#scrunches my sillies up into a ball and throws them at the wall

[usercookie2008]

Before I go to sleep,

I love my sillies but please for the love of stars let this man SLEEP 😭

[mukuberry]

ummm idk if you want this but here is my skrunkly scrimbo ocgram 012.

his name is arata usui. he’s a painter boy who is gay and has a dead boyfriend.

he has a problem recognizing faces often so he gets into the habit of painting them so he doesn’t forgot what they look like.

he also has ummm undiagnosed bipolar disorder and clinical depression but he doesn’t know that yet… his boyfriend being dead does NOT help. ☹️

(this also might potentially be the oc I’m shipping with mikoto… and by might I mean yes.)

i always want whatever silly ocs u show me... or silly anything........ gimme it all 🤲

HE'S REALLY CUTE !!!!!! love the freckles.... he looks so nice n friendly i wanna scrunch him up into a ball n throw him at the wall. i feel like he'd naturally stretch back into his og shape if i did that. mikoto is one lucky boy.... since he's an artist he can help miko with his work :) im sure john would appreciate that,, less stress for everyone ^^

[semisgroupie]

Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend

Sugar Daddy!Nanami Kento X College Student!Female Reader

Warnings: age gap, dumbification, degredation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your willy), creampie, car sex, hints at a corruption kink, daddy kink, use of a vibrator, mean dom Nanami, dom/sub dynamics, public sex, light spit play, use of the word “cunny”, overstimulation

Word Count: 3.6k words

This is my contribution to the Ditzy n Diamonds collab check out everyone else’s amazing work!! A huge huge huge thank you to @aransangel​ for allowing me to participate. Enjoy!

Kento wasn’t a lonely man. He had his fair share of women in his life but they were always after his money. He would go into a relationship and they expect him to buy them the moon and the night sky after one date. Always wanting to go on shopping sprees and wanting to be spoiled. So he took himself out of the dating scene. 

Until one day his friend offered a sugar daddy website to use. Kento had more money than he could keep track of, being the head of two Fortune 500 companies he had the cash rolling in. So he decided to just join it, not like he was going to find someone worth his time or money until he stumbled across your profile. 

You weren’t like any of the other girls on the website. You looked so innocent, so soft and so pure. He messaged you immediately after going through your profile. You were so open about everything he asked you and you were able to keep a conversation. 

You never thought you’d find yourself looking for a sugar daddy, you were in your second year of college and the little job you had was not enough to pay rent, tuition, buy food and buy textbooks. When telling your roommate you’d be late on paying your half of the rent for the third month in a row she recommended you’d look for a sugar daddy.

She helped set your profile up, putting the right pictures and making the bio perfect for older men looking to spoil a sweet girl like you. It was going well at first then you hit a snag, the men were too old or had too many rules or wanted too much for the first meeting. Then you received a message from Nanami Kento. 

You looked through his profile and he was perfect, being in his late 40s, extremely attractive and his first message wasn’t anything creepy. He genuinely wanted to get to know you. So when he offered to set up your first meeting a week after getting to know each other you jumped at the chance. 

It went amazing and when your allowance started flowing in it was even better. He got you your own penthouse apartment in one of the buildings he bought making it rent free for you. The first night you moved in he fucked you in every room and on every piece of furniture, making you scream and cream around his cock over and over again. 

That was two years ago, that was when you first started the arrangement. A year in he asked to change the title of your relationship wanting you to be his and only his, not like you already weren’t. He still spoiled you senseless, keeping your allowance and when you were a good girl he gave you a little bonus.

Tonight you were his date to a masquerade ball that one of his friends were hosting. Kento was helping you into the corset that went with your dress. A dress he bought for you of course.

“You look so beautiful princess and you haven’t even put the dress on yet. Ready for me to tighten this corset?”

You nodded making Kento tsk.

“What does daddy say about using your words?”

“I’m sorry daddy, I am ready for you to tighten it daddy.”

“Good girl, now breathe in for me and let me know if it’s too tight or hurting you.”

“Yes daddy.”

You inhaled and he tightened the strings on the back of the corset, hugging your curves and making your tits pop out making Kento eye them hungrily. His hands moving up and down your waist and hips moving them back to grab at your ass. 

“Daddy! We can’t do this now, the party will start at 8 and we can’t be late. You hate being late.”

He reached up squishing your face between his fingers bringing you face to face with him.

“Don’t tell daddy what he likes and don’t tell him what he can and can’t do silly little girl.”

“’m showwy daddy” you spoke with your cheeks still being squished. 

“Good, now lets get this dress on you.” 

You pouted because you’d have to redo your makeup. Kento slipping the dress up your body, zipping it and grabbing your tits from behind. You sat down in front of your vanity reapplying your makeup while Kento was fixing his tux. Once you were done you slipped on your heels and grabbed your purse while Kento grabbed your masks. 

He escorted you arm in arm to his car, a black Bugatti Chiron Super Sport 300+ the leather interior, a dark cherry red, matching the dress you were wearing. He helped you inside the vehicle and went to the drivers side. 

“Babygirl do me a favor and look in the glovebox for me?”

He would often get you gifts every time you went out, little surprises under your car seat or the trunk or in the glovebox. He watched you open the glovebox and pull out two boxes. One rectangular box and one small box. You opened the smaller box first, your eyes widened at its contents. 

“Daddy what do you want me to do with this?”

In your hand was a small black egg vibrator.

“Are you that clueless my dumb baby? Open your legs and take that vibrator and put it inside you.”

“But daddy my dress.”

“The dress has a slit so use that to slip your hand to that sweet pussy and insert the vibrator inside you.”

You did as he told you, thankful he bought a dress with a slit high enough for you to do it. You turned to him for his next command but you got nothing, just as you were about to open your mouth the vibrations started. 

“Daddy! H-how did you—ah—do that?”

“Is my little baby so stupid to realize I had the remote for it? Now we’re going to see how many orgasms can be pulled from you until we get there—if we get there.”

“D-daddy w-what do you mean?”

“I-if I don’t end up p-p-pulling over to f-f-fuck you. Now open the other box.” 

His mocking would hurt any other girl but not you. You loved when he treated you like a brainless slut. You opened the rectangular box inside a beautiful ankle bracelet with his initials on it and covered in diamonds. He only bought you diamonds because they signified light and it was fitting for you since you’re the light of his life. He increased the vibrations to the highest setting knowing you would cum immediately.

“This is—fuck—so beautiful t-thank you dad—fuck I’m cumming daddy fuck fuck!”

He lowered the vibrations back to the lowest setting after your orgasm you leaned down and clasped the ankle bracelet on your left ankle. Kento started the car bringing the vibrations up again. 

“Don’t mess up the leather in my car, I just bought this last week. You should remember that since you were beside me as I signed off on it. But you probably forgot since I fucked you brainless afterwards.”

You nodded dumbly not even listening to a word he said. About halfway to the party and many orgasms for you later Kento made a turn into a secluded parking lot. 

“D-daddy what are—shit—what are you d-doing?”

“Use your brain princess.”

You stood silent completely forgetting about what he told you at the start of the ride. His laughter filled the car and he shut off the vibrator, a sigh of relief leaving your lips. 

“My dumb little girl, I am going to fuck you now. Then I am going to take you to one of the hotels I have a share in and fuck you in the president’s suite. Got that?”

“But the party.”

“Fuck the party, with the amount of times you squirted and orgasmed around that toy you ruined the dress. Unless you want to go with soaked panties and your slick running down your legs.”

You shook your head no.

“Now go in the backseat so I could fuck you. Hearing your moans and pleas made me so fucking hard.”

Before moving to the backseat you took a quick look at the bulge he was palming over his pants. He followed you to the backseat and laid you down along the cushions. He scrunched the dress up to your hips and pulled your panties off you throwing it to the side. 

“Fuck baby such a mess. What a dirty dirty girl.”

“Daddy stop, it’s embarrassing!”

You tried closing your legs to cover up but a quick pinch to your thigh made you open back up for him. 

“Don’t tell me what to do and what not to do dumb slut” he grabs your face with one hand bringing it close to his, his breath fanning your face the smell of mint filling your senses, “and don’t fucking dare try to keep me away from what’s mine, got that?”

“Yesh daddy” you spoke with your cheeks still being squished a small tinge of pain beginning but it turned you on even more.

He let go of your face and you went back down, as he undid his belt and pants he just stared at your pussy. Your winking hole made his cock throb. 

“Oh my dumb baby’s cunny is making such a mess. It’s going on my leather seats too” his condescending tone made you clench around nothing again, more of your juices leaking out. To say you loved when he baby talked you would be an understatement, “What did I fucking tell you about my leather seats?”

“I don’t remember daddy.” 

“You’re that fucking dense? Too busy thinking about getting stuffed with daddy’s cock to think about anything else. How fucking selfish. Wow you’re selfish, stupid and a cockslut. How lucky am I?”

Before you could say anything back, apologize for making a mess on his expensive leather seats, he thrusted his length inside you. Your back arched and you felt yourself having another orgasm.

“I haven’t even started fucking you yet and you’re creaming around my cock. Dirty fucking whore, all you’re thinking about is my cock. Look at that facial expression so fucking lewd, you look like a pornstar. Is that what you are? My little pornstar?”

He lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist as he started thrusting into your gummy walls with a newfound speed. You weren’t sure what was turning you on more whether if it was the fact the two of you were in public or the words leaving his mouth or maybe both. 

“Fuck your cunny is so tight baby, I fuck you almost every day but you’re still so tight for me. Like your pussy is molded to my cock.”

“D-daddy feels—ngh—feels—ah fuck daddy!”

“Can’t even finish your fucking sentence, is there even a brain in your head or do you just think with your body? What am I even paying the college for? Obviously not your education, my sweet little dummy.”

“Daddy! Too m-mean!”

Tears were threatening to spill out from a mix of the degradation and how hard and fast he was fucking you. Just using you as his personal toy.

“Oh I’m t-t-too mean? Too fucking bad. Now open your mouth and stick your tongue out for me.”

You did as he told you and Kento leaned down his face hovering over yours as he collected the spit in his mouth to spit into your own. Once you felt it hit your tongue you clenched around him again.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum. I’m gonna fill you up baby.”

“Daddy please need your cum. Need it please please.”

You were babbling pleas as he gripped your hips and relentlessly pounded into you. His heavy balls clapping against your ass over and over, he looked down and the translucent white ring around his cock and it drove him mad. Someone as beautiful as a goddess letting a man like him be with you so intimately.

“Fuck baby I’m cumming—fuck!”

He held your hips close to his as ropes of his cum filled you. He leaned down and kissed you as you both let your bodies relax. He pulled out of you and shoved two of his fingers inside your pussy.

“Don’t want to let any of this leave you, want you to be nice and filled with this load until we get to the hotel. Get your rest because we have a long night ahead of us.”

“Mkay daddy.”

He pulled his fingers out of your pussy and tapped your cheek. You opened your mouth and he shoved his fingers inside feeling your warm tongue swirl around them collecting every drop of cum. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and adjusted his pants.

He looked at you one last time before going back behind the steering wheel. You looked so fucked out and in bliss.

“Remember don’t fuck up my seats any more.”

The drive to the hotel was quick, well since Kento was going double the speed limit. You brought out this side of him that made him feel like a teenager again. He just wanted to fuck you everywhere and as much as he could.

“We’re here now. Let’s see if you listened to me again or if you were too fucked out to acknowledge what I said.”

He got out of the driver's seat and opened the door to the back of the car. He leaned in and looked at your pussy.

“Tch, messy little girl. I should make you clean this shit up. Yeah make you clean it up like the nasty cum slut you are.”

“Daddy I’m sorry, didn’t mean to make a mess.”

“Of course, now get out. We’re going to the president's suite and that pretty little anklet I got you is going to be jingling right next to my ear as I pound your sweet pussy.”

You nodded and made your way out of the car. You could barely walk from all the orgasms you had, your legs felt like noodles. Kento made his way next to you wrapping an arm around your waist as you both walked to the front desk.

“Hello Mr. Nanami, here are the room keys and the champagne is in the room on ice. Please enjoy your stay.”

As he took the keys your eyebrows furrowed trying to put everything together but your brain was like mush. As you two made it to the elevator you heard a deep chuckle from Kento.

“I can see the gears turning in your head. Maybe it’s a little more than your brain can comprehend but I planned this beforehand. Satoru throws parties like that all the time so we’ll have another night to party.”

You nodded and went inside the elevator with him. As you two went up the floors his hand on your waist traveled south until he reached the curve of your ass giving it a nice squeeze, leaving it there until you two reached your floor. He led you out the elevator and into the room. 

Once the door shut he was on you, grabbing at the fabric of the dress pulling it down and off of you as he placed sloppy kisses along your lips, jaw and neck. Once your dress was off he untied the corset practically ripping it off your body.

“Oh looks like I forgot your panties in the car. Not like you needed them anyways.”

He took your bra off you and walked you to the king sized bed, gently pushing you on it while he undressed. Your hand roamed on its own down your body to your clit rubbing gentle circles until Kento reached down and pulled your hand away.

“Are you serious? Can’t wait for me to pull my fucking boxers down before touching that messy pussy? If you want pleasure so bad” he pulled your legs putting them on his shoulders as he kneeled on the bed. “I’ll give you all the pleasure you need.”

He lined up with your glistening entrance and thrusted inside you, his cum mixed with your slick acting as lube. He held the backs of your knees and thrusted into you, hitting even deeper than before. Your mewls and whines echoing throughout the room. Your mouth falling open, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth and your eyes roll to the back of your head feeling his cock enter you over and over again.

“Fuck look at you. Like a desperate whore in heat. When I first met you, you were this cute little thing so innocent then once you got a taste of my cock you turned into a braindead slut. I wonder how your friends would react to you fucking a man that’s old enough to be your father. Your little cunny is leaking all over my cock, all my cum leaving you but don’t worry I’ll fill you up more.”

You closed your eyes and opened them again looking at Kento. Your gaze went to the ankle bracelet he got you, the small charm with his initials dangling and moving with each rough thrust. Your gaze turned back to Kento, his lip between his teeth, his normally perfectly styled hair falling out of place, strands of blonde and white hair sticking to his forehead.

Kento brought his thumb to your mouth and you wrapped your lips around it, your tongue swirling around it, getting it slick with your saliva. You let go of his thumb with a soft pop and he brought it down to your clit rubbing small circles on it giving the right amount of pressure.

“Daddy, daddy please gonna cum! Please please please.”

He gave a particularly hard thrust brushing against your g-spot sending you head first into an orgasm. Your back arching and a loud moan leaving your lips. He kept thrusting into you brushing against your g-spot over and over again your sensitive pussy couldn’t handle all the pleasure.

“Daddy p-please slow d-down, too much too much, too sen-sensitive!”

“Too bad, you’re gonna keep cumming on my cock until I fill you up. I don’t care how s-s-sensitive you are.”

His mocking made you clench around him again. His thrusts were keeping their roughness and speed. He pushed your legs further back and looked down to where you two were connected. The burn from the stretch adding to the pleasure he was giving you.

“Fuck baby this slutty little cunny is just swallowing my cock.”

He tapped at your clit a couple of times, the rough pads of his fingers mixed with the continuous brushing of his cock against your g-spot brought you to another orgasm. Your manicured nails running down his arms leaving red scratch marks in their wake. A moan of ‘daddy’ leaving you as the aftershocks of pleasure coursed through you.

“Let’s see if we could get you to one more orgasm before I fill you up.”

You nodded the only word you acknowledged being ‘orgasm’. He rode you through your orgasm his grip on your legs getting tighter likely going to leave marks. Kento leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth swirling his tongue around it, nipping and sucking then moving his head to show your other nipple the same attention.

His pelvis rubbing against your clit with each thrust, the roughness of his trimmed pubic hair sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. Your hands went through his hair scratching at his scalp.

“Gonna cum for me? I’m gonna cum too, cum for me baby and I’ll give you my cum.”

You weakly moved your hips gaining more friction and Kento kept his mouth on your nipples. Your back arched as you hit your peak again that night, the feeling should be familiar with how many you had that night but it just rippled through your body. Your pussy clenching around his cock and your nails running along his scalp sent Kento into his orgasm. He painted your walls white for the second time that night.

Heavy labored breaths filled the room, once Kento finished he pulled out of you some of his cum followed leaking out of you onto the sheets. He laid next to you and held you close to him both of your limbs intertwining with each other. He placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m sorry about the seats daddy.”

“Don’t worry about the seats princess, I’ll send it to get cleaned tomorrow. Just remember while I say those mean things to you I don’t mean a word, you’re a smart, beautiful young lady and I love you.”

You lifted your head to look at his face, worry was spread across his face, his crows feet and small wrinkles on his face deepened as he looked at you.

“I know daddy! I love you too! Love you so much Kento.”

He leaned down, cupping your face with one of his hands as he placed a kiss to your lips. A small smile on his face as he pulled away.

“Good, now rest up baby we have quite a long weekend ahead of us. This hotel has a private pool and I want to fuck you there.”

“Daddy! I don’t even have a bathing suit and I doubt I’ll be able to move without being sore tomorrow.”

“We’ll worry about your soreness tomorrow and don’t worry about the bathing suit, we’ll go shopping for some and you’ll get whatever you desire, it’s not like you’ll need it anyways.”

Kento traced small shapes on your back as you fell asleep and soon fatigue hit him as he fell asleep right after you.

[dilfgmancoolatta]

can yuo write angsty freelatta........-benryphobic

@benryphobic

Gordon looks down at the half-eaten pizza, his appetite almost completely gone. He was initially suspicious of it- as much as he trusted Tommy, he had no idea what Mr. Coolatta’s intentions were. But after seeing everyone else dig in (well, everyone who had made it out of the boss battle alive), he let himself give in. It was horrible, but horrible in the way that most Chuck E. Cheese pizza generally is. Mr. Coolatta pulled out all the stops for this one, huh?

He sighs, gently nudging his paper plate away. He’s not really sure what to do. He doubts Mr. Coolatta would react well to being asked when they could leave- he seems really protective of his son.

Gordon decides to get some fresh air. Quietly pushing in his chair, he sneaks away from the group, Mr. Coolatta and Bubby seemingly distracting by a story Dr. Coomer was telling from the Engineering department.

He breathes a sigh of relief once the door closes behind him. He looks up at the sky as he slides down the wall. It’s strikingly beautiful, yet chilling. It’s a sky Gordon’s never seen before, with a large spiral galaxy, that definitely wasn’t the Milky Way, taking up much of it. Planets upon planets and stars upon stars that Gordon couldn’t recognize.

“That’s Andromeda o- up there, by the way.”

Gordon jolts, feeling his heart rate spike, before laughing. “Tommy, don’t scare me like that, man. Kinda still on edge.”

“Oh-” Tommy covers his mouth. “I’m sorry, Mr. Freeman, I thought you knew I was out here.”

Gordon waves him off. “It’s not a big deal. Just- Thought I should let you know.” Tommy nods. “Andromeda’s a lot bigger than I remember.”

“Mmhm! I told my dad once that Andromeda w- is my favorite galaxy. And after that, he always made sure Andromeda was the biggest thing in the night sky in his pocket dimensions.”

“That’s… honestly pretty sweet.”

Tommy nods, sitting down next to Gordon. “My Dad’s a good guy, even if he is pretty weird sometimes. Though I guess I can’t talk.”

“I don’t think you’re weird, Tommy.”

Tommy looks at him in disbelief.

“Mr. Freeman, I wouldn’t be so sure-”

“Listen, we’ve got a lab grown human, a man who’s been cloned, like, 1000 times, and then there’s you. I don’t think the identity of your dad makes you weird.”

Tommy looks like he wants to say something, but seemingly decides against it. Instead, he decides on a simple “Thank you.”

The two sit in silence for a few moments, staring up into the night sky.

“Did something happen at the party?” Tommy asks. “I hope my dad wasn’t being weird about the Chuck E. Cheese debate-thing.”

Gordon shakes his head. “No, I just needed some fresh air. Gordon sensory overload time was coming up, I could feel it. Wasn’t that hungry either.”

Tommy nods. “I understand. That… happens to me too. The only reason I could handle the arcade inside is because my dad makes the machines quieter-” He frowns and scrunches his nose. “But you don’t want to hear about all that.” He waves him off.

And there it is.

It’s a pattern Gordon’s noticed throughout their time in Black Mesa. Every time Tommy seemed like he was about to express any negative emotion, he’d change the subject and say something about Gordon not wanting to hear it.

So he takes a chance.

“But what if I do want to hear it?”

That wasn’t the answer Tommy seemed to be expecting.

“I mean- there’s not much more to it. It’s just me not e- liking loud noises. Nothing all that interesting.”

“It’s not about it being interesting, Tommy. You don’t have to dismiss your own feelings.” Tommy looks at him, his eyebrows furrowed in an unsure look. “You’ve been, like, my emotional rock throughout Black Mesa. You’ve gotta let me return the favor.”

“I d- really don’t want you to think any less of me.”

“Why would I?”

Tommy looks away from Gordon. “I’ve learned from experience, Mr. Freeman. There isn’t r- any way for someone like me to be upset without being treated like a child throwing a tantrum. And then they talk about you like you’re not even in the room-”

Oh.

Unfortunately, the experience is all-too-familiar to Gordon.

“I’ve gotten the same shit- it’s awful.”

“You... have? I never thought that of you- I mean, anyone in your situation might- would be a little on edge.”

“I mean, even before the Black Mesa incident. People would either use kiddie gloves around me or flat out tell me I was overreacting whenever I was slightly upset. So I do somewhat get it, and you don’t need to expect anything like that from me.”

Tommy nods, a small smile beginning to form. It’s a very nice smile- No, Gordon, now is not the time for gay thoughts.

“And I know I shouldn’t have let them win, and I really did try to not give in, but it just got so ti- exhausting going to work everyday with people who saw you as an overgrown child.” Tommy brings his knees to his chest and rests his head on them.

“I mean, I don’t think you ‘should’ have done anything in that situation.” Gordon shrugs. “I don’t think making a statement is worth more than making things bearable for you. It’s not your job to ‘show them who’s boss’.”

“Mm,” Tommy hums, taking his right arm off of his legs and putting it in between them. “It just doesn’t sit right with me that I ba- essentially taught them that that behavior works.”

Gordon gives his hand a comforting squeeze. “You didn’t teach them anything. They were shitty people to begin with, and even if you refused to ‘give in’, I doubt they would’ve changed their minds. You just would’ve been even more miserable.” He feels Tommy shift his hand so their fingers are intertwined. Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush- “If you don’t mind me asking, couldn’t you have told your dad about it? He doesn’t seem like the type to let that slide.”

Tommy shakes his head. “He’s not, but…” he trails off. “Listen, my dads a go- great guy. If I had told him about how I was being treated at work he probably would’ve… either got them fired, at the very least, or have locked them in a void for who knows how long to ‘teach them a lesson’.” Gordon can’t tell if that’s a joke or not- from what little he knows about Mr. Coolatta, it probably isn’t. “But I’m a 37 year old man. My dad wants to protect me from the world, and I don’t really blame him for that, but I need to fight my own battles. I’m not going to be the kind of person that calls their dad at the first sign of danger.”

Gordon nods, brushing his thumb across Tommy’s hand. He understands where Tommy’s coming from. As a father himself, it’s been very hard to ignore his immediate impulse to protect Joshua from anything that could potentially harm him. He can’t imagine what it’ll be like a few years from now when there are dangers Gordon couldn’t protect Josh from even if he did try. “I can’t blame you for that. But I hope that line of logic hasn’t lead to you refusing to ask anyone else for help.”

“Well…”

“Tommy.”

“I’m gonna start trying to change that behavior, I swear!” Tommy laughs, doing an ‘x’ sign over his heart.

“Besides, considering the whole Resonance Cascade thing, I doubt your shitty ex-coworkers will be able to be shitty to anyone else.”

Tommy laughs, shaking his head. “You’re right about that, Mr. Freeman-”

“You can call me Gordon, you know.”

“I- Are you sure?”

“I think, after everything we’ve been through together, we’re well past the awkward coworkers stage of friendship.”

“I mean, if you’re sure about that… Gordon.” Never before had hearing his name filled him with more joy. “But… I don’t know. It’s st- silly, but I still feel bad that they died? Even though they were awful to me.”

Gordon shakes his head. “I don’t think it’s silly at all, man. Feelings are really fucking complicated- Not to mention you’re probably not mourning them specifically, just the fact that people died. You’ve got a big heart, there’s nothing silly or stupid about it.”

“You do too, M- Gordon. You’re a very kind person.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, both of them red as a beet.

“I think…” Gordon gulps, hoping how flustered he is isn’t that obvious. “I think I’m ready to go back inside.”

Tommy nods, standing up and pulling Gordon up with him. They both turn their heads to look inside the Chuck E. Cheese, seeing Mr. Coolatta somehow playing a perfect game of Skee-ball while Dr. Coomer and Bubby cheer on. Gordon looks at their hands, still intertwined, then back up to Tommy.

“C’mon, before the pizza gets cold.” Gordon opens the door with his shoulder, grinning at Tommy.

Tommy follows him in, and the Birthday Party At The End of the World continues on.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Always

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Draco finds himself on thin ice with his father, he still can’t seem to keep from you.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: angst, secret relationship, poor parental relationship, stress/anxiety about the future, fluff, kissing

A/N: Flash back is in italics. This is an alternate version of my fic here !

The divination classroom. It has always been amongst your favorites. It was far more contrasting to the others, consisting simply of stone walls and arched ceilings, wooden desks and frosted windows. The room of divination was full of mismatched tapestries draping in ruffles from the walls in bursting colors, equally so in the various sizes cushions and chairs with rugs to match. A handful of intricately patterned ceiling fixtures hung down, tassels dangling from them. It was warm and it was welcoming in comparison to the cold and darker rooms.

“Why is it that we’re coming here?” Draco asks with a sigh, trailing behind you as you ascend the last few steps of the winding spiral staircase.

You turn to him with a grin and a raised brow, a look he soon returned as he grasped your hand in his own. “I think we could do with a change of scenery after all. I’m growing rather tired of the astronomy tower, love.”

“What’s wrong with the astronomy tower?” He scoffs in faux offense, his brows furrowing as you tugged him along with you into the vacant room as he looks over his shoulder once more.

“It’s far too cold and cloudy to go up there tonight. Besides, this is one of my favorite rooms in the whole castle if you must know. You will survive just this once, Draco,” you jest lightheartedly, releasing his hand to skip ahead of him as he groaned at your sudden absence and he had no choice but to follow you. Though he felt he’d follow you anywhere, really.

“And if I don’t?” He calls after you just to be difficult, pinching a piece of red velvet fabric between his fingers before his eyes roam back to you.

You turn on your heel and purse your lips at him, narrowing your gaze as you fight your smile. You shake your head as he holds your stare just the same, his head tilting and eyes squinting as he challenged you and you readily gave up on suppressing your grin for a moment longer.

“You didn’t have to join me if this is not to your taste, you know,” you say, and he rolls his eyes as he tugs you close to him by a gentle grip on your hand. “You’re more than welcome to leave, but I have a feeling you’d miss me too much if you did.”

He silenced your very logical words with a kiss, your laughter dwindling as you relaxed against him. His kiss was soft and tender as he hummed against your lips, his hand coming to brush your hair behind your ear as his lips moved from your own to sweep across your cheek. They linger just under your jaw before pressing chastely under your ear, his nose brushing over your skin.

“Must you always pick on me, darling?” He murmurs, his breath tickling against the shell of your ear.

Your soft laughter starts up again at his words, pulling his attention back to your gaze as he pulls back to look at you. You rest your hands on his chest, your fingers splaying across the black fabric of his button up and smoothing over his matching tie. “Yes, I think I must.”

With that, you turned away from him and left his loose embrace much to his dismay, twirling once in the center of the room with open arms. He watched as you smiled contently, your eyes falling closed as you tip your head back and bask in the peace that came with nightfall. In the enchantment of the room. For it was the time where you could love one another as freely as you’d like, for as many hours as the moon remained in the deep navy sky. He wanted desperately to love you in the light of day, without fear of prying eyes and listening ears. But you knew why things were the way they were.

He watched the way the moonlight danced across your skin, glowing against your effortless beauty as it shines in your hair. It left him wondering how someone so perfect could love someone so flawed. He found himself to be an anchor tied to you at times, his mistakes and current standing in the wizarding world something he felt kept you from thriving the way he knew you would, the way you deserved. You already were, far more than he could say for himself.

You radiate warmth and kindness, something he so desperately craved and found he could not keep himself from. To him, you were the embodiment of sunshine and he felt he was quite the opposite, rather bringing storms and rain. Yet still, you chose to love him in spite of it. He felt guilty, really. For having a father who made you feel like your relationship was in jeopardy without ever having the displeasure of meeting the man. For not being able to love you as fully and openly as he so desired.

“Are you going to join me or are you going to stare all night?” You quip, breaking him from his pestering thoughts.

His gaze flickered from the vacant spot you once stood in to where you sat on purple velvet cushioned stool. You smiled as the crystal sphere flowed before you and a grin of his own tugged at the corner of his mouth. He took a seat on the small crimson stool right next to you, finding himself a bit too tall for such a small seating arrangement but he decided against complaining.

The sphere before you contained a fog-like haze that swirled around much like the clouds just beyond the windows.

“Just what are we doing?” He asks, an amused smirk on his lips as he raised a brow.

“You’ve claimed yourself to be the best at telling the future what was it, four years ago? Surely you must be an expert on such a thing now, Dray,” you say, laughing at his scrunched nose and the way he gripped your stool and tugged you closer with one swift pull. “Tell me, what will our future be in five years’ time?”

He chuckles, shaking his head fondly as he looked from the crystal to you. “That’s quite simple, I don’t need some silly crystal to tell me that.”

You raise your brow in amused curiosity. “Tell you what?”

He looks at you attentively, his smirk softening to an adoring smile. “That I’ll love you as long as you’ll have me, and even more.”

You nearly rolled your eyes at his sappy words, but you found them too sentimental and the look on his face far too endearing to do so. That and you couldn’t ignore the heat in your cheeks from such a declaration. But you also didn’t have it in you to miss an opportunity to tease him.

“I love you, very much I do. But I have a sneaking suspicion you don’t know how to use that thing, Love,” You jest, and he rolls his eyes as he fights his smile.

“I’m convinced you love to torment me,” he frowns, unable to sustain it with the way you’re giggling at him.

Despite the lighthearted moment, he finds he can’t enjoy it fully with the worry weighing heavy on his mind. Your question was merely playful, but it had been one that frequented his thoughts far more than he cared to ever admit, more than he ever will admit. In a perfect world, he would have felt confident with the idea of loving you for the rest of his life. Would have felt rather excited for your future together because he loved you entirely too much for his own good. But it was hard to indulge in thinking of such dreams when there were things in particular pressing down on his shoulders.

That one night in particular, to be specific, he would never forget that.

Draco stood at the end of the vacant corridor, palms pressed flat to the cold surface of the window sill as he peered through the latticed glass. The commotion from the ball had been more than enough with just the thirty minutes he’d spent in the large ballroom housed at the opposite end of the long hallway. Even with the distance from the boisterous event it was still just as nauseating—his ears ringing with the clinking of glass and goblets, with the shrill laughter seeping into the space he wished would alleviate his tension. But alas, it did not.

The dusty air in the Manor had not done him any bit of good, not even a shred. His mind was far busier than any overly lavish event his parents could throw, racing from one thought to the next in an endless loop. He grew rather tired of pretending to be interested in any of the meaningless conversations he was subjected to, tired of standing along the same gray wall in the shadows in hopes they’d leave him alone. He could do that perfectly well now that the only company was himself.

The moonlight had trickled in through the windows in broken beams, illuminating every fleck of dust that had been floating around him, casting him in a small pool of light. He knew staying in there a moment longer simply wouldn’t be feasible, he’d go mad. Besides, he was far too distracted with more important matters, so much so he hadn’t wanted it to draw attention to himself. He had been far too distracted by you.

As he looked out over the garden it was inevitable that that had been where his mind would shift to. To each and every night you spent hand in hand within it, or the more than numerous kisses you shared tucked away behind decades old oak trees and crumbling statues. It reminds him of the way your hair glimmers in that very moonlight and just how your eyes sparkle. It reminds him how just how much he wanted to be with you in that very moment; he always found he’d rather be with you.

Fancy ballroom events had never held his interest very much, and the more they occurred the less that interest remained. Especially with the way thing seemed to be spiraling as his seventh year continues to break apart. The attendees only ever wanted to talk to him because he was the Malfoy heir, not because they cared to converse with him and how he was doing, but because they wanted to talk about he who he refuses to give the satisfaction of naming. He didn’t want to talk about things most undesirable, there was more to him than slytherin title, than to be a Malfoy. There was more to him than what he could use his social standing for. He knew that, you knew that.

He wanted so desperately to leave the bleak and endless maze of that manor. To part from that grand window and to be somewhere else, anywhere, with you. He wanted to—

“Draco,” a voice sounded behind him. A voice he’d rather not hear. His father. He squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for conversation. “Have you grown bored?”

The tone he held was not one of curiosity, he genuinely did not care less about whether or not he had been bored. He did not care about very much when it came to his son, his only child. For no reasons other than selfish ones, anyway.

Draco laughed bitterly to himself, his back still turned to his father. “Yeah, you could say that.”

It was quiet, save for the lingering notes of the piano and endless chatter that filtered out into the corridor. The silence from his father was near painful, and he’d be lying if he said his heart hadn’t begun to pound more vigorously against his chest. The absence in conversation was starting to make him nervous with each passing second, and he was beginning to think he’d left altogether. No, it would not be that easy.

“You seem rather distracted, Draco,” he states after a few agonizing moments, and his heart squeezes in his chest at the familiar sense of knowing woven around each word. He swallows thickly as he fixes his stare down on the windowsill. “Is something on your mind? Or someone, perhaps.”

He wants desperately to take a deep breath as panic settles thickly within him, but that would be far too obvious an indication that his assumptions were, in fact, correct. His mind races a mile a minute, however, and he finds himself scrambling to think of an answer.

“No, there is not, father. I’m just not in the mood for discussing luxuries with any of your friends,” he responds, tone sharp and defensive.

He hears a humorless chuckle sound closer behind him, a sound accompanied by the click of his walking stick. Lucius had his suspicions of you, ever since he’d noticed his son’s newfound distraction, newfound stubbornness to follow his rules. It had only further been confirmed by the smile his son seemed to be caught wearing when he thinks no one is watching. He knew it and he hated it.

Draco felt paralyzed in his spot, unable to form an excuse to leave this very situation. He was tense and increasingly bothered by the threatening presence behind him. He was unsure if there would be repercussions of his displeased counter at his question, hadn’t known just what to expect. Hadn’t known until he felt the hand of his father grab firmly to the back of his neck, cold and calloused fingers pressing to his skin just inches from his shoulders. He flinched at the sudden and startling action, breath hitching in his throat as he brows furrow in a wince.

“Listen closely, my dear son,” he muttered venomously in his ear. “I don’t know what it is you’re up to, but that girl of yours, the one distracting you from your orders—I will not tolerate it.”

He gulped at his father’s words, and he was quite sure he could hear the rhythmic and incessant pounding of his heart in the close proximity. His hands had begun to shake as they gripped tighter on the ledge of the windowsill. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The grip on his neck tightens a fraction. “You reek of her perfume, do not tell me you do not know what I’m talking about,” he says through gritted teeth. “You have me mistaken for a fool, Draco. Deal with it, or I will.”

His threatening words are accompanied by a brief shake to emphasize them, jolting him slightly before his harsh grip is released and his footsteps diminish. He was left to stand there alone once more, angry and afraid as his nostrils flare with his sharp inhale and his jaw tensed, eyes lining with tears. His lip quivered under the pressure to suppress it, knuckles turning white under his tightening fists. He knew of you.

“Draco?” The mere softness of your tone pulls him from his distracted trance, that and the way your hand settled on his cheek. “Are you alright?”

His hand comes to rest over your own as he looks at you and leans into your touch without second thought, his blue gaze flickering between your own. He simply nods, his thumb brushing gingerly over your skin as he smiles softly, assuringly. “I’m fine, darling.”

Your returning smile makes his heart flutter within his chest, though he knows that you knew him far better to believe that. But you don’t push it.

When you start speaking he doesn’t entirely know what you were saying in that very moment, for he was much more focused on the way your lips moved with every word, every syllable. On the way your lashes splay against the tops of your flushed cheeks each and every time you look down at that wondrous crystal ball. Or the way your hand pulled from his cheek to rest over his own, playing absentmindedly with the silver slytherin ring worn on his finger. He didn’t particularly like that piece of jewelry, but he only wore it for that habit of yours.

You were so enamoring in everything you had done and he’s sure that will remain true, so utterly spellbinding he feels as though he never stood a chance. You were far more enchanting than the very magic the two of you had known your whole lives, and he knew that to be factual.

“Remember when you—”

His lips had pressed on yours before you could finish your sentence, his hand slipping from under yours to rest warmly upon your cheek. The soft bout of laughter puffed against his lips was enough to let loose a flurry of butterflies within him, a feeling only you have ever caused even with just a mere glance in his direction. The tension in his body dissipated the more he kissed you, the worry dissolving from his mind in that very moment.

When he parted from you he’d thought better of it as he kissed you once, twice, three more times. His lips were pink and kiss swollen, chunks of messy platinum dipping down in his eyes as he gazed at you adoringly. You kissed him again, fleeting and sweet, and it left him smiling softly as his fingertips brushed over his lips. The action made your cheeks stain a deeper scarlet as you looked away momentarily, but you couldn’t help but to return your gaze to him.

“What was that all about?” You ask in playful amusement, still breathless and blissfully awestruck from the burst of affection.

He laughs at that, because you too were delightful and dizzying, and he can’t seem to hide that fact. He dips down and does so again, this time a mere featherlight kiss, his eyes fluttering closed as he relishes in the soft intimacy passing him by. One he does not want to end.

“Just because,” he whispers.

You reach up and smooth the worry creasing between dark brows, your fingers brushing under the hair falling over his forehead and tracing down his cheek. You smiled at the seemingly silverness of his hair in the moonlit glow, the pale blue of his eyes something else entirely.

You rest your forehead on his, noses bumping and laughter mingling before fading into soft smiles. “I love you, always.”

His smile widens a fraction at your words, sincere and true. It makes his heart pound in his chest and his cheeks stain the softest shade of pink as his lips ghost over yours, brushing together with every word. “I love you, always.”

He might not have paid too much mind to that crystal ball for fear of the outcome he felt couldn’t possibly be what he’d dreamt of. He might not have allowed himself to ponder too long on what awaits him for the future for himself, for himself with you. For if he had, he just might’ve seen that life hadn’t intended to be quite as cruel to him as he’d been thinking. Maybe if he gave it a chance he’d see his fate hadn’t been so terrible in the end. But for now, for right now he was content with setting those thoughts aside in favor of kissing you in the moonlight behind vibrant and mismatched curtains. He was content with disregarding his father’s absurd wishes, they did not matter.

He loved you now and he loved you always.

—

Tags: @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @dracosathenaeum @snitches-at-dawn @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @anchoeritic @writeroutoftime @lunalovecroft

[harrysweasleys]

save me a dance // n.l.

summary: Hi!! Could I please request a Neville x Slytherin! Reader? She has a kind soul and became friends with Hermione (who’s the only person that knows about her crush on Neville), but she kept her distance because she knew about what happened to his parents. She goes to the Yule ball with another Slytherin that eventually ditched her, so she sneaks into the kitchens and hangs out with house elves until Neville comes by (knowing that she always hung out with them when she felt sad) and he confesses ^^

warnings: very brief mention of unwanted sexual advances if you squint, mentions of food

word count: 5k

a/n: my first neville fic!!! i’m so excited for you all to read it, i had so much fun writing it :)

[i do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other platform]

For what felt like the hundredth time, you woke up to the same view; your Yule Ball dress hanging loosely over the four poster bed, the sunlight streaming through the fabric and onto your chunky bed sheets.

The dress was quite stunning, but Godric, did you dread wearing it. You didn’t exactly feel like dancing the night away alongside some Slytherin bloke while you looked around at all the happy couples, wishing ever so desperately that that could have been you. That you could be the one dancing the night away with the person who had captured your heart effortlessly.

Unfortunately, that plan hadn’t exactly fallen into place. Hermione had done her best to help you out in getting him to ask you, but you ended up being put on the spot when a Slytherin boy named Jasper had asked you during Transfigurations. So, you had said yes, but deep down, that regret was starting to multiply by the second.

You let out a groan, tossed your head back against the pillow, and lifted the warm comforter off of your body. The fireplace in the centre of the room was still crackling away, but within the stone walls of the castle, the cold seemed to never fully fade.

So you threw on your house sweater, your scarf, robe, and a pair of trousers, before heading down to start the day. The snow was accumulating rather quickly outside as Christmas drew nearer, rendering you quite glad that you brought your scarf.

“At least you’re prepared,” Hermione mumbled as the two of you made your way to Divinations, “It’s always freezing in Professor Trewlaney’s room! Oh, how I wish I could have brought mine. Rather silly of me.”

You chuckled, keeping your eyes on the long winding staircase as you responded to her, “Not to worry, I’m sure Ron has a sweater you can borrow.”

Though you weren’t facing her, you could practically feel her eye roll as she scoffed, “Very funny. Such a clever idea. You really are filled with those.”

“I’m just saying,” you turned back to face her quickly before pulling down the ladder to the Divination classroom, “I’m sure he’d think you look amazing in it. Isn’t that what guys like? When their girlfriends wear their clothing?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” she shushed you as you climbed up, “Be quiet!”

You apologized with a laugh as you climbed into the classroom and made your way to your usual seat at the front by the window, Hermione coming over to join you. Harry and Ron were seated not too far away, but that didn’t really matter to you. From across the class, you spotted Neville.

He was accompanied by Seamus — who seemed quite interested in the tablecloth at the moment — but you so wished that you could be the one sitting across from him.

His vest hung loosely against his body and his dark hair was littering his forehead, eyes scrunched shut as he let out a yawn. As he opened them, you noticed they darted in your direction before snapping away.

You felt a frown form on your lips. Why did he look away so fast? Instinctively, you raised a hand to the top of your head to check if there was anything in your hair.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked as she dug through her bag, placing the heavy Divinations book on top of the circular table. The book, with its golden lettering, seemed to twinkle under the pink hues of the morning sky.

You shrugged, “Nothing.”

Her eyes followed to where you had previously been looking, and she let out a sigh, “Relax. You look wonderful. There’s nothing to fix.”

You sulked back into your chair, “Hermione, he asked Ginny to the ball. Don’t try to continue your matchmaking.”

She leaned forward on the table, pushing her thick hair behind her shoulder, “Doesn’t mean you don’t stand a chance. Look, I like Ginny, but maybe they’re going as friends. Like you and Jasper.”

“I think Jasper has more than friendship on his mind,” you muttered under your breath, thinking back to the way his hands lingered on your lower back a little too long after you agreed to be his date.

She gave you a sympathetic glance, opening her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Trewlaney announcing her presence. The class began shortly after, and you spent the time reading Hermione’s palm and deciphering what your own dreams meant.

According to the textbook, you were going to stumble upon a lot of money as well as possibly fall down a sewer within the next week. Nothing new, really. It was better than Harry’s, who once again, was told he was doomed for death in the coming months.

As the class ended, you stuffed the books and parchment into your backpack and thanked Trelawney for the lesson, following Hermione out of the room. As you made your way to the ladder, you spotted a little red ball on the ground.

You crouched to pick it up, immediately recognizing it as Neville’s remembrall. How oddly convenient that it land right at your feet.

“Oh, thanks,” he muttered as you turned to hand it to him, fingers brushing against his as you placed it in his palm, “This thing likes to try and escape.”

You grinned at him, “You should keep it safe in your dorm.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady as you spoke to him, which was odd, really. Why did you always become so nervous around Neville, who was one of the shyest, kindest people you’d ever met? Crushes were quite strange.

He gave you a small smile and a shrug, “I like to carry it on me. It’s from my nan. I don’t want to leave it behind.”

Your chest felt like it was going to swell at his words, “That’s really sweet. I’m sure she appreciates that you care for it so much.”

As you turned back to face the ladder, Hermione gave you a quick wink and a thumbs up before darting away with Harry and Ron, clearly insinuating that you should walk with Neville. You mentally scolded her before making your way to it, Neville not far behind.

“She does,” he said, fondness clear in his voice, “It’s not like I get anything from my parents, so I cherish anything I get from my family in general.”

Your heart sunk in your chest. Neville had always been very closed off when talking about his family — especially his parents — so the way he mentioned them so casually had you doubting what to say next. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by continuing the topic, nor did you want to brush it off like it was nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you said, facing him once the two of you began going down the spiral staircase, “I can imagine it’s difficult. But your nan clearly cares a lot, and she’s lucky to have you.”

His ears turned slightly pink at your words and you had to fight a grin.

The next few minutes were silent until Neville once again turned to face you. There was something about him that always seemed optimistic, despite the fact that he had just spoken a bit about the difficult situation with his parents. Whether it be the smile on his face or the sparkle in his eye, you couldn’t be sure what it was. But Merlin, did you ever adore it.

“She sent me my suit for the Yule Ball, actually,” he said, a bit of a hop in his step as he said the words, “It doesn’t fit perfectly but I’m sure it’ll last the night.”

You let out a small laugh, “That’s awfully sweet of her. I’m sure you’ll look dashing.”

As you said the words, you regretted them instantly. Well, not so much regretted — you meant every syllable — but more so, you wished you could currently fall into the sewer that Trelawney had predicted you’d stumble into.

Throwing out a compliment like that was quite possibly the last thing you wanted to do. Would he react badly? Would he think you were coming onto him? Would this change things?

Were you overthinking?

The corners of his lips curled up into a shy smile and he gave you a nod and cut you short of your internal rambling, “Are you excited?”

Yeah, definitely overthinking.

You let out a sigh, trying to move past your embarrassment and continue your walk to your next class, dodging a few passing students, “Kind of. I’m excited for the music. Not so much the dancing. I’m not very good at that.”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t either. I taught myself, actually. In my room. The lads loved to make fun of that.”

The image of Neville dancing away in the cramped boys’ dorm brought a smile to your face.

“You’ve already got a step up on me, then,” you faced him, “Get ready to watch me humiliate myself on the dance floor.”

You stepped a little closer to him as a group of Ravenclaw pushed past in a rush, and Neville’s hand reached for your arm to help steady you.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling away and avoiding your gaze, “But anyways, I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think. Ginny has never danced either, so you won’t be the only one.”

You tried your best to push past the surge of jealousy that washed over you. You already knew he was going with Ginny — hell, you’d know for a while now — but it did not make it any easier to hear. Especially coming from him.

“I didn’t expect you’d ask her,” you admitted, “but I’m sure you’ll both have a wonderful time. She’ll have a good leader to help her maneuver the moves.”

You gave his shoulder a small nudge, trying to act like you weren’t drowning in your own feelings. The thought of Neville holding Ginny close to his body as they swayed to the romantic music nearly made you sick. You liked Ginny a great deal, she was such a sweet girl with a fierce attitude that you admired, but you really wished Neville had asked you instead.

“We’re just going as friends,” he said, “I was going to ask someone else but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I’m pretty sure Ginny was also interested in another person in the first place.”

You tried your best to hold back a sigh of relief. They were going as friends. That didn’t mean it would make it easier to see them together, but maybe you could push past the jealousy you felt about seeing them as a couple.

But then the next thing he said hit you; he wanted to ask someone else. Someone he was interested in romantically? Perhaps he actually did like someone, even if that someone wasn’t Ginny. Who could it be? And why were you so irritated? You didn’t even know them.

“Well,” you said, unsure of how to change the topic, “I’ll be looking out for you two on the dance floor.” You wanted so desperately to no longer speak of the Yule Ball. The thought of the night was now dizzying and had you feeling a little faint, to be completely honest.

It was going to be a long day.

— —

You were honestly quite surprised by the appearance of the Great Hall. Usually filled with long tables, chairs, and candles, it was now glistening like a winter wonderland. There was fake snow falling from the ceiling, but it never touched the ground. The room smelled faintly of pine trees and sweets, and you figured that there had to be at least seven Christmas trees littering the room.

To put it simply, the space was beautiful.

Music played softly from the dance floor ahead, and to your right, there was a small table with a few snacks and drinks. There were also quite a few seats around, already occupied by couples and friends.

“What do you want to do?”

You turned to face Jasper, who was waving over at a group of Slytherins further on the left.

“We can go dance,” you suggested, praying he wasn’t going to drag you over to his housemates. Jasper seemed alright enough, but you weren’t a fan of his obnoxious friends. You could very well go the night without hanging around them, thank you very much.

He shrugged, “Sure.”

He linked his hand in yours and tugged you along behind him, bringing you over to the dance floor. Once you got there, you noticed a few familiar faces.

Hermione and Viktor were not far away, and she gave you an excited grin before pointing at her date, who was obviously making love heart eyes in her direction. You couldn’t blame him, honestly. Further along you spotted Fred and Angelina, dancing away as if they were the only two in the room. It caused you to chuckle.

“So do you want to dance, or…?” Jasper asked, placing one of his hands on your waist.

You shivered under his touch. It wasn’t a good shiver, it was discomfort. You wanted more than anything to be dancing with Neville — who you currently spotted over with Ginny, his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders.

“Yeah,” you squeaked, awkwardly stepping closer to him before putting your arms around his neck. Your throat began to sting as you watched the two of them glide across the floor, laughing as they spoke to each other. It felt quite juxtaposed to the uncomfortable, weird situation that you found yourself currently in.

You began to sway to the music, trying your best not to dart your eyes to Neville every couple of seconds. Jasper was clearly not enjoying this, but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care what he wanted. He wasn’t going to get what he came here for and you weren’t going to be guilted into it either.

You honestly couldn’t be thankful enough as the slow song ended. You quickly pulled your arms away from him and you crossed them over your chest.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” you said, not waiting for his response before taking off to the table by the entrance. You heard him call your name as you pushed your way through students, holding the skirt of your dress in your hands to avoid being stepped on, but you didn’t look back.

There was a clearing near the table and you took a deep breath, dropping your skirt and letting out a sigh. Your shoulders slouched as you walked over and grabbed a small glass, not even sure if you were thirsty. The excuse was simply to get away from Jasper. You were regretting your decision to come here more than ever.

“I recommend the punch.”

You spun on your heel, nearly coming in contact with Neville. He was standing behind you, taking a step back after realizing how close he really was.

“Oh—,” you nodded, “Thanks.”

The punch bowl sat in front of you, glistening red under the shimmering lights. You grabbed the spoon and poured yourself a little bit, enjoying the scent of the fruity drink.

You turned back around, giving Neville a forced smile, “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he fiddled with his waistcoat, “Are you alright? I don’t mean to prod or anything.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, “Yeah, I guess I’m alright, really. Just not having a great time.”

Neville’s eyes scanned the dance floor where he spotted Jasper’s familiar blond head scanning the crowd, “I’m guessing it has something to do with your date.”

His eyes found yours again and you nodded, placing the glass down on the table behind you, “My situation is kind of like yours, I guess. You wanted to ask someone else. Well, I wanted someone else to ask me.”

You could see his shoulders sag before he frowned, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I’d say anyone would be lucky to have you as their partner, but something about him tells me he’s not enjoying himself the way he should be, being by your side and all.”

You had to fight a grin at his words. How Neville could be so awkward, yet so effortless in his words, you’d never understand. It was one of the reasons you knew you wouldn’t be getting over your crush anytime soon.

“Thanks,” you gave him a smile, looking down to the ground before meeting his eyes again, “You should go back. I don’t want to keep you from dancing.”

You could see the hesitation in his eyes as he scanned your face, but he gave a slight nod, “If ever you want to get away from him, I’ll be there to help you.”

“Thanks, Neville,” you smiled genuinely, maintaining eye contact. He stood there for a moment, looking into your eyes, and you could practically feel how reluctant he was to walk away.

As cliché and typical as it sounds, it almost felt like you were alone in the room, completely lost in his gaze. His eyes brought you comfort that nothing else could provide, and you only wished you could look into them more often. Like dancing, for example. How easily you’d find yourself lost in his eyes if you were dancing.

“No worries,” he gave you a small smile, scanned your face once more, and took off into the crowd. As you watched his head of dark hair vanish, you let out a deep breath. If life could go your way, he’d have his hand linked with yours as he led you back to the dance floor.

But life wasn’t fair like that, was it?

You completely disregarded the punch behind you, stomach feeling like it was in knots, and made your way back to where you left Jasper. Only, you couldn’t find the familiar mop of blond hair anywhere. He was rather tall, so it wouldn’t be difficult to spot him. And yet, somehow, he was nowhere to be seen.

Until you looked to the entrance door and saw him hand in hand with a ginger Slytherin girl, both of them stumbling over their feet as they made their way out.

“Well, that was fast,” you mumbled, a frown on your face.

You stood alone on the floor, couples swaying to the music around you. It kind of felt like a movie — the kind of movie where the girl gets her heart crushed by a guy, and then is ditched by another guy, and then is left alone in the end. A crappy movie, you thought, but one that seemed to fit really well right now.

The music was practically taunting you, so instead of staying put or going to finish your drink, you once again gathered your dress in your hands, and made your way out of the room.

The hallway felt a lot fresher compared to the Great Hall, but that was understandable. Hundreds of bodies in one room compared to the corridor with an open doorway to the winter air.

Though, that wasn’t where you were going. You decided you’d go down to your usual escape spot, and now that all the teachers were chaperoning the ball, you would make it there with minimal interruption.

You spotted the familiar painting by the kitchen entrance, the bowl of fruits, and raised your hand to tickle the pear. The painting swung open and you crawled through the little stone passage, making sure your dress wasn’t going to get caught, before landing on both feet on the tile floor.

“Oh! Miss Y/N!”

Dobby, donned in a little scarf and hat, waved at you from a tabletop.

“Hey, Dobby,” you grinned, “Sorry to interrupt your quiet evening in here. I didn’t know where else to go.”

He patted the table next to him, “Why did you leave so early? Dobby heard the ball was lasting all night.”

You gave him a little smile, sitting down on the stool in front of him, “Wasn’t as fun as I expected. I’d rather spend my evening here. Where is everyone else?” The stool was rather small for a human being, considering it was most likely made for an elf, but if you leaned forwards against the table and kept your feet plastered to the ground, you managed to balance just fine.

He gave a little smile and looked at you with those big eyes, “They are all tired! We have been putting the ball together for days now! They all went to bed.”

The corner of your lips curved up, “Well, now you have company, Dobby.”

He clapped his hands together and let out a little laugh, “Let me show you what Dobby found today. It was in the Gryffindor common room!”

You nodded, knowing that it was most likely a knitted hat. Hermione had been leaving those scattered around the room for a little while now. Little did she know Dobby was the one collecting them all.

As you watched his little body disappear through a small doorway on the far wall, you took a look around the kitchen. Despite the fact that you were certain they had been working non-stop in here for days on end, it was nearly spotless. Pots and pans shimmered under the candlelight, tabletops were clear, apart from a few fruit bowls and snacks. The counters were clean, as well as the floors.

If this place had windows, or maybe a little more light, you felt it would be quite nice.

You sat there silently for a little while, already beginning to feel the sadness of the evening creep in. It was quite a bummer, really. You didn’t know if you wanted to go back to your own dorm tonight or stay out wandering the halls, mind running through all the scenarios on how tonight could have gone differently, how it could have been better.

The only sound you could hear was a light creak, which you eventually realized was the painting swinging open to let someone in.

Panic began to settle in and you stood off your chair, moving to the other side of the table. You would still be very much visible if you ducked, so there was no point in doing it, but you did it anyways.

The last thing you wanted was for Snape or Moody to catch you where you shouldn’t be.

Except, the person that crawled through and landed sturdily on their feet wasn’t Snape or Moody.

It was Neville.

You popped your head back up, eyes locking with his. He looked a little disheveled in terms of his hair, and his bow tie was slightly off centre, but the smile on his face showed relief.

“Neville?” you asked, already feeling a little less panicked. You only hoped Neville was alone. The last thing you wanted was for a girl to crawl in behind him. He wasn’t that kind of guy, you knew that, but your mind went there anyways.

Thankfully, he was alone. The painting swung closed behind him and he gave you a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, walking back around to the front of the table, this time deciding not to sit on the stool.

His cheeks turned a little pink but he brushed it off and shrugged, “I saw you rush out of the room. I wanted to see if you were okay. I remember you once told me you come here when you’re upset, so I gave it a shot.”

Your mouth felt like it fell open so you shut it quickly, blinking rapidly, “I’m surprised you remembered. Only you and Hermione know about my little escape spot.”

He gave a small chuckle, stepping a little closer, “Are you alright, though? I saw you leave and I didn’t see your date anywhere.”

You gave a shrug, averting your eyes, “He left. With another girl. I wasn’t interested in him that way, but it still sucks.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and gave a shake of his head, “You’re better off without him,” he stepped a little closer, catching your attention once more, “But I get why you’re upset. Funny story, the same thing happened to me. But not in the same sense. Ginny managed to get a dance with Harry.”

You were close enough to put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

Realization caught up to you and you noticed how stupid this gesture probably was, so you snatched your arm back and held it against you. Neville noticed your quick reaction and you could see his gaze fall down to the ground before meeting yours again.

Just like at the punch table, it felt as if time stood still while you looked into his eyes. You could see he looked like he wanted to say something, his stare darting back and forth between your lips and your eyes, but he didn’t say anything for a good moment.

Until one of his hands reached across and held yours. His skin was warm, and you could feel his pulse against his wrist. His heart was beating fast, and if he could feel your own pulse, he’d say the same about you.

“You look—,” he took a deep breath, “You look beautiful tonight. Well, not just tonight. You look beautiful most of the time. I’m just saying, it’s — never mind.”

Your heart seemed to stutter in your chest, goosebumps rising on your skin at his words. They had caught you so off guard that you couldn’t find a way to respond. No words seemed to find their way into your mind. All you could do was smile. A bright, genuine grin that hurt your cheeks.

“Thanks,” you let out a small laugh, linking your fingers with his, “Also, you look pretty dapper yourself. I told you you would, and I was right.”

He stepped closer, his other hand locking with your free one. It wasn’t an overtly intimate gesture — people held hands all the time — but Merlin, did you ever melt into his touch.

“Do you — Can we have a dance?”

You bit your lip to hold back your smile. How you went from standing alone on the dance floor, starring in the most depressing teen flick you’d ever heard of, to standing alone in the kitchen, your hands locked with Neville’s as the candles flickered around the two of you, you’d never know. But you were so, so grateful. And happier than you can ever remember being.

“I’d love that,” you nodded, stepping closer and resting your head against his shoulder. His hands let go of yours and went to your waist, and it felt so right. So right that you completely forgot about how it felt when Jasper was holding you instead.

Your hands went up to his neck, draping them around him and leaning into his touch. There was no music, but it almost didn’t feel necessary. The two of you began to sway slowly back and forth, the only sound being the click of your shoes as you took your steps. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about whether Dobby would walk back in any second now.

He rested his head against yours as he led the way. It wasn’t much of a dance, but it was quite possibly the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to you. You wished more than anything that you could freeze this moment and live like this forever.

“A hat! Dobby was left a hat — Oh! Hello!”

Neville pulled away instinctively and grinned awkwardly, taking a second to process what had happened before nodding his head in the direction of the house elf, “Hello, Dobby.”

You fought a grin, turning your head back to face Dobby, who was awkwardly looking between the two of you, a large knitted beanie in his hand.

“Dobby can sense he is intruding,” he muttered, giving a little bow before backing up through the door he left through before, “Good night!”

The moment had sort of been interrupted, but you didn’t move away from Neville’s touch, resting your head against his shoulder once more as your laughter died down. Of course, the curious little elf would walk in at the worst moment.

“I knew that would happen,” you laughed, tightening your grip around him a little more. He chuckled, head falling against yours. You could feel his hair tickling the side of your face, the strands unruly and curly as they brushed against your skin.

The night ended up being way better than you expected.

This one you would never forget.

——

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[fickle-tiction]

Gotham’s Ticklish Prince

This started out as a headcanon, and then it spiraled out of control. You’re welcome.

  ~~

One day Bruce Wayne makes headlines. This isn’t surprising, or even noteworthy. He’s always making headlines for some silly nonsense he does as Bruce, to draw attention away from Batman. What is surprising is when he walks into the Hall of Justice and sees his face smiling back at him from about 10 different magazines strewn all over the meeting table.

Specifically, he sees himself curling inwards, eyes crinkled, nose scrunched, mouth stretched into a wide surprised smile as Mike, his date to last night’s gala, stands behind him. Thankfully, Mike’s hands are out of frame so no one can tell from the picture that he’s squeezing Bruce’s sides from behind.

“Oh look.” Arthur says, coming out of nowhere with a shit eating grin on his face. “Gotham’s Ticklish Prince decided to show his face.”

If Bruce didn’t have years of training and self discipline under his belt he would have flushed.

A Different magazine comes flying at him and smacks him in the stomach before he can even blink. Bruce catches it on reflex and looks down, only to be met with the headline “Gotham’s Ticklish Prince Has A New Squeeze” and, to his internal horror, it shows a picture snapped about two seconds after the first one. Bruce is clearly laughing in delight as Mike squeezes his sides, in full view of the camera. Several smaller pictures are beneath it, catching Bruce as he latches onto Mikes hands, turns and leans in close to tell him to stop. He didn’t have to flip to page 4, where the story apparently continued, to know what other pictures they surely got. Mike hadn’t stopped after one squeeze, and Bruce was too into character, and for once too unaware of any paparazzo nearby, to make him stop.

He knew he should have skipped the gala last night. Getting only 3 hours of sleep over the course of 4 nights and then slipping into his Bruce persona was always risky. Normally the two whiskies he had wouldn’t affect him at all, but the exhaustion plus the fact that he liked this Mike guy and was feeling comfortable and loose, clearly created a perfect storm. He remembered Mike sneaking up on him, he remember his guard being down just enough for it to catch him unawares and cause a reaction. He remembered how good it felt, but he won’t be letting himself go there. No. No thank you.

What he didn’t remember was the paparazzi being right there.

Or what would happen when those pictures surfaced at HQ.

Bruce finally looked up from the front cover of the Gotham Globe and was met with identical smirks from Arthur and Clark. Well, that explained the newspaper smacking him in the stomach earlier.

“It’s a character.” Bruce said, voice flat as he tossed the magazine onto the conference table. It wouldn’t help his situation if he tried to throw it out or look like he was hiding something.

“Right.” Clark didn’t sound like he was buying it at all. “So you knew you were being recorded. That’s why you put on such a convincing act.”

Recorded?

Recorded?!

Again, Bruce didn’t outwardly react at the news, but inside he was curling into a ball, ready to wither and die at any second. They fucking got that on video?

Naturally, the huge screen on the wall clicks on at the moment, showing a video of Bruce doing something on his phone. He had actually been playing some asinine game as he waited for Mike to come back from the bathroom. Bruce Wayne couldn’t be caught doing anything more than slicing up fruit on his phone, after all.

“I see Victor’s here.” Bruce says dryly, as though his eyes aren’t glued to the screen. His face remains impassive, but inside he’s once again screaming for his past self to turn around as Mike comes into frame behind him. He’s so busy watching Mike smirk and start sneaking up behind him (and, really, how did he not notice this last night? The guy is being so damn obvious about it.) that he doesn’t notice Clark and Arthur inching closer to him on either side.

Bruce feels a hand latch onto either of his sides just as Mike reaches forward and does the same on camera. Thankfully, Bruce’s guard has been up since he first saw his goofy face smiling back at himself when he walked into the room, so he does nothing more than cock an eyebrow and look at first Arthur, and then Clark.

“It’s a character.” He repeats, ignoring the staccato squeezing at one of his worst spots.

“I’m not going to react like he does, even though this tickles like hell. Bruce Wayne is an airheaded goof ball. Batman might be ticklish, but he doesn’t let it show--what the fuck?!” Bruce looked down to see a glittering gold rope wrapped innocently around his ankle. “Diana! What the hell?! I’m going to--” He cut off, clamping his mouth shut as he felt words trying to spill out. Words he most definitely did not want to say in the present company.

“Going to what, Brucie?” Diana asked, smirking as she held the lasso of truth in her hand. Bruce glared daggers at her, lips clamped tightly even as the squeezing on his sides turned to wiggling fingers and, to his horror, he felt his resolve breaking. 

“I’m--” Bruce huffed, biting his lower lip to keep from both speaking and laughing. “--I’m going--” His mouth was trying to curve into a smile, but Bruce was nothing if not stubborn and refused to let it happen.

“We’ve almost got him.” Arthur smirked, venturing a little lower and pinching just above Bruce’s hipbone. 

Clark noticed the jolt that caused and immediately followed suit on his side.

“I’m-Going-To-Pretend-To-Hate-all-of-you-to-keep-up-my-image.” Bruce was forced to say, as he finally caved and latched onto Arthur and Clark’s hands. Not that it did him any good. He might be The Batman, but outside of his suit he didn’t stand a chance against Superman, Aquaman and Wonder Woman, if she decided to get more hands on.

“You don’t actually hate it, do you.” Clark marveled, giving that spot above his hipbone another gentle pinch. Thank God for his super hearing, because without it he probably would have missed the squeak Bruce let out.

“I-” Again, Bruce was trying to clamp his mouth shut, but it wasn’t very effective since his mouth was stretched into a wide grin. “I have an image to maintain!” It was supposed to come out as a growl, but instead it sounded more like a whine as Bruce’s dam broke and laughter started pouring out of him.

“Well, if you’re trying to maintain the Ticklish Prince of Gotham image, you’re doing a fantastic job.” Arthur mocked him, now fluttering his fingers up and down Bruce’s side rapidly. 

Bruce was lost to the laughter, something that hasn’t happened to him since he was a kid. He began backing up, trying to back away from the tickling fingers flying furiously up and down both sides of his body. Absently, he noted that Diana must have let him go because he didn’t trip over the lasso as he tried to get away. He did, however, back himself into the wall without realizing it since his eyes were squeezed shut as he tried to contain the wild laughter pouring out  of him.

“Fahahahack!” Bruce cursed himself as Clark and Arthur boxed him in, each still tickling away. Clark was now experimenting with Bruce’s stomach while Arthur, the bastard, was worming his way under Bruce’s arm. 

They let him try to defend himself for a minute, wordlessly taunting him as they both danced around his arms with half-hearted attempts to get at his armpits. Finally, Arthur spoke up. “Clark, do you mind doing something about these?” He asked, tracing his fingertips gently up and down Bruce’s forearms. Bruce was well and truly gone if even that tickled like hell.

“Wha-” Bruce asked, laughter starting to die down as he got a short break. He cracked his eyes open, realizing for the first time he had been hunched in on himself, arms clamped down tightly, trying to protect as much of his sides as he could. 

“Oh, it’d be my pleasure.” Clark grinned. Lightening fast, he grabbed up Bruce’s wrists in one strong hand and pinned them to the wall above his head. Bruce’s eyes widened comically, too far gone to have any hope of controlling his facial features.

“Hey now.” He said, voice breathy as caught his breath. “You’ve had your fun.” Instead of the gravely voice they’d come to expect, Bruce’s voice was closer to that of his alter ego Bruce Wayne’s now. Nearly high pitched, and just short of panicky as he flexed his arms against the steel grip they were in.

“Tell me Bruce,” Arthur started, fingers slowly crawling up his ribs towards their destination. Bruce’s nerves immediately jumped to attention because they were already so worked up. “Are your armpits ticklish?”

Bruce tried to glare at him, even as his muscles twitched beneath Arthur’s fingers and his mouth started curving into another grin.

“Diana left.” Clark added, grinning at the man he had pinned to the wall. “And she took her lasso with her. I guess we’ll have to find out for ourselves.”

“Fuck.” Was the last coherent thing Bruce said for quite a while.

When Clark and Arthur finally let him go, he slumps to the floor in an exhausted heap and marvels at the last time he laughed that much (The answer: never.) or the last time he felt this exhausted without getting his ass whooped, or whooping someone else’s.

Once he’s regained some of his dignity, Bruce goes to the security feed with the intention of deleting the last hour of footage. He surprised to find it’s already gone, the tapes spliced seamlessly, with only a minor blip to show anything is missing. 

Victor, naturally, saved the entire thing to his personal servers. Just in case.

[gallickingun]

reassurance || oikawa tooru

SUMMARY: You and Oikawa Tooru have become close after spending weeks partnered together in your college course. You have an unspoken relationship, nothing exclusive, but Oikawa plans to change that once he realizes a toll his other female fanatics have on you and your confidence.

PAIRING: Oikawa x Fem!Reader RATINGS: T+ WARNINGS: language, negative feelings, anxiety, etc. WORD COUNT: 3.8k+

Author’s Note: This is my very first Haikyuu!! piece. I’m not sure how it ended up being Oikawa, but here we are! In the future, if you guys want, I’ll definitely do more Oikawa but also Sugawara, Kuroo, Bokuto, and Kageyama!

The jersey sits heavy on your shoulders – as if Atlas himself had bestowed the burden of carrying the weight of the world to you personally. Your back aches but you stand when the set is thrown across the court anyway, hands held close together in preparation of a clap.

He always gives you a reason to redden your hands in praise.

When the ball slams onto the court, his eyes turn to you – dark and playful, the lilt of a smirk on his lips. His left eye drops in a wink and as you bring your hand up to wave, your body tenses at the sound of screams from just behind your position in the bleachers.

“Oikawa!” They drag out each syllable of his name for an excessive amount of time, and the flirtatious drawl of their voices makes your skin crawl. They giggle in unison, a flurry of voices trying to be louder than the last, their laughter echoing off the gym walls, “Great serve!”

Your hands wring together in your lap as you find your seat again, eyes downcast so you cannot make out the frustrated expression on his face when you back down from them. He grits his teeth and curls his fists, but anyone looking on and unaware would believe he was just pushing himself to newer limits, a higher level to achieve. He is not known for his tendency to stagnate, especially not in a game where there are newscasters and reporters present, scouts for national level teams scattered in the stands.

“I heard he’s seeing someone,” a higher-pitched voice chimes in, just across your shoulder. Before you can turn your body to defend yourself, or the girl in question can continue, another one further to the left butts in, “Yeah, but I heard it’s not exclusive. Which basically means he’s still fair game.”

“He’s not a piece of meat, guys.”

You’re thankful for whichever third voice of reason pipes up, but the sheer number of girls giggling behind you does little to quell your spiraling nerves. The pit of your stomach is in shambles, your arms wrapped around your torso in an attempt to hold yourself together while the last set of the game winds down.

They’re not wrong, per say. You and Oikawa aren’t exclusively dating, not really calling one another pet names, or holding hands across campus. At most, you’re comfortable, your bodies walking in synch from building to building, finding it easy to fill the otherwise awkward silence with talk, or comfortable just basking in the quiet. He will throw an arm around your shoulders and kiss your temple, but the actual affection is saved for when he walks you to your car or you spend the evening studying in his dorm.

The two of you started off as lab partners, forced to spend extra time outside of class together to study and put together a project that’s worth a decent amount of your semester grade. In that time, you’d grown to enjoy his company, and he started inviting you out with his teammates and their friends after practice and to parties, and even to study together for other subjects outside of the lab class you were taking.

It was not long before your mouths found one another and your hearts grew to become intertwined.

And now, here you are, stood in the stands, your body on the edge of your seat as he twirls the ball in his palms, blowing a breath through his teeth as he steps to the edge of the court. He toes the white line, as if mentally marking the spot, the start of a smirk on his lips as he grows more confident with each passing second. Your heart stalls within your chest, just as it always does, when the ball is thrown into midair, spinning so quickly you can hardly see the multi-colored stripes, rather each piece blurring together to create one dark hue.

Oikawa manages to throw another service ace, bringing the game to match point in favor of your school’s team. As the ball is rolled back underneath the net, he turns to look at you, undoubtedly gazing directly into your eyes, tilting his head in your direction and blowing a kiss from the center of his palm.

You reach your palm out into midair, stretching your digits so your hand is wide open. It is a silly thing, something the both of you started when you had to be across campus from one another, unable to meet up for lunch or coffee or studying. After a moment, your fingers wrap around your empty palm, grabbing his intangible kiss from the space between you. He watches intently as you press your digits against your lips, the ghost of his kiss on the ridges of your fingerprints. As your mouth curls upward in a smile, Oikawa’s expression lilts to match your own, the faintest hint of dimples dipping into his cheeks on either side.

“If you think that was for you, then you’re delusional,” the tinny-voiced girl from before leans down to whisper in your ear, her hand menacingly placed on your shoulder, like a weight meant to sink you to the bottom of the ocean. “It was obviously for me. I have my linguistics course with ‘kawa, and he and I were partnered up for a project this past week. He’s so totally into me, even offered to carry my books.”

Her heels look pointed enough that she could pierce your throat or your eye with the tip, so you merely shove her hand off of your shoulder and turn around, clapping as Oikawa tosses his next serve up in the air. You rally with the rest of the crowd, whooping and hollering when his hand hits the ball, a loud echo from the slap making you wince.

When you look up, the ball is in play, volleying back and forth from one side to the next. Oikawa’s face is flushed, hands at the ready as he takes his position. After a few more moments, a perfect set from Oikawa to your team’s ace lands them the final point they need to win the set.

The entire crowd goes ecstatic, everyone standing to their feet, ringing their bells and blaring their horns, clapping their hands as the boys on the court jump up and down and hug one another. Oikawa has his arm around the ace, tugging him to tell him something close in his ear, but his eyes wander to the crowd, finding you in an instant, dropping his left lid down in a wink. You can’t help the way your heart constricts within your ribs, like a caged dove desperate to fly free. Your hand are over your face as the teams both line up to thank one another for the game, and once they are released to the locker rooms, you start to gather your things.

You hear a snicker from above you, and when you turn your head, a thin, beautiful brunette with blue eyes is glaring down at you, a smirk tugging upward on her thin, peachy lips. She cackles, crossing her arms over her ample chest to multiply the appearance of her size, “I hope you’re not waiting around for ‘Kawa. Prepare to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed in what?”

The familiar, smooth voice in your ear sends your whole body into a stupor. You look over your shoulder, but he’s already so close to you that you can feel the heat of him against your side. Oikawa’s palm slides into the back pocket of your jeans and your tongue lolls back in your throat, near choked on the organ as you watch him sidle his attention to the girls stood behind you on the next row of bleachers, an unassuming expression aligning his features.

Your body flushes with heat, face warm to the touch and your backside where his hand is currently placed is practically throbbing at the attention. Oikawa pulls you in tighter, your body tucked into his side, and he smiles, eyes near-sparkling underneath the fluorescent gym lighting.

“Hey pretty girl,” he kisses the crown of your head, squeezing you with his elbow that is around your back as best he can, “did you enjoy the game?”

Glancing up at him, you make eye contact and it floods your body with a familiar warmth, your stomach doing flips and your heart pattering within your chest, “Yes, you did so well! That’s two more service aces than last game!”

“That’s my girl.” Another kiss is pressed to your temple, his lips warm and smooth against your skin. You note that he’s being even more affectionate than normal, and you have to wonder if it’s in response to seeing those girls encroaching on your space. “Now what was this about being disappointed? Not in my game, was it? I know I screwed up a couple of times, but I think I redeemed myself alright!”

You turn to the girls stood in the bleachers, their faces paling in color as their jaws hang open just slightly, his words doing little to reign them in. The expression on your face has morphed into one of self-satisfaction and smugness, lips quirked into a smirk, one brow cocked upward, “No, ‘Ru, I think you did great. These girls were just worried you weren’t paying attention during the sets, is all.”

Oikawa stifles a laugh before it can break through the aloof expression he is wearing, eyes wide as he narrows his gaze to the group of college girls now stammering and blushing in regret for sticking around this long. He reaches behind his head to rest his palm on his neck, cocking his jaw slightly to the side to relay even more of an innocent appearance. You turn your body closer to him, his chest pressed against yours from the side, your arms circled around his waist. Now his hand in your pocket is on full display, thumb jutted out from the fabric, but the other four fingers are perfectly slotted against your backside.

“I’ll admit I was a little distracted,” he scrunches his nose, eyes crinkling at the edges as he does so. He turns from them to you, sliding his other hand down your ribs to your free pocket, aligning the fronts of your bodies so your chests are flush. Oikawa’s honeyed gaze is lingering on you, and for the moment you feel like there is a spotlight on the two of you, center stage as he brushes the tip of his nose against the bridge of your face.

“I knew you were coming to the game, all decked out in my jersey. I couldn’t help but stare at you between sets.” Your cheeks burn as he kisses your forehead, but you can’t help the uneasiness that you feel swirling in your stomach, dripping down your throat like acid. You wonder if his intentions are pure – is he truly claiming you as his in front of this crowd, or is he merely trying to throw them off of his scent, using you as bait?

Oikawa tugs on the hem of the jersey adorning your torso, something akin to pride shining in his warm irises, quelling the turmoil in your belly for just a moment. “You look adorable in my clothes.”

The shrill one out of the three speaks up, pushing herself onto her tip-toes to appear taller, looming down over you both, “B-But I thought you guys weren’t allowed to let other people wear their jerseys?”

“Oh yeah,” Oikawa waves his hand in midair, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, “I got special permission from the coach, he said since I was the one who closed our last few games with those service aces, he’d let me loan the jersey out to my girl.”

At the mention of my girl, Oikawa turns to kiss you on the forehead, tucking your head beneath his chin as he holds you closer. He smiles over the top of you at the group of girls, a smug tone seeping into his words, in spite of his innocent expression, “Are you girls here for someone?”

They all begin to stutter in jumbled tones before scrambling down the bleachers, apologizing and taking their leave. The door to the gymnasium has hardly shut before Oikawa bursts into a fit of laughter, holding you by the arms as he takes in your bashful expression. He leans down, trying to remain close despite the noisy crowds maneuvering their way through the gym, “You wanna grab something to eat? Coach gave us tomorrow off from practice, so I don’t have to head back to the dorms just yet.”

“Yeah,” you nod, your hands pressing flat to his chest, jersey stuck to his skin with sweat. You scrunch your nose in response, shaking your head and forcing a disgusted sound from the back of your throat, “You better shower first though, Tooru, cause I’m not going anywhere with your stink.”

Oikawa squeezes your backside gently with his limited grip, hands still stuffed in your pockets, “I’ll be out of the locker room in a few minutes. You can wait for me in the car, okay?”

Your hand finds his keys, jingling as you move your hip, the lanyard weighing heavy on your beltloop, “Yeah, okay.”

His eyes find you instantaneously, your tone dropped an octave as you loop your index finger through the o-ring that his car key is attached to, your knuckle crooked around the cool metal, as if you were keeping it safe from harm. Oikawa pulls you forward with a gentle tug against your backside, your body enraptured with his as he looks down at you, his nose brushing your forehead.

“Thank you for coming,” Oikawa’s lips are against the dip in your brows, running down the bridge of your nose, “I think you’re my favorite good luck charm.”

You can’t help but chuckle sarcastically, your fists curling around his jersey, “As if you need any good luck, ‘Ru.”

Oikawa withdraws his hands from your pockets, but pats your ass gently, causing you to stumble into him until your bodies are flush. He laughs into your hair, kissing the crown of your head affectionately before releasing you.

He’s walking away, but he makes sure to call over his shoulder, “Of course I don’t, I’ve got you!”

You’re trying to contain your blush all the way back to his car, wringing your hands in front of your body, twirling his car keys between your knuckles. You play with the fob attached, his name embroidered with his number and the school’s logo – a gift you bought for him a few months into the semester. He pulled you into his lap when he made out what it was, his hands cupped around your thighs as your knees settled on either side of his hips, gentle words parting his lips: “How is it you already know me so well?”

You are alone in the car for a good twenty minutes, and you pass the time by listening to the radio and scrolling through several of your social media accounts and checking your emails from various professors. Before you know it, he’s startling you when he opens the driver’s side door. You press your hand over your heart, eyes widening as he slips into the front seat, long legs slotting beneath the steering wheel.

Oikawa reaches across the console to press his palm to your thigh, squeezing the fleshiest expanse of skin gently, “Hey, pretty girl. What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Your palm finds his knuckles, a soft smile upturning your features at the gentleness of his mannerisms. Oikawa’s thumb brushes back and forth against the inner seam of your jeans, leaning his torso closer so he can nudge his nose against your cheek in a teasing motion. His smile can be felt against your skin, the corners of his lips upturned along your jawline.

“You.”

The answer is nothing short of truthful. He does not have to know in what capacity you’re thinking of him, only that you’ve given him the real reason as to why your brow is crinkled and your gaze is far-off rather than focused on him. Your heart twinges within your chest and your stomach grows sour the longer you think about those girls and what they had to say, how quickly they disregarded you.

“You’re adorable,” his mouth finds your cheek in a chaste kiss before he settles into the driver’s seat and shifts the car into reverse. Oikawa’s hand never leaves your thigh, pinned there by the immovable force of gravity, held in place by sheer will. Even as he orders at the drive-thru and maneuvers the car to the nearby park, his palm does not waver. It spreads a contagious heat, like a virus pricking at your veins, begging to be let in to devour you whole until you are nothing but a shell left behind by his affections.

Before you know it, the car is parked and Tooru is helping you out of your side of the vehicle. His hand is on yours and you almost stumble on your way to the meadow-like section of the boardwalk. You toe off your shoes and kick them to the side, sat in the grass as he straightens out a blanket he keeps in his car for times like these.

You are quiet as you nibble on your food, playing with the wrapper in between bites. Oikawa lets you stew in your own thoughts for a few minutes before he is breaking the silence, leaning his body into your personal space to shatter the box you’ve built around yourself.

“Is everything okay?” Oikawa’s hand is on your knee now, searing into your skin with the ridges of his fingertips, “You’ve been rather quiet since we left the gym.”

Immediately, your mind is thrown back to the scene you witness just before leaving. The group of girls all ganged up against you, sneering and snickering at your excitement at Oikawa’s success, as well as his affections towards you. Doubt crawls up your spine like a shadow, clutches it’s spiny claws into your shoulders and latches onto your skin, an itching starting that you know cannot be quelled with words alone.

“Wh-What did you think of those girls at the end of the game?”

You are taking a chance, stepping out onto a tightrope with no net underneath to catch you if you fall. Oikawa owes you nothing – there is no commitment, no promise that the two of you have made to one another. Is that not what the girls were saying? That you were not exclusive to one another, and therefore you have no claim to him.

The entirety of your body grows heavy as he speaks his next words, those golden brown eyes finding something off in the distance to focus on, “They were pretty, I guess. Not really my type, how about you?”

It is meant to be a joke, you think.

Oikawa is using his typical flat tone that he has to channel for when he is being overly sarcastic and must mask it before his façade falls into a fit of giggles. And still, the twitching of his lip, the telltale sign of his impending grin, does nothing to force your fear to the side. Rather, it multiplies at his false confession, building to a crescendo of acid within your belly, lapping at the innermost parts of you until you’re broken in the worst ways.

“Hey, I’m just teasing-”

A palm brushes your cheek but you are too numb to notice. Your eyes are lost, focused in on one blade of grass near your feet, trying to count the shades of green that reflect off the moonlight up above. The air surrounding you is like a balm, but you wish it were a salve; anything to help soothe the burning of your soul.

The charred ashes within your stomach start to suffocate you, floating up your esophagus until they burn the base of your throat and choke your tongue from the inside out. Tears simmer against your lashes and your face flushes with the threat of emotion taking over you like an apparition.

The feel of a knuckle against the underside of your chin, the fleshiest part, is what breaks you from your downward spiral, Oikawa’s voice quick to follow, “You can talk to me, you know.”

Your hands seek out his proximity, palms curling around his sweatshirt as the temptation to ask your questions sits on your tongue. The acid drips down the muscle to the back of your throat to meet the ashes, your jaw locked as you try to speak. Oikawa’s hand expands along your neck, thumb brushing against your jugular to coax the words from the base of your throat.

“Do you like me?”

A silence stretches between the two of you for a short moment before his fit of giggles breaks through it. Oikawa slots his hand into your hair and nuzzles your nose with his own, “Do you really think I would ask coach to break the jersey rules for me if I didn’t like you?”

You begin to babble, stuttering syllables crossing your lips as you try your best to defend yourself. Your hands go clammy and your tongue feels thick in your throat, eyes flitting across his face while you attempt to compose your emotions. Before you can force a full sentence from between your teeth, Oikawa has captured your lips in a kiss.

His mouth against yours melds your thoughts together until your mind is mush, unwilling and unable to create coherent thoughts. Your fingers shake against the fibers of his sweatshirt, shaking with the need to have him closer. He feels your desperation and smiles into the kiss, his own hands curling around your frame. He wants you closer now, as if the non-verbal confession has created something new between the two of you, a fresh bloom to admire and showcase.

As he pulls away, Tooru is still grinning, “I didn’t want to rush you, but I want you. Whatever that means for you. Relationship or not.”

“Relationship,” you are quick to answer, eager as you push yourself up on your knees, closer to his face. Your lips find his again, arms wound around his shoulders so you can be flush against his torso, fingertips brushing through his hair. He encourages you onto his lap, hands flat along your shoulders to steady you as you find your balance.

Oikawa’s nose nudges down your cheek and jaw, nipping kisses creating tiny red, aggravated marks against your skin that fade within moments of their origin, “You have nothing to be jealous of, princess. I promise.”

Your cheeks burn at his recall of your earlier admission, the insecurities eating away at your innards even through his affirmations. Oikawa licks his tongue along the column of your throat, forcing a shiver up your spine, and successfully redirecting your attention from your throttling thoughts to his warm mouth.

“If you still don’t believe me,” his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt, eyes full of mirth as he gazes up at you through thick lashes, “then let me show you.”

---

not gonna lie..... this is NOT my favorite piece so if you made it this far thank you! if you’d like a second piece, one a little more spicy in nature, please let me know!!! or if you have any drabble/thirst requests i’d love to answer them!!!!!

bokuto is my next victim so be on the lookout for that! hopefully we’ll have lots more haikyuu posts in the future!

[fuwahiko]

Ok more fluff coming your way because i throw it all on Hajime mans needs a break. Imagine a Non-Despair au where Izuru is a real person and Hajime's twin, they go to Hope's Peak. Izuru in the Main Course and Hajime in the Reserve Course.

Class 77 plan a get-together outside of school because they wanted to...and Chisa said to get together outside of school. Izuru is...not feeling social so he decides to bring Hajime along. He didn't tell anyone he was bringing his brother, but they'll learn when he shows up.

So fast forward to The Hang Out, and all of class 77 are waiting for Izuru. They're not surprised because Izuru is Izuru and he does not like socializing. They're all chatting and laughing at TeruTeru getting his ass chewed out by Mahiru when Izuru comes in and...he's hanging off of someone with short choppy hair and green eyes? Whomst? Izuru doesn't have friends outside of them who beith this man?

"Izuru what the hell, you forgot to tell them about me?!" "...oh, it seems so. Sorry Haji."

So Izuru introduces his brother because he FORGOT to tell his class about Hajime. Everyone's nice to him, even Nagito because he's got a hope boner for Izuru Kamukura aka Ultimate Hope man.

Fuyuhiko goes up and says "hi" because if Peko can try to socialize, so can he. Hajime smiles and says hi back, and that's that. Fuyuhiko goes back to his antisocial wall, and Hajine goes back to being Izuru's emotional support pillar. Literally.

But they're both flushed. Fuyuhiko's eyebrows are furrowed and Hajime's biting his lips. They steal glances at each other when the other isn't looking. Fuyuhiko and Hajime are both thinking, "Oh no cute boy."

And LET THE MUTUAL PINING, TSUNDERE ACTIONS, AND CLASS 77 SHENANIGANS COMMENCE. With wingwoman Peko, insgigator Natsumi on both sides, and Izuru being the overprotective brother that he is.

yessss pining boys!! without having like... the reasons they had in the game to talk to each other, how does one approach a cute boy (tm)? when both you and the cute boy (tm) are so awkward and have such difficulty getting chatting, what do you do?

imagining Peko as a wingwoman is really cute and kinda amusing too because she’s y’know, sort of awkward too and sometimes struggles to keep conversations going and stuff so I imagine there’d probably be some moments where Peko is trying her best to help Fuyuhiko by starting a conversation with Hajime so she can bring Fuyuhiko into it as well but maybe it’s a sort of unusual topic or she doesn’t really give Hajime much to work with so it kinda flops at first and Fuyuhiko’s concerned that it’s not gonna go anywhere, but then Peko ends up saying something that Hajime finds funny (even though there’s a 95% chance that Peko wasn’t intending to be funny) and that allows for the conversation to open up more and become a lot easier.

Hajime and Fuyuhiko end up keeping the conversation going for a few minutes, but they’re both still pretty flustered and they keep getting overwhelmed and distracted (cute boy!! omg!!) so they end up struggling and the conversation dies out again. just then Izuru spots them and comes over again to butt in and latch onto Hajime and Fuyuhiko uses it as an opportunity to head off and escape the awkwardness. Hajime gets irritated with Izuru for scaring Fuyuhiko off but is also honestly a little relieved because he wouldn’t have wanted to make things even more awkward by just letting the silence between them carry on for who knows how long.

the get together ends without them getting the chance to talk any more than that, but even so they both find that they just can’t stop thinking about each other in the days that follow. it’s been several days already but Fuyuhiko still gets distracted in class thinking about how cute Hajime’s big bright smile was and the sound of his laugh, how soft his hair looked, how big his arms were compared to his own. Hajime finds himself sitting on his bed and hugging his pillow to his chest as he thinks about Fuyuhiko’s pretty eyes, his cute freckles, and how surprisingly friendly and sweet he’d been in contrast to his intimidating aura (which Hajime also found very attractive, of course). there’s a lot of covering cheeks with hands, lowering heads to hide soft expressions and a hell of a lot of times where somebody is trying to get Hajime’s or Fuyuhiko’s attention but they might as well be talking to a brick wall because they’re both so distracted by their thoughts that they’re completely lost to the world.

Natsumi notices all of this from both of them and finds it hilarious (and pretty adorable, she has to admit) and even though she does think Hajime is sort of lame she knows her brother is genuinely really into him and... well, he’s not that bad, right? yeah, okay, he’s actually pretty alright... so why not give them both a little shove in the right direction?

problem is, they’re both completely useless.

she makes several attempts at trying to encourage them to do something about all these god damn butterflies and fluffy pink hearts that are practically radiating from them both, but nothing works. she gives up. a few more days pass and... nothing changes. they’re both so god damn annoying. Hajime lets out his 200th dreamy sigh in class (which is a lot less discreet than Hajime thinks it is) and Natsumi almost loses it. she has to do something about this.

the next day she asks Hajime to meet her in a quiet spot just outside of school when classes are over, she tells him she wants to talk about something. Hajime doesn’t really get what the deal is but he figures he’ll just go along with it rather than questioning her and making a fuss.

after school he goes to wait in the spot (Natsumi says she needs to do something else quickly first and tells Hajime to go ahead) but when he gets there... he sees Fuyuhiko is there waiting for him?!

Hajime stops dead in his tracks, freezing up and struggling to even breathe properly, and when Fuyuhiko looks up and realises Hajime is there he tenses up and balls his hands into fists at his sides. they stare at each other for a moment, their cheeks burning up as they process the situation, and then as soon as Fuyuhiko is able to kick his brain into gear again he realises exactly what is going on. he scrunches his face up, still bright red, though Hajime doesn’t notice yet. “god damn it, Natsumi!” his voice is loud, making Hajime jump a little, but it’s also sort of shaky.

“oh uh- I was supposed to meet her here- I-”

Fuyuhiko sighs. “yeah, me too. she did this on purpose. she was trying to get both of us here because she knows that-” he cut himself off, suddenly realising what he was about to say. out loud. to Hajime.

“huh? knows that what?” Hajime couldn’t figure out what Natsumi could possibly want from this that Fuyuhiko would know of. the only reason he could imagine was because she knew about his crush on Fuyuhiko and probably wanted to play some kind of prank, but that couldn’t be it because how would Fuyuhiko know why she’d called him there?

it was then that Hajime noticed that Fuyuhiko was turning away and avoiding eye contact. wait... is he blushing? what would cause him to blush in a situation like this? hang on a second...

slowly Hajime started to piece the situation together... but he must be imagining things, right? there has to be some other explanation. but he couldn’t help but cling onto that little thought, that maybe Fuyuhiko was also interested, even if it was silly to ever think that that could be the case. he wanted to test his theory out without giving himself away, and in the moment the best he could manage was some awkward joke. of course.

“hey... isn’t this kinda like when two characters in a romance anime meet up outside of school to confess or something?”

Fuyuhiko has a small coughing fit. he recovers after a moment and adjusts his tie, finally looking back at Hajime again. “huh?!”

Hajime panics and nervously searches for somewhere else to look so he doesn’t have to meet Fuyuhiko’s intense eyes. “n-nothing! I was just joking around! I uh- I thought it’d uh-” he feels like his cheeks are about to catch fire. he wants to run away but his legs won’t move an inch.

Fuyuhiko lets out a breathy laugh. “you’re so weird.”

Hajime looks up again and is surprised to see Fuyuhiko’s expression is much softer than expected, and though he keeps glancing up at Hajime he’s also struggling and looking around awkwardly as well. suddenly Hajime catches a look in Fuyuhiko’s eyes and they find themselves staring at each other for a moment. Hajime sees that he really wasn’t imagining it; Fuyuhiko’s face is very red right now. he realises that Fuyuhiko has noticed that his face is also red. he must have done. there’s no way he could possibly miss it. oh god.

there’s a long pause.

Fuyuhiko swallows and takes a moment to clear his throat.

“well anyway, since we’re here, do you want to... hang out sometime?”

Hajime’s eyes widen in surprise. he isn’t even able to process the question before Fuyuhiko continues speaking.

“I just mean because you’re my sister’s classmate n’ all I figure we should try to get along and-”

“y-yeah, sure. uh, I’d like that actually.” Hajime doesn’t realise he’s cut Fuyuhiko off until he’s already spoken.

there’s another pause, and then maybe a couple more minutes of them arranging a time and place to meet up in a few days while trying not to lose it and just turn to a big pile of mush out of embarrassment, and then they awkwardly part ways.

as Hajime turns to leave he thinks he hears something rustling in a bush nearby but figures it must be his imagination so he just ignores it and continues on his way.

Natsumi heads back home, a couple of small leaves stuck in her hair, giggling to herself. today would go down as one of the greatest successes of the ultimate little sister.

[retrogalwrites]

Overhaul x f!reader

Title: “Made for this” / view on AO3

Summary: An assassin who tried to kill him, upon finding the fact she is quirkless, becomes Overhaul's choice of mate.

Warnings: noncon, dubcon, misogyny, yandere behavior, degradation, manipulation, mating, mindbreak, overhaul having a massive breeding kink like you wouldn’t believe

Others contents: impregantion, breeding, mating press, creampie, face slapping

words: 1966

"I knew that they were bound to send someone to kill me eventually, but I must say, you are still quite a surprise."

Chisaki began to speak deliberately slowly, a manner of speech that could've been mistaken for politeness, if not for the underlying edge behind every word. He observed the expression on your face, with those lush lips tightly shut, scrunched nose in disdain, the way your eyes burned with the kind of defiance you probably hoped to hold onto till the bitter end. That sort of bravery didn't look good on a lovely face like yours. Chisaki lamented the experiences that had turned such a perfect female specimen into the stupid idea of strength, but was grateful for the circumstances that brought you right to his doorstep.

No one else in the entire world could be more deserving of someone like you than he was, you were so fortunate that fate always worked in favor of the righteous ones.

"Sending a...quirkless anomaly like you to carry on an assassination job is unheard of. For obvious reasons." Clasping his gloved hands behind his back, the man paced in circles around the operation table his men had strapped you to as per request. "And yet, you got this far, miss (name). Quite remarkable, honestly."

"Mock me all you want, that's not gonna work."

Spitting fire but remaining cool-headed, the sign of a professional just as your file had described, you even had managed to remain calm under the gaze of his golden eyes, predatory yet clinical, fixated on your bare skin as you laid on the table in nothing but your underclothes. Perhaps it all looked like only a bluff from your perspective, just an humiliation tactic to break down your pride and get you to rat out your superiors.

Well, you were not wrong for thinking that, but you couldn't have known that in this particular case, Chisaki had acted on nothing but pure, lustful selfishness like that of men. And you'd realize only too late.

"Mocking you? Dear, I'm throughly impressed by you." His honest admission seemed to be your first clue that Chisaki's behavior was already going off script. Your brows furrowed at him in defensive skepticism. "You have no quirk to speak of, and yet here you are. Like I said, you've surprised me. Sprinkling poison on the inside of my mask? That's clever. Too clever. It almost worked, too, had we not realized before I had put it on." As if to make a point, he signaled at his own face, the lack of mask with his features on display the mark of your doing.

None of his enemies would've sent anything less than the very best they had, they owe each other that courtesy, but all that really always goes beyond saying. From your own point of view, Chisaki had seemingly no reason to be telling you any of that, that was your second clue.

"You obviously have a brilliant mind. I truly admire someone like you, relaying on your own cultivated gifts from nature to survive, rather than depending on those unnatural quirks, revolting mistakes of evolution." He was already going off tangent, but he couldn't help himself, not when you looked at him as though no one had ever told you how superior you were for lacking something everyone else around you possessed.

No wonder you had deviated from the path you were born to fulfill, that of a woman carrying on the seed from the perfect mate to ensure perfect off spring, you had lacked the right encouragement for too long.

"Someone like you just seems so pure. From the inside and out, and I admit, I'm rather fascinated about both."

It was then that you must've noticed, Chisaki was indulging in watching your almost naked figure, given the alarm in your expression and how you squirmed on the table. His eyes roamed your body, from the sinful curve of your hips, the obscene swell of your breasts, the untainted skin around your neck.

"You have no idea how pure you are...and yet so...alluring."

His breath hitched, a spark of electricity going straight to his hardening cock, his pants already feeling sizes too tight. Chisaki hadn't feel something quite so primal before, he had never found the pleasure to be presented with a ripe quirkless female full of strength and willpower to bend and control. Your confusion only ignited a fire to those feelings, the thought of you not even knowing how wonderful you were made you even more perfect.

He came to a sudden stop, facing your body. Kicking the pedal underneath the table, he lowered you a few inches down for easier access. This change of position made the bulging erection straining his slacks fully visible to your surprised eyes, realization dawning on you and the horror that followed from the revelation.

"You're a sick fucking bastard, Kai."

"Don't even think of bitting off your tongue, or any other silly idea to escape. I'll rearrange you back together, but I won't be as kind afterwards if you make do that." He spoke quickly over your words, hopefully quicker than your thoughts too. "I'm giving you a choice."

Despite glaring at him with passionate disgust, you showed to be just as brilliant as he had assumed you to be, simply turning your face away in a sign of accepted defeat, sign of accepting fate like enlightenment.

"Good girl."

His voice like a purr, pleased by your compliance so much more fitting on a woman. Chisaki slowly slid the gloves off his hands, maintaining eye contact with you. The naked palm of his hand copped a feel of the supple flesh of your exposed inner thigh. From your mouth, he heard a barely audible, muffled cry. He shuddered, the sound making his cock twitch with need.

Chisaki roughly grabbed your ankles to force your legs to spread, the mound of your pussy, all plump and throbbing was only covered by thin underwear he was quick to rip off you. With you cursing him again as background noise, he fixated on the certain wetness already making your folds look slick, and he groaned at the sight. He leaned over you, fingers quick to spread your lower lips with his thumb to get a good view of your pulsating hole, then sliding two long fingers inside.

Tight. You were impossibly tight as you squirmed and clamped around his fingers, the sign of a good cunt that knew how to squeeze out the fertile seed of a mate. Were you perhaps a virgin? He chose to believe so, or the thought of another man pouring their worthless release into you would make him a little too angry.

"You, bastard—aahh!"

You moaned a little too quickly when he started moving his fingers inside you, massaging your inner walls and already filling you with barely two digits. Your voice was positively whorish, as it should be, you were doing your part as a woman in this mating ritual.

"Good. Feel it. Enjoy it, I'm doing this for you as much as for me."

His voice low and husky, breathing already quickening. His eyes looked up from your pussy's gapping hole, to your face. The sight of your burning cheeks, brows knit together in distress and pleasure, you were responding better than he could've asked.

Chisaki unbuckled his belt, quickly getting that out of the way to climb on top of the table, crawl above you with his erect cock pulled out, hard and throbbing and begging for a prime female like you to receive all a prime male like himself had to offer.

"Get the fuck off me."

He slapped your face with the back of his hand, he sound dry and echoing against every tile on the room. He wished it wasn't necessary, but it was part of what he was meant to do, break your delusion of strength and help you accept the role you had been blessed with the moment you were born a quirkless woman.

"Behave, and I promise you will see that this is exactly were you were meant to be." His large palm cradled the bruised spot where he had slapped you, while he positioned the swollen head of his cock at your entrance, and with that he slowly entered you.

"Ahhh....Kai..."

"Fuck, fuuuck...you're so damn tight. See? You are made for this..."

He growled with you moaning underneath, the bindings keeping you against the table cracking from your body writhing in delirium from the breaching cock filling your walls until he was balls deep inside you, his girth stretching you like nothing surely had before.

Chisaki had to take in a breath to keep himself together, his hips trembling from the incredible feeling of your snug, tight walls sucking his cock like a vacuum. The flesh enveloping him was scorching hot, pulsating around every vein on his cock and squeezing.

He gazed down at your face, twisted so lovely in fright, pleasure, epiphany, looking back at him through glazed eyes. You looked perfect, if not downright angelic, all meek and weak as a woman should be.

His forearms hooked around the backs of your knees, bending them flush against your chest in a most perfect mating press. And with that, Chisaki finally pulled his cock back just to hammer it back in in a powerful thrust that had you throwing your head back and gaping at the mouth with his name on your tongue.

"You were made to be bred."

His hips started a relentless pace, drilling his cock inside your pulsating heat, scrapping your insides around him, the brush of his pubes against your folds and the slapping of his balls against your ass the proof of how deep he was pushing himself inside.

"You were meant to bear my child, a perfect quirkless woman like you. This. Is. Your. Purpose." Each word was punctuated by a thrust of his hips, your body rocking from the strength of him.

"No...no, that's...mmm, not true...!"

You tried to argue back while choking on your own moans, your cunt squeezed him tighter than before. The last remains of your strength, he was so close to breaking them.

"Why fight it? Is there anyone else who would look twice at you?"

"That's...ahhh...that's..."

"They don't understand how valuable you are."

You kept clamping down on him, your orgasm already building up and ready to burst at any second now.

"But I do." His muscles contracted as his entire body pinned you down. "I'll give you everything, the biggest joy any woman could ask for."

You didn't reply, but your body did. A powerful orgasm ripped through your body, walks sucking at his cock like you were trying to milk his seed. Your lips parted in a perfect pout as you came, toes curling and half lidded eyes barely able to focus.

He kept thrusting, like an animal in heat with nothing but the mindless need to impregnate a mate. Your pussy squeezing him so hard he was cumming not long after, sinking as deep as possible into you with his balls throbbing, as he released a big thick, sticky load into the entrance of your fertile womb. Spurts of cum filling you up until there was no drop wasted, until you were stuffed.

Chisaki kept you in a mating press, not wanting his seed to drool out of your whole yet, he wanted to make sure you were getting impregnated.

"We'll make some great quirkless children together."

He huffed, looking down at you and relishing that broken expression full of delight, like that of a someone who had finally accepted her role, as you breathed through a smile.

"Yes."

[sweetchup]

Three isn’t a Crowd

Request by @al-shayfield: could you please do a killua x gon x reader little picnic date? if not that’s okay :)

Type: Gon x reader x Killua

Au?: Poly Au. Normal.

Word Count: 3500+

Warnings: Polyamory, The boys are still kids but this is a kid type of date so it’s ok, Hisoka being Hisoka, bullying, cursing

“Ok! So let’s go through the list before we leave.” You mumble, putting the last of the utensils into the basket. The light from the morning sun shined through the windows and onto the backs of the two boys across the table from you. “Ok, so Sandwiches and chips?”

“Yes!!” Gon chirps in, “On the left.”

You checked that off and moved to the next Item. “Soda and cups?”

“Yeah.” Killua says, bouncing a tennis ball on the floor.

“Chocolate cake?”

“Ye—“ “Definitely!!”

Gon turns to glare at Killua causing the white hair boy to stop bouncing the ball. Oh here we go again. You just ignore them and continue on with your list.

“Hey why did you cut me off?” Gon whined at Killua, who scoffs.

“You were too slow.”

“W-well I think you are trying to impress (y/n).” Gon huffs, pouting a little. While they were arguing you had looked up and down the list and realized you were done and hadn’t forgotten anything. Throwing away the list, you put the red and white plaid picnic blanket on top and closed the basket.

“Hah?! Are you an idiot?” Killua mocks, poking the boy in the head, “If I wanna impress her I would do something like this.”

Killua jumps over the table and gives you a grin. Before you can even rebut, he lifts you easily up onto one of his arms, making it look practically effortless. With his other arm he grabs the basket.

“This is how you impress a girl,” Killua says, very proud of himself. Gon, stubborn, doesn’t back down.

“W-well I can do better!”

You sigh as Gon pulls you off of Killua. This could take a while but then again what did you expect accepting a date with these two idiots.

—————————

“How many times do I have to tell you two to be careful? Especially with (y/n).” Kurapika scolds the two boys in front of him. “You're glad Leorio and I stepped in before she got hurt.”

Killua tches, clearly over Kurapika’s Scolding. “Yeah, yeah whatever. Let’s go Gon, (Y/n).”

Killua holds one of your hands while Gon holds the other. They both drag you away from Leorio, who had previously been checking you for any injuries.

“Oh! Umm.. Bye Mr. Kurapika! Mr. Leorio! Thank you very much!” You shout. Your voice growing more and more faded as you're dragged away. The two men wave at the trio until the door shuts close. As soon as they do, Leorio turns to Kurapiks. A pout was on the man’s face.

“Aww come on Kurapika, it’s their first date. you shouldn’t be so hard on them.”

“Of course I do. I mean didn’t you see (y/n)?”

Leorio blinks and scrunches his eyebrows, thinking back. “Hmm… I don’t think I saw anything out of the ordinary about her?”

Kurapika sighs “Leorio you have to remember we are currently staying in the Yorbian Continent. It’s not illegal but it’s very uncommon for polyamory here. It’s not like we are in the Republic of Padokia or the Azian Continent where it is common.”

“Oh. So you mean...”

“Yes, not only is (Y/n) from York New, where it is uncommon, so she knows the amount of ridicule and abuse she could go through but we also have to think about the huge amount of Anti-poly people that are recorded here in this town.”

“Yeah and I’m guessing Gon and Killua probably don’t know about that?” Leorio says, leaning against the wall. He looks out the window and sees the three holding hands, walking in the direction of the busy center of town.

“Most likely” Kurapika sighs, looking at the three as well. “I just hope that no one gets hurt”

———————————

“Ok!!” You say excited. You were trying to hide your nervousness. Not only were you on your first date ever with two handsome boys and had also tried on a new dress but you were in the Yorbian Continent on a poly date; not the brightest decision but oh well. You aren’t going to let your worries stop you. You were going to have fun, “So on our way to the park I say we quickly stop by at some fun places!! Does that sound okay?”

The two boys could only nod their heads. It wasn’t them being rude, they just couldn’t talk. You looked so cute as you did a little spin at fun and by getting shy when asking them if it was ok.

You giggled, causing their hearts to jump. “Let’s go then!”

——⚡️—🌸—🥦——

“First stop, The diamond theater!!”

All three of you looked in awe as you looked around the building you just entered. It looked absolutely magical. With trees made out of actual gold and silver, colorful jeweled animals and diamond and glass mural walls.

“Oh wow Killua look at this!”

Killua looks over and sees you pointing at something in a book. “It says right here that this is the biggest location with some of the highest amounts of rare diamonds and fire opals. Even counting red diamonds.”

“Oh wow”

“Ack! Killua!” Gon shouts, sounding concerned and worried.

Killua turns away from you and soon freezes. Looking up from your manual you see three men next to Gon.

“There’s the other one. Me doesn’t recognize girl though” A short man with a skull neck cloth covering his face said. He gave off weird vibes when he looked at you.

“Hey boys! How are you doing?” A man with a long bun on top of his head said, “Oh? Who is this?”

“None of your business old man!!” Killua says, pulling you behind him as Gon moves to stand next to him. As they glared at the two men, you looked towards the third man. He seemed different from the other two especially since with no shirt on and a cross tattoo on his forehead.

Yet you also noticed his eyes were very blank and emotionless compared to the two. It kind of made you sad looking at him. You wished the stranger could be happy. Oh! you know what you would do!

“(Y/n)!!” Killua shouts, his stomach dropping as you walk up to Chrollo. He goes to grab you but is stopped by Nobunaga and Feitan.

You look up at the man. Kind of shy now that you realized he was much taller and probably much stronger than you.

“May I help you? Young lady?” Chrollo says, amused by the fact you just simply walked up to him. The leader of the phantom troupe.

“A-ah, yes! I was wondering what’s your favorite animal?” You say. Quickly, you looked back and saw Gon and Killua waving their hands frantically. Oh, maybe they are cheering you on.

“Hmmm… a spider” Chrollo says after a couple minutes of thinking.

What an interesting choice. Holding out your hands you take a breath before bubbles conjure up around the man. The bubbles slowly start to form cute little bubbly spiders of all sorts of colors which start bouncing on and about chrollo.

Chrollo lets out a small grin as he reaches out and pops one. The boys sigh in relief. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as they thought. Chrollo suddenly kneels down to your height and pulls out a handprint book.

“So how does your Nen work, little miss?” Chrollo asks, putting a hand on your shoulder as you look untreated at the book.

“OH HELL NO!!” Killua shouts.

Killua quickly rushes in and grabs you from Chrollo. You looked confused as the two raced away as fast as they could from the scene. Chrollo chuckles as he watches them for a couple of seconds in amusement before standing back up.

“Not going after them Feitan?”

“No, me is.” Feitan grins wickedly up at Chrollo. “Me just giving them a head start. It’s fun that way.”

“Ok, but keep the little girl alive. She interests me.”

——⚡️—🌸—🥦——

“Ok so the Diamond theater didn’t work out….But this should! Ok so we are at…” Your voice trails off at the end as you are stunned at the scene in front of you.

“L-let go of me!! Illumi!!”

“Now why would I do that Killua? As your big brother I’m giving you a sign of affection, a hug. Mother told me it could work to get those silly thoughts out of your head. Though I would pref—“

First off, Killua was currently being hugged, well more like crushed to death, by a man. According to the man’s sentence he was Killua’s older brother? It was weird since they looked so different. You knew Killua was a Zoldyck so maybe they are half or step siblings? Or maybe his family is polyamorous too? Did the man just mention putting a needle into Killua? You had so many questions.

“Oh~~~ Gon!!!”

Now second, … what even was this? A clown like man was moaning over Gon trying to fight him. You think that was the easiest way to explain it so enough is said there.

You look down at your manual. You thought going to the biggest toy store in the world would be fun but you didn’t expect this. Those two men seemed to be having a blast, well of course at the price of Gon and Killua sanity.

“Hmm~~ who’s this?”

Looking back up you see the clown man is right in front of you. You hadn’t realized it now but… but…

“Wow! You are tall sir! Are you a model?” You say, your eyes sparkling. Your favorite shows of all time to watch were ‘Yorbian Next Top Model’ or ‘The Victor Secret Fashion Show’ so you always question handsome or beautiful people if they were models. Hey, you never know when you might accidentally meet one.

The red-haired man laughs and leans down to your height. “Oh aren’t you a sweetheart~~ I’m not, but I’m something even better, a transmitter~. Did you know my Nen, bungee gum, has the properties of both rubber and gum?”

You giggle as you see him using his Nen on a magic trick. “No, I didn’t know that. I think you would make a nice model though! You are very thin and muscular!”

“Well I’m thick and muscular in another area~~ Do you wanna—“ Hisoka is cut off as you see he is suddenly electrocuted. You see Killua still in the arms of the man (though his now long black hair is all poofy) , furious, as he pulls back his yo-yo. Gon quickly picks you and brings you away from Hisoka.

“Go to hell pervert!” Killua shouts as he kicks out of his brother gold. You three run away, again, Gon sticks his tongue out at Illumi as they leave.

“Oh. I want to talk to kill more” Illumi mumbles. He blank faces, even more than usual, as Hisoka lets out a very loud moan.

“Oh~~ Gon! Killua!!”

.

.

.

“Hey Gon. Killua. What’s that bright light over—“

“Don’t ask!!”

——⚡️—🌸—🥦——

“Ah we are down to our final place!”

“I hope this one goes well.” Killua grumbles.

“I’m sorry Killua. I wi—“

Killua cuts you off and squeezes your hand which he was holding. “Don’t apologize idiot, it wasn’t your fault. We just, for some reason, keep on bumping into the wrong people today.”

You feel another squeeze and look at Gon. “Yeah don’t worry (y/n)!!”

“Ok! So our final stop before the picnic is Lucy’s Celestial Palace!” You shout, as you three stop right in front of a crazy looking old factory building.

You give a reassuring squeeze to the boys about to walk into the star filled building. You would try your best to make sure they wouldn’t get recognized by any more—

“Gon! Killua!”

…or not…

“Oh Zushi! Master!” Gon shouts. Master? Oh! You turn around and see a boy and a man with glasses. He must be Master Wing! The one they told you taught them Nen! This couldn’t go bad.

“Hello boys! Oh and who are you young lady?”

“Oh! Nice to meet you I’m—“

“She’s (y/n), our girlfriend!” Gon shouts, cutting you off. You blush a bright red as Killua hits him over the head.

“Don’t cut her off, idiot.”

“Miss (y/n)” You looked up at Mister Wing, a serious look on his face. “If you don’t mind I would like to speak with Gon and Killua for a moment?”

“Y-yes of course”

You watch as Wing drags the two boys a little ways away. You wonder what he needed them for. You are snapped out of your thoughts quickly as you see Zushi turn to look at you before bowing. “Nice to meet you (y/n), Girlfriend of Gon and Killua. My name is Zushi. Osh!”

Still flustered, you turn and bow as well. “N-Nice to meet you as well Zushi!”

You two stop bowing and turn as you hear a loud hush from Wing. Gon’s face was red while Killua had a mischievous grin on his face.

“I wonder what master wanted from Killua and Gon.”

“Y-yeah. I wonder too.”

You two watch as Wing continues talking. Slowly but surely both of the boys faces are soon red as a tomato. How odd.

“AHH! WE DON’T NEED ALL THAT INFO.” Killua shouts walking back over to you. He blushes even more as he looks at you. Looking to the ground he takes your hand and drags you away. Gon follows slightly behind you guys, his face bright red, with steam coming out his ears. You couldn’t exactly hear what Gon was saying, only little bits like ‘how would that work’ and ‘that doesn’t make sense’.

You wanted to ask what Wing told them but decided against it.

—————————

“Finally we are here!!” Killua and Gon shout in unison, plopping on the grass. You giggle at the boy's silliness and put the basket under a tree.

As the two exhausted boys get some quick rest, you kneel down and the open the basket. You might as well get started while they calm down. Deciding to set the blanket up first, you pull it out. Holding two of the edges you fluff it out, letting the wind carry it for a bit, and finally laying it lightly down on the slightly dewy green grass. As you are about to set up the other stuff you hear the rustle and crunching of grass.

“Let me help you (y/n)!” Gon says, sticking his hands into the basket. He grabs a whole pile of stuff and starts wobbling over to the blanket. Almost dropping the chocolate cake several times, Killua would be so mad if Gon destroyed it.

“A-ah be careful Gon!”

“Don’t worry I got it!”

After getting everything set up, and thankfully Gon didn’t drop or break anything, you all sit down and finally have lunch. You take small bites of your freshly made sandwich as you watch the boys wolf down their food. It was kind of amazing at how fast they were able to eat and you kind of wonder who would win if it was a competition. Unless they were having one and you didn’t know it.

“Ah that was good~~” Gon says, laying on his back and patting his stomach. You laugh while Killua just rolls his eyes. Grabbing your pudding you go to take a bite of your dessert when you get an idea.

“Killua~” You singsongly say; holding the spoon up to the boy’s face, “Say ahh~”

Killua stutters to say something as he goes bright red. Flustered, he turns his head and lets out a small ‘idiot’ as he tries to compose himself.

“Oh come on Killua!” You whine, slightly pouting.

“I’ll have it (y/n)!” Gon says, quickly sprinting over and sitting in front of you. He opens his mouth wide and points to it causing you to giggle. You were about to feed him when Killua headbuts Gon and eats the pudding instead.

“Hey! What was that for!!” Gon shouts, holding the bump on his head.

“She offered it to me first, idiot!”

Gon was about to stand up and start something with Killua but you pull the boy back down, placing his head on your lap. You sigh as you run your fingers through the blushing boy’s hair; being extra careful in the area of the injury.

“You two need to stop fighting. For crying out loud you two are best friends! This isn’t a competition”

“Sorry (y/n)” They squeak out; clearly embarrassed.

“Now sit still so I can feed you two the rest of the pudding. Gon say ahh~~”

“Man what a little whore.”

You stop dead in your tracks as you hear that. Your hand slightly clenches around the spoon. You kind of expected something like this to happen but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. You slightly lift your head to see a group of people, one of which had made a comment earlier.

“God how gross!”

“Poor boys, that girl is selfish and can’t pick between them.”

“Wow, only a kid and already likes two at once. What a shame.”

“(Y/n).” You shoot your head to Killua, who puts a hand on your cheek. As he pulls it away you see his hand is wet, you hadn’t realized you were crying.

“Hey!” Gon shouts; standing up and going to fight them. Killua quickly grabs Gon’s arm and stops him, Gon, angrily, spins around and tries to pull his arm away. “Let me go, Killua!! They insulted (y/n)!”

“You idiot. Look around.” Killua whisper-yells. Gon looks around at the other people at the park, who were also starring and muttering. Some of which knew Nen, had weapons or looked overall strong. “Leaving her here is bad. Taking her in the fight is also bad. You know her Nen isn’t made for close combat and she’s not exactly focused right now to do long ranged”

“Well we can’t do anything!”

“I know…,” Killua mutters. The two stand in silence for a while until Killua suddenly has an idea. “Wait... Come here, I have a plan”

As soon as Killua finishes whispering the plan in Gon’s ear the boy gives him a nod. “Understand?”

“Yeah”

The two suddenly turn to you and begin to put away the stuff. Your stomach drops, you felt bad that this day got ruined, it seemed nothing had gone right. Tears start to well up in your eyes. Man what a useless crybaby you are—

“(Y/n)” You look up from the ground at the call. Suddenly, your cheeks turn crimson as you feel something on each side of your cheek. Gon and Killua had each given you a kiss on your cheek, with Killua on your left and Gon on the right.

With you being absolutely flustered and steam coming out of your ears, you accidentally activate a Nen bubble around all three of you. Killua and Gon pull away, grinning at each as your brain is practically mush.

“Ready Gon?”

“Yeah!”

Gon and Killua jumped out of your protected bubble. Since you were practically a puddle you were unaware of the Chaos about to happen. Their plan to get back at the people who made you cry. The two fist bump before going off in opposite directions.

“Jan….Ken….Rock!!”

“Lightning Palm!!”

“RUNN!” “MY LEG!” “AHHHH!”

—————————

*pop*

You finally pop your bubble as you come to. But what in the world… happened? You must have missed a lot since the Park was practically destroyed, with trees cut down, people on the ground (some of which were twitching), and the ground uneven.

“(Y/n)!!” You look towards the sunset to see Gon and Killua running towards you, both laughing. As they stop in front of you, they turn to each other, grinning widely, giving each other a high five. This even confused you more, why in the world were they high fiving? Did they do this? Why did they destroy a perfectly good park? Wait, did they do this for—

“(Y/n)...” a voice whispers right next to your ear. You quickly turn and realize Killua had sneaked up on you while you were thinking. While frozen still, Killua leans in and gives you a kiss.

Though it was a small and light kiss, it definitely didn’t feel like one. Once your lips had locked a shock went through all the nerves of your body, causing you to shiver and clutch onto Killua’s shirt. On top of that, the kiss felt like Killua was putting in every bit of love into it. Almost like he was sharing a secret. Huh. A Transmitter’s kiss. You two slowly pull away and give each other a small smile. Killua silver hair blows in the wind under the shaded tree.

“My turn!!”

You quickly turned your head and felt lips crashing onto yours. Stumbling, you can’t hold Gon up and begin to fall back. The kiss was sudden and rushed. Definitely Gon was being impatient. Yet, it was nice. It was simple and straightforward. A very sweet and lovely kiss. Definitely a kiss from an enhancer.

As you're on your back, Gon pulls away and holds himself above you. The light from the sun shines upon him as he gives you a wide grin. You smile back at him until he is suddenly pulled off.

“You idiot!!” Killua shouts, “What did Kurapika say about not hurting her?!”

“I wasn’t!! You could've hurt her too when you sneaked up on her!!”

“I wouldn’t—“

You giggle as you watch the two argue, slightly brushing your fingers across your lips. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all!

[ererokii]

class 1-A waking up to find denki and his (gn) s/o in the living Area (they straddling him/sitting on his lap) (maybe w even them walking in on the makeingout?) and is just like U have a lOvE lifE?! and him getting possessive and jealous. (#1)

I absolutely love this idea and I hope I did it well! (Unedited)

Saturdays were far by your favorite. No school. No hero training and not being yelled at by your teacher for not trying enough. You were able to sleep in or wake up early with your boyfriend, Denki Kaminari and relish the peaceful moment you had with him.

The both of you were snuggled upon in the common room, both on the couch as you sat on his lap, his arms wrapped around you. His head and rested on top of yours.

These were the moments you cherished the most. No one was here to disturb both of you considering you woke up early rather than sleeping in which at the moment sounded so good. But being here with him in this position could put you to sleep in a matter of seconds.

“You know” you broke the silence as you shifted in his arms, fully facing him as your legs were draped on both sides of his legs, placing your hands on his chest. “You’re really quiet for someone who is normally loud”

“Oh is that bad?” He pouted with no feeling of hurt as he pinched your hip, emitting a squeak from your lips. “I can get loud and wake everyone else up if that’s what you want!”

You let out a laugh and shook your head. “No! Then the others will come and bother us! And then waking up early would have been for nothing Denki!”

Denki loved his classmates. He really did. He felt supported by them no matter what. But the both of you were still dating in secret. The downside of it was that everyone was close. Maybe a bit too close to his liking.

The worst of them were his groups of friends that he loved to call themselves as the Bakusquad. Those four or rather three minus Bakugo’s lack of friendship as Mina said, were always attached at the hip.

“Yeah I know” he muttered and leaned forward, resting his head in the crook of your neck, nipping the skin lightly.

You let out a small mewl as he pulled his head away, placing his hand on the nape of your neck as he pushed your head forward to have your lips meet him in the middle, your lips moving in sync.

Kissing Denki was an amazing feeling you never wanted to forget. His lips were soft, considering he was always applying chapstick. Before you got together, chapstick was something that Denki thought was useless. Now that you guys are together it seemed that he owned endless amounts.

You pulled away, your cheeks heated up as you leaned your forehead on his as his hands found their way onto your hips, digging his fingers into the skin as he brought you closer.

“I love you Y/N” he whispered breathlessly, his hot breath fanning on your face.

“Mm do you know?” You teased and kissed the tip of his nose, watching him scrunch it. “Course I do silly” was his reply before capturing your lips with his once more.

His hands wandered underneath your shirt as he gently rubbed your sides with the pads of his fingers, your body shivering from his touch.

His tongue slipped between your mouth as it explored the foreign area, a slight moan slipping through your mouth as your grip around his neck tightens.

He grunted as he moved you impossibly closer. A gasp from the background suddenly made you guys pull away from your locked lips.

There stood Iida and Midoryia, both watching the both of you with eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Kaminari and Y/LN! This behavior should not be allowed on school grounds let alone the dorms! Have you no shame?! I simply do not allow this!” Iida yelled as he started waving his arm dramatically to get his point through.

“What’s with all the yelling?”

Oh no.

The rest of class 1-A proceeded into the room. “Wait no way!!” Sero yelled and pointed at the both of you, his eyes welling up with tears as he began to laugh. “No way you have a love life?! I can’t believe this!!”

“That’s so manly dude!! Congrats!” Kirishima cheered as he sent a thumbs up your way.

“Oh my god” you whispered in embarrassment as you quickly covered your face with your hands.

“You guys didn’t know?” Mina chimes in with a yawn as she checks her fingernails. “Thought it was super obvious. Maybe you males are just too dense.”

“What did you say raccoon eyes?! I dare you to say that shit again!”

“That makes sense then” Midoryia mumbled and he seemed to get lost in his own thoughts. “That must explain why the both of them always leave around the same time when we watch movies..why the two of them always pair up during sparring and are always seen together at all times..”

“Yeah and so what?!” Denki yelled as he smashed your face against his chest, holding you there to shield you away from their eyes. “Yeah we are together and you guys are just jealous that we are!!”

Everyone seemed to silently communicate as Sero covered his mouth, holding back a snicker.

“Kaminari..how dare you?!” Mineta yelled as he grabbed a ball off his head, throwing it at the wall. “We made a pact that we wouldn’t date at all till I found a hot babe of a girlfriend and you just.. you did this behind my back?! You asshole!”

“Yeah well that sucks for you!” Denki yelled as he kissed the top of your head. “They’re all mine and no one else can have them!”

“Please stop yelling Mr.Aizawa will yell at us for being too loud in the morning! Everyone calm down!” Iida spoke up.

The rest of the class broke out into shouts and screams. You looked up at Denki who had a scowl on his face.

“What’s with the look?”

“Now that everyone knows we’re together they’re gonna want you! And I don’t like that!”

You let out a giggle as he looked down at you in shock. “Why are you laughing?!”

“Oh babe you’re so funny. I only love you and you only you!”

“..you promise?”

“Yes Denki I promise.”

[lixie-lovie]

{ Mysterious Stranger | skz }

h.hyunjin x reader

Chapter 4: The Reckoning

Genre: Dark!au, Thriller-ish, Fantasy!au

Warnings: Some cursing, mention of weapons/blood/demons, fighting occurs

((if anything else needs to be tagged/warned about please send me a message..i’ll fix it asap))

Word Count: 4.1 k

Note: I am so sorry this is later than anticipated (uni is kicking my ass lol), but regardless I hope everyone enjoys! Hopefully the next chapter already being in progress will make it come out sooner..

Side Note: This/my blog is getting a bit more popular..should I open taglists for my work or start taking requests? Anyone wanna lmk if you want that???

Chapter Song: Mayday - VICTON

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_____________

Overwhelmed. That’s how I felt. My heart felt too heavy, my hands too shaken, my mind racing, and my body lethargic. The Straykids base was nice, at least what I had gotten to see, but everything felt far away. As if it would all collapse in on me if I breathed too suddenly. I was sitting on a medical cot now, staring at my shaking hands as if they were not my own. They said they needed to check me over, make sure I wasn’t infected. Infected. What does that even mean? Their words were kind enough, although few and far between, but I could see what was unspoken in the way their eyes scanned my poor form, the way their hands hovered over their weapons, and how their chins lifted as they spoke their greetings towards me, as if trying to send the sound waves through me. I was an outsider, different, infected, dangerous.

I had met the majority of the rest of the group now and I let myself recall their names and faces while waiting here now, trying to rid myself of the anxiety pressing coldly against my eyes and pooling heat in my cheeks.

First was the large training room, sparks flying as metal swords struck metallic  testing dummies. Their sound hurt my ears in the large, open room with ceilings so high the noise reverberating was making my head throb with the sound of my own pulse. Minho they called him. Soft brown eyes, wild on the inside. His wet with sweat hair laid flat over his eyes and he used his non-weapon wielding hand to push it out of his face. Then, sticking his hand out to shake my own with his larger, much more sweaty palm, he noticed my scrunched up nose in disgust and laughed, pulling his hand back and apologizing lightheartedly. His eyes stayed trained on me, not unkind, but definitely guarded. We made quick of our goodbyes and I couldn’t help but dwell on the meeting while trying to match strides with Hyunjin who had been leading me silently. 

Minho smelled of old leather, iron shards, and something distinctly warm I couldn’t quite place. I thought briefly that if our situations were any different I may have thought him handsome and blushed at his eyes staying lingered on my form too long, but our situation wasn’t different and I knew his stare wasn’t trusting and kind, but full of silent, unspoken malice. 

The next room I was led into was a room full of old books and the smell of ink. Hundreds of thick, worn books laid dusty on shelves having long lost their gloss. Many were in languages I couldn’t read, some I pictured weren’t distinctly human in origin. Pages torn and my interest peeked. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of the handheld knowledge surrounding me long enough to notice that I was being approached by a figure unfamiliar to me. When the smiling, kind face of the freckled boy popped into view with a hand on my shoulder I winced and jerked my body harshly away, muttering shy apologies. 

I was only met with laughter, but as I studied his face further I found myself taking note of the worried bend in his brow and questioning eyes. I felt scrutinized and defensive suddenly, squaring my shoulders and smiling a little too forced. He simply introduced himself with a boisterous laugh before making up some half-assed excuse my tour guide scoffed at before scurrying away as if my presence caused some disturbance. He told me his name so briefly and quietly I found myself drawn out of my memories questioning if I could even recall the sounds. Felix, my brain supplied. I let out a silent huff of air as my lips formed an ‘o’ shape, before diving back into my thoughts about the others I had met. 

The office space I was soon led to was crowed to say the least. Each of the walls were meticulously lined with filing cabinets, but it seemed as though at least half of their contents had been thrown or piled haphazardly on the large, wooden desk sitting between the bodies currently arguing. Yelling continued as Hyunjin and I stood by the door staring awkwardly. I shuffled my feet and became increasingly interested in the elegant marble tiles beneath my beat up shoes. 

“Enough!” A loud cry followed by a harsh jostling noise shook me out of my anxiety riddled state and I swiftly whipped my head up to see what had happened. My eyes stayed trained on where the noise came from and found myself staring into the cool, calm, and serious eyes of the man at the head of the desk. His curly ash blonde hair bounced around as he ran a firm hand through them and he sighed deeply, one hand raised in a silencing gesture towards the men in front of him. “We have a visitor..Hyunjin, are you going to introduce us?” He said, his tone firm while his eyes stayed trained on my form critically. 

Hyunjin groaned, uncrossing his arms and straightening himself out as he pushed himself off of the wall he was once leaning on. He gave a short, lackluster introduction of me before turning to the men in the room giving a sarcastic pointed look to the man at the head of the desk as if pushing him to make Hyunjin talk more. The man, who I now assumed to be the leader of this group, rolled his eyes and waved Hyunjin off in a dismissive behavior before making a move to round the desk quickly. Hyunjin took this as his cue to stand by the door looking uninterested and my eyes followed the only familiar figure out of the room slowly. 

Soon the leading male was stood in front of me with a wide, slightly awkward grin as he held his hand out in introduction. “Hello. I am Chan, the leader of the Straykids operative, this is Jisung, our adversary expert, and this is Changbin, our mission lead. I am sure this is a lot to take in, but we are currently handling some important new information, so please make yourself at home and direct any questions you may have to Hyunjin. He will be assigned as of now as your personal trainer and mentor for the time being.” He said, quickly, warily eyeing me up in a way I am sure he thought was subtle. My eyes darted to the two men standing behind his broad shoulders, one dark haired with an undercut and brooding look staring harshly at the other brunette with soft eyes and a joking smile playing on his lips while he bounced on the balls of his feet. I let my palm rest loosely in Chan’s as I smiled as genuinely as I could manage at his surface kindness. It was then that I heard the aggravated noises coming from outside the door from a certain tour guide that was a bit unhappy with the new arrangement. I wasn’t sure what training these people were mentioning or what I could possibly be mentored on, but I didn’t have the energy left in my fatigued state to question anything. 

Chan swiftly collected himself before excusing me out of the office. As the large black doors closed loudly behind me I heard the previous commotion of voices start yelling again as something distinctly paper-like in sound slapping against a wooden surface. I giggled softly to myself at the silliness of the situation before turning my head and catching the glaring, malice filled eyes of Hyunjin already boring into mine. 

“Just because he assigned me to deal with you doesn’t mean I’ll take kindly to babysitting. Just do as I say and we won’t have a problem.” He said harshly, obviously throwing some kind of a fit as his arms stayed tightly crossed as he pushed himself forward to start walking down yet another seemingly endless hallway. “This is only until Seungmin returns. Now, hurry up, I’ll take you to the ward to get checked. You can stay there for tonight.” He said, already quickening his pace at the thought of not having to stay by me. 

“Hey!” I shouted after him, trying to softly jog to keep up. “Don’t you think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself?! I have some questions I need answered first!” I spoke loudly, trying to portray whatever confidence I had left in my body. Before he could make a motion to swiftly turn on his heel to presumably yell at me some more, I suddenly heard a striking voice coming from behind me.

I whipped my head around at the sound of my mother’s name being formed by an unfamiliar sounding voice. I gasped softly at the sight of a young woman, dressed in elegant purple silk robes, a hood covering my view of her face, being pulled harshly in the other direction by a man wearing the same type of outfit. As I came to my senses and out of my shock I heard the door they were leaving out of close sharply and couldn’t stop my body from taking off in the direction after them. I ran, my eyes nearly filling with tears at the picture of the woman’s softly shocked, shadowed face as she was pulled away. All I could focus on was the fact that this may be a chance for answers I have been harshly denied of since coming to this strange, foreign place. I called out, unsure of what I was even saying, before suddenly being unable to run any further. I noticed in this moment how numb my outstretched arms were and how cold my body had become as Hyunjin wrapped his strong arms around my waist and pulled me harshly in the other direction. 

Quickly and shakily I began questioning Hyunjin while staring down at his arms still holding me tightly in a way that began to make me feel as though he was trying to contain a wild animal. He sharply shushed me before leaning down and tightening his grip around me further, to the point all I could focus on was that it hurt. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered. Shut up, follow me, and you might as well forget that ever happened.” 

His words were sharp, cutting deep and piercing through me like cold silver daggers. At this I began to get angry, I felt a scolding warmth building up in my chest spreading to the point I felt as though my fingertips would melt like wax from a candle forgotten too long. Suddenly, in a way I don’t remember even being capable of, I had found a point of weakness in Hyunjin’s grip before swiftly, in a practically practiced manner I had turned to face him, pulled the dagger from where I had placed it in my pocket earlier, and held it sturdily to Hyunjin’s throat an arms length away from his now shocked form. 

I felt powerful and awful at the same time. My mind was twisting and tangling with dark, racing thoughts getting lost in the mix. My hand wasn’t shaking, my arm stood firm while pressing the blade harshly to his honey-toned, tanned skin, and my expression wasn’t faltering as I stared into his startled, anger ridden eyes. I felt my heart pounding excitedly in my chest as I took in what I had done. I wasn’t sure how I had completed this action, nor did I know where it would lead from here, but I knew I was sure this was the only way to get answers to the questions plaguing my mind. My hand began to feel heavy as time went on, so I inhaled harshly, letting the cool air burn my lungs, the internal pain bringing me back to the present, before forming the words at the forefront of my mind. 

“That was my mothers name.” I said, staring passionately into Hyunjin’s eyes. “Now, I would like some answers.” My tone was jarring even to my own ears, dark and persuasive, unlike the timid one I had used to express myself earlier in the day. I pressed the blade harsher into Hyunjin’s skin with a pointed look on my face. He gave me a wry smile before slowly raising his hands in surrender. 

“Now, before you do anything rash. Think about what you’re threatening here..” He said lightheartedly, pointing at his neck, the dagger pressing there causing a thin line of red blood to pool from the connection of the cool metal and his warm skin. When my eyes flickered to my own hand and back up to his sharply we both knew I was faltering with my own actions. He took this as his opportunity to strike. 

Before I knew it he had knocked the blade away from his neck before making a move to grab and restrain me. However, the warmth from before began forming in my chest yet again and my thoughts suddenly shifted to something of pure instinct as I dodged to the right and out of the way of his graceful movement. My arm, still holding the blade firmly, swung out at him causing a large gash in the sleeve of his left arm and his inky red blood began to drop from the wound profusely as he involuntarily yanked his arm back towards himself, applying as much pressure to the gash as possible. He hissed softly through his teeth before looking at me, his eyes much more wild and calculating. Out of his own sleeve he produced a weapon, much like my own, and as I gasped softly coming out of the fit of rage I had previously been consumed by I remembered very little of what came next. 

Like a flash of elegant, terrifying, powerful lighting Hyunjin was lunging at me, one large hand of his restraining my armed one, forcing me to drop my weapon. It clattered to the ground loudly and I became alarmed. I cried out at the sprouting pain of being swiftly shifted around on my weight, my arm being bent awkwardly, and I quickly tried to pry myself out of his grasp. Soon, the tumbling, clumsy fight of pent up frustrations and untrustworthy anger led to us both falling to the ground. Hyunjin’s weight combining with my own was more than I could handle in my state and the last things I remember were the sharp impact of my head against the white marble flooring, Hyunjin’s soft words of annoyance laced with concern calling my name, the pain now blossoming from the suddenly sticky base of my skull, and the padding sound of feet approaching nearer as my vision faded to black. 

===========

When I came too I was staring at a white ceiling, surrounded by subtle noises and voices. I then became brutally aware of a painful headache now gracing my already confused mind. Remembering slowly what exactly had occurred, I groaned and began to struggle my way into a sitting position. 

“Oh, finally awake princess?” A sarcastic, annoyed voice came from the white bed across from the matching the one I was currently occupying. The voice itself belonged to none other than the man I was now sure was the enemy, sitting upright, glaring in my direction while having something done to his arm by the young boy with gentle hands sitting beside of him. My face began to heat up as I came to and took in the scene before me. When I noticed Hyunjin’s lack of shirt and my lack of response I began floundering for something to say or at least something else to look at other than the odd black lines covering Hyunjin’s defined chest and arms. 

Luckily I was saved from this difficult situation by the boy patching up Hyunjin’s arm finishing his job and standing up abruptly. My eyes snapped away from the irritating blonde and over to the young boy with fox-like features and snowy white hair. “Seems like you’re all patched up. I don’t know how you got such a nasty cut, but you better be more careful next time.” He said with a soft, playful voice, but surprisingly stern eyes directed at Hyunjin. Each of the syllables of his sentence were punctuated with increasingly violent taps against the now stitched and bandaged wound. With each tap Hyunjin winced and by the time the boy was walking away from Hyunjin’s now pouting form he had a face of annoyance as he glared in my direction. I questioned to myself why he hadn’t told this medic what exactly had happened, but as a light was suddenly shown in my eyes I didn’t think to question further due to the pounding of the headache throbbing at the base of my skull. 

“Hmm.. minor concussion, but after I patched you up it seems like you’ll heal up soon if you take it easy.” The boy said, leaning over my bedside to look over my face, his breath fanning softly over my cheeks because of his close proximity. His smile was soft and joyous, kind in a way I hadn’t seen since leaving Seungmin behind. This thought made me frown deeply in concern and frustration and the boy took notice of the shift in my expression immediately. 

“Oh! I guess I haven’t introduced myself yet.. I’m Jeongin! I work here in the ward under Seungmin’s training and supervision. Hyunjin carried you here earlier and you both were bleeding and bruised up pretty bad, so I guess I forgot the formalities.” I nodded along with what he was saying, but when he mentioned Hyunjin’s act of kindness my eyes snapped to his grimacing form as he was re-wrapping the bandages just placed on his arm moments ago while glaring daggers at me as if trying to force me to hear his thoughts of “don’t read too much into that.” I took this as a signal to smile lightly and thank Jeongin, allowing him to run off to do whatever work he was assigned to before taking care of us. 

As he left my line of sight I sighed deeply and began to take in my surrounding while pulling the IV attached to my arm out and shaking my limbs slightly as I started standing up and adjusting my now wrinkled, uncomfortable clothing. My thoughts were drifting back to the events in the hallway and my brow furrowed deeply as I scanned the room for whatever belongings I had with me and I tried remembering where the ward was located in relation to the hallway I had been in before. As I began to walk towards the door on the opposite side of the room that Jeongin had left out of I heard a light rustling noise from my side and suddenly was stopped by a large body blocking my way. I sighed harshly and looked up quickly, causing the pounding in my head to return and my balance to be thrown off for a moment. I staggered backwards and glared at the offending figure only to find Hyunjin’s sharp features glaring back at me just as harshly. 

“And where the hell do you think you’re going?” He snapped at me while holding his uninjured arm out to steady me by my shoulder. I regained my balance and huffed, brushing his hand off and side-stepping to hopefully avoid another fight. 

“To find answers.” I said dryly, pushing an arm out firmly to block him from getting in my way and walking towards the door. I was suddenly jostled as a firm, warm hand engulfed my wrist pulling me sharply backwards and turning me in the opposite direction of my destination. 

“But.. you’re injured” He said, his brow furrowed as he stared past my form, obviously thinking about something deeply. His hand wouldn’t release its grip from my wrist even as I tried pulling it roughly, so I sighed and decided to finish this conversation as it was clear I wouldn’t be leaving as easily as I would have preferred. 

“So? Remember that you’re the one to inflicted this, so what do you even care? Don’t you hate me anyways?” I said with a harsh sigh, staring into his face for any kind of reaction indicating an emotion, but as he kept his eyes trained forward I felt defeated in my stoic stance and relaxed my form, looking away to avoid becoming overwhelmed by the deep feeling stirring in my chest as I looked at him. “Look, this is important. What happened back there and before with Seungmin it all means something. I have so many questions and I just..” I took a moment to breathe, the tears I had been holding back threatening to spill over my stubborn lashes. 

I was broken out of my depressive state by his hand aggressively releasing my wrist, practically shoving it away as if it has scorched his skin. His face became dissonant as he stared at the doorway behind me, his form ridged. 

“Whatever.” He began walking hurriedly away, towards the door Jeongin had left from. I watched as he walked and listened to his footsteps sounding loudly on the white tile flooring in shock and awe of what had just happened, a million questions racing through my mind. Then, I was jolted out of my thoughts by the sudden stop of the sound of footfalls resonating through the room. I looked up towards Hyunjin’s back as he turned his face slightly to peer over his shoulder at my stiff form, still clutching onto my wrist his warm hand had been holding only mere moments before. “I’ll help you, but you may not like what answers you find.” 

His words were soft, spoken like whispers that pierced my ears like gunshots. I felt dizzy as I padded after him trying to form the new questions overlapping the old that were competing in my mind. “Wait!” This was all I was able to get out, my wrist, still warm from his embrace out stretched as my feet fell short when the loud door closed behind him and his steps receded somewhere unknown to me. I took a shuttering breath, replaying his words and everything that had happened up until this point briefly in my mind. My headache was growing stronger, questions still unanswered, but my resolve was unwavering as I steeled my nerves and turned to rush past the previously occupied beds and back out into the hallway to continue my journey. However, just as I was about to round my corner my eyes drifted back to the bed Hyunjin had been settled on before and my brow furrowed deeply. 

My steps were light as I crept slowly over to the bedside curiously. My hand ran over the stiff white sheets until my fingertips found the cool, sharp edge of my blade. It was lying there, placed delicately where the shine of the bright florescent white lights hit the blade elegantly. I picked it up, keeping my eyes trained on it, studying its shape yet again in awe. I turned it over in my hand a few times, entranced by the weightlessness of the deadly weapon I was handling. Then, as I turned yet again to leave the room my eyes caught on a torn, yellowing sheet of paper lying precariously next to where the blade had been before. The ink was messy and smudged in handwriting obviously rushed. It read: “Next time, dodge to the left. - H”

I snorted softly, a smile finding its way sneakily onto my lips as I pocketed the note gently and gripped my blade a little tighter. Then, I whipped my head in the direction of the door I knew was hiding secrets and adventure behind its hinges before hearing footsteps coming from the door behind me. By the gait made out by the noise I heard what I assumed to be Jeongin, coming to check on me and gasped knowing I wouldn’t be able to leave as easily if I didn’t rush. I took a deep breath and prepared myself silently. 

-----

Jeongin entered the room, calling their name loudly with a practiced grin gracing his features. When he noticed the door on the far side of the room still slightly ajar, behind it the sound of rushed footsteps receding quickly caused his grin to casually turn into a smaller, more genuine smile before he found himself chuckling to himself at their antics. “They definitely remind me of someone.” He said, addressing no one in particular while moving to clean the beds previously used. 

Unbeknownst to Jeongin a certain blonde boy, hidden out of sight, had seen the events of the last few moments and with a small smile and a whisper of laughter bubbling inside his once empty chest, he sighed and turned to make his leave with a soft shake to his head. 

“Yeah, they do, don’t they?”

[heartbreakgrill]

Circles; Harry Styles

a/n: welcome to a new mini-series! Probably wont be more than 3 parts, but we’ll see! I watched This is Us and got major inspiration. Enjoy!

description: in which your visit the bakery you frequented as a child and run into an old face to stir up forgotten flirtations.

It was a bitterly cold day in Holmes Chapel, the wind whipping wildly across the fields and through the small town streets. You were dressed for the weather, peacoat collar flicked upwards to protect your neck from the chill. Sure, you probably looked like a psychopath with your eyes and part of your forehead the only bits of skin visible to any passerby. But, you didn’t care.

You were used to the cold weather, having just flown home from London, where it was already pouring buckets of freezing rain. At least here the air was dry. However normalized cold weather was, however, your body was obviously still affected thanks to being a warm-blooded mammal with thin layers of skin, easily frost bitten and frozen.

You licked your lips, having gone chapped from the chill, as you turned a street corner. Up ahead was your favorite bakery, one you frequented a lot before you moved to London for university. It had been two years since youd been home, having left as soon as you graduated secondary school. Of course, a certain someone had worked there whenever it began to be your favorite place, but after he left, it was simply because of the sweet elderly women and the delicious treats.

Now, you were back in town for two weeks, on winter break, before heading over to New York to visit a friend from university. You had been aching for a chocolate chip muffin from your favorite bakers for nearly two years now. When you walked in, the smell of the baked goods made your knees weak. A grin indented your face as you began to take off your scarf, earmuffs, hat, and mittens.

Sharon, the loveliest of them all, spotted you from her spot behind the counter, where she was counting cash. “Oh, my Lord! [Y/N]?!”

You stuffed your things into either pocket of your coat, feeling the warmth of the store when the door shut softly. “Hiya!” You waved as you stepped towards the glass displays.

“Laurie! Sue! [Y/N]’s here!” She rounded the counter, arms open for you. She was much shorter than you, so you bent at the waist slightly to hug her shoulders. It was the same routine with Laurie and Sue. They gushed over you, your hair, you smile, your height!

“You look so grown! So old! My heart!” Sue twirled a lock of your hair around her fingers, eyeing the color. “Did you dye it?”

“No, Sue, dont worry,” you sat at your table, in the back by the window. “It’s just damp because I got a shower this morning.”

“Oh,” Sue nodded firmly.

They took seats around you, ready to question you all about your life for the past two years. Laurie began with, “How’s uni?”

You smiled, reminiscing the good times youd made in London, “So wonderful. I absolutely love the city. Its busy and it rains a lot, but I love it.”

“Have you made any friends?” Sharon held lightly to your hand, her wrinkled skin soft and warm against your frozen fingers. “I know you expressed your concern with that whenever you left us.”

“Yeah, actually,” you squeezed, “I’m here for two weeks then heading over to New York to visit her. She was my roommate my first year, and now were renting an apartment together.”

“Oh, lovely,” Sue commented.

This continued for a few minutes, the questions and answers rolling back and forth between the four of you like waves. That was until a loud beep and holler came from the kitchen area. Sue stood quickly, muttering someone’s name and shuffling back to the kitchen.

“You hire somebody else?” It was your turn to ask, giggling lightly at her silly run.

Laurie shook her head, “No, love, it’s Harry.”

You blushed deeply, the name like a trigger to set off leftover butterflies from pubsecent you. “What?”

Sharon flinched, throwing her hands up, “Oh! Of course! We forgot to tell you!”

Laurie sighed, “Oh, yes! Harry’s here, love! He has a break from tour and he decided to visit us! Imagine, us being prioritized by a superstar!”

Sharon set a hand over her heart, smiling so sweetly, you wondered if the baked goods were seasoned with sugar or her love. “Whatta sweetheart.”

Your hands became clammy, and you removed them from the table to run them down your jeans. Laurie stood, noticing you running your hands through your hair and over your face. “Pretty,” she winked before moving to the counter, “How’s a vanilla hot cocoa and muffin sound, love?”

“G-good,” you choked, eyes flickering between her, Sharon, and the door that led to the kitchen.

Sue’s voice came into the room, louder as she came into view. “I’m sure you two would like to get acquainted again. Consider it a ten minute break like how you used to! When you’d insist I let you go when she came in. Aw!”

She grinned over at you, your eyes moving from hers to- Harry. Taller, handsome, older, curlier hair that was more controlled than it used to be. His face noticeably flushed, pupils dilated from the light- you- and his lips quirked open. You grinned, facial features experiencing the same flirts.

You stood from your chair, feeling the girl’s eyes on you although they tried to make themselves look busy. He took a few steps towards you, fingers raking through his dark brown curls.

“Wow,” he breathed, eyes widening once he realized he voiced his thoughts. “I mean, uh, hi?”

“Hey,” you chomped onto your bottom lip, withholding giggles at his maneurisms. Your hands stretched out in front of you, unsure of whether you should hug him or shake hands. You waved, “How are you?”

“I’m...okay,” he hesitated, and as your eyes let themselves flicker over his face, you noticed the bags under his eyes. “You?”

“Yeah, okay, um,” you stepped to the side and gestured to your table, “wanna sit? Catch up?”

“Sure, yeah, apparently I have a break, so,” Harry tugged his apron over his neck and balled it up. He sat down across from you as Laurie placed your muffin and drink down in front of you.

You shakily grabbed the fork, nervous under his watch, “So, how’s the superstar life?”

He chuckled, “Oh! Can’t I just be Harry for a day.”

You knew his joke held underlying meaning, so you shrugged and chided, “I never said I was a fan. Just curious as to how it’s going.”

“So, you’re not a fan?” Harry propped an elbow on the table and cradled his chin in it.

You swallowed bits of the muffin, “I dont listen often. I know your singles, of course, and that one- uh, what’s it called, ‘Same Mistakes.” Gotta admit I cried over a boy to that song once.”

“Ah, so there’s boys in your life?” Harry quirked a brow.

You blushed lightly, taking a chance as you held eye contact, “Not presently, no. But, over the past few years, yes, Ive seen a few lads.”

“Are London boys better than what we’ve got to offer?” He continued.

“Nah, I prefer homegrown boys,” you giggled before asking, “Are there any girls chasing after your heart?”

“Oh, millions,” he urged a laugh from you. “But, like you said, I’m single as of right now.”

You sipped some of your cocoa, face scrunching when your tongue faced the immense heat, “Ah. Uh, sorry-“

Harry giggled at the expression on your face, causing you to grin in return. He bit his lip and leaned back in his chair, “How long are you in town for?”

“Two weeks, you?”

“The same.”

“Nice,” you nodded. “So, since we both have a lot of time on our hands, do you maybe wanna-?”

“Lunch tomorrow? We always such a blossoming friendship within these walls, but never really saw each other outside of ‘em. I never liked it,” Harry admitted.

You pursed your lips, thinking back to your high school years, “Well, you were pretty popular, Harry. The cute, curly-headed boy who could sing, had nice teeth, and baked? Gosh, you were like the boy who killed girls.”

He chortled at the reference, “Cute, huh? You were pretty popular. Straight-A’s, sickly sweet, a gorgeous smile even with your braces and awfully done eyeliner.”

“Harry Styles, are you backhandedly flirting with me?” You pressed a hand to your chest in mock shock, “Just because youre famous doesnt mean your suddenly able to walk all over me!”

“I’m just glad youre finally able to call out my flirting.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist and noticed his ten-minutes were up. Of course, he could have stayed, but where’s the drama in that? “Ill swing by at noon to get you. See ya.”

Your mouth fell open in genuine shock as he turned into the kitchen. “Finally able...? What?”

“Shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” Sharon slid into the seat across from you.

Laurie stood behind her, “Two years, sweetie, two years of relentless flirting and neither of you ever made a move.”

“If something doesnt happen within the next two weeks, I might just drop dead from exhaustion, love,” Sue admitted, swinging a dish towel over her shoulder.

“Well, I guess I better get home and find an outfit.”

[thegreatestofheck]

Nothing to Prove ✦Pope Heyward✦

(gif not mine! All credit to maequil!)

Word Count - 2196 Warnings - Nothing. Fluff. A smidgen of swearing, underage drinking Synopsis - Pope helps you with some relationship problems. Later, while hanging out with your boyfriend, you realize that running from your fears got you nowhere and the only place you wanted to be was with Pope. Tagging - @o-b-x​ A/N - This man is so beautiful and deserves so much more hype I love him and Pope so much. This is mostly fluff, with a smidgen of angst in there (what’s a fic without angst, i dont even know). Sorry if it’s bad, lol. Stay safe, stay healthy, stay groovy!

The music blasted through the warehouse, echoing off the concrete walls. You bounced around to the beat, throwing your arms in the air and silently singing along with the lyrics. You stopped your jumping to play your air guitar during the guitar solo. 

You spun around, holding a cucumber as a microphone. Your eyes snapped open at the sound of a cough. 

Standing in the doorway was your boss and his son, your best friend, Pope. 

“Mr. Heyward,” you said, dropping your hand and hiding the cucumber behind your back. “Hi.”

You tried to smile, but your face burned with embarrassment. Heyward stood there with his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, and just the barest of a smile on his lips. Pope was hiding laughter behind his hand. You were tempted to throw your cucumber at him. 

“You know I love your air concerts as much as anyone else,” Heyward said, uncrossing his arms. “But I really need the stock inventoried.” 

“Yes, of course Mr. Heyward. Sorry.” You slid the cucumber back into its box. 

“Don’t stress about it, Kiddo.” Heyward walked past you, dropping a hand on your shoulder. “Just get it done.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

As soon as Heyward was gone from the warehouse, you dropped your head to your chest, hands covering your face. Pope finally let his laugh out and it echoed through the warehouse almost to the beat of the music. He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to you. 

“That was really embarrassing,” he said. You looked up at him, face still beat red. 

“Tell me about it.” 

The two of you let yourselves laugh it out. Once you could finally breathe again, wiping away a tear, you met Pope’s eyes again. 

“Let me help you with this,” he said. You shook your head, crossing your arms. 

“No, Pope. It’s your day off. You don’t have to stay here and help me,” you said, turning to you clipboard. 

“Well, I’m going to anyway.” 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile played at your lips. 

“I don’t know why your dad thinks you listen to me.” 

Pope didn’t say anything, he just got to work. You spent the next few hours inventorying together, telling joke and laughing about silly, stupid things, like you always did together. 

You had been working for Heyward since you were 13 and had been friends with Pope every since. He was the one who introduced you to the Pogues who eventually became your best friends. But Pope was your rock, your solid ground. He was your voice of reason, your impulse control. When things were falling apart around you, he was the glue that kept you together. 

When your shift was finally over and the new shipment inventoried, you and Pope grabbed some lemonade his mom made and sat on the deck together, letting the sun warm your skin. 

“So,” he said, taking a drink. “Why were crying in the bathroom this morning?” 

You choked, lemonade dribbling down your chin. 

“Cry- I wasn’t crying in the bathroom,” you said and rolled your eyes. 

“Oh, so we have a ghost now?”

“No! No, I was just...” You took a long sip. “There was something in my eye.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N,” Pope said as he set his empty glass on the dock. You ran your toes over the water with a sigh. “I know you like to pretend that nothing gets to you, and that may fly at your house, but not here. C’mon, Y/N, you can tell me anything.” 

He bumped your shoulder with his and you tried to smile. Looking up, you squinted against the glare of the sun. 

“Elo wants me to sleep with him,” you said with a sigh. “But I’m not...that’s not something I’m ready for yet.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You had been with your boyfriend, Elo, for only a few months. It wasn’t really anything serious. You went surfing together, went out to eat, star gazed. But you never really talked all that much. You liked him and he liked you and the feeling you had when you were with him wasn’t something you wanted to lose. 

You let out a deep sigh and hung your head again. 

“I just don’t know what to do.”

Pope put a hand on your shoulder and you glanced over at him. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he told you. 

“I know that,” you leaned back, resting on your elbows, letting the sunlight rest against your stomach. “I know it in my head, but I’m afraid that if I don’t show him that I care he’ll...find someone else.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to prove anything to him,” Pope told you, turning to look you in the eyes. “If he doesn’t want you because you won’t have sex with them then he’s not worth your time.” 

Warmth spread through you, but you weren’t sure if it was from the sun or from that feeling you always got when Pope was around. 

“I guess so.”

“Hey, next time he asks. You put your foot down, alright?” Pope said. “Don’t let him push you around.”

“Alright, Poe.”

“Promise?” He held out his pinky. When you asked with your eyes if he was really going to make you pinky swear, he nodded at his little finger. With an eye roll and an overly dramatic sigh, you hooked your pinky around his and shook. 

“Promise.” 

***

The time came a lot sooner than you thought. You hung out with Elo again that night, nursing on a beer as he and his friends kicked a soccer ball back and forth between each other. Eventually, he came over to you and flopped down at your hip, his usual loose grin on his lips. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hi.” You leaned down and kissed him, but, for the first time since you started dating, you didn’t feel anything. There was someone else on your mind. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asked. You shrugged your shoulders.

“Just a long day at work.”

“That Pope guy giving you problems?”

“Pope is my best friend, Elo. He does the opposite of give me problems.” 

Elo rolled his eyes and took a drink from you beer. 

“I don’t think you should hang out with him,” he said as he put your bottle back in your hand. 

You reacted, pinching your eyebrows together. 

“Why?”

Elo rolled onto his side facing you, running a finger along your collarbone. You smacked his hand away and he scowled. 

“Because,” he huffed. “I’m your boyfriend and it makes me uncomfortable.” 

“I’m not ditching Pope just because it wounds your ego, Elo,” you said, pushing yourself to your feet. 

“Y/N, wait!” He followed after you as you walked toward his house. “Wait.” 

You didn’t really want to listen to what he had to say. You wanted to go home or, more accurately, you wanted to find Pope. But Elo followed you anyway, grabbing you by the wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Hey, I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.” 

“Elo, I want to-” 

Before you could say what you wanted to say, he pulled you toward him and pressed a kiss against your mouth. You scowled and pushed at his chest until he stepped away. 

“What the hell is your problem tonight?” He asked, glaring. 

“You! You’re my problem!” 

“It’s that Pope kid, isn’t it? He’s poisoned you against me?” 

“What? No!” You ran your hand through your hair. “This is about you showing me the respect that I deserve.” 

“When have I ever disrespected you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, every single time you’ve tried to force me to have sex with you. That feels pretty damn disrespectful to me.”

“Babe, c’mon. What do you expect from me? I have my needs-”

“Yeah? That’s what you think?”

“I mean, you can’t be upset if I’ve slept with other girls because you haven’t put the tiniest bit of effort into our relationship! You haven’t proven to me that you actually care.” 

Tears stung in your eyes. You didn’t know he had slept with other girls. You thought maybe he might have, but you never had it confirmed. It didn’t matter now. You didn’t care. 

“I have nothing to prove to you,” you seethed. “We’re done, Elo. Forever.”

“Babe, don’t say that.” He stepped forward and lifted a hand toward your face, but you stepped back, nose scrunched to keep the tears in your eyes. “Babe.”

“Next time you have a girlfriend,” you said, taking a few more steps backward. “Give them the respect they deserve, Elo. Or you’ll end up in this same position.”

You turned and started to walk toward your car. 

“Yeah, run away, Y/N!” He yelled after you. “Like you always do! Run back to your boy toy and push everyone else away, see where that gets you!” 

You forced the tears down until you were alone in your car, driving away. You could go home, but you told your mom you would be out all night. You didn’t want to have to explain. 

You sent a quick text to Pope, asking him to meet you at your usual spot. 

The waves were cold on your toes as you sat in the sand. You and Pope found this little alcove when making deliveries when you were fourteen. It was the place you both went to when you needed space from everyone else except each other. It was a shelter against the storm. The other Pogues knew about it, but they knew not to violate the sacred grounds. 

When Pope dropped into the sand beside you, you felt a chill run up your spine.

“It’s cold tonight,” he said, his voice a welcome sound. You nodded your head slowly, knees pulled up to your chest. “You okay?”

You looked up at him and gave a small smile. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Yeah, I’m okay. Elo and I weren’t going to last very long anyway.”

“I’m sorry it ended, though. I know you liked him,” Pope said, putting a hand over yours. Another wave of warmth washed over you. This time you knew why. 

“Pope, can I tell you something?” You asked. 

“Sure.”

“Promise not to think I’m crazy?”

“I already think you’re crazy.”

“Promise not to hate me then.”

“I could never hate you,” he said, his voice quieting. You let out a sigh and drew a little circle in the sand. 

“What if I said that there’s another guy that I like,” you said, slowly. You heard Pope sigh. 

“Already?”

“More like...still. I’ve liked him for a really long time, but I guess I was afraid of ruining what we already had,” you said. “What do you think I should do?”

You could see the gears in Pope’s mind turning. You begged him to understand silently so you didn’t have to say it out loud. When he let out a deep breath, you were pretty sure he knew what you were talking about.

“I think that if he’s someone you’ve known for a while, there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same way.” You felt your heart soar. “What would you do if he liked you too?”

Your heart pounded, not really noticing that the two of you were leaning closer together. 

“I would tell him that if he didn’t kiss me, I might have to change my mind.” 

Your words were breathless, whispering because he was right there, right next to you. Once his lips finally touched yours, you knew it was right. That feeling you had been running from yet simultaneously searching for was right here, with him. 

It didn’t matter how cold it was outside, because with his lips on yours, his hand on your cheek, you could feel nothing but warmth. He was like the sun, radiating heat and you were soaking him in. 

And when he pulled away, the warmth didn’t fade. It wasn’t like all the other times with all the other boys where, as soon as you were gone from them, you felt nothing. You knew this feeling would last. 

He didn’t try to kiss you again as you laid your head against his shoulder, the two of you looking out across the water. The moon and the stars sparkled over the ocean, shimmering like a thousand crystals. 

“My mom is going to be so excited,” Pope said, one of his hands still on top of yours. 

“Why?” You asked, glancing up at him. 

“She’s been asking me when we were going to get together for over a year now.”

You laughed, looking back to the ocean. 

“My mom has been the same way.” 

“Why’d it take us so long then?”

“I was the coward who ran away and you were the coward who wouldn’t follow me.” 

“Oh, jee, thanks.” 

You didn’t say anything else, but neither did he. And it was okay. You could just sit there with one of his arms around you and just...be. 

And you had nothing to prove with him. You didn’t have to be anyone else but yourself. That was all you needed. 

[jjkpls]

Mean Yoongi 2 (m)

> genre : smut, light angst, fluff

> pairing : min yoongi x reader (f)

> words : 5.4k

> warnings : explicit sexual content, strong language

> For once, Min Yoongi is not that mean and tries to help you feel better after an umpteenth date fail. (sex in the genius lab basically)

> A/N : Feel free to listen to the inspiration for this :D I hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts ❤

> previous

< next

“You're here?” Yoongi is standing up from his chair, face scrunched up in a scowl as he glares down at me.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to answer to that.

It's been more than an hour since I've knocked on the door of his studio, entered and installed myself on the sofa, right behind him.

I was not sneaky about it too. He looked at me. He did. When I opened the door, we've glanced at each other. I mouthed something about wanting to hang out since he could probably not hear me with the earphones set on his head. Completely expressionless, he turned around in his chair and proceeded on working again, typing and clicking away on his computers, not minding me anymore.

I'm not sure what it meant. But it's not like I really cared at that point since I wasn't planning on leaving his studio and meeting stupid Taehyung and have a fucking painful time with this idiot.

So I've just remained there, keeping myself occupied on my phone. Eventually, he would finish what he's been doing and pay attention to me -at least, turn around and sneer my way or something. Maybe he wouldn't have been able to handle my presence, too obnoxious somewhere behind his back, and quit working to throw me out. I mean, anything.

But he did not. For more than an hour. And if the hardly raised dark eyebrows of his are anything to go by, he's completely forgotten that I was there.

“Uhm... but you've seen me?” I mumble, confused and slightly embarrassed.

“Why are you not with Taehyung?” I frown, diverting my attention back to the screen of my phone. There's still a little Chimmy asking if I want to “try again!” this level. I hear Yoongi sigh, gravely. He lets himself fall back in his chair, this time facing my lain form on the couch. One of his hand messes with his bleached-white hair. When it falls back down on his lap, he sighs again, asking the same question again this time pressing me with the stressed syllables of my name he's added.

I wonder how upset I must look for him to show so much patience. We haven't talked in quite a few weeks, mostly because of my schedule being suddenly overbooked by a sudden shit load of work being dropped in the office I work at. But from what I remember, he wouldn't have made the effort to ask twice the same question before.

“He's going to annoy me...” I peek at him from the corner of my eyes. He's leaned on his right side, the tip of his fingers pressing against his worn-out eyes. When he's done and the silence of the studio is striking him, he opens them up and stares back, in expective. “It's dumb...” Straightening up, he leans back, elbows setting on the armrests, fingers intertwining on his stomach. His piercing gaze is not leaving me longer than it takes for him to blink and I know I own his whole attention.

I feel kind of silly now. Taehyung would be a pain but Yoongi surely won't be much better. The plan was just to hang out with him, or next to him at least, not to actually have him show interest and concern for my life. Never failing to disappoint.

Laboriously, I get up, getting in the best disposition to tell my little lame tale about the whole Tinder debacle. I tell him, trying to avoid digressing on meaningless details that could earn me time, about this guy I've met. About how he came off weird by sending me a dick pic the day following our very first text exchange but how I gave him a pass for his “momentary lapse of judgement”. There're not many movements on Yoongi's part. His face has never been an opened book but I would expect him to show some reactions. Since he doesn't, I suppose he doesn't think it's that much of a big deal so I keep going, summarizing briefly the beginning of our first (and last) date and more precisely, I tell him about how he didn't look at all like his cousin's pictures he had used on his profile. I can feel fire burning my cheeks both from anger and embarrassment, as I start, mindlessly, counting on my fingers the other lies and other uncharming quirks of this guy as I name them out loud.

I've lost myself in a passionate tornado of complaints, now lashing on how greasy his hands were (and not from being sweaty, actually greasy with a something that I could not pinpoint but definitely fucking gross) when Yoongi starts mumbling something. I shut my mouth right up, all ears for the first comment he's about to give me.

“Okay. Why are you here? Isn't it Taehyung's job to list-”

“Min Yoongi.” I don't mean to but I whine. Because all the pent up frustration from this terrible day has been awoken by my telling and I don't feel like dealing with Mean Yoongi right now. He looks at me, eyes dark but oddly soft. I note how the light blond hair makes wonder for his naturally sharp glare. Smacking his lips, sighing again, Yoongi tilts his head to the side. “Actually, Tae told me not to go meet him because of the whole dick pic thingy but I didn't listen. We fought a bit about that. Now he's going to be oh-so-happy to have this whole shit to rub in my face,” Taking a stupid voice and twisting my face in an even stupider expression, I mimic, “'I told you so, dumbass! You should listen to-'”

“Tae's your friend. He's not gonna be happy that you had a miserable date.” It's my turn to sigh. Deep and hard, for it to resonates in the whole studio and Yoongi to hear it well. He is so disagreeable. He doesn't know anything about the proper friend etiquette. Yet he's right. And he's talking with me instead of throwing me out, and cursing at me for making him waste his time which I am sure, he strongly feels the need to.

“It's not the first time, right?”

“What is?”

“Tinder fail.”

“Oh.”

No, it's not. I've decided to stop counting when I realized that I was about to miss fingers to tally them on.

I can’t say that I’m starting to lose hope in my dating abilities because I’ve never really thought I was made for it. Which might be the reason why it all went down to shit. That’s what my mom would say. If I start with that attitude I shouldn’t feel struck by the result. In the end, there’s one common factor to all these equations.

That being said, why would falsely cute catfishes be so good at texting, I don’t get it? I meet them and they fucking suck balls, but at some point, they were nice and charming and normal. Well, most of them anyway if we put aside the one from today. Yes, it was in this very case a lapse of judgement on my part but the dick pic, not that I condone it or even liked it, intrigued me. It was a good one. Not his -also his cousin’s from my understanding, don’t ask me how he got that. But a nicely shot one, by clearly a professional, and I thought vaguely that maybe a guy that knew what he wanted, was so confident in his own attributes, might be a good option for my slow prude ass.

A mistake.

“Why are you so desperate to date?” Yoongi’s nose bridge scrunches up so tight, the round tip of his nose seems to try to meet the low frown of his dark eyebrows. I almost wish out loud for his stupid face to stay stuck in that position. He wouldn’t be any less irritating but at least, slightly cuter. And he hates cute.

“Desperate? I- Yoongi, do you know for how long I haven’t dated? I’m human, I get lonely!” I can’t help my voice to raise a few octaves. If I hold in more of my frustration, I’m sure I’ll end up doing something terrible and impossible to undo like crying, for example. “Don’t you?”

He shrugs. His expression has softened back into his regular blank one as he just contemplates in front of him. Not really me, not really the small coffee table or the carpet. I’m about to pry a word from him when his phone starts vibrating furiously on his desk. Turning hardly enough to check from over his shoulder, he looks then presses the screen turning it back to black.

Maybe I should leave now. I’m more upset than I thought myself to be. Which is so stupid. I couldn’t care less about that Bamboum guy or whatever his real name was. I still feel pretty stupid except more stupid than pretty and kind of helpless. Taehyung was going to be annoying as fuck if I had chosen to go seek him, but it was a mistake to even think Yoongi would, in any way, make me feel better. I should have clung to someone else like Jungkook or something.  “How’s your ass?” I can’t even attempt to hide the startle his low voice, erupting after such a long painfully silent moment, provokes me along with the mention of the incident. Because it has to be what he is referring to.

Yoongi, still sitting in his chair, knees spread wide like he is trying to prove he owns the whole place as if I don’t already know from the multiple apparitions of his stage name all over the walls and shelves, ponders me, awaiting patiently for an answer. He has the faint shadow of a growing smirk painting his pink lips. He looks at me like he knows he’ll get an answer. He’s decided he’ll have one.  Squeezing my fists tight to try and conceal the tension in my voice, I start, “Why are you mentioning this now?”

“I haven’t seen you since. Just inquiring.”

His voice is strained by a faint amusement. It’s lighthearted, I’m pretty sure. I, therefore, decide to just ignore it. Because what the hell does he want me to say anyway? That it felt alright on the way home but the sting was almost unbearable when I woke the next day and that I couldn’t even spend a minute without being reminded of his ministrations for the following three days as any movement, any brush of material against my skin, awoke the burn.

Yeah, sure.

Yoongi chuckles. He sees me looking down at my hands, turning mortified and embarrassed, and he decides it’s enough teasing. He grabs his phone, checking the time quickly.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, we ate at a restaurant.” I grumble, eyes still not raised enough to have to acknowledge his upsetting face.

“You ate with the guy? What's wrong with you?”

And here I realize why, maybe, I'm blessed by his usual lack of responses. Maybe I should try and actually cry in front of the guy, I know him to have something of a soft heart hidden somewhere. The one that winks when he expects it the less, when he lets his guard down. I could try and trigger it. Maybe he'll be less of an ass then.

“I'm not- what was I supposed to do? I'm not a bitch.”

“It's not about you being a bitch, it's about raising your standards a bit, damn...”

“D'you remember me explaining you, like 5 seconds ago, why I didn't want to see Tae right now?” He's rendered speechless. I don't know if it's from my doing or his own but he just stays there, exchanging a knowing look with me. I think he's giving in. He realizes that maybe he's being too much of an ass for what I can take.

Yoongi then swirls around on his chair. I start gathering my few belongings, assuming I'm being dismissed since he's starting to type away on his computer again but he startles me when he grabs the little stool, hidden under his desk, to drag it on the floor and set it next to his own chair. His other arm reaches out to unplug his headphones, while he throws out in the air, “Wanna listen what I've been working on?”

I gasp aloud, voice squealing a bit, as my heart is seized by a shock wave of excitement. YES, I DO. Anything else, any concern or growing grudges just annihilate all together when I jump on the little stool, unable to contain my grin and watching with wide eager eyes the screen displaying a music editing software I’ve seen him used multiple time before.

His lips are stretched by a tiny smile when he clicks a few times until the first notes drop. While I’m appreciating, mouth agape, all attention on the sample, Min Yoongi lays back in his chair, the back of his head leaning impossibly far to stare at the ceiling, his long milky neck exposed. It lasts about 30 seconds but those are the wildest seconds I’ve ever experienced. The sample is a bop. It’s that mix between heavy languish bass and a light melody alike an oriental traditional instrument, added to intricacies faint, subtle that my ignorant and so impressionable dumb brain can’t but feel without really deciphering. It’s different from what the band makes. More mature and hefty in a way. Something Agust D would manage well but then again, it has a delicacy to it that doesn’t really fit to his dark, raw character.

And here again I’m astonished by the extent of his talent as an artist, being able to surprise and reinvent himself while still producing something -and I know it’s just a snippet of a song that is far from actually existing yet but damn it is- that phenomenal. 30 seconds is very short of a time to convince someone your song will be a hit. But it’s enough there to fucking blow me away. I’d ask him to save this on an hour loop for me to take home if only he were not looking at me with this expression.

That’s so Yoongi. His mouth shut won’t say a thing but his eyes are very talkative except I’m missing a lot of words. He’s put his hat on, swiping his hair backwards, exposing his dark set of straight eyebrows so that his eyes are back to being sharp and dark, soft in the fineness of their upper line’s course but raw and assertive in expression.

“Yoongi, it’s-“ There’s a sudden drilling sound cutting me off and making me jump on my stool. It’s his phone again. Sliding on his chair to get closer, he reaches over me to check it quickly and shut it off under my curious eyes. When he leans back, leaving a breeze of a too common yet nice male cologne on his path, his attention doesn’t waver from my face as if trying to make it out into something or figure something out of it.

“You were saying?” He mutters, his knee lightly bumping into my thigh. What was I saying? Is it happening again? Is his studio cursed or something? Maybe for someone who wouldn’t know him he’d look cold, almost mean from how uninterested his facial expression is looking. But to me, who’s had my fair share of Yoongi's not-so-wide spectrum of different attitudes, he’s being exceptionally present.

The way his whole attention is silently driven to me, how he actually asks me to speak, and the proximity -my legs pulled tight together so they don’t dare brush against his, squaring them- he doesn’t hint to wanting to pull away from.  It feels nice but awfully intimidating. I could spend a whole afternoon annoying the crap out of him, stuck to his backside like a piece of gum to a shoe, if he barely acknowledges me enough to make me feel like we're still making progress in this friendship, we’re getting somewhere. But this I'm not used to, and it feels like it's too much.

“I- I think it's incredible...” His fingers reach behind his head, scratching the hair there, while a locked-lips smile draws itself on his face.

“There's a lot of things left to do. It won't do like that...” He's the genius artist and producer. And I don't know shit about music. So no matter how bad I want to express my adoration for this sample, how bad I want him to not change anything except if it's to add his low, charismatic voice, I decide not to get into it. I've observed him from beginning to almost end of making and editing a piece, a few times, and it's not the first time a very early version seems like the one to me. He wouldn't really listen, though. And that's probably the main reason for him being such a good artist. He's confident, resolute, and incredibly talented.

“Are you still feeling lonely?” I feel better. Him sharing something as meaningful as his music with me sure cured my mood immensely. That being said, the feeling of unsatisfaction and the creeping hopelessness in regards to the future of my dating life, are just hovering in the back of my head, shadowing like a pre-thunder cloud.

It seems like I caught his bad habit of expressing only crumbles of the full extent of my thoughts and emotions. I shrug. Nod, fidget a bit. “What does that mean? What do you need?” The tip of his forefinger is teasing the pink of his bottom lip, smoothing the skin out, while he just ponders me and probably his own questions.

Blushing furiously, I'm quick to stutter, “I don't need anything...” Because I think I know what he's implying. There was no warning but I think I recognize the switch, subtle and so sudden, just like last time. The difference here is that, instead of having me on all fours, unable to see his ominous expression, he is facing me full-on with his demand and his intonation, lower, lazier, more languorous, he's perspiring this odd feeling coming straight from the curious place his mind has taken him. And once again, he's taking me there and while it's tempting, it's also terrifying. Maybe too scary for me to indulge in.

“You don't?” Yoongi's eyebrows raise high. He pouts, tilting his head to the side, eyes diverting away breaking all of the heavy tension streaming between us, “Alright...” And as soon as his burning gaze leaves me, the cold hits me like a harsh winter breeze.

“Actually I do! Sorry, I do.”

There’s a silent agreement passing between us. I’m not sure if it’s him being so loud and opinionated about what he wants that make it so I understand him, as opposed as us just getting each other now, but it feels so pleasing.

Yoongi raises from his chair, sharp eyes glowing like a wolf's gaze in a kid's nightmare. He’s so scary in a way. He’s like the terrifying werewolf with no hidden agenda, bloody quest exposed right in the open, except I want to fall right in between his pointy canines.

Yoongi throws a quick glance to the closed door of his studio before his incisive eyes find me again. He looks so intimidating from up there, I want to ask him to at least take his stupid hat off.

When he grabs my chin in between his fingers, I’m sweating bullets, heart losing it in a feast of tachycardia, wondering how the big wolf is going to eat me up, and why the hell did I think for a second it was a good idea. Yoongi simply kisses me. Simply being the keyword. Softly, he presses his lips against mine, adding enough pressure to turn the butterfly switch on but nothing more just yet.

Parting away to look for something in my eyes, I catch a glimpse of his pink tongue swiping over his lips before they stretch into a pretty smile. Is that what Yoongi needs to smile? Intimacy?

But then he’s grabbing me by the hand, lifting me to my feet, meeting my mouth again more roughly, more insistent, dragging tiny whines from deep within, carving his fingerprints in the flesh of my waist. I’m impossibly close to him, feeling the hard edges of his belt digging into my stomach, and I’m turned a little crazy.

I’m flushed to the tip of my hair. Wavering eyes watery, hardly making out my surroundings. My head is spinning. Maybe I’m too sensitive for this shit. It’s been some time since the last time I’ve been any close to intimate with someone, nevertheless, I’m pretty certain it has more to do with him than with the period of my inactivity. I don’t think anyone has ever made kissing so breathtaking. Those nice but rather plain and awkward kisses from before are put to shame. And who would have thought Mean Yoongi would be the one to do so?

“Is this what you need?” It’s like there’s only greed and eagerness filling me up now. I nod furiously while he cackles and I’d be annoyed if it were not for his cold hands still holding my waist. He leans in, nibbles gently on my bottom lip, “More?”

“Yes please.” He chuckles against my face and gives in to me. It's strange how different yet recognizable he feels. His body, as he crashes me against it by his grip on my ass, feels sturdy, still like a statue. It's so Yoongi. As opposed to his mouth, scorching, wet and sultry.

Where does it even come from? Was he always this way? I know, well know, that Yoongi is made of thousands of layers. More or less hidden, more or less guarded. Yet, I had no idea that he had one like this one. The way his hands knead my ass, my sides, my thighs, the way his mouth cherish mine with so much confidence and natural -when did that antisocial hermit learn to melt with someone else like so? It's like he's taken me in a hazy half-conscious-slumber, I end up waking up from once I'm straddling his lap, on the sofa.

Yoongi looks into my eyes, his even more squinted than usual. “Is this okay?” His fingers, now torrid, are teasing the hem of my shirt, not yet daring wandering under the tissue.

“Yes, touch me.” Something in his eyes clicks. I'm sure he's about to comment on my almost order but for some reasons, probably the same for my dripping panties, decides to ignore it.

It feels so strange. I was there for the whole thing, my sticky panties and flushed skin witnesses of it, yet it feels so sudden when I'm lain there, my tee thrown away, and his hands undoing my pants. It's the cold from the leather couch, shocking my naked back, the view of the ceiling I've never thought about ackowledging, I almost feel like it's too much, too weird and it shouldn't be happening. Because who is Yoongi, who am I, what are we -even though I like to slip and impose my existence into his life, and I'm sure he doesn't mind as he is one to express himself pretty well. If there is one thing that I can admire about his rudeness, it's that it doesn't come from a bad place. It comes from one of love and respect and consideration for his own person, and that's respectable. Therefore I know he would have worded it out if he really wanted me out of his way, strictly in Taehyung's hair and not bleeding on him. I guess we're friends. Sort of. Not the most intimate of friends but close enough to count on each other -if plants need watering. That's pretty big. Isn't it pretty big? Namjoon said so anyway, but it might just be because he is peculiarly serious about his own green friends.

So, as our friendship is just blooming I'd say, it still holds a dear place in my heart and I'm confused as to this whole thing being a good idea or not. Just lying there, in the cold, it feels horrible.

But then he's purring. His eyes are grazing my body, blessing every single inch of it with his attention, pink tongue poking at the side of his half-opened mouth, and he's purring. It's that other very Yoongi thing: a mix between a hum and a moan, coming right through his pretty crimson lips like a big cat's purr. He does it all the time, unconscious of it, and hearing it warms my heart with a blanket of reassurance. I could not say if it's the familiarity or his heated gaze, either way, I know I want it. The consequences will have to be dealt with later on.

(“Beautiful.” It's so quiet. Not meant for me to hear but I can make it out from the way his lips wrap around the word.)

Yoongi is not a douche. A little bit, but certainly far from enough to break my heart. Why do I even bother worrying?

I jump off of the couch, my hands joining his on my jeans to get me ridden off the now offensive clothing quicker. He feels the switch. His eyes bore into mine with a glint, eyebrows slightly raised and a smirk showing off his cute turtle teeth. Jumping back on his lap, I kiss his mouth, wanting to catch his pretty smile.

How lucky I am. How wonderful it feels to have this man dive his whole precious attention on me.

“I really want you, Yoongi.” I say because he needs to know, especially when he's lowering his head slightly to avoid meeting my intense eyes directly. I'm sure if Yoongi was one to blush, his soft cheeks would be covered in crimson. He can't handle the compliment, I can tell. Maybe I should make fun of him but I don't want to when I look down at his beautiful hands, white as snow, streaked with large veins, looking so nice on me. Therefore, I don't say anything and he deems it's time to start again.

His thumb falls over my panties, pressing nicely right on my buddle of nerve. I exhale, loudly, as he circles over it. My hands titillate at the hem of his black tee, hoping he'll hint at taking it off. Of course, he doesn't, even makes me forget about it by slipping his whole hand in my panties, his mouth eagerly attaching back to my gaping lips. It feels delectable, my clit sitting perfectly in the pit of his warm palm while his fingers dip in between my wet folds, teasing my entry. And when he finally indulges in it, my craving hole sucks his bony fingers in. I gasp messing up my breathing, he smiles in the kiss, already adding a second finger. It's a tight fit. His fingers are not that large, quite long and angular, but it's been some time and I can't help my walls from clamping around him each time the thought of Min Yoongi having his fingers buried deep in my cunt floats in my messy consciousness.

“Yoongi, I really want you.”

“I know.” He mumbles, lips pressed against the corner of my mouth. He doesn't understand though.

I'm humping on his lap now, helping his fingers fucking me by riding them but the slow, lazy course along my neck hint at something I don't want. He wants to take his time. I'm not up for it though. Taking off his hat without thinking it over, my hands reach to smooth his bleached hair down. He's watching me with big curious eyes while I arrange them on his forehead. Yoongi looks soft again. His white gold locks are falling low under his eyebrows. Hard to be intimidated by this look, so I demand, “I mean now, please.”

Yoongi slips his hand out of my panties -my mouth falls into a pout on reflex, thinking he's going to be mean again-, and grabs his belt to tear it open. Holding me by his free arm wrapped around my back, he raises up enough to free himself from his jeans. I land back, flushed as ever, my heart burning in my chest from how hard and fast it beats. His cock, snow white except for the tip, flushed and shiny with precum, appears to me. The way his hand slides along it, firm and harsh, hints at how hard he is. It feels indecent, this moment, him stroking himself so close to me, a hand on my hip, his eyes deep in mines. “Do you have a condom?” I stutter.

He reaches for the little drawer of the coffee table, catching one and proceeding to put him on. Why would he have condoms in his studio? In the coffee table?

“Aren't you glad I do?” Yoongi asks, a smug smirk painting his face. His pointer slips under the crotch of my panties, dragging to the side to uncover my sex. He gives me a soft kiss. “Sure?”

I have to literally violent myself into not rolling my eyes to the back of my head. I do a bad job apparently, as he groans something I'm pretty sure to be a cuss, lifting me up to have me sink down on him in one go.

I'm glad to see he's as affected as me. He's pressing his lips compressed together, frowned eyebrows peeking out through his fringe. And I wonder what words, maybe insanities, he'd be saying if he wasn't trying so hard to conceal any sound from leaving his mouth. It takes me what feels like an eternity before I feel safe enough to start moving, sliding slowly up and down his shaft. From the way his grip on my hips had getting mordacious, he was not ready to have me slide on him which I kind of love to think about. I'm quite impatient, greedy on the edges. But the stimulation is vivid. Overwhelming. He's not only buried deep in my cunt, but he's also clouding my mind, making my brain lag, burning my heart in a bitter-sweet fire at each wet kisses to my face, each purr in my ear.

“Come on...” He groans, one of his hand befalling hard on my ass cheek. “Fuck me-”

“Yoongi-” I ride him harder, meeting his thrusts, helping him graze that triggering spot, blending my moans with his. He tries to stay quiet, I can tell, but fails miserably. His face is hidden in my hair, his mouth attached to my ear, I can hear the full extent of the erratic breathing and his groans and his purrs. Fisting his sweat-soaked tee, I whine shamelessly, “I'm almost-”

“Come- come for me.” My fingers hardly touch my clit before I'm exploding around him. He lashes our mouths, catching my cry and swallowing it in, before he growls from the back of his throat, teeth accidentally biting hard on my lip. “Shit.”

It takes a little while for us to come down from the high. I can't help but keep languishingly riding, caressing the back of his hair and placing thankful kisses on his cheeks and jaw. His rough hands smooth my skin out, from my shoulders to my thighs, he's so gentle, refusing to slip out of my warmth and my cheeks flush from the thought alone.

“You're not gonna say thanks?”

“Min Yoongi!”

“You look way less miserable than you did earlier.” He comments, observing me slipping my tee back on, crimson abused lips stretching on his turtle grin. “Should say thanks.”

“You sleeping here?” Sleeping here? I can't even imagine the discussion over logistics. Sleeping in his studio? In his bed? On the living room couch? What about the fucking morning? I furiously shake my head no. “Hm. Text me when you get home.” He says as he or another one of the 6 other young men living in the dorm says each time I leave this place relatively late in the evening.

So it should be it. I don't know if I'm disappointed or not. I am waiting for something else, yet without really knowing what I have to admit. As I open the door to leave, waving my hand awkwardly his way, he grabs it, brings me to him to place a sweet peck on my mouth. “Text me.” I wish he'd say more but that's Mean Yoongi. It’s fine because this time I’m sure he means more.