#hopefully it's not too late in the evening tho ^^;

[1loer]

"He definitely felt a lot more at ease being in here with Komaeda than if he’d been forced to stay in here on his own, especially considering… Well, considering the circumstances. “Don't worry Hinata!” Komaeda chirped, “I can say for certain that there's nothing in here that will hurt you.” Hinata rolled his eyes, “I know that.” “…Not directly, anyway.” ‘You had to go and ruin it.’ " Playing seven minutes with heaven with Komaeda wasn't the strangest thing Hinata had been forced to do in the last few days, but that just spoke for how strange the last few days had been. Komahina Week Day 1 Prompt : In-Game.

My entry for komahina week Day 1 : In-Game - Love At First Sight . Komahina seven minutes in heaven: with a twist! >:)

It's under the read-more too if you'd rather use tumblr! Hope you enjoy <3

TW: strangulation

“It’s darker in here than I expected…” 

Hinata regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth. Such a stupid thing to say, but he couldn’t stand the silence much longer. 

Realistically, it was only a minute or so ago that Hinata had been locked in here. But the seconds had passed like hours. He’d watched the closet door close the way a prisoner on death row would watch the fall of the guillotine blade. With fearful acceptance and a want for it all to be over as quickly and painlessly as humanly possible. The door had shut, the stopper clicked into place, and with it, any light in the small cupboard was extinguished. He wished there was even a bit of light. The thin strip that cut around the seal of the door didn’t do much of anything at all. Despite how close they were forced to stand (the cupboard was for perhaps a broom and a coat or two, not for two tall high school boys), Komaeda was broken down to his essentials. Outlines and darker shapes amongst an otherwise featureless darkness. It made him nervous. He couldn’t tell how he was feeling, or if this was all just as awkward for Komaeda as it was for him too.  

“Oh, are you scared?” Komaeda teased and Hinata’s regret deepened. 

“Shut up.” he grumbled. Despite his annoyance, he couldn’t help but smile. Another stupid thing for him to say. Hadn’t he just been silently bemoaning how awkwardly quiet it was? Thankfully, Komaeda didn’t listen to him. 

“The dark isn't as scary when you’re with someone, is it?” Hinata leaned back against the wall of the cupboard and folded his arms as he listened to Komaeda happily chatter, “It's nice to have confirmation that there's someone there, instead of just guessing. That's the real fear, I think. Not the dark, but the question of if there's something in it with you, and if there is, what is it?” 

Hinata hadn’t really thought of it like that before, but he supposed it was true. He definitely felt a lot more at ease being in here with Komaeda than if he’d been forced to stay in here on his own, especially considering…

Well, considering the circumstances. 

“Don't worry Hinata!” Komaeda chirped, “I can say for certain that there's nothing in here that will hurt you.”

Hinata rolled his eyes, “I know that.” 

“…Not directly, anyway.” 

‘You had to go and ruin it.’ he sighed humorously at the thought, and silence claimed the closet once more. 

He’d known this game was a bad idea the moment Teruteru had gotten excited about it. Damn Miss Sonia and her country’s strange customs. Though apparently, this was something the others had seen in American movies before, so maybe he couldn’t place all the blame fully on Novoselic this time. Actually, most of the blame could be put on the rest of his classmates for not putting an end to this idea before it had gotten out of hand. He’d cursed them even harder when he, for some unintelligible logic, was forced to go first. He didn’t even want to play the game. He’d hardly managed to eat any of the food Togami had let them start eating before all this nonsense had started. But he’d never been good at resisting peer pressure. 

It had been easier to give in than continue to argue. He’d agreed on the terms that this was his one and only round. Everyone accepted the terms a little too easily for his liking, but he supposed it was better than being forced to experience it more than once. 

Plus, even if it was a horrible idea, it was a brilliant distraction from…everything else. Actually, things were finally starting to feel somewhat normal. Well, as normal as they could be for a group of strangers being forced into a so-called ‘killing school trip’. Despite knowing it was pointless, Hinata couldn’t help but hope that at any moment he’d wake up late for his first day at Hope’s Peak Academy, and this whole experience would just be a crazy dream he could use as an ice breaker when getting to know his classmates. Though, perhaps their first impression of him being a guy who dreams about stuff like this wouldn’t be the best outcome either. 

He should be at home after his first day studying at Hope’s Peak. He should be neck deep in homework and buzzing with new experiences that he could tell his parents about. Maybe they’d stop and actually listen to him for a few minutes. Instead, he was at a party on a tropical island, being bossed around by robotic animals as they tried to push them to the point they’d kill each other. And now the situation had unravelled to the point that he’d been forced into a small, dusty, dark cupboard at the back of the dining hall in the middle of a party with Nagito Komaeda, with the express purpose of being in here to…do whatever it was that two people did in such close quarters. Thinking of the specifics made him embarrassed, but it was also a little embarrassing that he was embarrassed about it.

His thoughts were so many and so heavy. He broke the silence with a sigh that mirrored them. Komaeda seemed to take that as a cue to start speaking again. 

“Getting trapped here with Hinata…I wonder, is this good luck or bad luck.” Komaeda’s voice was softer in the darkness than usual. Even so, it still drew Hinata's attention, “Hmm, for you it’s probably bad luck, right?” he chuckled good naturedly. Hinata didn’t know what to say to that, so stayed quiet. Komaeda’s laughter dissipated, and then it was just them, their breathing, and the sound of everyone just outside the door partying without them. “You were hoping for Nanami, weren’t you?”

Now that startled him into a response, “H-Huh?! What makes you say that?” 

“You had quite a serious face when you were spinning the bottle. I thought that Hinata might have had someone in mind. Nanami seemed the most likely. I can’t blame you. What a shame that she ended up on guard duty and couldn’t play.” 

Hinata was finally happy for the darkness; it hid his blushing, “I-I wasn’t thinking of anyone specific. There's no way to control it anyway, and like you said, Nanami wasn’t even playing, so why would I be thinking of her?” Hinata shifted where he stood. It was a stupid thing to think, considering how dark it was, but Hinata still felt like Komaeda could see right through him. The vulnerability was harder to sit with than ever, with only two feet of space separating them. 

“Being in a room this small with Nanami would surely be more…exciting.” 

“Now who’s wishing they were in here with Nanami?” Hinata grumbled bitterly, 

“Hmm…” 

That tone, it wasn’t confirming, but definitely not denying the accusation either. Hinata felt himself scowling before he realised it. Not that he cared what Komaeda wanted. This game was stupid anyway, and he didn’t know why it had been suggested, let alone agreed upon. It’s not like any of them were actually going to play it like it was supposed to. Or, at least, Hinata definitely wasn’t and never planned on. Kissing someone he didn’t know just like that? He didn’t have the confidence for something that forward.

But, with all the time they’d spent together so far, was seven minutes really that much more for Komaeda bare through? Hinata certainly wasn’t disappointed with the outcome. Apparently, the feeling wasn’t mutual. Was Komaeda bored or something? Hinata couldn’t think of much to talk about. Something about the darkness and the seclusion made him feel slightly tongue tied. But it wasn’t a horrible feeling. He figured he still felt more comfortable right now than if he’d been forced in here with any of the other Ultimates. 

Though, he supposed it was normal for a boy to want to be in here with a girl, considering the context. Maybe he was the weird one for feeling so comfortable with all of this. Though, Komaeda kind of had that effect on him overall. It was strange. Hinata wasn’t used to feeling like that with strangers. 

“What would you do, if it was Nanami here?”

Hinata immediately took back everything he just said. 

“W-What kind of question is that?!” he squawked. Komaeda was not nearly as affected and powered through his questions with a cold firmness. 

“Would you play properly? If it were someone more desirable, would you do it? Is Hinata the type to be so bold? It's like Schrodinger's cat. The only way to find out if we kissed would be to open the door. And while it would be a cruel trick to pull, I don’t think the Ultimates would use such underhand tactics.”

What was his deal? This was such a weird conversation topic. Obviously, Hinata would’ve been happy to be here with Nanami. But Hinata wasn’t too proud to admit that if it had been Nanami, he would’ve been incredibly nervous. It wasn’t like he was terrible with girls, but he didn’t have much experience either. The context of this stupid game definitely would’ve gotten to him. 

Would he have kissed her? 

His face burned hot enough he worried he was glowing in the dark. Forget questioning Komaeda, why was he even entertaining this stupid scenario? But now he’d started, he couldn’t help it, and that was just making everything worse. 

“Well…There’s no one way to play.” he answered dismissively, looking at the darkness of the back wall of the closet instead of the shadows that curtained between him and Komaeda, “You could stand here and talk just like we are now, and as long as you last the seven minutes, you win.” 

“But wouldn’t that be a waste?” 

He strained to see Komaeda’s expression through the darkness. A whisper of something was there, darker shadows carving out the shape of his face, the light catching to shine in his eye, but not much more. Hinata hadn’t realised how much he’d been relying on Komaeda’s expressions until now. His tone had never been more inscrutable. It gave Hinata’s mind too much room to run wild. Though his back was firmly against the strong wood walls of the closet, he felt unsteady. He pressed his palms back as well for extra support. They’d started to sweat. 

“What are you implying?” 

“All this possibility, and you just want to stand here and talk?” Komaeda’s voice was casual. Too casual, “There's nothing but these four walls. Not even Monokuma’s cameras are in here. No one would know what transpired except for you and the person here with you. That changes things, doesn’t it? The possibilities to push boundaries you can’t anywhere else…” with nothing but sound to go off, the subtle sound of his breath shaking between sentences may as well have been a hurricane, “Isn’t it invigorating?”

Hinata swallowed. That hadn’t cleared up anything. In fact, it had actually made things even less clear. He felt his heart stutter. 

The party was supposed to be a rebellious distraction, this game even more so. Love to combat hate, or something corny like that. It had worked, a little. But with a concept like a killing game between him and his classmates, it would take more than some good food and atmosphere to take it completely from his mind. 

To escape this island, he had to kill one of his classmates and get away with it. Which was a death sentence to everyone else. Fifteen lives for his. He knew it wasn’t right, but Hinata couldn’t help but keep asking himself…Could he justify it?

He wondered if maybe that feeling could be mutual.

Komaeda was nice. He was calm and easy going, and hadn’t shaken once, even when faced with the most ridiculous of circumstances. The complete opposite of him. Hinata had been a wreck from the start, even before the bear showed up. Maybe that’s why he’d clung to Komaeda like he had. A buoy in the chaos that had nearly drowned him. 

It was only now that he realised that, despite the easy trust he’d fallen into with Komaeda, he didn’t really know him at all. Komaeda was a stranger. And there were no witnesses in this cupboard.

He sucked in a breath, pushed his back a little closer to the wall. He eyed the light that peaked in through the edges of the door, “It's not like I could get away with killing you in here. Everyone would know it was me.” 

It was more a reminder to Komaeda than himself. 

“Is that it?” Komaeda’s reply didn’t miss a beat, “If Nanami was here, would you kill her?”

Hinata shot through with indignation at the suggestion, “No! I would never hurt her!” he swallowed. That was the truth. He knew it was the truth.

Right? 

Then why did he feel like a defendant on the stand with an itching on the palm he’d used to swear an oath of truth. His mouth moved without his brain, autopilot swerving him to something the jury would believe, “O-Or anyone. I wouldn’t kill-” 

“Then what?” the interruption shocked him out of his guilty overcompensation. There was an intensity he wasn’t used to rolling off Komaeda. It had been building from the moment the door had closed, and now he couldn’t ignore it. He didn’t need to see Komaeda’s face to know he was staring. He could feel it searing through him, “With Nanami here, you’d be chest to chest. And she isn’t one to take the easy route when it comes to games.” 

Why was he insisting on this? What did it matter to him how he felt about Nanami? Did Komaeda think he was competition or something? He’d hardly even spoken to her.

“I-It doesn’t matter, because I’m not here with Nanami so this conversation is pointless!” he snapped. 

“Then should we pretend instead?” 

Hinata couldn’t keep up with this conversation. Even less so with this new side of Komaeda, one whose intensity burned bright enough that the darkness didn’t snuff it. 

“It’s dark enough that we can’t see each other.” Komaeda continued, as if it was the most natural, normal suggestion in the world, “It should be easy.”

“P-Pretend that-“

Komaeda took a step forward; Hinata’s words stuck dead in his throat. 

“If she’s who you’d rather be with, you could pretend I’m her,” his whispers made his hair stand on end. His proximity kicked his heart into a higher gear. That same intensity in his cadence as before. But something else too, something peeking through in his tone. Hinata wanted to call it desperation. His breathing was too controlled, “I don’t mind.” he finished with a smile Hinata could hear. 

He’d never noticed the height difference between them before. He was glad it was dark in this closet. 

He thought about the Komaeda who’d greeted him on the beach. He thought of how polite and gentle he was with everyone, even if they didn’t really deserve it. How even Hinata could admit he was cute when he laughed. He’d been harmless. Bright as the island sun and easy as the tropical breeze. 

He missed who Komaeda had been outside of this closet. 

Hinata swallowed. If he could back up anymore, he would’ve. He settled for turning his head away. It helped, minimally, “Y-You’re being weird…” 

The intensity vanished. Hinata felt it like a pressure lifting. It was a bit easier to breathe in this break from the interrogation. 

“Am I bothering you?” Komaeda asked. Careful, quiet. A pathetic hesitation in his tone like he already knew the answer and knew it wouldn’t be good.

Hinata suddenly felt very silly. Komaeda outside the closet and inside it, they were the same person. Perhaps he was just as nervous and uncomfortable as Hinata was. Even with how well they’d gotten along, he’d noticed Komaeda was a bit…socially awkward. Hinata had found it more than a little charming and wholly disarming. This was probably just a product of that. 

Even so…

“No, it's just…” he narrowed his eyes, trying desperately to see Komaeda. To reach him through the darkness, “Why do you care?” 

Komaeda had never been this unknowable before. In the silence, he had nothing but sound and touch. It was frustrating. There had always been something. Hinata could sense it in those awkward moments. The ones where Komaeda tried desperately to be a leader, a fighter, a helping hand, only to be shot down unceremoniously. He’d seen it in his respect for his classmates, something a little too much to be called polite. He’d seen it in the way he’d smiled. Hinata had been drawn to all of it. 

He cursed the darkness and how much it kept from him. As if Komaeda wasn’t mysterious enough as it was. The darkness was cruelly teasing. This was the closest he’d ever been to Komaeda, and somehow, he still felt he was further away than he ever had been. It made him feel crazed. Nearly desperate. If he could just reach him, he’d know him, and maybe this feeling would dissipate.  

And Komaeda was right there. He wanted to act. Couldn’t think about anything else. His fingers twitching, the movement fuzzing like static pinpricks under the skin of his arm, egging him on, begging him to move, to touch.

“I’m curious.” Komaeda murmured, a genuineness to his words that when paired with his typical scratching breathiness was like a nail dragged teasingly up his spine, “There’s a lot of mysterious things about you, Hinata. So many mysteries packed into one body, um, it’s quite, ah, enticing.” Komaeda stepped forwards again. Hinata could feel his breath waft over him, sweet with the tropical punch from the party, “Isn't it natural to want to uncover a mystery? To want to, um, peel back the layers,” Komaeda’s fingers brushed against his stomach, featherlight over the stuffy cotton of his shirt, but still enough to make his stomach quiver. Komaeda swallowed wetly, “Until, um, you can see what’s underneath. To really…Ah, understand.” 

His eyes homed in on where his voice was coming from. Strained to see, desperate to see. He understood.

The feeling was mutual. 

“Yeah,” he’d never heard his voice go so deep, “It is.”

Komaeda’s breath was heavy, but his voice was light, “I trust you, Hinata.” 

Hinata’s stomach dropped. He meant it. No one could fake the honest reverence in his tone. How could he mean it? They hardly knew each other. Hinata hardly knew himself. 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” 

“Most definitely.” Komaeda giggled; a whispered, excited thing he killed as quick as he birthed it. Komaeda swallowed. Hinata’s eyes latched onto a new obsession. Right where he could imagine the outline of a long, thin neck, the shadows between the tendons. Komaeda dipped his head forwards, and Hinata felt his breath and heard his smile as if he could hear the crease he knew it pushed into his cheeks, “I'm good with danger.” 

It was an arrogant assertion. It made Hinata burn hot, a heat that made him antsy. He wanted to put Komaeda’s money where his mouth was. Wanted to make him prove just how much he meant what he said. 

Maybe, he had something to prove himself too. 

His arms twitched, his last hesitation. Then, he was on him, his hands around Komaeda’s throat. Komaeda’s skin was cold beneath his touch. He didn’t flinch, but Komaeda did. At the first brush, he felt it– a jump, a surprise. Hinata smirked. All bark, no bite. 

He could feel Komaeda’s pulse racing, like the kick of a rabbit fighting against a wild dog. He could feel his breath stutter, his throat work as he swallowed his fear. Hinata tightened his hands. He felt the tendons in his neck strain. He brushed his thumbs along the bulge of his oesophagus and licked his lips. He pressed down, felt the pressure of resistance. Komaeda gasped at the feeling, a feeble choking sound that made Hinata’s jaw drop open a little. He dragged a thumb up, pressed instead at the soft palate under Komaeda’s jaw. It was easily done with Komaeda titling his head back like that, moulding to him as easily as wet clay. A touch at his wrists shocked him still. Komaeda had grabbed him, long, cold fingers wrapping tight around his wrists. Hinata loosened his grip, but unlike what he’d expected, Komaeda didn’t pull him away. Komaeda held him in place. 

It was Hinata’s turn to swallow. 

He felt out of his body. Some strange feeling had possessed him when Komaeda had stepped close enough he could smell his cotton fresh detergent in the privacy of this dark closet. Instead of thinking, he acted, his feelings guiding him to what he wanted. And with Komaeda bowing to his whims so pleasantly, it was hard to hold back. The thought made him shiver. 

He wished he could see him like he could hear him, even the quietest sounds amplified, not a single secret kept. He dragged a hand down. Hinata felt his collarbones, hard bone under thin skin. It was nearly painful to touch. His skin was so thin it was like everything was already on the surface, presented ready for whoever would be daring enough to take it. Komaeda’s chest expanded under his hand as he breathed in, and the air caressed against his cheeks on the way out. It was too much, it was indulgent. 

He peaked his fingers beneath his shirt, felt the tense wiry muscles of his shoulder, felt his heart fluttering against his thin rib cage. He held his hand there, right above it, engulfed with the feeling of it, at how willing Komaeda was to him, no matter what he did. Would Komaeda allow just anyone to touch him like this? Hinata didn’t want to think so. He knew it was a ridiculous thought. He knew that an attractive, warm boy like Komaeda had probably had a lifetime of touch before Hinata. But knowing this didn’t make him feel any more bitter about the truth. Komaeda made him feel special. Hinata needed that. He didn’t know why he needed that. It shouldn’t have mattered like it did. It was terrifying. Hinata wanted more.  

Before, he’d thought it was safety that had drawn him to Komaeda. And maybe in part that had been right. But now, Hinata thought that maybe this was all just because Komaeda had sought him out and not anyone else. Despite all these amazing people around him, Komaeda had chosen him. That even though he didn’t know his talent, didn’t even know his past, he’d held an unwavering belief in him that had made him feel important. Komaeda made him feel like he mattered. 

“Ah-Aha, d-did you lie, Hinata?” Komaeda’s voice was weaker and raspier than Hinata had ever heard it. It was desperate enough to make him wonder if Komaeda was finally scared. The thought made him shiver, “I-Is this really what you’d do if Nanami was here?”

Now all Komaeda wanted to talk about was Nanami. He’d been enough for him before, why not now? When Hinata was right here, in front of him. When Hinata could do anything that Nanami could’ve and more. 

The hand still holding his throat found his jaw. His thumb found his lips. Thin and chapped and dry. They parted at his touch, and involuntary gasp that let the pad of Hinata’s thumb graze the hard bone of his teeth. He could feel Komaeda choke on his breath. His thumb pulled slightly, and he felt the wet inside of Komaeda’s bottom lip. He wished he could see. He was so glad he couldn’t. If he were faced with the real thing, and if Komaeda looked anything like Hinata imagined in his head, something would break. Feeling wasn’t enough. Hearing wasn’t enough. Seeing was impossible. All he had left was taste. 

“Nanami isn’t here.” 

He leaned forwards, chasing the warm target of his thumb. 

“H-Hinata.” Komaeda whispered, shaking with wanting anticipation. He felt a tug as Komaeda grabbed the edge of his shirt shyly. Komaeda made a sound, muffled and cut off. It didn’t matter; he’d heard it clear as the dark was impenetrable. What did that mean? Was this what he wanted? What was he thinking and what did he see in him that Hinata couldn’t? He just wanted to know him. He didn’t know why.  But now that seemed so unimportant. Now, blinded by the darkness, with Komaeda pliable and prone beneath his thumb, tugging at his shirt and wanting, Hinata thought that he was closer than he ever had been. 

Hinata licked his lips, and let his body move him to what it needed so that he could understand, so he could know. His lips brushed his thumb, he pulled it away, firmly holding Komaeda’s chin instead to keep him in place, right where he wanted him. Hinata tasted Komaeda’s breath on his tongue. He wanted to replace it with his own. 

Outside, something moved.  

“Ah…” a small sound, more breath than voice, and Hinata froze. A hair away, maybe less. Basically touching. Realistically not. “Unlucky.” the word tickled his lips. 

Hinata’s brow furrowed. Unlucky. He said it like it was an inevitability. Mumbled the word with the melancholy acceptance of someone who’d bet on the lamest dog in the race just to watch it fail to cross the finish line. 

The next thing he knew, two firm hands on his chest were shoving him back so forcefully he bounced a little off the wall behind him and he was blinded by light as the door was suddenly ripped open. 

He held a hand up, blinked his vision back to less painful levels and saw a gathering of faces. His classmates, staring at them in wide eyed anticipation, led by a very excited Mioda and a very frazzled looking Souda. They all deflated with a sigh, most relieved, some disappointed. 

The cool air hit him and whatever bubble that he’d been encased in finally, officially popped, and the memory of everything that had just happened in the last seven minutes flooded him ruthlessly. He looked at Komaeda, like maybe he’d see something that’d remind him it had just been in his head. There wasn’t a hair on his head out of place, and the smile on his face was just casual enough that you could almost ignore that he wasn’t usually that flushed. The red in his cheeks looked good on him. 

Oh fuck. 

Komaeda laughed with the dainty clarity of a wind chime, “Did we win?” Komaeda asked with a handsome smile. 

Looking now at Komaeda, finally lit once again by the stained yellow lights of the dining room, the meaning of these memories, the implication of it all, hit him like a semi-truck. It took every ounce of self-control Hinata had to not start screaming at the top of his lungs. 

What the ever-loving fuck had he been thinking? What had come over him? That wasn’t him. Was he really someone who acted like that?! Who could lose themselves so easily? 

He almost killed him. Worse than that, he’d almost- 

“I dunno, Komaeda,” Koizumi asked with a drawl and a raised eyebrow that told all, “You tell me.” 

From the looks of it, Hinata took the burden of their shame.

Komaeda laughed easily in response, slinking out of the cupboard and floating away across the dining hall and coyly entertaining Mioda’s excited and indecent questioning. Hinata wished he could act so casually. He felt sick. Embarrassed, confused and worked up in a way he couldn’t shake. For once he was glad the attention wasn’t on him. 

Komaeda stayed away from him for the rest of the party, and he was happier for it. He didn’t want to be near him either. Every time he looked at him, he remembered the feeling of his throat in his hands. 

Could he really do something like that? The decision had come so easily. 

Komaeda had been so…strange. He was different in there. It was Nagito Komaeda he’d shared the closet with, but it was not the boy he’d gotten to know since that moment he woke up on the beach. Though, could he really blame him? He obviously hadn’t been himself either. 

It was just the closet, and the game, and the bear, and this stupid island and the weird closeness that forced him into action. He wasn’t someone who could kill. 

Even he knew enough to know he was kidding himself. He’d known from the moment the motive had been laid out, and that clawing panic that had been rubbing his nerves raw since he’d realised he’d been trapped in that mock classroom had finally found something to cower around. A way out. What would Hinata do to get out of here? The question made him queasy. He thought that was probably answer enough. 

He didn’t know what he was going to do in there. There hadn’t been a thought in his mind. Just his body too close to Komaeda’s to just be friendly. But when he thought about what would’ve happened had the door not opened- 

Hinata shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face. It was hot. He was sweating. It was cool in the cabin. It made everything worse. 

He didn’t even know his talent. What could he even know about himself if he didn’t know something that central to his entire being?

No, he stopped the thoughts in its tracks. This was exactly what those damn animals wanted from him. He wouldn’t spiral because of them. He knew himself, and he knew Komaeda. It was just a weird stupid game, and it had made him think and do weird, stupid things. It didn’t mean anything. It wouldn’t mean anything. Hinata wouldn’t let it. He’d just forget the whole thing even happened. 

Komaeda caught his eye from across the room and smiled that same, carefree smile he’d always known. The same one that he’d seen when he’d woken up on that beach. The anchor that pulled him out of the swirling panic and confusion that refused to let him be. Even now, even across the room, that smile saved him. He felt it cool his heart, lift it up above the storm. Komaeda waved, and the tension left Hinata’s shoulders as he waved back. He sipped his orange punch. 

If Komaeda was okay, maybe he could be okay too. But who could really be okay after what just happened? Maybe Hinata was taking this all too seriously. It was just a game. 

He had a party to enjoy. Now, he was more incensed than ever to shove it in those stupid animatronic animals’ faces that they were stronger than them. 

His hand clenched into a fist at his side. He really hoped they were stronger than them. 

[hikaruchen]

Trust the process because your sketches can be a whole lot of mess from time to time

[wandering-tides]

So the Purification Ritual is over... But CJG is still asleep.

Who the hell does he think he is? Sleeping Beauty?

Wake the heck up already.

What is he waiting for? True love's kiss?? tsk..

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

Happy Wednesday! My arthritis is finally calming down from my normal "the seasons changed and now you must be in pain" flare up so I've been able to put in work on this sleeve. ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

I've been limiting my amount of rows at one time to 10 ish, taking a couple hours to play a certain video game, then coming back to knit a couple more rows. It's working pretty well for me tbh, tho I keep accidentally ignoring my alarms (esp late at night when i'm gayming... but I'm fine with it this cardigan doesn't have a deadline lmao)

But I'm nearly 70% done with this sleeve!! When I'm finished, I'll cast on for the back which is going to take. Eighty seven years to knit. I've come down on 24 inches for my under the arm length which isn't the longest cardigan but should bring it down to just above my knee, assuming my math is correct for once. I've also decided to have the pocket opening 9 inches from the cast on (or 15 inches from the opening to the pocket to the underarm) which seems like it would be a good place for my hands?

Even if I didn't change the length of this cardigan, I would still be doing math right now to figure out the pocket because it's just. Too small. It's only supposed to be 5 inches deep which isn't enough for anything. (I also need to knit the pocket linings but I'm putting it off because Math.... the yarn I have for them isn't that much thinner than the main yarn but I probably should knit them with a tighter tension)

[motof1bfs]

Day 5: Smth smth animal in team gear

[bannock-freak]

yall my inflammation levels were so high cus of the autoimmune disease that my GP literally thought i had an infection that i'd been hospitalized for

[matteoberrettini]

thankfully i have watched jasmine matches so i'm safe to watch her tonight

[tomaturtles]

Happy one year anniversary of me reading campus apocalypse for the first time and being so normal about it

[guinevereslancelot]

job interview this morning! 🫠😭🙃😬🤢😐👍

[aria0fgold]

Finished Portal, 10/10 experience, my motion sickness had fun but at least there's cake!

[liquidstar]

baby guild :)

aka the timber scouts! they're basically just a bunch of kids in a sort of guild prep-course. so, not a real full official guild, but functions like one. all the kids have different woodland animal gimmicks to go with the scout vibe. They have a very loose shared uniform too, they're pretty much allowed to customize however they want as long as they keep the white button-up, brown outerwear, dark brown bottoms, and brown boots. also like a lot of kids in other guilds, their weapons are toys or otherwise "safter" items. But that's pretty much all! They aren't super deep characters, but more general info still under the cut :p

Name: Ceres

Name Origin: Dwarf planet named after the goddess of agriculture and motherly relationships

Pronouns: They/them

Age: 29

Guild rank: Guildmaster

Weapon: Pocket knife

Ethos (Power): Aegis (The ability to cast a protective shield around others but not themself)

Flaw power is based on: Their tendency to put others first, in a way that makes them a pushover.

Notes: Suffering.

Name: Aquila

Name Origin: The eagle constellation

Pronouns: They/them

Age: 12

Guild rank: 1 star

Weapon: Hula hoop

Ethos (Power): Aerial burst (A powerful burst of air created with their wings)

Flaw power is based on: They're flighty and feather-brained

Notes: Birds just wanna have fun

Name: Procyon

Name Origin: A star in canis minor, the name technically means "before the dog" but refers to the raccoon family

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 11

Guild rank: 1 star

Weapon: hacky sack

Ethos (Power): Scaling (He can climb any surface)

Flaw power is based on: His rowdy uncontrollable nature

Notes: Yeah he can kick the hacky sack while on a wall, no big deal.

Name: Kochab

Name Origin: Beta Ursae Minoris- brightest star in the little dipper

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 11

Guild rank: 1 star

Weapon: Honey dipper

Ethos (Power): Honeymelt (She can turn solid structures into a more gooey form with the consistency of honey)

Flaw power is based on: Her sluggish listlessness

Notes: Wait until you meet mama bear

Name: Vulpecula (Val)

Name Origin: The "little fox" constellation

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 11

Guild rank: 1 star

Weapon: Jump rope

Ethos (Power): Tactful sense (Heightened senses for what's going on around her)

Flaw power is based on: Her desire to control everything around her

Notes: She's the first on track to getting a second star (according to herself)

[lesbianlenas]

having a great start to 2025 👍 got a migraine yesterday (wasn’t a terrible migraine bc it wasn’t so bad i had to throw up or anything but i DID sleep for 13 hrs after 😭) and then today i didn’t take my ritalin after also not taking it on tuesday & usually i’m fine when i do that but today it made me feel nauseous all day so i am 0/2 on feeling well in 2025 love that for me!

[orcelito]

Dear God This Slides Has Hands

[nkjemisin]

Fiction is not reality

Got three or four asks lately about an old Le Guin-inspired short story, "The Ones Who Stay and Fight." Did somebody post an article or something? I haven't gotten any alerts that would explain the sudden interest. (Did see one annoying AI-written summary that hallucinated new characters into it and said I'd written it in 1973, when I would've been one year old. Don't use AI for lit crit, folks.)

Anyway, rather than answer them individually, I'll post this as a collective response.

All of the asks were about the story's meaning, in one way or another, so I'll start there -- but. Y'all. The author is usually the worst person to ask about what their work means; haven't you heard that the author is dead? We're too close to our own work to do good analysis. I can tell you what inspired it, or what I was thinking while I wrote it, but that doesn't mean I put all that into the story, or successfully got across whatever did make it in. Pretty often my writing doesn't mean anything; it's just something I need to get out of my head.

The asks seem to center on whether I actually intended Um-Helat to be a utopia, and -- no. I thought it was pretty obviously a dystopia, actually, like Omelas... but then I constantly run into people who describe Omelas as a utopia, so maybe the problem lies with people's definition of "utopia." (Personally I don't believe utopias are possible IRL. Anytime you've got more than one person in a society, their respective visions of an "ideal" society will vary, and sometimes conflict.) I was exploring my own struggle with envisioning a society free of bigotry, and Le Guin's narrative -- which gently pokes at the reader's skepticism and jadedness -- spoke to me in that moment of need. So I decided to do some poking of my own, from a different angle, to see if that helped clarify anything for me. I liked the result enough to publish it in How Long Til Black Future Month, tho it's since been reprinted in many places.

That said, a couple of the asks went to a weird place, and I feel like I need to address it. You folks do know that a story's narrative voice is not the same as the author's voice, right? So for example, in "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas," the omniscient first-person narrator of the story is not Le Guin. What that narrator believes is not necessarily what Le Guin believes, or vice versa. She didn't tell you about the abused child in Omelas because she thought it was A-OK to abuse kids as scapegoats/representations of the evils of the world. Likewise, I didn't tell you about the traumatized child in Um-Helat because I think it's A-OK to stab possible bigots. The narrator is another part of the story. It's fiction, not an essay, or a confessional.

It feels weird to have to say this, because it seems so obvious to me... but we are on the "piss on the poor" site, after all, in a time when critical thinking is under literal attack from The Powers That Be, so I guess I gotta. I do not stab people, not even bigots. I am not pro-stabbing or pro-childhood trauma. I am somewhat pro-transdimensional-travel, but that's neither here nor there.

Oh -- and sidenote, but I've been ridiculously busy lately, and I'm working through the backlog of asks very slowly. If you've sent in something, I will hopefully get to it within a month or two. Hopefully.

[anifever]

Hii, can you make Johnny cade or the gang with reader kinda like Charlotte LA Bouff from princess and the frog because I'm just thinking that it would be so interesting having kind of s/o so spoiled but kind and not a brat too, I love Lottie tho✨😭

Gang w/ a Lottie!Reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The Outsiders x Fem!Reader

୨୧ : The Curtis gang with a reader who’s like Charlotte La Bouff from “Princess and the Frog”

A/N : AHHH I’m sorry this took me so long I’ve been busy w other stuff. Anyways, I always wanted to be Lottie when I was younger 🥲 hopefully I got this close enough to her character also sorry these are shorter than normal <\3

˖⁺‧₊˚ 🎀 ˚₊‧⁺˖

Darry

୨ He’s honestly a little jealous of you

୨ He feels like you have everything he doesn’t

୨ That being said, does NOT stop the man from loving you once he sees how sweet and generous you are

୨ Your personalities are super different tho

୨ You’re so bubbly and bright and he thinks it’s endearing

୨ You definitely keep him on his toes

୨ You also keep him young

୨ Whenever he seems to be struggling more than usual with finances, you swoop in and save the day

୨ He’s like “??? Honey, I can’t take this,” and you’re just like “Too late, Dare-Bear, don’t worry about it 😊”

୨ Whenever you sleep over you wear a frilly pink sleep mask he has trouble not smiling over

୨ You love his cooking and are always drooling over it

୨ It’s a habit for you to bring pastries, etc from a bakery on the other side of town whenever you come over

୨ Earlier in the relationship/before you started dating, he knew how spoiled you were and he was like “..how am I supposed to compete with this.”

୨ Luckily you find him extremely muscly, attractive, and sweet so it makes up for his money 😋😋

୨ Either way, he still buys you whatever he can when he has the spare cash

୨ You have him wrapped around your finger

Two-Bit

୨ Couldn’t hold back his laugh when he saw a childhood picture of you dressed as a princess for Halloween

୨ You guys honestly go together so well

୨ If you have the same type of accent Lottie has- even better

୨ The first thing you said when you met his sister was “Well aren’t you as pretty as a peach!”

୨ Safe to say that made him more smitten

୨ You walk him like a dog it’s so funny

୨ He doesn’t spend as much money on beer anymore cuz he saves a lot up for you

୨ Found a stray kitty on the street and you started squealing when he brought it to you

୨ He was cheesing from ear to ear

୨ Has tried to get you to kiss a frog before after you told him you always wanted to when you were younger (mwahaha) and you freaked out

୨ That being said, he picks up random bugs all the time to try and gross you out- which works

୨ You never hurt them though⁉️⁉️ You just run away and start screaming

୨ Whenever he starts insulting people if they’re mean to you or something, you start dying of laughter which spurrs him on more

Steve

୨ He’s torn between thinking you’re a brat to also being extremely attracted to you

୨ He assumes you’re a mean girl who lives off daddy’s money (the second part being lowkey true)

୨ Doesn’t stop him from drooling tho

୨ Contrary to popular belief, you were actually really nice

୨ Like you came into the DX one day, giving him a huge tip while talking super animatedly and he was just like “Ah..”

୨ Whenever he talks about cars you have no clue what he’s talking about

୨ You have a pretty pink ‘62 Ferrari 250 GTO and that’s all you know!!

୨ You buy new clothes constantly and have lil’ fashion shows for him

୨ “Yeahhh, could you jus’ spin around one more time so I can see the back? 😇”

୨ “….Steve.”

୨ Whenever nobody else is around (Soda, etc) at the DX, you give him WAY bigger of a tip than normal lmao

୨ Brags about you to Soda all the time

Dallas

୨ He thought you were so annoying at first I’m sorry 😭

୨ Even with that, he still tried to get in your pants

୨ You slapped him for it which just made him want you more (he’s on that freak timing)

୨ You know what you want and he’s honestly really attracted to it

୨ He ends up spoiling you though, he can’t help it when you give him puppy dog eyes and pout your glossy lips

୨ Hilariously different

୨ Whenever he’s in your room he’s so out of place

୨ He’s surrounded by so much pink, stuffed animals, expensive jewelry and clothes, a big canopy bed, a crystal chandelier, etc

୨ His ego gets boosted when he’s out in public with you

୨ Like he’s with the prettiest and richest girl in town??? Yeahhh he’ll never let this go

୨ You not caring about his/his friends status’ is really important to him and he appreciates it even though he’ll never outright say it

Soda

୨ You guys both have a big line of people who want you

୨ Power couple!!

୨ You’re really ditzy- not necessarily stupid, but not all there

୨ He relates.

୨ You guys just sit there and look pretty

୨ Like you definitely have won various beauty pageants and have kept all the tiaras and sashes

୨ Makes you try the tiaras on every time he comes over

୨ He takes you to a drag race or rodeo and you’re like “Shew- Soda, I’m sweatin’ like a sinner in church,” while fanning yourself

୨ Probably because you’re wearing some expensive dress from a boutique in town made with thick material, but he’ll never smart off to you by saying that 🤍🤍

୨ Has a habit of ruining his DX shirt and you always pay for him to get a new one

୨ He already knew he was attractive, but it was only when you came along and started buttering him up that he started getting giddy about it

୨ He sucks up so hard to your mom and dad; they love him

Johnny

୨ Probably teased you a bit with Pony before you guys officially met

୨ After the initial iffy feeling he had about you wore off, he was head over heels when he knew you better

୨ He genuinely sees you as a princess

୨ You’re always wearing some shade of pink and some form of pearls and he’s mesmerized

୨ He thinks you deserve a lot better since he can’t give you much

୨ You literally couldn’t care less though since he treats you so well

୨ He’ll save up random coins off the street if he had to tho

୨ Your house is huge so you let him stay in a spare room which eventually just becomes his own

୨ Your house also did nothing to help his idea of you being a princess since it was way bigger and more extravagant than anything he could’ve imagined

୨ Your cat(s) love him, he’s a little overwhelmed at first but after that you’ll always find him with one around/on him

୨ You’re so comfortable fawning over him constantly and he gets pretty embarrassed about it LMAO

Pony

୨ He has a thing for pretty rich girls so this is fitting

୨ Once again, he also assumed you were mean and stuck up

୨ When you guys talked for the first time, he was definitely surprised

୨ You were definitely a bit out of touch with reality, but who cares!!!! You were pretty and nice!!!!

୨ Saw you stand up for one of your greaser friends once and felt his heart skip a beat

୨ Heard through the grapevine (he asked around) that you were enamored with some ‘pretty boy’ and couldn’t stop talking about him and he was like “Awww shucks 😞”

୨ He became extremely confused and denied it when Two and Johnny kept saying it was him after they saw you two interact at school

୨ He finally picked up on the heavy flirting one day and was like “…OHHHH”

୨ Whenever you get excited about something, he has a hard time understanding you since you start talking so fast and freaking out, but he just watches with a lovesick grin

୨ Your sass put together is on another level

୨ It scares Darry.

୨ And Steve.

୨ Back to the point I made earlier, you’d stand up for him about his status no matter what

୨ So in love it’s nasty

୨ Everyone in the gang is confused about how he bagged you especially considering he’s the youngest

[pythonees]

✦┊ CARDBOARD DREAMING — ethan landry

WARNINGS: 18+, f!soft-bodied!reader, virgin!sub!ethan, drinking, frottage, semi-public, so much plot before the p0rn y'all I'm sorry, this is actually cute af tho

A/N: i am down bad for this doe eyed ghostface you have no idea. ignore the fact that i am once again late to a fandom and just enjoy the fact that i've posted two things so far this year, okay?

also it's so much harder for me to write now, so i can't really tell if i like this or not. oh well.

Loud music thumped around you and into your bones, making your head rattle with the booming, house shaking bass.

In the middle of the makeshift dance floor of a random fraternity, you sway along with your best friend to the beat of the music. It's easy to ignore everyone around you, lost in the shitty party lights. After the busy weeks of classes at the start of the semester, you had gone all out, grabbing the most poofy, princess-like dress you could find at the thrift store, one that was just barely long enough to cover your ass but still tastefully cute.

The long, white wig your friend had forced you to wear (one that sadly did complete the look, not that you would ever admit that to her) was sticking to your bright pink lip gloss every time you moved your head too fast. You've long since tried to keep your hair behind your shoulders, the silky fake texture making it too slippery to stay in place.

Taking a sip of the heavily spiked drink in your hand, you pull your friend closer as she turns her back to you, letting her grind up against you. The fake leather of her cat woman suit sticks to your dewy legs, the body glitter you had slathered on at the start of the night smearing onto the dark fabric.

"I take it cute guy is looking at you?" You say, letting your free arm wrap around her waist when she nods. The cute guy in question is a tall Rugby player from the UK, his curly hair only a few shades darker than his skin and wanted by half the population of the entire University. He had seemed wholly uninterested in every person that flung themselves at him, while still somehow being ridiculously polite about it.

Your friend is nothing if not persistent, and had decided after watching so many people try and fail to win his affections to try a different approach. She instead decided to play the long game, one that seems to be working.

"'m gonna make my move," your friend says, spinning around to face you with a wide grin, "wish me luck!"

You watch as she walks away, holding eye contact with him as she goes past him and towards the back of the house where one of the bathrooms are. You see him stare after her, quickly chugging the rest of his drink before he shoves the empty cup into one of his friends hands, following after her. There are envious looks following after the pair, and you giggle at a girl that actually stomps her foot in anger.

Thankful that you're now sitting down, you adjust the fluffy skirt of your dress as feeling starts to slowly come back to your feet. There are people dancing all around you, a couple curled up on the hopefully drink covered couch and making out. It's honestly kinda gross, her muddy green lipstick for whatever her costume was supposed to be is smeared all over her girlfriends face, mixing horribly with her orange face paint.

Looking away from the green mess, you cast your gaze around the room. Your friend is dancing with Rugby guy, tucked away in a corner so that no one can see that his hand is definitely lower than it should be in public. As you continue to scan the room, you find your gaze meeting with a cute looking knight across the room.

He's standing next to Chad, who's in your calc class and likes to bug you for notes whenever he falls asleep. Which is almost every class. Frankly, it pisses you off, considering he's one of the top students without really even trying. You'd kill him if he wasn't the sole reason you're even passing.

Anyway, the guy next to him, who you think is cute but you can't really tell because you're tipsy and not wearing your glasses, quickly looks away from you and toward Chad. He's clutching the shot glass to his chest, shaking his head as Chad looks away from him and to you. A wide grin takes over his face, and then he's grabbing mystery boy by the arm and dragging him over to the kitchen.

They're gone from your view for only a minute before Chad is directing him out and towards you. The cardboard knight has ditched the shot glass and instead has two red solo cups in his hands, staring down at them like they hold the secrets to the universe.

You try to keep the amused grin off your face as Chad weaves the two of them through the crowd. The open face of his cardboard knight's helmet does nothing to hide the bright flush of his cheeks, spreading along his nose and lighting up his brown eyes. Yeah, he's cute, dangerously so.

“Hello there princess,” Chad says, giving you an obnoxious bow while tipping his hat at you. You lean back in your arm chair, crossing your legs while you take a long sip of your drink.

“Well howdy there partner,” you say, using your free hand to lift the side of your dress in a mock curtsy while still in your seat. You down the last of the sickly sweet drink, licking your lips as you set the plastic cup on a cluttered side table, “and who might this be?”

“This,” Chad says, pulling his friend forward so that he was standing in front of him, the toe of his sneakers bumping against the cheap heels you had bedazzled the night before. He quickly pulls his foot back, mumbling out an apology while keeping his gaze away from yours, “is my friend Ethan, who thinks you look really pretty. Treat my boy well, yeah?”

With that Chad saunters off, probably looking for Tara, leaving you alone with Ethan. Ethan, who looks like Chad has betrayed him in the worst way possible by leaving him there with you.

"Hi, Ethan," you say, giving him a smile and then your name, "you enjoying the party?"

"Oh! It's, uh... it's great!" He says, a cute smile on his face, though you can tell he doesn't really mean what he's saying.

You snort, shifting over in the arm chair to try and make some room for him. It's not much, but you really don't mind the thought of being pressed up next to him, "You don't have to lie, it's not my party or anything. Come sit with me?"

He eyes the spot you made next to you with wide eyes, nodding absently as he squishes into the newly made space. It's a tight fit, just like you thought, so you carefully turn to face him, legs going over his and hanging over the armrest. You hear him suck in a deep breath, the flush on his face somehow going darker.

"Mmm, yeah, parties aren't really my thing. Chad wanted me to come, don't know how he convinced me though..." He says, mumbling down at the cups in his hands. One of which you know is for you.

You giggle, letting your fingers trail over the back of the hand holding the drink closest to you, "Well, I'm glad you came."

"You are? Why?" Ethan's gaze follows your hand, unconsciously pushing into the contact.

"Because every thrift store princess needs their cardboard knight!" You can't help the smug grin on your face when he ducks his head, moving your hand away from his to instead tuck a stray curl back inside his helmet, "Shame you've got this on though, hiding those beautiful curls."

"Oh, uhm. Thank you. Your hair is pretty too. You know, under the wig..." he presses his lips together, eyes flicking up to the wig before they fall to your face. You're happy to find that he's able to hold your gaze, even though he starts to get squirmy when you shift just a bit against him. It takes you a moment to realize that he knows what you look like outside of this party, and you feel jittery excitement knowing you've had his attention before tonight.

"You gonna drink both of those, or are one of them for me?" You tease, giggling when he starts to stutter out a response. Putting him out of his misery, you take the drink when he confirms through his rambling that yes, one of them is for you, "you're so sweet, thank you."

Taking a sip you throw your left arm along the back of the arm chair, letting your long nails dance along his exposed bicep, marveling at the shiver that wracks through him. He takes a drink himself, nose scrunching up cutely when the taste hits his mouth.

"Too strong for you?" You ask, voice muffled by the cup you bring up to take another drink from. He looks embarrassed when he nods his head, but instead of teasing him, you take a hold of his free hand, lacing your fingers together as you get up off the armchair, dragging him along with you.

"Where're we going?" He follows you along without complaint, hand a little clammy as they tighten around yours. You bring him into the kitchen, which is surprisingly empty, and head to the fridge. Bending over a little more than necessary, you fish through the various cans of sodas until you find one that's just a carbonated lemonade, making a show of straightening up slowly to give Ethan ample time to stare before you turn to face him.

Despite how slow you were, you're still able catch his gaze as it snaps back up to your eyes, but you pretend not to have noticed as you hand him your drink so you can open the can.

Taking a light hold of his wrist, you guide his hand down so that you can see into his cup, one that was filled significantly less than yours was. You pour in the fizzy drink right up to the top, pouring the little bit that's left into your own cup when you take it from him.

"There, that should taste a bit better," you say, smiling up at him as you step into his space. He nods jerkily, taking another go at the spiked punch. His face doesn't scrunch up, and he looks pleasantly surprised as he takes another drink.

"So?" Even without his response you know it's better, but he's got a nice voice, one you want to keep hearing. It's even better when he's flustered and stuttering, so you slide up to his side, staring up at him with his arm brushing your breasts.

He's only able to nod, eyes now locked onto where you're pressed against him, no doubt getting an eye full of your cleavage. You let him have his fill, keeping your smile innocent when he looks back at your face.

"Good," you say, taking his hand again and leading him to the outskirts of the makeshift dance floor, "I'm glad."

He follows behind obediently, and you make sure to add more of a swing to your hips for him to appreciate. You see Chad as you guide Ethan to the darkened corner, pretending you didn't see the wink and thumbs up he gives Ethan as you pass.

There's a little area in the corner of the room that isn't overly crowded, so you guide him over there before someone else can settle into the space. Smiling up at him through lowered lids, glossy bottom lip between your teeth, you sway to the music. The blush that had been slowly fading from Ethan's face is back in full force, eyes unable to stay in one place as they flick to and away from you.

You loop your arms around his shoulders, cup held loosely in your hand behind his head as you press right up against him. The cardboard scrapes against your exposed upper thighs as you move, though you ignore the discomfort when Ethan starts to hesitantly follow your movements. They're jerky and uncoordinated, but he looks adorable, concentrating hard on being able to follow your movements.

You keep it simple, not wanting to overwhelm him too fast. So you're pleasantly surprised when you feel the hesitant touch of his free hand as it settles on your waist, just barely resting there but touching you all the same.

There's cheering from the other room, loud and obnoxious and the perfect distraction you need. You tug at Ethan's neck, a pleasant thrill going through you when he dips his head down without hesitation. You don't even have to push up onto your toes, your heels making you tall enough that you can comfortably whisper into Ethan's ear, "I really want to kiss you right now."

"You- me?" He sputters around his words, cheeks flaming hot when he pulls back to look at you. You wait patiently, though you've been desperate to get your mouth on this doe eyed boy for so long you feel like you're about to explode, "Really?"

"Yes, really," you coo, shuffling close enough to press yourself firmly against his cardboard covered body, smiling when the hand that was still gently resting on your waist moves to press at your back.

"Yeah. Yes, yes please," he nods along with his words, cringing at the tinge of desperation that coats them. You don't mind though, more than happy to know that someone as pretty as him is this desperate for just a kiss.

Wanting to see how far it could go, you start at his chin, glossy lips smoothing along his clean shaven skin. The next is pressed to the corner of his mouth, and you struggle to contain your smile when you hear the small whine he lets out at the touch.

Meeting his gaze, you find his half lidded, bottom lip bright pink from being gnawed on between his teeth.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," you sing, quickly shoving your drink at a random passerby before you tuck your hands under the sides of his helmet, cupping his cheeks as you guide his lips to yours. They're soft and plush against yours, tangy from the lemon flavoured soda mixed into his drink.

Gently taking his bottom lip between your teeth, you revel in the moan he lets out when you pull back, giving him a flirty grin before going back in. Behind you, you can hear his cup drop to the ground, ignoring the feeling of the cold liquid splashing up the back of your legs. You run your tongue along his lip, soothing where you bit him. It has Ethan gasping, mouth open just enough for you lick into his.

After that it's a mess of teeth and tongues, uncaring of the people moving around you, lost in the heat radiating off of him. All you want is to run your hands all over Ethan. His homemade costume keeps you from feeling his chest against yours, and you groan in annoyance.

Gently pulling your hands out from under his helmet, you tug it up and off, holding it in one hand as you tuck your head into is neck.

The gasp he lets out when your lips graze along his skin has your thighs pressing together, makes you wonder just what other sounds you can get out of him. You run your hand through his curly hair, long nails gently scraping against his scalp, pulling a long moan that he has to muffle against your neck so that anyone close to you can't hear him.

His hot breath dances along your skin, tiny whines escaping as you bite at his neck, sucking a mark that will be too high up to hide on his pale skin. You can't wait for everyone to see it tomorrow morning.

"Hey," you whisper, pulling back a little to look at him. His eyes are half lidded and unfocused as he stares back at you, pink dusting along his cheeks and nose, "it's a little hot in here. Wanna go outside? Get some air?"

You don't know if he's really even hearing the words that come out of your mouth, gaze fixed to your lips void of the lip gloss that has been smeared onto his neck and face. He nods though, and that's all you need. Thankfully you were already near the backyard, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the open sliding door and past the few people loitering around.

It's cool out, a shiver running down your spine when a breeze dances over your flushed skin. Keeping a tight grip on Ethan's hand, you guide him to the back corner of the yard and to what used to be a storage shed. You know from being to a few parties here that it has been transformed into a bit of a lounge, if you could even call it that. There's a table and futon in there, with a mix of different garage sale armchairs and bean bags squeezed in.

Thankfully, it's empty when you open it, and the lingering smell of weed from the last hot boxing isn't as bad as you expected it to be. The futon isn't turned out, but you don't really care, gesturing for Ethan to sit while you close and latch the door behind you.

When you turn back Ethan's staring down at the ground while he's got a hand in his hair, musing up his beautiful curls. You gently place his cardboard helmet on the coffee table, moving to kneel next to him on the couch, facing him.

"There, this is much better," you whisper, shuffling forward so that your knees brush against his thigh. You can hear his gulp, failing to fight down your smile at the sound. Before he has the time to possibly get embarrassed over it, you cup his face in both of yours, kissing him again.

Now alone, without the possibility of people watching and potentially spooking Ethan, you're able to be a bit more... aggressive with your affections. Thumbing over the already blooming bruise you left on his neck, you lick into his mouth when he lets out a sweet moan. He's a little sloppy as he kisses you back, hesitant as his tongue slides along yours.

It's cute, the way he tries to copy your movements, has you humming happily into the kiss at every moan you're able to pull from him. You can hear the creek of the old metal frame beneath you as you push up on your knees, swinging your leg over his to settle on his lap.

It hikes up your already short skirt, ass exposed to the cool air of the shed. His erection presses into your core as you push your body into his, rolling your hips in the process. Ethan pulls away from you with a gasp, face bright red and his hand firmly planted on your hips to keep you from moving again.

“Shit, I- I'm so sorry. Fuck. I, uhm…” Ethan looks mortified, and when you smile at him, amused at his stuttering, he looks like he would have run out there if it weren't for you sitting on his lap.

The quick kiss you place on his lips quickly shuts him up, though it isn't much of one with the way you're still smiling.

“I'd be a little offended if you had no reaction to me,” you mumble, trailing kisses down along his jaw to bite at his neck. It has his breath shaking, lips firmly pressed together to try and muffle his moans, “especially with what I have planned for you.”

He looks confused when you pull away from his neck, so you just take one of his hands that were fisted in his pants, guiding it to the zipper on your side. Ethan's fingers are unsteady as he grasps the metal between his fingers, slowly pulling it down until it stops right at the swell of your hips. You pull the dress down over your breasts, letting him get his fill as you work at pulling apart the surprisingly intricate cardboard costume.

Ethan doesn't move to help you, too busy staring down at your chest, nipples pebbled in the cool night air. It's only when you start tugging the cardboard up that he seems to come back to himself, looking away from you as he lifts his arms. When his arms come back down to his sides you play with the collar of his polo, making sure your arms are tight against the sides of your breasts to perk them up a bit.

“Can I take this off too?” You whisper, letting your fingers dip underneath to graze along Ethan's flushed collarbone.

Ethan nods, a hoarse little ‘yeah’ escaping his lips as he again lifts his arms for you to tug the shirt up and off. Once it's out of the way you press your chest right up against his, smiling when his breath seems to get caught in his throat.

“You can touch me if you want,” you say, smoothing your hands across his shoulders and down his surprisingly defined biceps. Though you suppose with a roommate like Chad, it's likely he got dragged into quite a few gym trips after they became friends.

You bring your lips back to his, hands roaming between your body's to trail over his chest and stomach before going back up. Ethan's hesitant as he kisses you back, hands still on your hips before they slowly smooth up your sides. His thumbs come to sit right under your breasts, and you press yourself harder against him to try and encourage him to move that last little bit and touch you.

It's the tiny plea that escapes your lips as you take a quick gulp of air that makes Ethan more confident, mouth working against yours with more intent as his hands finally palm at your breasts. The happy hum you let out causes Ethan to smile against your lips, warm fingers moving to tweak your nipple.

Each moan and sigh you let out has Ethan moving with more and more confidence, touch firmer and kisses rougher. When you pull back to get much needed air, Ethan dips down to mouth at your neck, his ragged breaths cooling the spit on your skin as he moves further down.

You sit up on your knees to bring your chest level with his face, and Ethan moans at the sight. He presses a quick kiss right above your left breast, no doubt feeling the erratic beating of your heart, then moves down to take your nipple into his mouth. His tongue laves over the soft flesh, a soft moan vibrating against you as you push him firmly into your chest with a hand on the back of his head.

He suckles and runs his teeth over you until your skin is tingly, then swaps to the other nipple. You drop down into his lap before he can get lost in your flesh, settling back onto his erection with a satisfied moan. As you connect your mouth to his neck, teeth working at the skin to ensure he's bruised when you're done with him, you roll your hips against his.

Ethan's hips jerk up into yours, the seam of his jeans pressing right up against you perfectly. He tucks his face into your neck, breathing deeply as he wraps his arms around your waist. You're pulled flush against him, so you aren't able to really move, but Ethan doesn't seem to mind.

“Fuck, you feel so good against me,” You moan when you pull away from his neck, admiring the red splotches and teeth marks left behind, “Feel even better if you took these jeans off.”

“Yeah?” He breathes, looking at you in wonder. You can't help the giggle that escapes you, shifting back so you can get at his jeans. You undo the belt and unbutton the jeans, sliding off his lap to stand in front of him so he can take them off. As you stand, gravity pulls at your dress, and you tug at it just enough so that it can get over the swell of your hips and pool into a sparkly mess on the ground.

You're left in just your panties. And while you weren't expecting your night to go quite like this, you're very glad you decided to wear the cute, lacy pastel ones instead of something ugly and comfortable. Having Ethan gawk at you is a confidence boost like no other, letting him have his fill for a few seconds before you slide back into his lap.

With only your underwear in the way, the friction between you when you roll your hips into his is mind numbingly delicious. The wet spot in your panties makes it so they're basically non-existent, the glide smooth.

Ethan's mouth hangs open on a moan, gaze locked onto where your hips bring together. His hands fly up to grip your hips, but they just hold you, letting you set the pace as you continue to roll your hips against his. You plant your hands firmly on his shoulders, using them for leverage as you grind down into him.

You can't help the sounds falling from your lips, whines and gasps as you desperately rut yourself against his thickness. Every guy you've slept with before has never made you this desperate before, but being in this dingy shack with Ethan has you falling apart with him even being inside of you.

It takes more effort than you'd like to admit to slow your hips to a stop. You nearly start back again at the desperate whine Ethan lets out, his hips rolling up into you and forcing a gasp from your lips.

“As good as that feels, I really wanna get you inside of me,” you drop your gaze to your lap, hands trailing down his shoulders and along his chest before you let your fingers run along the band of his boxers, “Bet you'd fill me up so good.”

And you're not even lying. Even when he still had his jeans on you could tell he was thick, but now you can feel and see the outline of him in its entirety, and you can't wait for the full acke that will surely come with him stretching you out.

“Please,” Ethan whines, his hands sliding back to grab handfuls of your ass to push your hips down against his. Your eyes flutter shut, losing yourself in the feeling as you let him guide you, head dropping to his shoulder. Toes curling in your shoes, you lift up off of his lap to stop the orgasm you can feel building.

The whine Ethan lets out in protest is short lived as you yank at his boxers. His hands leave your ass to push them down far enough to free his erection, and you damn near salivate at the sight of him.

He's thicker than you've ever had, veiny and with a flushed head that's dripping precum.

It takes some very unsexy maneuvering to get your panties off without getting off his lap, but you're reluctant to lose his touch for even a moment. He helps guide them off, hands running over your thighs when your panties are out of reach. You let them hang off of your foot, too lazy to take it off or let it fall onto the dirty ground.

Slowly, you settle back onto his lap, making sure that his cock is nestled right between your soaking lips. It has the desired effect, a shaky moan escaping him and his head drops to your neck. You cradle the back of his head with one hand, the other gripping the back of the futon as you slowly roll your hips.

“A-ah, fuck,” Ethan whines, his hands bruising as they tighten on your hips, pulling you down into him. You aren't able to move, but the angle he has you at while he ruts up into you is enough to have you moaning along with him.

Grabbing a fistful of hair, you pull his face from your neck, smiling at the flushed, blissed out look on his face. “Sit tight, okay? Gonna see if there's any condoms in here.”

There are two side tables here. The first is full of rolling paper and random bits of weed that have fallen out of the grinders. You hit the jackpot with the second, quickly checking to make sure it's not off date before you pull a packet out and rip it open.

When you turn back Ethan has a tight grip around the base of his cock, eyes half lidded as he watches you move around the small room. When you move to put the condom on him he quickly shakes his head, holding his hand out to take it from you.

“Can’t. If you touch me I'll- I don't wanna, not yet.” You hum, letting him have it as you climb back onto his lap. His hands are unsteady, but he's able to slide the condom on in one go.

You don't give him any time to relax, shuffling forward to press yourself against him, your dominate hand gripping the futon once more. The kiss you press to his lips is a distraction, wanting to settle the racing of his heart that you can feel against your chest. Once his hands are steady as they roam across your skin, you reach back, grabbing a hold of him to line him up with your entrance.

The second you touch him he reacts, hands that were feeling up your thighs seize up, fingers digging into your skin. You make sure to go slow, for both of your benefits. Despite how bad you wanna find out if taking him all at once would make him cum on the spot, you don't think you would recover from his girth, even with how wet you are.

With every bit of him you take, it feels like the air in your lungs is being forced up out of you.

“Fuck. I'm not - I don't think I'm gonna last,” Ethan whines, head ducked so he can watch where he disappears inside of you.

As you fully settle into his lap, you have to take a moment for the both of you to get accustomed to the feeling. You've never felt a burn like this since you had lost your virginity, the tingles of pain seeming to heighten your pleasure.

You keep up the slow pace, rocking back and forth on his lap. Ethan's biting his lip so hard he'll surely draw blood, still watching where you're connected. Pulling his bottom lip out with your thumb, you give him a quick kiss, before you plant your hands firmly on his shoulders.

The fake dollar store rhinestones on your heels dig into the fat of your ass as you start to bounce on his lap. Ethan's head is thrown back, neck littered in your bites as he moans and whines in tandem to your movements. Your fingernails are surely leaving marks on his skin, but he doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he gets louder every time you drag pink lines across his skin.

You aren't any better. Gasping and cursing each time he bottoms out, you feel like you're being split in two. Each time you lift off of him you can feel the sticky trails of your arousal that connect you two together. Tomorrow you'll feel bad for whatever poor soul discovers the mess you two are sure to leave behind.

Ethan's hands have migrated to your ass, helping you move along his length. He's babbling now, words all jumbled together. Slowly, he's just cursing over and over, hissing a desperate “shit shit SHIT” before his hands press flat against your back, holding you to him as he cum la into the condom.

You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, clenching around him at the feeling. He whines, mouthing at your neck to try and muffle the sound.

You cup his face, guiding him to look at you. The red that's taken over his face is adorable, and you tell him as much before kissing him. When you pull back he's pouting at you, a hand moving from your ass to trail between you.

“You didn't cum,” he says, thumb slipping down to nudge at your clit. The slight touch after being denied an orgasm has you gasping, clenching around his surprisingly still hard cock.

With a hum you roll your hips into his touch, watching him with a small smile, “Nights still young, I think you can figure something out.”

©︎ pythonees — do not, under any circumstance, repost, plagiarize, modify or translate my work.