the script.

“I’m not going to make it easy on you,” Slider promises, appearing by Ice’s shoulder.

”Wouldn’t be fun if you did.” Ice’s smirk is all cocky confidence, cracking only when he notices Slider has only fetched two flutes of champagne.

”Only got two hands, Tommy,” Slider says with a toothy grin, “but I’ll keep her company while you grab yourself a glass.” The crystal buzzes with the steady fizz of bubbles, your fingers brushing Sli’s ever so slightly before Ice pulls you back into the throng.

The room becomes more difficult to navigate with each new attendee, but Ice only seems more in his element as cocktail hour drags on. He introduces you to a flurry of officers and their wives whose jewel-tone dresses all start to blend together, brushing shoulders with the men who ultimately control his upward trajectory.

On his arm, you smile and nod, interjecting where appropriate because, despite the smattering of female officers present, the Navy remains very much a boy’s club.

Still, it’s nice to be shown off so publicly. To delight in the knowledge that Ice’s attention never strays far from you despite his planned schmoozing. You preen each time he introduces you to someone new with a tender look—there are many things tonight that may be manufactured, but that look isn’t one of them.

An ache blooms in the ball of your foot as Ice delivers on the same script over and over to increasingly dismal company. The throbbing is nothing compared to the pinpricks in your cheeks, though. Beauty pageant smiles are their own form of torture. But this is important.

It’s all for a good cause.

Tonight is important to Ice, so it’s important to you.

You’d do anything for your boys: ignore every sour expression at your last name, force a pleasant laugh along with each rear admiral’s wife, stifle a relieved sigh when everyone is invited to find their seats for dinner.

The flyboys have claimed three closely clustered tables during your absence, forcing others to walk around them as they spill into the spaces between each table, leaning close to make up for the distance forced by post-graduation reassignments. Viper is curiously absent, or perhaps Jester had pulled the short straw and been stuck with babysitting duties.

But there’s someone you don’t recognize at your table, sat between Merlin and Slider, a stranger in your midst. A smile splits Ice’s face when he spots him. “Cougar?” The man stands and pulls Ice into a quick embrace, Ice’s hand on the man’s—Cougar’s—shoulder. Ice makes quick work of introducing you to Bill Cortell and his wife, Maria. “Cougar and I were like brothers in flight school,” Ice beams. “We were supposed to meet up at TOPGUN, but–”

”It turned out for the best,” Cougar cuts Ice off goodnaturedly with a quick nod toward Pete. “Besides, desk life isn’t so bad.” Ice raises a brow at the assertion while Goose lets out a ‘bullshit!’ “Okay,” he cedes, “it’s pretty bad, but I wouldn’t give up being at home with Maria and the kids for the world.” Maria, who is heavily pregnant, rests her hand over her bundle of joy.

The lights choose that moment to dim, commanding stragglers to find their seats, but neither man moves. Slider stands up. “Here,” he offers Ice his seat on Cougar’s left because the two clearly have some catching up to do. Ice takes the seat while you slide over to stay seated next to him, and Slider takes your spot as the lights come up on the stage for the opening ceremony.

By the time everyone is seated and some speaker makes his way to center stage, Ice is only half paying attention to the night’s program. He and Cougar have a lot to catch up on in appropriately hushed whispers. You’re about to zone out when you’re yanked back to the present by a hand on your knee.

Above the table, for prying eyes, Slider doesn’t give anything away. Attention seemingly focused on the stage. Below the table’s skirt, however, you press your thighs together as Slider’s hand massages the skin exposed by the modified slit in your dress. Familiar callouses drawing senseless patterns above your knee. His hand stays there, occasionally giving you a comforting squeeze, like he knows you crave reassurance through gentle touches after being dragged so far out of your comfort zone. It’s nice. Before long, between the buzz of quiet conversation and each soothing caress, you relax back into your chair.

Polite applause fills the room as the admiral gives the podium to the next presenter. Pete and Carole chuckle at something Goose murmurs. Wolfman yawns. Someone coughs. A waiter comes around to top off champagne.

You wrap your fingers around the delicate stem of your flute, raising it to your lips in the same instant that Slider’s palm shifts so it’s wedged between your thighs. Your sharp breath is lost in the crowd as nimble fingers creep higher, never once pausing their massage.

The corner of Slider’s lip tugs the slightest bit up. Smug bastard. When you’re sure no one is paying attention, you give his wrist a tug, but instead of retreating, Slider brushes a finger against the flimsy fabric of your panties.

Your heart jumps into your throat as you become hyper-aware of how loud your breathing is, and your brain kicks into overdrive. Can anyone hear you over the clink of glasses? Your nails dig into the meat of Slider’s wrist in surprise, but you’re fairly confident that the rest of you looks normal—suddenly, you’re not sure what that means.

Is this the way a normal person’s mouth rests? The way a normal person sits in their chair? You need to leave, but you can’t. Being good for Ice, among other things, means not causing a scene. Not fleeing the room in the middle of a presentation. Not letting anyone know that while your boyfriend dutifully splits his time between the podium and his colleague, his RIO is pushing your underwear to the side for better access to your cunt. How you’re responding to his touch.

“Hey.” Pete’s giving you a strange look from across the table. “You okay?” From the way he’s pulled a face, you missed the bar for normal, and now Goose and Carole are also looking your way.

“I’m fine,” you hiss. “I-” need a distraction. You mentally stumble as Slider continues to stroke up and down your slit, his fingers spreading the wetness until they glide effortlessly through your lips.

The universe grants your wish when the crowd bursts into polite applause and the mic is turned over to the next speaker. “Isn’t that Admiral Benjamin?”

“As in Penny Benjamin?” Carole perks up, sitting tall in an attempt to get a better look at the stage while Pete bangs his head onto the table. Probably. You’re admittedly not paying attention.

Pleasure zings up your spine as thick fingers nudge your clit. A reward for redirecting the eyes on you. It’s everything you can do not to press your hips into the pressure or let your head loll back with a gasp. And with Penny’s father keeping attention off of you, Slider hooks an ankle around yours to encourage your legs further apart.

You shouldn’t, but Slider has always been convincing.

Ice won’t be particularly pleased with how promptly you gave into Slider’s suggestions, how readily your legs fall open, but that’s barely a blip on your radar as firm circles rub into your clit. The devil on your shoulder whispers that if Ice had really wanted to win, he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be so easily distracted.

None of that matters nearly as much as it should when your heart pulses between your legs.

A hand lands on your velvet-covered thigh. Ice. “Sweetheart.” You whip your head around too quickly for the move to be anything but suspicious. Like you’ve been caught with your hand—or someone else’s—in the cookie jar. You try to focus on the cool, grounding pressure of his touch. It’s working, you think, but your leg is still trembling from the effort it takes to keep still. Keen eyes move from your face to your leg, trembling under his touch, to your lap, and then to Slider, where they narrow almost imperceptibly. “You alright?”

With a nod, you reach past your champagne for water to wet your dry throat. “Just taking it all in.”

A poor choice of words. Ever the opportunist, Slider presses a finger into your hole, the stretch delicious and unexpected enough that you almost choke. If anyone catches the color on your cheeks, you hope they’ll blame your earlier drinks.

“I was just saying I didn’t know Maverick had a sister,” Cougar says, this time loud enough for the table to hear him.

“He doesn’t talk about me much.”

“Yeah,” Pete scoffs, “because when people find out about you, this–” he gestures between you and Ice “–happens.”

“You got any other sisters, Mav?” Chipper’s question from the next table over prompts Pete to load a pomegranate seed onto this salad fork. He’s ready to launch, but a disapproving look from Jester dissuades him. Goose flips Chipper the bird in a show of solidarity.

“So when did this happen?” Cougar asks, eyes flitting from you to the blonde on your right.

Slider chuckles and leans into the conversation at the same time as he crooks his fingers. You bite the inside of your cheek. The circles Ice is rubbing into your knee aren’t as distracting as either of you wants them to be. “He hasn’t been able to keep his hands off of her since we made it to Miramar.”

Hypocrite. You clear your throat. “About five months?”

“Aw,” Maria sighs in that way so many in long-term relationships do. You try and fail to focus on that as a second finger prods at your opening before pushing in slowly. “You’re still in the honeymoon phase.” Thankfully, Ice steps in with a reply because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears when Slider rubs his fingers against your sweet spot, thumb applying steady pressure to your clit. Your nails dig crescent moons into Ice’s wrist in a last-ditch attempt to ground yourself because if Slider keeps this up, it’s going to take a miracle to keep you from causing a scene.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Viper’s unapologetic quip appears from seemingly nowhere. Your own personal savior. “I need to borrow Iceman and Slider, Maverick and Merlin, Hollywood and Wolfman.”

You shiver at the abrupt emptiness. Slider wipes his fingers, dripping with arousal, off on the tablecloth, eyes locked on Ice.

Next Chapter

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