#and it looks like it would take 7 hours to don

[sesamenom]

Maglor with that silly overly ornamented videogame armor (Curufin made it as a gag gift)

#silm #silmarillion #maglor #i was looking at some of my armor designs (namely glorfindels gold stuff and feanors tree design & plumes) #and wondering if it looked to complex for battle #and then i remembered video game armor designs where the pauldrons are practically a helmet #and it looks like it would take 7 hours to don #after designing this the verdict is: #hard to draw (perspective)(not fun) #hard to color (many small shapes)(not fun) #confusing to keep track of (too many pieces)(not fun) #doesnt make sense (somehow both clunky and pointy)(not fun) #looks cool (fun) #so while it was fun to play around with i am definitely never doing this again lol

[gyuswhore]

Fifteen to Forever

"I can’t not be happy when I know I have you."

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Fifteen was the age you had met Choi Seungcheol at a school hockey game. Forever was the age you would find yourself spending with him.

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI), growing up, tears (a lot), distance, this is so emotional you will be in your feels, kissing, p in v sex (unprotected), clit stimulation, handjobs, happy endings bc we love them, i think that's it

WORD COUNT: 6k

masterlist

[AN]: thank you so much @ressonancee for birthing the idea of hockey player cheol in the first place, reading over some of the bits and helping me w some of the plot!!! ty for letting me ramble in your dms lol. hockeyplayer!cheol WILL reappear in other fics bc I'm obsessed with the idea, for now, I hope you enjoy this angsty fluffy creation <33

It wasn’t until the last echo of the slammed car door had faded that you realized, yes, mom, I do actually want you to go in with me. 

But alas, as the last tresses of exhaust from her car fade into nothingness, you accept that you’d have to do this alone. Gripping the straps of your brand new backpack helps you ground yourself as the increasingly erratic breathing takes over you. It sinks in now that you’re alone. 

There’s a honk, and you realize you’re still frozen in the drop-off zone, the mom in the Subaru not appreciating the 7 AM delay to drop off her own high schooler. You wonder if her kid would let her drop them off inside. 

Scurrying into the entrance of the open gates, you find the courtyard full. Huddles of teens laughing and yelling despite the early morning hour, not a spare square foot on the grass. You try to find someone who looks like an adult but fail, hoping you’ll be luckier once you’re inside the building. 

You do find yourself lucky as you find a line of teachers at the entrance, ready to greet the new batch of freshmen on their first day of high school. There are a few other kids who look as tense as you, but you feel better with the way the administrator pats your shoulder as she hands you your schedule, assigning you to a lanky sophomore to show you around the building that’d become your second home for the next four years. 

Jeonghan tells you his name as he leads you into your homeroom, where you deposit your bag before going back out. He’s peculiar, you decide. He tells you to never walk without looking at the floor on Monday mornings to save your shoes from the occasional start-of-the-week breakfast hurl. He tells you in the cafeteria that the lasagna was horrible, but not the sloppy joes; the sloppy joes were good. He tells you in the gym that the coach would let you off if you rubbed a little eyeliner under your eyes, “he’s an empath.” 

By the time he’s listing off clubs and teams, you feel a little less nervous, pushing you back into your fuller homeroom with a sign-up sheet and a goodbye. You don’t get to say thank you. 

Kwon Soonyoung slips into the empty seat next to you, introducing himself a little louder than you’d anticipated, but you suppose you needed the enthusiasm. He innocently slips you his home number and hopes out loud that you’d be the best of friends. 

You get in the car that afternoon, responding with a wider-than-expected smile at your mother inquiring about your day. 

“It was great! I think I’ll like it here.”

You found it strange that the rink was so packed for a high school hockey game, but that was before you saw the ten-foot banner and face paint. Soonyoung sits on your right as Jiwoo places herself on your left, both donned in blue and yellow, sandwiching your uncoordinated outfit. For whatever reason, you’d thought movies exaggerated the hype around high school sports, yet the support for the boys entering the rink roars into your ears to prove you wrong. 

They win, and with the way the rest of the team pats him on the back after sending in the last puck, you assume it’s all thanks to the boy with the Choi on the back of his jersey. 

He removes his helmet, hair flopping into his eyes as you realize you know him. He was always in the cafeteria with Jeonghan, the boy who gave you a tour on your first day, along with many other boys from his year. It was hard not to notice them with the ruckus they were always causing, yet you found them easy to drown out with the rest of the noise. 

“What’s his first name? The guy with the 08 on his back?” you ask Soonyoung. 

“Oh, that’s Seungcheol. Dude’s a fucking progidy or something.”

“Prodigy,” Jiwoo corrects. 

“Yeah, that. Jihoon said the only reason they got to finals last year was ‘cause of this guy.” 

You watch as he drinks from his bottle from the benches, smiling at his coach and teammates as they debriefed. At least you were guessing that was happening; the only thing you were thinking about was how you could hear his laugh from where you sat. And how it was making you smile, too. 

You stare at your worn shoes that glow in multicolors as the beats in the gym warp and stagger through the speaker. You’re on your third punch, finding yourself awkward without something to occupy at least one hand. 

You had danced a little with Jiwoo, watched with bright eyes as Soonyoung dance off-ed yet another senior to his victory, giggled as you let another freshman, Jun, take Jiwoo away for the next dance. You now lace the edges of the party, taking a breather as you down the remnants of your punch, already trailing the memorized path to the snack table. Maybe you’ll try some of the lemonade this time. 

There’s already somebody occupying the lemonade cooler when you get there, back to you as you patiently wait for him to finish up. He moves away, leaning against the table. He takes a sip from his cup, and you move forward to fill your own. 

It’s Seungcheol. You recall his name as you recognize his face. He somehow looks as haphazard as you last saw him from yesterday’s hockey game. 

If he had come in with a tie, it’s long gone as he has his collar popped and shirt unbuttoned the first few steps. It doesn’t end there as you note the hair that dresses his eyes, soaked in what you cannot imagine is water with the way you saw someone with a similar build typhoon across the floor with nearly as much vigor as Soonyoung has had tonight. 

He’s downing the cup in haste, and you take a sip of the slightly tart drink as you debate if you should say something. 

“You did really well yesterday. Congrats,” you decide to say. 

He emerges from his cup to acknowledge you sipping on your own lemonade, “Oh, thanks. Were you there?” 

“Oh, yeah, I was. First hockey game, went with my friends,” you let out a little chuckle, not understanding why you suddenly felt so awkward. 

“Cool,” he answers plainly, mouth glistening and posture stagnant. “You’re friends with Soonyoung, right? Seen him hang around Jihoon a lot.”

“Yeah, he’s — he’s friends with everybody,” you laugh a little, and you hear him laugh with you. 

“How do you handle him? He’s giving a run for everybody’s money out there,” he gestures to the dance floor with a smile. 

“He mellows out after a while; he’s just excited,” you say, understanding his bewilderment.

“How’re you finding high school so far?” he asks when he runs out of things to say, yet forgets that he can easily excuse himself. But he doesn’t.

“Pretty alright. I’m having fun so far.” You don’t need to ask him the same, knowing well that the sophomore was having the time of his life.

“Good to hear, hope it stays that way for you.”

It’s another painful five seconds before you see Jiwoo waving at you from afar, pointing at something Soonyoung is doing. 

“Uh, I’ll see you around, my friend’s waving me over–”

“Oh, sure, uh, I’ll see you around.”

You give him one more tight-lipped smile as you wave from waist length before retreating. 

“Wait!” 

You turn around at his voice. 

“I never got your name.”

Seungcheol took you on your first not-date in the spring.

Not-date because neither of you had labeled it as such, but you were pushed to reconsider when both Jiwoo and Soonyoung insisted.

He had brought his car that you slipped into after school to drive to the movies, where he bought you popcorn and paid for both of your tickets. He held your hand as you walked out of the theatre, wide-eyed and all smiles as you discussed the film you had just sat through for two hours. 

His palm fit in yours like it belonged there, and maybe it was your fifteen-year-old brain talking. Still, you never expected to be this comfortable with him — especially after the possible insinuation your friends had instilled. 

He drove you home that night as you searched for a million excuses to stay a little longer in his car as he parked in front of your door. But alas, you open the car door at the end of the night and are surprised to find him doing the same as he walks around to where you get out. 

“I had a lot of fun today,” you say in your rehearsed line.

“Me too,” he smiles. “The weather’s getting nicer, we should see the cherry blossoms next weekend. If you wanted to. We can take the car again.” 

He didn’t kiss you, at least not on the lips as he hugged you at your front door and pressed his lips to your cheek. 

You were quick to squeak out your goodbyes after that happened, slamming your door shut as you vaguely heard him drive off. 

With a hand to your racing heart, you count to ten. Perhaps you’d reconsider that not-date after all. Besides, you had cherry blossoms to look forward to. 

Choi Seungcheol kissed you, really kissed you, when he brought the team to the cup they missed out on last year, throwing himself at you as soon as you appeared before him. He was sweaty, half-dressed in his gear with his skates still on as he embraced you tighter than anyone ever had before. 

He put his lips on yours the second he saw your face as you pulled away, unable to help himself despite the groans and retches of his teammates, despite the fact that an entire bleacher’s worth of people saw you both. 

Not that either of you cared; you were just happy he didn’t have his mouth guard on (and that he kissed you before you couldn’t help it yourself).

It was in your junior year and Seungcheol’s senior year that you began to hear the absurdities about the strength of your relationship, that you wouldn’t make it, that high school sweethearts never do. 

With shaking hands, you grip your boyfriend’s arm as he has a conflicted look in his eye. 

“No,” you say. You wonder where all of this strength was coming from when you all wanted was to cry. “You’re gonna go. You will go. I won’t let you throw all of this away because of something that’s never gonna waver.” 

He’s silent as he refuses to meet your gaze. The voices were getting to him, his older college friends laughing when he suggested that his relationship would last both college and the distance it would bring. He realizes he’s not so sure anymore. 

He sits cross-legged in front of you on your bedroom floor, mentally prepared to walk out for the last time. 

“You’re supposed to be happiest about this; I don’t understand why you insist I leave. And so far away?” he looks slightly bewildered. 

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t. This isn’t about me, Cheol, it’s about everything you’ve worked for all these years—”

“Us, what about us? I’ve worked on us, too.”

“Why have you gone years without listening to a word what other people say to only listening to them now?”

“Was it just me, then? Because it feels like I’m the only one worried about our future together—”

“Choi Seungcheol, stop right there.” Your voice is brittle, and you don’t know how long you can keep the tears at bay. 

“I…I don’t know what to think,” his shoulders slump even lower. 

His hockey scholarship would take him so, so far away. He thought you were strong enough for this, but with every anecdote, every comment, every dejected “have it your way” to his resilience, he wonders if the both of you would be forced to fight a losing battle if he left. 

There were sports universities here at home, but there was no you with his scholarship. 

“I’ll tell you what to think. Will you listen to me?” 

Slowly, but surely, he nods. 

“You can get the scholarship you’ve always wanted, and we can stay as we are, although a little farther away.”

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

“I believe in us. And if you don’t right now, I’m ready to believe for the both of us. We’ll get through this.” 

In the end, Seungcheol believed you over everything the world told him, praying he wouldn’t let you or himself down as he laid with you on the last night he’d call his bedroom home. 

Graduation was a happy endeavor, momentarily forgetting what lay ahead as he enjoyed his last hours with all his friends in one place. The heavy feeling returned as the night progressed, agreeing to spend the night with him, tucked under his covers as you listened to his heartbeat. You wonder how long it will be until you're able to do this again. 

As you lay in his stripped bedroom, there’s little either of you say, an unspoken agreement to not sleep, not tonight. He has an early morning, but he doesn’t really seem to care as he continues to fiddle with your hair, kissing you at intervals like he's trying to bring back the feeling when it begins to fade. 

There’s little you can talk about when you’re trying to memorize each other’s scent. You remind yourself to give him your sweater when morning comes, already noting the hoodie you need to remember to pick up, the lone one he left you in his closet. 

But as the first rays of sun peeked through the blinds, sending stripes of sun into the bedroom, you tried not to feel the hard clench of your heart as the bare room came into sight. Despite the snoozing of alarms, the multiple knocks on his door, and the dawn of a new day, you let yourselves have an extra five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes. 

Just you and him before it would be you, and it would be him.

Seungcheol called you more than you called him. It was everywhere, even if it was just to say a quick “I love you” before a game, to hear your voice before he went to class, to listen to you complain about an assignment before he had to do his own. 

As resilient as you showed yourself to be, you’d be lying if you said there was a part of you that was afraid of how much faith Seunghceol held for the both of you, but at ease you were with the constant bugging he’d do and the bugging he seemed to appreciate back. 

By Christmastime, he’d texted you his itinerary for the holidays, explaining how he couldn’t spare a second to things like thinking. Most of his list involved spending all day rotting indoors with you. 

As much as Seungcheol had hoped you’d pick a college nearer to him, he was less scared when you finally announced your college decisions close to graduation. The past year had proved a lot, mostly that you both were stronger than the distance. Which is why he was the first to congratulate you when you got into the college of your choice, despite the fact that you’d be even farther away, leaving home in what felt like the opposite direction to him. 

You were scared too, mostly of how Seungcheol would react, but seeing the smile break out on his face when you told him gave you all the reassurance you needed. That summer brought you the best memories of your teenage years, with Seungcheol, preparing for you both to leave. Except this time, the air was less tense, fewer tears shed, fewer solemn goodbyes at airport gates, and less desperation in both of your hearts. A surety that you’d come back to each other. 

Seungcheol was offered a contract with his dream hockey team when you were on the cusp of your final year. He told you nearly two weeks after he received the first email, not believing it until he was pestered to do so by the representative. 

You cried on the phone that night, the ache in your chest unbelievably present as you wished you could hug him at that moment. He denied his own tears, but you knew his glassier-than-normal eyes weren’t just through the camera lens. You told him you were proud, you told him this was only the beginning, that you needed to sit in the bleachers with his jersey on for every game he’ll ever play, that he was about to have an entire career to be proud of soon. 

He let a couple tears slip. 

And when he showed up to your graduation, sitting next to your family, you gave him the biggest hug you could muster from your bones. That year may have been the last you’d have to endure apart, but it was somehow the hardest. 

It was in that moment, when you pulled away to look at his smiling face, that the years registered in your mind. 

You’re fifteen again, seeing Seungcheol for the first time, donning the features he hadn’t grown into yet, the features you hadn’t grown into yet. You have to tiptoe to meet his lips now, see a man where there was once a boy, the deep set of maturity behind his pretty eyes. 

When he drops the last of your boxes into his — your shared apartment, you’re brought to the stark realization that you're going to stay here.

It’s when you’re unpacking your toothbrush, placing it in the cup right next to his that you realize you could do whatever you wanted with each other without having to work around flight schedules. It’s when he’s hobbling around wooden planks and screws in the bedroom, putting together the brand new queen-sized bed to replace his too-small twin, that you realize that you weren’t here for the week, or for the month or for any set amount of time; you were here forever.

At least that’s what you hope as you watch him collapse the last of the cardboard boxes to recycle, shoving in the corner of the entryway, leaving that job for tomorrow. 

By the time you emerge in the living room after a shower, Seungcheol has already begun to unpack the delivery food on the coffee table. It’s an array of delicious smells, slightly soggy food, and mounds of styrofoam and plastic wrap; a feast for your tired, tired bodies. 

The dumplings are amazing, and the warm feeling in your chest expands as you realize you can now order them whenever you like. 

Seungcheol picks out the chopped chilies from his food, migrating them onto your own plate as he talks about his next practice session without interruption. 

A thought occurs to you in that moment as you watch him down his cola. “Hasn’t coach put you on a diet plan?” 

“Yeah,” he says normally. You merely stare at him, not understanding how any of this junk could be any good for his form, especially when you know he’s good about abstaining when it comes to training. 

He smiles at the questioning look on your face, setting down his utensils, “It’s our first meal, in our first home. I think we deserve to share this with each other.” 

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of this being your first meal, the first of many meals together in this home. Of all the meals you’ll share in every home after this, every day. 

And while Seungcheol finds himself sacrificing his diet to enjoy all of this greasy grub with you, you will also find yourself occasionally sharing his awfully bland chicken breasts and salads. All to share with each other. 

Walking into the bustling restaurant in your uncomfortable shoes and your arm around Seungcheol’s, you’re quick to find the group you’re looking for. 

The noise is a dead giveaway, and you quickly realize they haven’t changed. 

You hear Soonyoung before you see him, his distinct laugh echoing the loudest across the sea of mingling heads. A loud banner hangs at the end of the room with your high school grad year. 

You detach from Seungcheol as he finds his junior friends, and you find yours, taking both Soonyoung and Jiwoo into a bone-crushing hug. It’s been a while since you last saw them. The crowd of familiar faces greets you, making small talk with everyone as they introduce you to their partners and even their children. You’ve grown; all of you have. 

“Seungcheol’s here too. You guys were together in high school, right?” somebody asks you at some point during the night. “He graduated before us, though; wonder who he’s here with.” 

You don’t blame them for assuming, considering both of you have been in your own circles all night. That, added to the obvious assumptions of high school sweethearts, you only laugh a little as you reply with a wider-than-usual smile. 

“Oh, he’s here with me,” 

You go home with a permanent smile stuck to your face, talking more animatedly than usual in the car ride home. Seuncheol mirrors your smile as he listens. 

Your good mood prevails for the rest of the night, even as you slip under the covers, ready to end the night on a happier-than-usual note. Seungcheol is reading his book when you crawl under his arm, head on his chest, and your arm slung across his torso. You feel his lips on the top of your head, the faint sound of his book being placed on the bedside table.  

“What’s got you so smiley?” he asks with one of his own.

You shake your head as you reply, “Nothing. I’m just happy I saw Soonyoung and Jiwoo.”

“I’m glad you saw them too. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You hum in response, suddenly remembering a conversation you had. “You know, Jess asked me who you were there with.” 

“Figures,” he shrugs before laughing a little.“How much did she hesitate before asking you?” 

“Looked like she was holding it in for a little bit. Don’t blame her, though. She probably thought we ended it in epic teenage fashion.” 

He snorts at that, “Probably would’ve if you didn’t talk some sense into me.”

“Probably would’ve if you didn’t trust me like you did,” you crane your neck to look at him. 

“Glad I wasn’t that far gone,” he whispers, a faraway look in his eyes despite looking directly at you. “Haven’t doubted us ever since.”

There’s that warm feeling that spreads throughout your body, an overwhelming feeling of contentment coming over you. There was nothing, nothing, that could convince you to be anywhere else, especially anywhere that wasn’t in his arms. 

“Sometimes…well, a lot of the times, I think about us,” you start. “I thought us hitting six months was enough to tell me I’d be with you forever.” 

He smiles at the thought of high school you, starry-eyed, awkward little kids. He remembers the way you blushed when he kissed you for the first time in front of the whole school, the heat that had risen to his own face at the time. 

“And then we hit a year, and then two years,” you remember every surprise for every anniversary, from when you’d collect your allowance for weeks to get him something he’d like. 

“And then college happened. I tried being so positive, but I had never been more scared for us. I hope we never have to go through something that hard ever again.” You almost sound like a child not wanting to go to the doctor’s office, but with the way you feel yourself tighten your grip around him, you don’t think it’s any different. 

You can feel your eyes begin to well, and your voice begins to shake. It was nearly comical how quickly the smiles were turning into sentimental tears. 

Seungcheol places a kiss on your lips, and you know it was meant to be reassuring, but it only wrenches open the floodgates. The tears begin to make their way down your face, sniffles muffled as you go back to burying your face in his chest, his shirt soaking the wetness. You can feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs at your state. He’s also squeezing up your sides and placing kisses in any place he can reach. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you murmur into his shirt. 

“It’s okay. Today was very reflective,” he reassures, letting you stay hidden. 

“I just—” you sniff. “I just wanna stay happy like this all the time.” 

It’s only then that he guides your stained face away from his shirt to bring you to look at him, wiping the remnants of your tears as you try to keep the fresh ones at bay. “We’ll be happy, even when we’re sad. I can’t not be happy when I know I have you. I love you too much for that.”

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, arms around his neck as you pull yourself to him, chest to chest. You kiss him properly, pecking him a few times to have your fill. 

And then he’s pulling away, ever so slightly to bring a bare millimeter of gap between your lips. His hands burn where they rest, one on your waist, one on your thigh. He’s breathing hard. Both of you are. 

“I’m gonna say something so not fit for right now,” he breathes.

You can’t help but freeze in his hold as you register his words, hesitating before you ask. “What?”

“Marry me.” 

It comes out as the same whisper, directly into your lips as he utters the words. Like he was keeping a secret from the walls and the furniture, like they were only meant for you; because they were only meant for you. Your heart stops, and you vaguely wonder if you’re breathing at all. 

“I—” he takes a long, shaky breath from his nose. “I was supposed to do this a little differently, but…”

You watch him reach over into his bedside drawer, the one you never touch, and bring out the smallest velvet box. Opening it reveals the prettiest, most delicate diamond you’ve ever seen, the jewel glinting and sparkling even in the dim bedroom lights. 

That’s when you let out a tiny gasp, feeling the tears return, dripping down your face one after the other. “Choi Seuncheol, you bitch.”

You’re sobbing at this point, and it has him sitting up straighter, leaving the box to the side as he lurches for you when you pull away. 

“Wait, fuck, sorry, I thought,” he exhales in frustration, hands trying to pull yours away from your face as you cry into your hands. He sounds desperate. “I got carried away, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“No, it’s not that,” you finally manage through hiccups. 

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I’m just fucking emotional.” 

You hear him laugh again, no doubt out of pure relief, as he nearly doubles over at the situation. 

You’re a little calmer as you continue to sniffle, watching him with a half-disgruntled, half-amused expression, “Put it on, stupid, or do I need to cry again for you to do that.”

You don’t need to tell him twice as he slips the ring on your finger, the perfect fit, the perfect jewel, the perfect ring. 

Bringing him closer, you kiss him again, lips pressed hard on his as you try to communicate every last emotion into it. You’re out of words, and you hope he knows what you're feeling. You know he knows; he always knows. 

He’s reciprocating with the same vigor, arms coming up to wrap around you so tight it pushes you flush against his body. He nips at your lip, running his tongue over it for good measure before letting it enter your mouth. You let him take the lead, let him guide you through every motion, every step forward. 

You’re putty when he pulls off your clothes for you, feeling your heart scream in protest whenever he pulls away to get rid of the obstructions. Your emotions were in a delicate place, and you suddenly couldn’t handle not being able to feel him against you consistently. 

He does well to make it quick, moving back on top of you to occupy your mouth once more. He tries to migrate lower, latching onto your neck to continue his ministrations there, but you don’t let him as you pull his face back to yours again.

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth before latching onto his lips.

He lets out a low grunt, pulling away for breath as he whispers it back, “I love you more.”

If you won’t let his mouth move, you let his hands do whatever they wish, feeling them move lower against your sides to reach your hips. His thumbs draw circles on them as he slowly moves his hands to where you can feel the arousal grow. 

His fingers hit your bare heat as he plunges them into your folds, encasing your clit between his fingers. He drags them up slowly before moving back down, all the way to your now sopping hole to brush against the opening. 

You sigh against his lips as he pushes his finger in slowly, lips releasing yours as you throw your head back to feel his digit around your walls. He pushes a second one in without hesitation, and you know he’s just as desperate as you right now. 

He’s only two fingers deep, and yet you feel yourself beginning to come undone. He always knew what to do when he wanted to stretch you out faster, always knew what to do when he wanted to draw the pleasure out, keep you writhing for hours. 

Right now was different; it felt like he was holding himself back to the point where it was almost painful. If he wasn’t worried about the stretch, he would’ve buried himself inside you already, and yet, when he feels you clench undeniably hard around his fingers as you orgasm, he feels like he might’ve cum himself. 

His low moans echo off the walls with your louder, more desperate ones, riding out your high as you feel him bring his other hand up to rub your clit in fast circles, making the pleasure last. Coming down from your high, you feel him pause for a moment as he peppers kisses on your face, down your jaw and neck, finally coming to press his lips against yours. 

“You okay?” 

You nod in response, already grasping at his boxers to yank them down. Despite having just orgasmed, the satisfaction is yet to come, needing to feel him inside you before you combusted entirely. 

He helps as he discards himself of the final obstruction, letting you stroke his painfully hard member in your hands. The face he makes is heavenly as you watch him feel your hands wrapped around him. The impatience takes over as he finally removes your hands, instead pinning them beside your head as he guides himself to your entrance. 

Seungcheol goes back to planting himself onto you entirely, knowing exactly what you wanted from him, needing to feel him against you so flush and tight. He lets you wrap your hands around his neck as he finally begins to push himself into you, letting his tip graze the beginning of your entrance. 

He breathes into your neck in deep, deep exhales, trying so hard not to cum before he’s even entered you entirely. He takes his time pushing into you, focusing on your fingers as they play with his hair, your palms running down his shoulder blades in a pathway. He closes his eyes as he sheaths himself in you completely, continuing his steady breaths to not come undone before you. 

He begins to move when he feels like he’s gotten a hold of his bearings, feeling you hold onto him as he starts thrusting into your cunt. The sounds you make are bliss; the feeling of every inch of your skin on his is making him lose his already lost mind. 

Your arms drop when they can’t hold onto him any longer, your hands remaining on him regardless, in some way or the other. Seungcheol takes hold of your hand, emerging from the crook of your neck to bring it to his mouth. He kisses it, your palms, the back of your hand, your fingers, directly over the rock he slipped on you himself. 

The tenderness of his actions makes your brain rattle against your skull, the building feeling in your abdomen coming so close to collapsing into release. You find yourself pushing yourself up on your elbows, face finding the crook of his shoulder as you push yourself back into him when pulled back in the slightest. 

You’re so close now, so, so close. “Cheol,”

“I know, darling. Cum for me, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

You release to the sound of his voice, the words that tumble from his desperate mouth, the feeling of his own cum shooting inside your spent walls. He continues to thrust into you as you both let out the loudest moans of the night, letting yourself get wrapped up in the feeling of each other before you lose your peak. 

You register nothing as you feel him drop his weight on top of you, letting the moment pass. 

Despite having had nights rougher, more lengthy than this, you somehow feel more spent than you have at the end of any of those escapades. The answer comes to you in the few minutes it takes for you both to catch your breath, Cheol being just as fatigued as you despite his athlete stamina. 

You feel him continue to press his lips onto your skin, letting you do the same to him in between kisses. Neither of you speak for another few minutes, letting the heaviness of your hearts come forth in the showers of love you seem to want to give each other. 

He’s grasping your left hand, toying with the ring fitted there. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” 

A picture of the both of you hangs on the wall in your bedroom, dim yet decipherable in the low lights. There’s a moment where you have a flash of that same photo on multiple different walls. Different shades of neutral, in different rooms in different houses. It’s the same picture. 

You think of what forever might hold for the both of you, separately and together. You let the prospect of every step, every change, and every milestone wash over you in waves that keep coming, crashing back to feed into another. 

Change, you rehearse. There had been lots of it, and yet you had merely scratched the surface of what life was about to throw at you. You knew that, Seungcheol knew that. But you found yourself, in that moment, convinced in entirety that change is good, whether it feels good or bad. 

Distance makes the heart grow fonder; you didn't realize the meaning of the phrase until you had to live apart from the love of your life. Painful, difficult, sometimes agonizing, yet also necessary, you conclude. You wonder if your love would ever have grown this deep if you hadn’t felt life without each other. 

You think of how far you’ve come, how you’ve grown with each other. There was an encompassing of gratefulness that came with every step you had taken, and with every step you would take henceforth, you knew that for certain. 

Perhaps you would find yourself voicing these emotional thoughts to him, but not now. The unspoken was louder than anything you could say. 

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you, too.”

taglist (strikthru could not be tagged): @rubyreduji @vampirexlotita @simqly-yunjin @tomodachiii

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seungcheol fluff #seuncheol smut #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x reader #seungchel angst #scoups #svt #svt smut #em.writes

[mitsies]

» THE TRAIN RIDE HOME ; itoshi rin «

; ↠ itoshi rin sees you every morning at 7. the moment you smile at him, he knows it's all over.

## author's note: i went thru the 7th circle of hell and a pack of malboros while writing this. enjoy! ## contents: itoshi rin x reader, feminine reader, crushing, canon-compliant i think? idk ur both like 17 so it works, confessions and fluff! ## wc: 13.2k (i'm unwell)

itoshi rin likes to count the people as they board the train. it's a habit leftover from his childhood, where he'd sit with his little legs swinging, pointing everyone out to his brother. (passenger 4 wore blue every day, and passenger 18 always had cat fur on his coat, and so on.)

he collected minute details to store in his head, a way to de-stress from the rush hour of his life. every morning at 6, he'd go on a run, and then from his final destination, he'd take the train back. rin was a regular, and an observant one at that- so it was only a matter of time before he noticed you.

you sat diagonally from him, always with your hands in your lap, twirling around the loose threads on the cuffs of your sweater. that was the first thing he noticed about you- the white cable-knit zip-up you frequently donned.

it looked nice on you, he thought. you seemed cozy, almost, as cozy as one could be on a train at 7 in the morning. rin wondered where you were going, since you appeared too young to have a corporate job.

you were on the train whenever he boarded and got off 2 stops before he did. and itoshi rin couldn't help but watch as you left. you carried a canvas tote with a familiar character that he couldn't quite place, and you'd always smiled warmly at the sweet old lady to your right. there were paint splatters smudging your shoes and rin wonders if you liked to draw.

he’d never ask, though. because why would he? you were a pretty person on the train, and he was just another passenger.

rin thinks he’ll settle for just watching, for now. he never expects you to look his way.

it’s a cloudy thursday when you aren’t sitting at your regular spot for the first time in at least a month. rin shouldn’t feel a tinge of disappointment, the way he does in the pit of his stomach now. he doesn’t even know you, so who is he to be upset by your absence?

it’s not until he takes his own regular place that he realizes- you weren't missing. you'd just shifted seats. you were next to him, now, bag in your lap and hands rested on top of it.

rin snaps his head away from you as soon as he realizes you're there, and he can feel his ears burning. you're not even looking at him, exchanging amicable conversation with the same elderly woman, who is now across from you rather than next to you. there's a mother with a little sleeping boy on her lap occupying your regular place, and he presumes that's the cause of your breech of pattern.

he's snapped back to reality when the old lady laughs and says a name that sounds so honeyed and sweet that it couldn't belong to anyone but you.

"you're just the funniest," chuckles the woman, "makes me feel young again."

your smile is wry. "i guess i picked that up from you, mrs. sato."

rin doesn't quite mean to eavesdrop on your quiet conversation, it kind of just happens. you were right next to him, how could he not? and he also didn't mean to sneak glances towards you whenever you were turned away. that was also an accident, a slip-up he was very grateful that no one else picked up on.

it wasn't his fault that you looked even prettier up close. it wasn't his fault that he wanted to memorize how you looked when you smiled, down to the minuscule creases and lines of your cheeks.

you bid mrs. sato goodbye with a polite tip of your head when the train reaches your stop. your shoes have new paint stains, and your jacket is collecting more lint. rin wonders if you've noticed. and he watches you go long after you're gone.

he's not expecting to be addressed, so it takes a few tries before mrs. sato gets his attention.

"hello! young man! hello," she waves a wrinkled hand in rin's face and he turns to her.

"so..." her eyes shine with a childlike mirth and rin is a bit scared because what is going on?

"you're not as sneaky as you think you are, boy."

rin stiffens. "what?"

"i see you peeking at my dear friend."

he blinks, unsure how to reply. it's not everyday that the 70-something year old woman your totally-not-a-crush is friends with confronts you about your staring problem.

"huh?" he asks dumbly.

the old woman rolls her eyes and the train lurches to a stop. "well. i'm out of town for who knows how long, and i wouldn't want them to be lonely. i'm sure you wouldn't, either."

she stands with a joking wink and rin fights the embarrassed scowl from creeping onto his face. he's positive that he's red right now, and he's giving his all to not be disrespectful to this elderly woman in public.

"well, be good to them." rin opens his mouth but she's already hobbling away. he sinks back into his seat and wishes it would eat him alive.

rin sees you the next day, sitting in the same place as you were yesterday. he shifts to put a little more space between the two of you, a little embarrassed- his breathing is still heavy from his run, and he's sure he smells of sweat.

you notice and give him a soft smile, though something akin to confusion muddles your eyes. you must be wondering where mrs. sato is, but you don't bring it up.

"sorry," you apologize for nothing. you also scoot a little to the side, and rin almost wants to say 'no, don't move further, you didn't do anything,' but that would be creepy and he doesn't want to be that guy.

so instead he fights his resting bitch face and gives you a sharp nod without meeting your eyes, because his face is already hot from hearing your voice say a single word and he is rather humiliated by his limits. "you're fine."

rin thinks he sounds like a strangled cat and he'd punch himself in the face if you weren't right there. but you give him a smile, and he feels a strange elation, and god, was it always this warm on the train?

"you're on this train every day, right?" your voice is hushed, and rin wonders if it's because you're trying not to disturb the mother and her child (who are still cuddled into your usual spot) or if that's just your demeanor. either way, he wants to find out. he wants to know you.

"i am."

you seem to consider his words for a moment and rin realizes that this means you know him. or, at least, know of him. you've seen him every morning just as he's seen you- the realization sends a strange spark through his stomach.

"where are you headed to so early?"

"home. i run out here and take the train back."

"you're a runner?"

"something like that."

you hum, and before you turn away, rin speaks again. "where are you going?"

he watches as you turn your head back towards him, a genuine smile forming on your face. "i work at a primary school. it's not an official position, but i'm kind of the art teacher."

he raises his brows. "art teacher?"

"yeah! i started off as a volunteer, but i guess i fit better since i'm younger than regular teachers," you shrug, and rin thinks he could listen to you talk forever.

your voice is beautiful, he thinks. it suits your name, and you face, and he can't think about it much longer because otherwise he'll start burning alive. he's still not looking at you when you introduce yourself, because for the sake of his dignity he doesn't think he can.

he already knows your name but he thinks it sounds even prettier falling from your lips. and god, he messed up, because now he's thinking about your lips.

"itoshi rin," he manages to get out when it's his turn to introduce himself.

"itoshi rin," you repeat, and the boy thinks he might die right then and there. what is wrong with him?

you're about to say something more but you get a look out the window and realize it's almost your stop. grabbing your bag, you stand as the train stills.

"this is me. i guess i'll see you tomorrow, then."

"see you."

and then you're gone, just like that. the morning train is silent once more, save for the whirring as it begins to run again and the footsteps of passengers finding their places.

rin decides that he can't wait until tomorrow. he's not sure why.

over the next few days, you and rin grow closer. or, you'd like to think you've become closer. you talk a lot more, about everything, and he sits and listens.

he knows about your favorite student at work, and how he had given you the doraemon tote bag that you always sported for your birthday last year. he knows about your cat named snorkel and how your friends always tried to set you up on dates. he knows about your favorite foods and how you hated sleeping with wet hair.

and rin decided that he would do anything to hear you talk. he acted uninterested, sure, but he hung off every word you said. he engraved every single sentence into the details of his memories, stowing away any information you'd give him in the catalogs of his brain.

it came to a point where every single one of his thoughts were tainted with the knowledge of you. you were all he could think about- he saw you in every crowd and smelt your perfume in the wind even when you weren't around.

it was pathetic, really, the way he searched for you in everything, and the way you appeared to him, too. especially since this 'infatuation' was the product of a few measly mornings and some half-asleep conversations.

this was pitiful, rin thought, he was pitiful. but he kept coming back.

(..and it was especially pitiful because you were kind of annoying.)

your smile was as radiant as it was infectious, and you really, really liked talking. you might've been a little hesitant to speak to rin at first, but that certainly wasn't true anymore. with the way you ran your mouth, anyone would think you'd been friends for years.

rin hated how you left him without things to say. he couldn't muster his usual cruelties when he spoke to you. usually, he just hummed along or gave you minimal replies. but the flow of the conversations you had were never dull, and they became a highlight of his day.

"you'll never guess what happened," you started, as soon as rin took his usual seat next to you one tuesday morning. he uncapped his water bottle and took a sip as you continued.

"yesterday morning, i told you about how we were doing an animal painting activity, right?"

"yeah."

"okay, so i had just finished my example and instructions, and i was helping this one little boy. he's really sweet, by the way, he just doesn't really like... paint. which is kind of counterproductive."

"mhm."

"but anyways, this other kid comes up to me- she's tugging on my sleeve, and she says 'i made you something!' and it's not like i never get paintings from students, so i'm all like 'oh, thank you! what is it!' fully expecting it to be just some drawing, right?"

"right."

"but she hands me my bag!"

it's then that rin notes that you aren't carrying your usual tote bag. instead, you have an old canvas satchel that's cute but not nearly as endearing as your previous one. he frowns.

"it was fully covered in paint- like, it was all over her hands and everything. no way i'm getting that bag back. so messy," you shudder.

"it was the one your student gave you last year, right?"

"yeah. i'm a little sad, but i can't be too upset. she was like, 7 years old. they do that."

you begin to prattle on about some other inane topic, and for the first time since he's met you, you don't have rin's full attention. you don't seem to notice, but he's already adding another item to his mental checklist.

‧̍̊ ˙ · 𓆝 . ° ｡ ˚ 𓆛 ˚ ｡ ° . 𓆞 · ˙ ‧̍̊

the following day, when rin boards the train, he doesn't greet you. he's holding something, and when he sits next to you he wordlessly drops it on your lap.

"what's this?" you fumble with the item in your hands- it's something light in a plain paper bag. rin doesn't reply, crossing his arms and slouching down in his seat. he stares straight ahead, eyes probably burning holes into the side of the train.

"okay, grouch. don't say anything, then."

"just open the bag, dumbass."

"jesus, fine."

you reach into the parcel, pulling out a denim bag. it's roomy and well-crafted, and a set of pins are stuck into the side. you recognize familiar cartoon characters, a paint palette, and a little train. for the first time since you've met rin, you're not sure what to say.

you stare down at the bag. rin stares at you. when you look up to meet his eye he whips his head away. but then he hears a shuffling, and your arms are around his neck, and he's frozen.

you're hugging him, and he can smell your hair, and he can't say a word. he thinks your shampoo smells like peaches. he would ask you if he was right if only he could find the words.

you're gone just as soon as you appeared and rin misses your warmth, but maybe a bit of it has transferred to him because he's all hot beneath the collar of his crewneck and he's feeling his face grow uncomfortably flushed.

he slumps back in his seat as you fiddle with the enamel pins- they're dainty and unique, and you're a little taken aback by how thoughtful they are. "i love this."

if rin were to try and form a coherent sentence, he thinks he might combust. so he just hums an 'mhm' and pries his gaze back to the opposing window, a little humiliated by how difficult it is for him to take his eyes off you.

he thinks he's done a pretty good job of cooling himself down until your hand is on his forearm. the contact feels icy against his hot, flushed skin and it sends a shiver down his spine as he turns to meet your gaze again.

"thank you," you say and your hands gently squeeze his arm, "this means so much to me. really."

this isn't the first time you've left him speechless, but it's the first time you've witnessed just how potent your effect on rin really is. you smile at him again before leaving him be, continuing to fiddle with the bag while he recuperates.

you keep talking at him but it's in one ear and out the other, and by the time it's your stop he's only a little bit better. you stand when the train stops and the window's light trickles through the opened doors and falls upon your lips like they're being highlighted just for him. he blinks the thought away.

"i'll see you tomorrow morning, rin," you say as you hold your bag close to your side, its new contents sitting heavy in the bottom. rin only nods and crosses his arms.

he hopes that little expression can contain the vast expanse of indescribable emotions that he feels for you, but he knows he's unfair for that because even rin himself hasn't been able to comprehend them.

he's not sure why he doesn't see you as a bother or distraction. he's not sure why he'd be disappointed whenever you didn't continue a conversation or praise the littlest things in a way he'd never expect from anyone else. he's not sure why he's so determined to make you smile, and he's even more uncertain as to what the strange, strange sensation he experiences whenever he succeeds is.

he's not sure, he's not sure, he's not sure, but he thinks he loves it.

he frowns. rin loves how you make him feel. his frown grows deeper at the realization. his eyelids flutter shut and he tips his head back against the edge of his seat, a dull thump sounding as it hits the metal.

he thinks he'll ignore this realization, for now.

it's almost a week after rin's gotten you the bag, and it's become your new everyday option. he can't help but think it looks especially good with your white zip-up and he applauds himself silently for his fashion choices.

the bag already has some tiny, colourful fingerprints decorating the sides and streaked up from where you'd presumably snatched your property out of your students' grabby little hands.

the thought makes his lips quirk upwards into a tiny little half-smile, one that's barely there but you pick up on all the same. pausing in the middle of your sentence, you ask him: "what're you thinking about?"

if rin was smooth, and if he was interested in you, he'd reply with 'just you, babe,' or something else that would make you blush and make him want to die inside. but rin is not smooth, nor is he sure how he feels about you.

it's nothing short of sickening, how you continue to take residence in his mind constantly. if he thought it was bad when he'd first started talking to you, it was a thousand times worse now. rin kind of wishes he could go back in time for the sole purpose of beating the shit out of the past him as a warning to not let you do this to him.

because, if he was being honest, he was scared. the premonition that his feelings toward you might be something like attraction was horrific because god, what was he supposed to do?

his entire life was dedicated to being the best. he was born to be on top and he'd die on that podium, looking down on everyone else. in the past, he'd cared about nothing else but winning.

his dreams, for the longest time, were plagued by pedestals and gold medals, and trophies with his last name but someone else's first. he'd fall asleep to his mind's eye envisioning blood pooling in his gut as he bled for his crown, his crown that was always out of reach.

and then you showed up in them. rin couldn't decide if you made his dreams better or worse. (okay, that was a lie- definitely better, but he's not ready to admit that quite yet.)

in the midst of his bad dreams, you'd come to him, sitting pretty on the train next to him. you'd talk but he'd never be able to remember what you said come morning.

this was bad, rin thinks, he was bad. he was awful and horrible and wrong because he should be dreaming about winning and not you. you were distracting him, being on his mind all the time. while he ran to the train stop, a task that usually cleared his tired mind, all he could picture was you, you, you, waiting for him.

that was another thing. you were waiting for him, and he couldn't not show up. rin's considered changing his routine so he could keep away from you for the sole purpose of fighting his maybe-crush and being able to focus on his sport. he's thought about not replying to your texts, which you sent every afternoon to check in and ask how he was.

but then he pictured you, alone on the train, and he couldn't. the thought of you getting friendly with anyone but him made his skin crawl. what if that boy who sat on the other side by the door tried to talk to you while he wasn't there?

no, no, rin couldn't have that. not when he liked you this much- it was far too late to let go. he'd already done this to himself.

so he keeps coming back, every single morning, just to see your face. there was no denying it anymore- rin liked you. too bad he'd never say a thing.

"rin?" your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "what's up?"

he glares at you like he hates you, but you know better and so does he. "nothing."

you tilt your head. he stares right back at you before conceding. "the paint smudges on your sweater and stuff."

"hm. what about them?"

"your job must be hard."

if he's being honest, rin doesn't really care about what you do. he's just trying very hard to not let the fact that he was smiling thinking about you show.

"it's not that bad," you say, "well, i mean- tedious, sure. plus i hardly get paid, i'm not under contract, and they could just decide to stop paying me at any point since there's nothing making them, technically."

rin raises an eyebrow. "and you say it's not that bad?"

"it's not! really!"

"and you work with kids."

"yeah, so not that bad."

"that's worse." you make a face at him and he fights another smile because how do you do this to him so easily?

"i swear it's not as bad a job as it seems."

"it's not even a job, technically," rin points out.

"okay, okay, you can stop making fun of my position, rin."

your use of his name makes his heart do something weird and nauseating in his chest and he hates it. "whatever."

you hum in contemplation before sitting up in your seat with an idea. "how about you come with me today?"

rin stiffens. "what?"

you don't flinch at his unintentionally bittered tone, and rin feels something strange inside him again. he feels a bit like a fish out of water, being put on the spot like that.

"well, i mean- only if you're free, of course," you twist away from rin ever-so-slightly as you start to backtrack, hands finding their way to fiddle with a strand of your hair, "i don't wanna overstep or anything, and i know you're probably busy and we're just-"

"no."

rin's voice cuts you off. "oh. that's cool, i'm sorry i asked."

oh. that wasn't what he meant to say at all. "no, no, wait. i mean no, stop talking."

"oh. i said i was sorry."

he's really just digging his own grave, at this point.

"wait, wait, wait. i mean.. no, stop talking, yes, i'll go with you."

it's almost comical how you brighten up in a heartbeat, and a strange twinge of pride at the fact that his presence could do that to you zips through his chest.

"oh, i'm great. i mean- that's great. this is great. i'm so excited." you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater and the enamel pins on your bag that he got you jingle and rin thinks that he's stupid for ever considering avoiding you.

and again- if he was a better man, he'd say so. but he's not, so he side-eyes you instead. "are you sure this is even allowed?"

"i am. as long as you're not some kind of criminal, or whatever." you look back at him, eyes creased with amusement. "you're not, yeah?"

"nope. just a few aggravated assault charges." he's only kind of joking (because injuries on the field do not count against him outside of it), and his voice is dry with sarcasm. he's not expecting you to laugh but you do, and he thinks everything he's done to lead up to this moment has been worth it.

"lovely. then you'll be fine. i hope you're good with kids, rin."

his mouth falls into a frown. he'd forgotten about that. he's about to say something but the train lurches or a stop and you're standing, prompting him to follow.

it occurs to rin that this is the first time the both of you have stood next to each other. the slight widening of your eyes at his obscene height is something that amuses him, but he chooses not to comment on.

he also keeps silent about how your beat-down and paint-smudged pair of shoes squeak ever-so-slightly as they exit the train. you move with a slight bounce in your step that makes the shoes pivot and squeal a little in a way that should irritate rin and not endear you to him the way it does.

it's only a short way to the school you work at from the train station, and you talk about menial things the whole way. rin's arms are crossed uncomfortably over his chest as he walks, and the plush insides of his deep blue sweater suddenly feel too hot, and he's feeling clammy even though the sun is hardly out.

you walk through the front office with rin in tow, tailing you while looking incredibly uncomfortable the whole time. the front office ladies chuckle like they know something he doesn't when you check him in and rin kind of wants to punch them. he doesn't, though.

when you lead him to your classroom (or, more precisely- a large storage room that was reassembled with tables and chairs to become a classroom) he's not surprised to find it colorful and bright.

the walls which aren't big windows are practically covered in various pieces- hand turkeys, landscapes, various misshapen animals, crude imitations of people- and a few pieces that are undoubtedly from a much more skilled artist. there are beautiful scenes that look like they're from movies, and there are unique interpretations that seem like they took painstakingly long to create.

he walks up to one- a faceless pair of women. one is sitting on the kitchen counter and the other stirs a bowl of something that looks like cookie dough. it's simple, it's sweet, and it's beautifully made. "you painted this?"

you're placing your bag down on the chair that sits behind the teacher's desk, which is just a repurposed old table. "i did. that's really old, though. kind of embarrassing."

"it's not." his finger traces his newest observation about the painting- your name scrawled in the corner. "it's not."

he's not looking at you, but he knows you're staring at him. he won't look back now, but he wonders what you're thinking. he imagines your quizzical expression, and he imagines the sun filtering in through the windows making you shine as you absorb every colour in the room.

he imagines you looking at him, and he thinks it's the prettiest sight he's ever thought up.

the bell rings after a beat of silence passes. the shrill noise draws you both from your stupor, and rin turns to see you walking around, busying yourself with placing a piece of thick watercolour paper on each desk.

"well," you say, and rin might be imagining it but your voice is a little choked, "we've got.. 2 classes? yeah, two. both will be 7-year-olds today. think you can deal with that?"

rin's eyes narrow. "i thought you said i wouldn't have to deal with any kids."

your face contorts into a smile. "yeah. i know. you can just sit in the back and watch. i'll get them to not bother you."

you gesture to a tiny little desk situated in the back corner of the room and rin cringes internally as he walks up to it. he sees you biting back a laugh and glares. as he takes a seat, his knees are up to his chest and his arms are draped uncomfortably over them.

"this isn't funny," he deadpans as you bite your tongue. with a humiliating amount of effort, he removes himself from the tiny chair and walks back over to the teacher's desk where you stand, crossing his arms over his chest.

"in my defense, i didn't compensate for how tall you'd be. you can just be at my desk, i don't mind."

you place your bag down onto the floor in the corner and rin moves to take your seat. all you have on your desk is a pile of books that are collecting dust, and a dingy computer setup that seemed like it was from the stone ages. there's a series of sticky notes on the black screen- he knows he shouldn't, but he reads a few.

there's a few about restocking some supplies, and even more about various lesson plans. rin thinks you put an awful lot of work into a position that technically isn't legal. and then, his eyes land on his name- in pink pen that stands out on the yellow paper, 'itoshi rin' is scrawled on with a myriad of stars and hearts and squiggles surrounding it.

rin blinks, half expecting the message to vanish. it doesn't. his hand reaches out to take the note but he's interrupted by the room door slamming open and a gaggle of children bursting in.

their teacher seems exhausted, and rightfully so, especially considering it was barely 8 in the morning. she takes a seat close to the exit and slumps over, seemingly asleep, as the students spread around the room.

they take places behind desks and fist the provided paintbrushes in their little grubby hands, chattering amongst themselves as if it's not insanely early. rin watches as you bounce around the room, conversing with the kids who call your name.

his gaze doesn't leave you once, as you move to the front of the classroom to begin your speech on today's assignment. he's only half-listening, but he catches short phrases. it's something about practicing watercolour responsibly and learning to work with a new medium.

rin's never been an art kid. he's never seen the appeal. but the way you seem so excited to be there, and so genuinely happy to teach, makes him think that he should be listening, too.

the kids start to paint, now. he notices how some of them start with a pencil, tracing crude outlines of whatever they're trying to make, while others dive headfirst into the watercolour. you weave around desks lavishing them in praise, and rin wonders what you were like when you were their age.

little feet begin to scramble around the classroom as the assigned seating chart dissolves with time. you don't seem to care all too much, continuing to help a student- a little girl, with tiny, short pigtails tied off with purple scrunchies.

he doesn't realize he's been watching you until the girl catches his eye and says something he can only kind of make out. "who's that guy lookin' at you all mean?"

her finger points straight at rin, and he promptly pretends like he was very invested in the blank screen of your 1900s computer. he sneaks a glance back to see your eyes fixed on him before returning to the girl with an awkward laugh.

"ah, him! he's.. my friend. he's just sticking with me today," you smile, and feels himself sink into the chair deeper. he's not sure what he feels at the use of the word 'friend' but he doesn't think he likes it.

but it was a fine answer. it was decent, it was true- what, did he expect more? if he did, clearly he wasn't the only one because the little girl with the pigtails gives you a look. rather loudly, she exclaims "you mean your boyfriend?"

you blanch at her words and rin's subtle gaze returns to a full-on stare as he watched your reactions. "asami, not so loud! indoor voices," you try to sound authoritative but your voice splinters and sea of little faces is suddenly turned to face you.

and then, slowly, like a horror movie, the 20-something 7-year-olds pivot to face rin.

a little voice speaks up. "you're ms. teacher's boyfriend?"

in a normal scenario, rin would probably linger on the fact that you were addressed as 'ms. teacher' as if you had no other name. but with an ocean of inquisitive eyes, yours especially, he felt a little frozen. just as he was about to snap open his mouth to say something probably cruel and snippy, you jumped in.

rushing to the front of the crowd you wave your hands frantically, trying to maintain your cheery disposition while sweating through your clothes with anxiety. "no, no! he's- he's not my boyfriend! and don't bother him, please, he doesn't.. speak the language! he's from.. germany!"

it's a bad lie. horrible, even. and it would take a fool to fall for it- either a fool or a collection of unbelievably innocent children.

"oh!" one pipes up, "is that why he's so mean and doesn't talk?"

you furrow your brow. "we don't call people mean, remember."

and just like that, everything is back to normal. or, at least, however normal this situation could be. the students resume their artistry and continue scurrying like mice around the room to show off their creations or grab fresh sheets of paper.

you walk up to rin, and he hopes his ears have turned less red at this point as you sit on the desk in front of him. "see? not so bad."

he narrows his eyes. "are we in the same room right now? did you not just see that?'

you sigh dramatically and place your hands behind you as you slouch back. "maybe they're right. you are mean."

"okay?"

"you should be ashamed of yourself, y'know."

"you really do sound like a schoolteacher." at this you laugh and swat at his shoulder, eliciting a tiny could-be smile from rin. "never say that to me again."

and it seems like cutting rin off is a fun activity, because a little boy with messy brown hair skips up to the desk and basically shouts, "hello!"

the thing is, he's not talking to you- he's talking to rin. big, doe eyes are fixed on the striker expectantly, and he rolls back and forth on heels while clutching something in his hands behind his back.

rin blinks. "hi."

he sounds mean, he's sure, and definitely not german, but the kid doesn't seem to notice or care. "i think germ-in-ey is so neat! i made you this!"

the country is pronounced like he's speaking with rocks in his mouth but the boy's smile is bright and he holds a kind-of crumbled piece of watercolour paper in his hands.

it's still dripping and incredibly poorly done. what appears to be a house? or a building of some kind? is splattered onto a green line that might be grass. a blob that could be a body if you squinted hard enough is attached to a big oval with messy dark hair, angry eyebrows paired with neon blue eyes, and the biggest eyelashes the world has ever seen. they extended from all the way inside the eye to the sticks that rin supposes must be hands.

a random rectangle with doodles inside is in the top left corner. a little label reads 'german flag' in pencil.

rin blinks at the paper and looks dully at the kid. he feels your eyes staring into him, too, and he opens his mouth before closing it again, unsure of what to say.

"this looks bad," he speaks before he knows what's coming, eyes widening at his own words. a deep pit of guilt opens in his stomach as the boy retracts his hands with the paper. oh, my god, what did he just say?

he is unbelieveably lucky that you are still next to him at that moment, because you jump in to save the day yet again:

"haru! don't worry about him- he's german, remember? he doesn't know how to say what he means! bad in german actually just.. uh.. means really, really good!"

the boy instantly brightens up again, like a wilting flower back in bloom. "really? that's so cool! i didn't know they spoke german in germ-in-ey!"

you return his bright smile. "how crazy! what a small world!"

the little boy skips away, leaving his masterpiece in your hands, and rin lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"oh, wow," you say with a sparkle of amusement in your eyes, "i didn't know you were this horrid with kids."

a grumble of annoyance leaves him, but he's more embarrassed than anything at this point. "and i didn't know i was german."

you shrug. "it was the first thing that came to mind. it worked, didn't it?"

rin ignores your question. "i can't believe you let that kid go off thinking 'bad' means good. he's gonna go around telling everyone that."

"i.. did not consider this," you purse your lips, "it's his teacher's problem. i don't even work here, technically."

"so you're a random person who comes onto campus and spreads lies to children."

a smile splits your face. "at least i'm a nice liar."

"nice?"

"oh. ouch. okay, thanks rin."

and he exhales, and it's no longer just a half-smile, because you see it so clearly on his face- the way his lips turn up at your words as he speaks. "yeah. anytime."

it's then that itoshi rin has a moment of infinite clarity- he's fallen for you. he doesn't like that fact, nor does he understand the intricacies of this romance.

he likes you. that's all there is to it. rin doesn't see why there needs to be any more. it's not like he'll tell you and even though the feeling of repressed and realized emotions in his chest is something a little unbearable, he's dealt with worse. and he thinks he'd rather keep his mornings beautiful than run the risk of messing it all up.

so rin thinks he'll settle for being in your background, as he watches you hop off the desk and move to help the students as they finish their paintings and clean up.

they sing a stupid jingle about keeping things neat that makes you laugh in the way you do where your head tips back just a little, and rin swears it's his favourite sound in the world.

it's another hour and another class before you're finally done with your work. the second one was thankfully a lot less strenuous for rin- none of the students paid him much mind at all, save for the occasional curious glance every so often.

"bye ms. teacher!" the final student belted before leaving, slamming the door with a resounding thud. you wave cheerfully and take a deep breath as soon as the kid is out of sight. "and we're done! how was that, rin? you just got the full fake-teacher experience."

rin stands from his place behind your desk and stretches out his limbs, slightly sore from being in one place for so long. "as bad as i thought it'd be."

"you're always so negative."

"glad you noticed."

you roll your eyes and grab a spray bottle and washcloths off the highest shelves. "help me clean?"

wordlessly, he catches the rag you toss and the other bottle. the two of you work in silence for a few moments, wiping down the desks that the students had done their best at keeping neat. the only noises were the muffled sounds of the cafeteria during lunchtime outside and the ever-present squeaks your shoes made.

the lighting through the window lit the scene golden and turned all the colors and textures and works in your classroom even more beautiful. and not just them- rin thinks that you look breathtaking in the sunlight. a part of him suspects that it was invented just for you.

"what did you think?"

rin looks up at your voice. "hm?"

"what did you think? about this, i mean."

he looks at you for a moment. this is a new expression, the one you're wearing- at least, one he's never been able to observe unobstructed. you almost seem bashful, in the sunlight, refusing to meet his eyes.

"i think," he says, and he's so careful because he thinks he'd die of embarrassment if he misspoke and insulted you again, "that this makes sense."

"what?"

he frowns, not wanting to explain himself. "you loving this. it makes sense."

"i actually have no idea what you mean by that."

he scoffs, "whatever," but you keep pushing, curiously leaning over the table and placing your washcloth down.

"you can't just 'whatever' me. i'm curious now."

"you're irritating."

"i'm aware." you keep looking at him and it's no surprise to him when his conviction crumbles into dust and ash.

"you just seem like an art person." he tries and fails to get his point across. you raise a brow. "are you profiling me? what, do i seem like your starving artist trope?"

"no, no," he grumbles, "like, you're.."

and he's not sure.

rin has no idea how to follow up his words. because he thinks so many things of you- he thinks you're kind, in ways he will never be, and he thinks you're pretty enough to rival the sun, and he thinks you're flat out lovely- but he can't convey it all into one word.

"you're just you," he says. it's a simple statement, said with a conviction that doesn't match the quiet tone of his voice. he speaks softly, like he's afraid you might disappear if he was too loud.

blinking, you meet his gaze, and rin hopes you can see yourself how he sees you in the reflection. he hopes you see yourself like gold, and all the colours in the world, and as the essence of creativity- he hopes you know that he sees you as art, plain and simple.

but your expression is unreadable. he wonders if his is, too. and rin also wonders what you see when you look at him, because you're suddenly inhaling sharply and pivoting, busing yourself with straightening up jaws that don't really need to be fixed.

"well, rin," you say, and your voice is a pitch higher, "i didn't mean to keep you so long. i'm sorry you got held up here."

you're laughing, but it sounds strained, and rin wishes he could go up and smooth whatever's bothering you out from your skin, but that's creepy so he'd rather not.

"i didn't stay so long because you made me or anything. i wanted to."

"oh." you freeze for a split second before continuing to scrub a little too vigorously, "uh. thanks."

"i like your paintings," he blurts out. it's not fitting as a response, and he should've just said 'you're welcome' and moved on with his life, but he feels like he needs to say something, and relieve at least a fraction of the burden off his chest. he likes your paintings, and he likes you, but he can't say that quite yet.

"oh! i didn't take you as an art connoisseur."

"i'm not."

and he was telling the truth- rin knew virtually nothing about art. he remembers his own experiences with the subject, all limited to his pre-teen years in school, where he'd been forced to make whatever the teacher commanded.

his work had always been lopsided and a little fugly, but in the spirit of learning no one had ever said anything. it was always 'that's so good!' or 'you're so creative!' or 'nice cat!' when it was meant to be a tree.

"not even a little bit?" you hum as you lean onto your tiptoes, struggling to push a bottle of cleaning solution back into the space. rin moves to your side, placing it on for you. he misses how you go breathless at his actions.

"was never an art kid," he says simply.

you purse your lips in that stupid way he's noticed you do when something doesn't go right, and shake your head. "i don't buy it."

he raises an eyebrow. "what?"

"i don't believe that."

"you're just.. rejecting my statement?"

"yeah. everyone's an art kid."

rin considers your words before shaking his head. "no. you're just weird."

rolling your eyes, you're suddenly gone again to the front of the classroom, rifling through a set of overworked cabinets that seem to be bursting at the seams. you come back to the desk rin was standing by with a full arm of various supplies- he recognizes paper, canvas, pencils, gouache paints, and brushes.

"everyone's an art kid," you repeat, "you just never had anyone show you right."

"you sound fucking crazy."

"yeah, probably," you reply, motioning for him to sit down on the chair. he complies, and you hop up to take a seat on the desk again.

"and cheesy as hell. like a stupid nickelodeon character."

"that's a little far. be nicer to me! i'm about to give you free painting lessons."

"ones that i didn't ask for."

you sit back on your hands. "you could leave if you wanted."

rin is silent. you smile. "lessons it is."

‧̍̊ ˙ · 𓆝 . ° ｡ ˚ 𓆛 ˚ ｡ ° . 𓆞 · ˙ ‧̍̊

you might have been a little bit incorrect in your approach. rin is kind of a little bit hopeless with art.

"just a straight line," you're practically begging, "just one. you can do it."

rin proceeds to draw another very un-straight line to go with all the other ones on the piece of paper.

that was okay, though! maybe pencils just weren't for him. you could live with that. you'd brought out some paints just for this possibility, after all.

painting is difficult to mess up. you slap some colors on a canvas, call it modern art, and you're set- that was your philosophy. anyone could paint. anyone, you now think, except for itoshi rin.

"are you colourblind?" you say, and you're not trying to be mean, you're genuine, because he had just used the most horrendous choice of color palate he could have had.

"shut up," he scowls, covering his face with his hands. "you're a shit teacher."

you gawk at him. "how is this on me?"

"your stupid 'art kid' philosophy. plus, you've just been staring, not teaching."

you frown. okay, yeah, maybe you had been a little bit stare-y, but it's not really your fault. he just has one of those faces that would be criminal not to stare at. an idea pops up in your mind, and you hop off the desk.

rin turns his head to follow you as you move behind him. "what are you doing?"

"i'm teaching," you bite back playfully, leaning over his figure. you take a hold of his hand with the paintbrush, and you're both so close that you can hear his heartbeat speeding up inside of his chest. you wonder if he can feel yours do the same.

your hand ghosts his before you take a hold, grabbing it gently. his palms are warm and his whole body seems to radiate heat. the skin of his hand is rough and calloused.

"like this," you instruct, dragging the brush slowly across the canvas. it's already a smoother, straighter line than his previous ones. rin remains speechless, but he lets you take control of his movements. you direct him gently and he moves in return, like a slow dance on canvas.

after some time, a scene is playing out on the formerly blank space before the both of you. it's the classroom, complete with the yellowed lighting of the sun coming through the windows and the blocks of color to represent the various works hanging on the walls. it's a crude imitation of reality, but a piece of you and a piece of him, and you think that makes it beautiful.

"see?" you say, breaking the silence, "you did that."

you move to release your grip on rin's hand but he clasps his other one over it without thinking. you blink at him. he lets go, embarrassed.

"you did most of the work," he shrugs off, but it feels like he's just talking to himself, "i was just there."

"hm. you're right, but come on! give yourself some credit."

your attempt to lighten the heavy tension in the air falls onto deaf ears. "i should go," he mumbles, standing.

"oh."

"bye." his words lack the usual edge, and he seems more confused than upset. still, you wonder if you've overstepped and a pit forms in your stomach.

"bye," you say, but he's already out the door.

you try not to be too upset about it, but it's a little difficult. you've liked rin since before you even knew his name, and you were far too stubborn to let it go just yet.

you'd been almost 100% he felt the same, too. but again, your pride wouldn't allow you to make the first move. and his reaction to the closeness didn't bode well for your intentions.

a surge of disappointment consumes your chest and everything suddenly feels a lot heavier. your regular cable-knit feels itchy and too hot on your skin. you bite your tongue.

your friends have mocked you for your infatuation with this faceless 'itoshi rin.' they've encouraged you to move on from this crush that was seemingly going nowhere until almost a month ago, even going as far as to try and set you up with someone. maybe you should finally look into that offer,

you sigh to yourself and flop back onto the hard wood of the desk. oh well, you think, you'll see him tomorrow anyway.

the next week of early morning train rides is missing something.

rin notices it almost right away- how you sit a little farther from him, you you're just a little more skittish and quick to leave. it's a stab in the gut every single time, and he's not sure how he can mend the undeniable rift forming between the both of you.

he's not sure what happened. was it his leaving? had that upset you? why?

the invisible wound of unspoken words festered like mould as the morning conversations grew shorter and stiffer, and he felt helpless like he never had before.

and then, you bring something up that makes his heart plummet.

"this afternoon? i think i have a date, actually."

he shouldn't be mad. he shouldn't be upset. but doesn't he have the right? the person he likes, and ew, he hates admitting that, is going on a date with someone else.

"oh."

"mhm. my best friend's friend- she's been trying to get me to go out with him for ages."

"oh."

"tomorrow night, i think it is."

"hm."

"i hope it goes well."

"why?"

again, rin's mouth runs separately from his conscience. he wants to hit himself. you have no obligation to answer, because the both of you are just friends, maybe even less.

you blink, looking over at him. "i mean.. why not?"

the rest of the train ride continues in awkward silence until you get off. you give him a brief smile but you don't say goodbye, and rin watches your figure walk away until the train starts again and he can't anymore.

there is a very strange emotion, that rin is experiencing. he recognizes parts of it- that same bitter, green envy that curls around his lungs and squeezes til he can't breathe. he's familiar, but never in this context.

and then there's something darker that hurts his chest. it reminds him of growing pains, and of valentine's day, and of things he never thought he could have wanted. it reminds rin of you, and he is so, so distraught.

that afternoon, he waits for your text. usually, your messages are usual, like clockwork. you'd message him around 1 when you were on the train ride home, either to update him about your day or send him a game pigeon game.

he always indulged your messages, and he'd never let you see but you were one of the pinned contacts on his phone.

that day, however, your text never comes.

he's so pathetic for how he sits in the locker room at 2, alone, staring at his phone screen. he's sad for how he's taking a break from practicing at 3 just in case you message. he's stupid for how he spends the next few hours just waiting for a notification that he knows will probably never come.

it's 10 now, and rin has never felt more tired.

he's about to go to bed, having his night clothes lined up on his bed and brushing his teeth in the bathroom mirror. it was an average, regular day- there was nothing special nor abnormal, but everything just felt so wrong.

he wonders if you were on your date then, as he spits his toothpaste into the sink. he wonders what you wore- if you donned your white cable-knit or your squeaky paint-smudged shoes. he wonders if you carried the bag he got you, pins and all. he wonders if your date held open the door like he would have, or if he joked around with you like he did (kind of.)

rin wonders where you were. he wonders if you were okay.

and then, his phone rings.

your name lights up his screen and suddenly, he's not so exhausted. he answers a little too haistily on the 1st ring.

"hello?"

there's a short pause, but he can hear the way your breath comes in short huffs on the other side of the line. this was strange- the both of you had never called before.

"rin?" your voice is crackly in a way he could accredit to the poor reception wherever you were, but something in his heart wrenches and there's an undertone that is undeniably distress in your voice.

"yeah? what's up?" he's already bustling around his home, though, grateful he hasn't changed yet as he pulls out his shoes.

"are you doing anything?"

"no," he lies.

"i'm sorry then, 'cause i know it's late, but- um, yeah. i'm about to get on the train. like usual, just the night one. but, i don't want to bother you, so-"

"no. keep going."

another silence follows rin's words before you continue. "could you.. come here? i know it's dumb, askin' you to ride the train here just to come back with me but," and your voice cracks, "i don't really want to be alone right now."

rin exhales. he's already outside, walking briskly through the cold night air with his free hand stuffed in his jeans pockets as he makes his way to the train stop.

"i'm on my way."

‧̍̊ ˙ · 𓆝 . ° ｡ ˚ 𓆛 ˚ ｡ ° . 𓆞 · ˙ ‧̍̊

when rin gets on the night train, you're the only other passenger on board. you're huddled up in your usual seat with your knees drawn up to your chin and eyes misty with something dismal. you look at rin and he's heartbroken for you, because nothing should ever make you this upset.

but you offer him a weak grin and move to sit normally, patting his seat next to you. he notes that you are indeed carrying the same bag he got you.

the new distance isn't present when he takes his place beside you. in fact, he's so close tonight that he can almost feel your thigh brush his. he eyes you cautiously, unsure how to begin. thankfully, you answer his questions before he needs to ask.

"remember my date?" rin nods. how could he forget?

"it was kind of awful," you concede with a watery laugh. "he was all fine, at first- but i just wasn't interested. he asked for a second date, and i said no thanks- he just- he yelled at me. called me all sorts of things. i dunno."

his heart tightens in his chest as you keep going. "it's not a big deal but i didn't really- i'm not sure. i'm not sure."

he doesn't think too much about his next actions, as his hand curls around your shoulder. you're all too complacent, letting yourself be pulled into the warm fabric of his crewneck. he hopes you can hear his heartbeat pick up its pace. he hopes yours does the same.

rin allows you to bury yourself in his warmth, to acquaint yourself for a few moments before he starts talking. "last week i went to the grocery store and i saw this lady with her cats," he said.

you glance up at him quizically but his arm holds fast, keeping you there as he continues: "she was old. probably too old to be toting around all those groceries.

"i would've offered to help but then i took another look- she was ripped."

a muffled laugh escapes you. "for real?"

"yeah. i mean it."

"a ripped old lady with cats, huh? what was she getting?"

"blueberries."

he thinks he feels your smile against the fabric of his clothes. "blueberries. that's nice."

"and just a few days ago, i think, i was on my run and i passed by this apartment, right?"

"mhm."

"and i hear yelling. so i stop."

"yeah?"

"on the balcony of the apartment, there was this woman and some guy. they were in their 20s, i think. and she was screaming at him."

"oh? what about?"

your voice is thickening again, but this time with exhaustion. the occurrences of your day were finally weighing on you, rin presumes. he keeps talking.

"something about him being unfaithful. then she threw his gaming console off the balcony."

"oh," you say, with a slight yawn, "that sounds so funny. i wish i was there."

"me too."

rin really should break this habit he's beginning to form. it definitely isn't a great idea to share all his innermost thoughts with you always- but lucky for him, you seem too tired to notice the accidental compliment.

"good for her," you mumble.

"good for her," he repeats.

you tilt prop your chin up on him to meet his gaze. your eyes are heavy with exhaustion and bags are formed beneath your eyes, and your hair is frazzled and messy but rin thinks this might be the prettiest he's ever seen you.

you're dead on your feet, but you're still looking at him. you're feeling so many things and you're still you. his hand absentmindedly flutters accross the back of your head to flatten your hair as you begin to speak.

"you're so nice." is all you say. rin looks at you, incredulous.

"you are," you insist, breaking away from him for a moment with your hand pushing yourself off of his chest. "you wanted to help that old woman. you heard yelling and stopped in case someone needed help. you're here at 10pm after i messed everything up."

rin blinks.

you've always been the kind of person to make him think. you made him reconsider his own future, his capacity for love, his interest in romance- you made him think about it all. but there was one thing that was a constant, that he didn't think even you could make him reconsider- the fact that he wasn't a good person.

it's then that it dawns upon itoshi rin- he doesn't see himself as worth loving. his life's purpose was success, and without it, was he even worth caring about? and on top of all that, he was cruel.

he cared about no one. he was blunt, and he was unfriendly, and when he was in school people walked away. the neighborhood kids all hid from him, and his teammates never bothered to even try and introduce him to new faces anymore.

itoshi rin was mean and cruel, a fact that he had decided for himself and then been enforced by the people around him. itoshi rin was not worth anything without a gold medal to demonstrate his value. itoshi rin was not worth caring about, because he'd just hurt you. itoshi rin didn't think himself even capable of wanting anything but to win.

and itoshi rin was proven wrong the day he met you.

because he'd fallen for you, with your shoddy footwear and worn-out zip-up that could hardly be considered white anymore. he'd fallen for you and the way you always had something to say, and he'd fallen for you, who could see the art in anything- even hideous artwork made by unskilled 7-year-olds, even teenage boys who couldn't find it in themselves to admit that they loved you.

you must've changed him, he thinks, or at least brought out a part of him that he'd long since forgotten had existed. because now, on this train at 10 pm with you still staring at him with intent, tired eyes- he thinks he sees it, too, in a way that he thinks you might've been trying to get him to see from perhaps the very beginning.

he sees himself, itoshi rin, as artwork. and he sees you- the artist.

it's beautiful, how the world explodes into colour at that moment. the night sky outside the train window has never been quite so beautiful, and he thinks he can see all the stars in the world even though he's not even looking at them. his eyes are trained on yours, and there's nothing left to do, say, or realize, so he just pulls you back into himself and keeps talking.

"and then two days ago, i think, i was at practice. and my teammate opens his locker, and a squirrel falls out. nanase- that's his name- was terrified."

it's almost comical, how the roles have reversed. usually, you were the storyteller, and he was the patient listener. he doesn't remember the last time he spoke to someone in such a one-sided fashion for so long, but he doesn't really care anymore.

"apparently it was bachira. no one was really surprised."

he looks down at you, and you're finally asleep. your breathing is even, and he can only partially see your face. your cheeks are patchy from previous tears, but the way your features are relaxed amends for the hurt. his hand holds your head close, still, fingers absently massaging your scalp.

the silence carries on for a few beats. he watches your inhales and exhales when you do. when he finally talks, he's even quieter.

"i missed talking to you," he finally admits. it's almost as if he's admitting this to himself rather than you, with the way he leaves the words to hang in the air.

"so much," he adds, "it was fucking gross."

he continues to speak. perhaps this was his confession- he'd tell you his truths, the fact that he liked you, and the fact that he'd never be able to say it to your face. he doesn't see the harm, not on the empty night train with just him to hear.

"when we were all.. distant. i hated that. i had so much to say to you. i guess i always have. because," he lets an aggravated sigh, "i just didn't know.

"you're rubbing off on me, i guess. you and your stupid.. i dunno. just you. you make me so weird inside."

he pauses like he's waiting for you to say something, even though he knows you can't even register his words. he frowns and rewinds:

"that day. a week and a day ago. i left.

"you were so close to my face, so close to me- i dunno. i guess- i guess i just panicked. because i shouldn't like you. you're so.. you. and i'm nowhere near that. so i left.

"i wanted to kiss you. i want to all the time, it's fucking awful. when you told me about your date today? i hated every second of that. i just wanted to tell you but i couldn't. i don't know why, though.

"i still can't tell you. don't know if i will. but it's out there, now. i like you," rin laments, the last words foreign and unwelcome on his tongue.

"i like you. i like you a lot."

rin thinks his words should be followed by silence. he thinks that they'll hang and vanish in the air like his breathe, and he thinks it'll be gone forever, just like that. he thinks the next morning, he'll find a new morning routine and delete your contact.

but your breath hitches, and your body stiffens ever so slightly against rin's as his confession exits his lips. rin freezes, his hand falling dormant in the air behind your head.

you rise from his chest, and an empty cavity of dread is left in your place. the quiet is so poignant that you could hear a hairpin drop. he stares at you. you stare at him.

"rin," you start slowly, voice rough around the edges with sleep.

(the train rumbles distantly in the background. faintly, rin wonders when his stop would be.)

"you like me?"

he is silent. you blink once. then twice. and then you move. from your place next to him, you take his hand in both of yours and shift it to your lap.

"you like me."

it's not so much of a question now as it is an answer. your skin is cold against his, and it reminds him of the afternoon spent in your classroom where he learned of his limits for the first time.

"and you said you want to kiss me all the time," you continue, and rin thinks he'd be utterly humiliated if he wasn't so frozen.

"so why don't you?"

your question is one that lingers, hanging in the air like a heavy mist or smoke, and his lungs feel like they're being weighed down by the steeled sky.

you're right for asking, because why didn't he? why had he run, that day in your classroom? why had he let you grow so distant from him in the week that followed?

rin has always been one for pushing his limits. even when his body was broken over his sport, but he kept going because that was what was right to do. it was his purpose, and he didn't matter much outside of that.

but things were different now that he'd met you. rin decides that he just might be worth something more than a victory, because you look at him with a reverence, an affection, that tells him that he's maybe more than that.

you hold his hand in yours like it's glass, and your expression is soft with a curious lilt, and his hand is on your side and traveling to your back, and his other one is in your hair, and his lips are pressed on yours like he needs you, because fuck it, rin decides, he's never cared much for limitations anyway.

you kiss him back before long. it's messy and crude, and all teeth and bumping noses, and a long time in the making. you pull away before he does and he chases your lips like a starved man. but you duck your face into the crook of his neck, body as close as you could manage on the uncomfortable train seat. he feels you laugh into his neck, and he can't help the smile that spreads on his face.

"fucking finally," he says quietly, more to himself than you.

"finally," you agree, as the train slows to a stop. you glance up to check the destination- oh. it's your stop- your apartment block was only a short walk from here.

"this is where i am," you say, trying to find it in yourself to stand up. rin beats you to it, emerging from his seat and pulling you with him.

"i'm walking you home." he's no longer holding your hand, but his pinky finger is interlaced with yours, and he gives a surprisingly firm tug as he ushers you to the exit. "let's go."

you skitter along right behind him as the cold air rushes against his face, planting rosy, frosty kisses against his skin. you swing your joined arms with a wicked grin like you know it'll annoy him but he's not about to tell you to stop.

and if rin thought you were the prettiest in your classroom, or prettiest on the train, he was sorely mistaken because you're nothing short of gorgeous now, in the night air holding his hand, with a big, dopey grin on your face and his name on your lips.

he thinks he'd like to kiss you again, so he stops in his tracks on the sidewalk. you lurch to a halt, and call his name questioningly. he kisses you again because he can now, and you kiss him back, and he can do this again, and again, and again, because what's stopping him now?

the weeks following the emergence of your newly formed relationship are nothing short of blissful.

neither of you discussed your relationship status- it was just implied that he was your boyfriend now, because rin is almost sure he'd implode if he had to consider his feelings any longer.

your routines had both amended themselves around each other. every day, you'd meet on the morning train. he'd come to your classroom and sit through your lessons with you, and the both of you would go to either your apartment, his house, or whatever other destination was on one of your to-do lists. he'd go off for practice in the afternoons, but he never missed you too much.

he knew your texts would be waiting to be answered, without fail, and he knew you'd always be waiting for his call. and it felt nice to have someone- someone who cared for him, someone to call his own, someone who waited for him, someone he'd won.

rin thinks that he'd follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked, and especially if you didn't. he sees it as mature and responsible- someone has to keep you in check. you just call him clingy.

this is how he finds himself at a farmer's market. it's bustling, and nostalgic, and crowded, and probably not his scene. but you're there, so he'll make it work.

"oh, there's so many things. uh, let's see," you fumble with your phone, pulling up your list from your phone, "naomi can't have peanuts. asami is allergic to.. strawberries? how sad. and hiroshi will probably start crying if he sees cucumber. god, kids get weirder and weirder by the day."

you've been roped into helping host the graduation party for this year's oldest elementary students, most of which you knew by name. you'd been stuck with the food prep which rin didn't really understand assigning to you, since it's presumably the hardest task and you're not even a real employee.

"what's left, then?"

"uh.. i think we can make blueberry pie or something. and if they don't like it, it's not my fault because i tried."

"i'm not helping."

"no, no. you are. you don't have a choice in this."

he scoffs, and is about to reply, when-

"ms. teacher! hi, hi! hi!"

a little tiny pair of legs attached to a blur of brown hair as a small boy hurtles into your legs, capturing you into a hug the best he can. you let out a huff as the wind is knocked out of you.

looking down, rin recognizes the same kid- the same one who had made the watercolour painting of him and was surprised that they spoke german in 'germ-in-ey'.

"haru? hi yourself! what're you doing here?"

you almost instantly kneel down to meet his eyes and haru immediately giggles and taps the side of your head. "bonk, bonk!"

you laugh. "that isn't an answer, buddy."

the boy rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet with his hands fidgeting with each other in front of him, and rin is both enamoured by your endless warmth and feeling very out of place, standing awkwardly behind you like a scared child.

"my mama runs a fruit shore. yum, fruit! 'nd, i get to ex-spore! 'cause they're all busy with the fruit shore!"

"really? how cool!"

"yeah, yeah! 'nd, why are you here ms. teacher?"

you pretend to be in deep contemplation, tapping your finger on your chin. "well, if i tell you, you've got to keep it a secret, 'kay?"

"pinky swear! swear it!"

"it's for a surprise party."

haru looks like you just told him nuclear secrets. "oh my gosh!"

he squirms where he stands, running around in circles. "a sur-pies party! a sur-pies party!"

and then he stills, looking at you with the utmost serious expression that cracks a grin onto even rin's face. "i swear i won't tell anyone about your sur-pies party."

"thank you very much, haru. i appreciate it," you reply, with equal seriousness.

and then, haru's eyes wander over to rin.

"mr. germ-in-ey!"

rin cringes. he wasn't mentally prepared for this, not today. "hi."

haru seems to have forgotten that people from germany tend to speak german, because he converses with rin like there's no implicit barrier there. "hey, hi! i didn't know you went outside the school!"

rin's brows furrow and you stand, laughing. "what?"

"you're always in ms. teacher's classroom. in the back, all sad."

he frowns. "i'm not sad."

haru surveys him, and he feels a little ridiculous getting once-overed by a 7-year-old. "no," haru agrees, "not anymore!"

at this, you chime in. "oh? what changed?"

rin glares at you over his shoulder and you return with a bemused expression. haru mimics your previous posture, with his hands on his chin like he's stroking a beard.

"you guys are in love!"

you freeze, shooting up straight with wide eyes. rin stares at the kid.

"come again, haru?" you manage to choke out, perhaps hoping that you heard him wrong.

"you guys are in L-O-E-V-E!" haru sings the words out, spelling it wrong but still reinforcing his previous statement.

rin is flabbergasted, and you choke on your saliva. bystanders are beginning to look at the scene unfolding, and you attempt to straighten yourself out while rin takes a step away.

"uh, haru," you say, letting out a breath and an awkward laugh, "why don't you go find your mom? tell her i say hi."

haru hums before nodding like he'd entirely forgotten the previous conversation. he scuttles away with the speed of a scared cat. rin directs his gaze to you and shoots you a look.

"your students are so fucking strange."

you sigh, "yeah. yeah, they are."

he pauses. and lets out the heaviest, most resigned sigh he thinks he's ever managed before. "but they're not wrong."

you look at him blankly, before you process his words. and then you're positively beaming as rin makes a face.

"ugh, gross. forget i said that. that was vile."

"awh, rin!" you say, disregarding his statement, "you're so cute! so, so cute!"

you close the distance between him and you, and he ducks his face away but makes no real effort to move. "i hate you so much."

"i don't think so," you hum, getting infinitely closer to his face. he's sure you can feel the heat radiating off him at your proximity, as you continue: "i think that you are obsessed with me."

your lips are ghosting the corner of his mouth and he doesn't realize he was holding his breath until you pull away, eyes suddenly wide with realization.

"oh my god," you say, all the teasing removed from your voice and instead replaced with a daunting sobriety, "haru is going to tell the entire class. the entire school."

rin blinks. "okay? and?"

"no, you don't get it!" you grab his arm, a genuine terror that is almost comical shining in them. "i'm going to be trampled."

your boyfriend shrugs. "i don't see how that's my issue."

"you idiot. you come with me every day."

"so?"

"you're never going to know peace again."

rin finally gets it, and he frowns deeper than he thinks he ever has. "i'm breaking up with you, then. no way am i dealing with that."

you roll your eyes and sigh, and rin laughs- it's quiet and short but real and genuine, and he sees the love brimming in your eyes as you follow his movements.

"god, i love you."

your words catch him off guard. but he takes your hand as a response. rin doesn't think he can say it back, not right now- but you know he does, and this time, so does he.

because rin loves you, and you love him, simple as that. there are no limits, there are no rules- just brushstrokes on a canvas, just an artist and a muse.

in that moment, in the middle of the bustling farmer's market, you and rin are all alone, and he thinks to himself: he would spend forever counting the passengers on a train if it meant he would meet you.

he'd spend years if he had to, waiting for his girl, the one with a white worn-out zip-up and shoes that were on their last few wears, and a denim bag smeared with paint and decorated with pins, and a smile to rival the sun.

he'd give it all to meet you again, and he'd give even more if you asked. in truth, there's nothing he wouldn't do to fall in love with you all over again- but he doesn't need to imagine, because you make it happen every day.

because truly, it may have started in just a few mornings, but it would always end with you.

(3 weeks later, mrs. sato appears on the morning train again.

you and rin are seated in conversation, bodies turned towards each other as he listens to your words. you're both interrupted when the train doors shut and a voice calls your name.

"ah, what have i missed! do my eyes deceive me, or is there a lovely new couple in my presence?"

you grin at her arrival. "oh my gosh, mrs. sato?"

the older woman hobbles over to sit down in front of you. "you have so much to tell me," she states, wrinkled smile gleaming with childlike joy.

rin frowns. why is it such a common trend to make him the 3rd wheel in his own relationship?

rin listens in as you narrate the course of your relationship, thankfully skipping out some more personal pieces, with a pink face and blood warming the tips of his ears.

and in turn, you learn that in mrs. sato's absence, she'd been partying all over the bahamas on a cruise, making a few crude and suggestive jokes about ship crew boys. "ah, but i can't say that anymore, can i? not with your boyfriend here. girl talk."

rin crosses his arms over his chest, looking and feeling a bit ridiculous with your bag on his laugh. mrs. sato cackles. he thinks she reminds him of a witch, just a little.

"ah, well, i hope you didn't miss me too much, dear. i'm off again- to jamaica this time!" mrs. sato exclaims and you smile supportively even though rin can tell you're more amused than anything.

"when do you leave?"

"tonight," she laughs, "i'm going to the airport right now."

when mrs. sato leaves and bids you and rin farewell with a hug and wink respectively. rin looks at you questioningly. "i can't believe you speak to her."

you grimace. "she's terrifying. i think if i wasn't friendly she'd hunt me down."

"probably. wouldn't be hard."

"i should send you to jamaica with her."

"i'd take some cruise boys over you any day."

"i'd pick them over you, too"

rin smiles. his hand taps a rhythm onto your knee. "so what're we doing today?"

"after school, i think it's finally time i buy new shoes. it's been long enough."

he frowns. "i like your shoes."

"they're like, a million years old. there's a hole in the sole."

"oh."

"you can pick them, since you clearly seem to think your fashion sense is better than mine."

"it is, actually."

"you're horrible, y'know that?"

"yep."

the train stops, and you stand before he does. you extend your hand for him to take.

he takes it without hesitation.)

##: if you read this long, hey! writing this actually made me insane i'm not gonna lie! but it's finally out, and genuinely would mean the world if u left a like, reblog, or comment :,) feedback keeps me motivated!

#blue lock x reader #itoshi rin x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk rin #rin itoshi #rin x reader #itoshi x reader #reader insert

[kvtie444]

⋆‧₊˚ TEACHERS PET pt. 3

A/N: ALL CHARACTERS ARE OVER 18!! ITS ESCAPISM SZNNN, sorry this was late I had a bubble bath and zoned out

Summary: Reader has a new teacher and finds herself falling for him blahblahblah teachers pet by melanie vibes xoxo

Warnings: NSFW, alcohol, swearing, smut?????!!!!!!

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Madi F:

What are you doing tomorrow night? x

Navigating the familiar path to my dorm, keys in hand, I type my response with a single hand.

Y/N:

Hey! Nothing why?

Upon entering my dorm, I secure the door and toss my keys and bag onto the bed. My journey continues to the bathroom, where I prepare for bed. Placing my phone on the sink, I secure my hair with a headband as I cleanse my face, as I hear to Madi's text buzz.

Madi F:

Some of us are going clubbing. I know it's not really your scene, but wanna come? X

Contemplating the proposition while washing my face, the enjoyment of clubbing has faded, but the realization of my limited social circle nudges me to consider the offer. Another unexpected message interrupts my thoughts, expecting it to be Madi, my jaw drops upon seeing Matt’s name.

Matt S:

Did you get in okay?

His simple yet endearing message prompts a smile as I respond, tapping my nails against the screen.

Y/N:

Yeah, thank you. Thanks for the lift, by the way. Can I send you money for gas?

Returning to Madi's chat, a surge of confidence prompts me to embrace the social opportunity.

Y/N:

I think I'll come. If you want, we could do pres at mine.

A sense of pride accompanies the message. Madi's enthusiastic reply further boosts my spirits.

Madi F:

YAY!!! 😁😁🩷

After completing my night routine, I collapse onto my bed. Leaning over and retrieving Matt's book from my bag, I begin reading, engrossed in the story for hours. As the clock strikes 12:05, I get a notification with Matt's delayed reply, a smile creeps over my face.

Matt S:

No, don't worry about it. It's fine. You're a student Y/N, you need to use your money wisely.

His reminder of my student status elicits a slight frown. Seeking a change of topic, I send a lighthearted message.

Y/N:

I like the book.

Matt S:

I knew you would.

A smile graces my face, and despite my inner voice to end the conversation, the thrill of talking with him literally makes me kick my feet. I decide to just leave it, switching off my phone, I toss it aside and close my eyes, embracing sleep.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Saturday night arrives, and Madi is on her way. Nervous anticipation lingers as I gaze into the full-length mirror, carefully selecting my outfit. Wearing my hair straight with a full face of glam, I don a black deep V-neck cropped tank and my favourite mini skirt, complemented by mini black platforms. The rare chance to dress up invokes a sense of confidence. I capture a few pics before I hear Madi knocking.

Walking to the door, the clacking of my heels announces my approach. I open the door to find Madi and six other girls. "Hey!" Madi exclaims, initiating hugs. Pleasant introductions follow, and the girls bring drinks. With music playing from my speaker, we engage in small talk whilst I sip my Malibu and pineapple juice.

About an hour and a half later, we decide to head to the club. Ordering Ubers, we gather outside the club, reputed as the biggest one frequented by college students. As we queue up, the effects of our drinks start to kick in, dizziness taking control of me. By the time we enter the club, the music resonates loudly. Heading to the bar, one of Madi's friends engages the bartender, securing 7 shots for us all. Jaeger bombs in hand, we down the shots, and the pulsating taste lingers on my tongue. Next thing I know, Sexyy Red starts, and we are pulled onto the dance floor. Madi and I sway and sing together, but a presence behind me interrupts the moment – a hand on my hip. Turning, I encounter a random blonde guy. Am I drunk enough to lower my standards to a 6/10? No.

Looking back to Madi, I s hoot her a look before she drags me back to the girls. after a few more songs, I decide to get another drink. Approaching the bar, I order a double vodka Red Bull, tapping my card and waiting. I look around and my heart drops – no less that 3 feet away, I see Matt, paying for a drink. Our eyes lock, and I grab my drink, attempting to walk straight past him, but he’s quick to stop me.

"Hey," he says, placing a hand on the small of my back. The touch sends shivers down my spine. Looking up at him, I smile, "Hey. What are you doing here?" I ask, tilting my head. He downs his shot before responding, "Clubbing?" he replies with his brows furrowed, chuckling at my apparent surprise. I giggle, feeling a blush creep up.

"I didn't see you as the clubbing type," I say, leaning in slightly due to the loud music. He shrugs, "I enjoy my drinks, I feel his eyes scanning almost every inch of my body due to how little I was really wearing. He licks his lips before looking back up to me. He leans as his hand remains on the small of my back, warm breath teasing my skin, "Wanna go somewhere more quiet? Can barely hear you." He asks me, I nod, absolutely dumbfounded by his presence, and he guides me through the crowd, hand on my waist.

The realization hits me – maybe this isn't a delusion. He leads us to a quieter hallway, still audible with music, and a few others scattered around. His hand leaves my side as he leans against the wall opposite me. I mirror his stance, facing each other. Crossing his arms, his slightly cropped shirt rises, revealing the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers. He had such a slutty waist. My gaze drops to my hands, fiddling with my nails. He breaks the silence.

"Did you come here with a guy?"

"No, just some of the girls. Can't stand guys my age," I mumble, meeting his eyes. His gaze moves down my body before staring deeply into my eyes.

"Why’s that?"

"They're all immature," I start. He begins stepping closer, narrowing the already small space.

"And they don't know how to treat me right," I continue. He hums in agreement.

"Is that it?" he asks, now standing directly in front of me. Our bodies would be touching if I stood up straight, I bit my lip.

"Guys my age don't know how to touch me," I say, the alcohol boosting my confidence. His jaw clenches as he lets out a heavy breath. His tattooed hand moves to my waist, the other reaching up to my face, thumb rubbing my cheek. Panic sets in - what have I gotten myself into? Am I really going to cross this boundary?

"Want me to show you how good I can make you feel?" he says, his grip firm, eyes locking onto mine. I nod, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah."

Before I know it, he grabs my arm and drags me to the accessible bathroom stall, kissing me passionately. The euphoric sensation of the kiss overwhelms me as he pushes me against the wall, kicking the door shut behind him. Pressed against the wall, I willingly surrender to his dominance, allowing his tongue to explore and claim every inch of my parted lips.

His kisses travel a path down my jaw, leaving a trail of hickies. He explores down to my collars with a mixture of gentle sucking and teasing bites, each touch setting my skin ablaze. A soft moan escapes my lips as his hands find their way to my hips, pulling our bodies together bruisingly tight.

Returning to my lips, he intensifies the kiss, his hands sliding up beneath my thighs effortlessly. He picks me up, making me gasp, he hoists me up as though I weigh nothing, seamlessly carrying me across the small space to the sink.

Sitting me on the smooth surface, he maintains the seamless connection between our lips. The heat of the moment pulses between us, his hands trailing down to my hips, pulling me closer. The rhythmic dance of our bodies becomes a symphony of desire, with his lips never parting from mine. The sink counter becomes a temporary throne of passion as our connection deepens and the world outside the stall fades away. His hands trace a heated path down my body, gripping my ass with an assertive pull, drawing me tightly against him. The pressure of his hard on against my stomach sends a shiver through me, and a soft whine escapes my lips in response to the overwhelming desire.

My hands instinctively find their way into his hair, entwining my fingers as he pulls away, his gaze locked with mine. His hand boldly ventures up my skirt, fingers cupping my pussy, teasing, and pressing against my entrance. The sensation elicits an involuntary moan from me, and I tilt my head back, lost in the intensity of the moment.

"M-Matt, please, “I whimper breathlessly, aching against him. "Please, what, baby?" he teases, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches my desperate state. "Please, I need you," I shamelessly beg. He smiles, his pink lips pressing a quick kiss to my jaw, before pulling my underwear to the side. I wince as the cool air meets my exposed skin, his thumb brushing against my eager lips. "Open," he demands.

Parting my lips, I willingly comply, and he slides his thumb in. I suck on it as he pushes further, evoking a heavenly groan from his lips. "Good girl," he murmurs, withdrawing his thumb and shifting it down to my clit. Initially, he presses against it, not yet moving, drawing a whine from me. I grab his arm, yearning for more contact. He smirks as he gradually begins circling my clit with his thumb, causing me to throw my head back against the mirror behind me.

His pointer finger slips inside me while he continues to circle my clit with his thumb, making me let out a loud moan. "Look at me," he orders, bringing a momentary pause to his movements. I open my eyes to meet his gaze, and he bites his lip, smiling, resuming his movements. "So wet for me, angel," he remarks, moving down to kiss my neck. I tilt my head to grant him better access, gasping as he adds another finger and proceeds to suck hickeys into my sensitive skin.

Tugging at his hair, he groans, the knot in my stomach growing tighter. I clench around his fingers, whimpering, "Matt." He urges, "Shit, come for me, princess," against my collarbone. I moan, releasing my pent-up pleasure, his fingers slowing down in response. I grab his wrist, pulling him out of me, then guiding his fingers to my lips, sucking them clean.

As I look into his eyes, his once blown-out pupils abruptly contract. He withdraws his fingers from me and steps back, muttering a soft curse to himself. I stand up, my legs slightly aching, and adjust my underwear. He turns away and begins walking toward the door. What the fuck?

"Matt?" I almost yell. He freezes for a moment, turning his head to glance back at me. However, he doesn't linger, opening the door and leaving. Confusion floods me. I can't help but feel tears welling in my eyes. Everything happened so quickly—what the fuck did I do wrong?

I remain frozen until a man barges into the bathroom, heading for the toilet and gagging. I scrunch my face in disgust, walking out, my heels loudly clacking against the floor as I make my way towards the exit. I need to get out of here. The music grows louder, and a tightness grips my chest, making my breathing difficult. Someone grabs my wrist, and I turn around, relaxing when I see it's Madi.

"Where have you been, girl? Shit- Who gave you those hickeys?" she says, smiling and inspecting my neck, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation. "Don't worry about it. I'm just getting some air," I lie, quickly turning away and walking out of the club. Fuck. I open my phone and book an Uber. While I wait, I open Matt's chat, debating whether or not to text him. Fuck it.

Y/N:

Wtf happened tonight? Can we talk?

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Read. He left me on fucking read. It's been three days, and I've been dreading today - I have a lesson with him. I walk to my class, pushing the door open to find he's not in yet. I take my seat next to Madi, who stays silent. I think she knows I need space just judging by my presence - hoodie up, headphones still on, slouched in my chair with no books out.

About five minutes later, Matt comes in. He teaches as if nothing's happened, and throughout the lesson, he doesn't even look at me once. What a dick. The final bell rings, and I get out of my chair, walking behind everyone else. Right as I reach the door, our eyes meet. Shit. I quickly look away, pettily slamming the door shut behind me. Hold on. You know what? I'm not going to let this man USE me and then completely IGNORE me? Who does he fucking think he is? I turn around, slamming the door open. He looks up as if he's just seen a ghost, and I hear the door shut behind me.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I say, my brows knitted together. "Y/N, you need to go," he says. "No, I deserve an explanation. Do you think it's okay to just use girls, then fucking leave them?" I yell, stepping closer. He looks down, tongue in cheek. "I've got essays to mark."

"I don't give two shits, Matt," I reply hastily. He looks up at me, and his face softens at the sight of the hurt on my face. "Did I do something wrong?" I ask, feeling more vulnerable. He sighs, stepping closer, his hand coming up to my cheek.

"No, Y/N, shit, I panicked. I like you, Y/N, like a lot, but you're my student. You saw what happened to Kennedy. You think I want to get fired?" he says sweetly. I sniffle and look down, before he lifts my face back up with his hand.

"I'm not stupid, Matt. You're the one who told me how smart I am. No one's gonna find out about this," I reply, biting my lip. "It was just a one-time thing, right?" I continue. He looks at me.

"Would you like it to be a one-time thing?"

"No."

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

tag list!

@iloveneilperry @bernardenjoyer @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @daddyslilchickenfingers @mbbsgf @sturnvilmed @sturnphilia @s1urnioloslvr @mattsbratt @mangosrar @christinarowie332 @recklesssturniolo @bluesturniolo333 @flowerxbunnie @kenzieiskoolaid @pepsiskiess @poopydroopt @byechristopher @soursturniolo @m6ttsturniolo @lustfulslxt @stardustmf444 @thankyounextt @glossyfx

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #imagine #angst #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #smut #Spotify

[charmedbystars]

for the plot...? pt 2!!!

pairing: 42-miles x reader

summary: a little meet up after your risky text.

content: no warnings!

a/n: im surprised you guys got me to write a part 2, it's pretty short tho..

part one here!

it was the 2nd of january. just hours after celebrations for the new year and people wishing for the next 366 days (leap year!) to bring them good luck and health. of course on the 1st everything was closed, everyone celebrating new beginnings with their loved ones, but now everyone is back to work a day later. 

so on the 2nd of january, you walked out of your apartment with the motive that you will get your healthy relationship for 2024. you didn’t even have to eat grapes under the table and you’re already on a move. 

walking up to the diner that you both used to eat at 24/7, you could already see him sitting at the booth. you felt a little bit of shivers go down your spine, the feeling that this could potentially work out or not. so pulling the door open and walking right in, shuffling into the booth that you both always sit at, you sit across from him. 

there’s a pause in the air, it was like the whole world was moving in slow motion. you honestly didn’t even know how to look him in the eyes. it was as if there was a big mystery, like where did the person who got all the courage to send that risky text go? because they were gone right now. out of the corner of your eyes, you could see miles lean back into the booth, crossing his arms before sighing out, “i’m here cuz i wanted to talk. don’t think that i jus be responding to texts for nothing.”

“i know, i know… i’m jus kinda nervous,” you fidgeted with your hands.

“you got nothing to worry about ma. you know i’ve always been yours,” and with that little line said, you had to stop yourself from breaking into a full smile. 

“i think i’m just nervous of going into this and it ending it like last time,”

“whatever happened last time was my fault. i didn’t try hard enough to fight for you, for us. i wanna start working on us now. i’ll make the time, mi corazon,” he reached his hand across the table, grabbing your fidgeting fingers and taking a hold of them. 

“miles, i don’t want you to take all the blame. there would be times that i wouldn’t hear you out-”

you got cut off, “i don’ wanna hear that. it wasn’t your fault.”

you just nodded before intertwining your fingers together, “i just want this to work… its been months and i still love you,”

“i love you too, never stopped,” and him saying that felt like a weight was taken off your shoulders. it was as if someone hit pause on a movie and they finally hit play again. 

“okay… then we got a lot we need to catch up on and this time extra dates and hangouts, maybe even sleepovers!” you started rambling off. 

“i’ll make sure to do allat,” 

“you promise?”

“i promise, my love.”

“pinky promise?” you grinned. earning an eye roll from him before he stuck out his pinky finger towards you. interlocking pinkies together was all you needed for that bit of confirmation. 

you two were soon interrupted, looking up to the waiter approaching with a milkshake and two straws, “here you two go,” and dropping it off at the table. 

“you remembered?”

“how could i forget?”

looks like this new year is turning out pretty good for you.

#miles morales x reader #spiderverse x reader #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles x reader #earth42!miles x reader #earth42!miles #miles morales x you #miles g #e!42 miles morales x reader #miles morales #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles x you #prowler miles #miles morales prowler #atsv miles #astv #miles morales fanfiction #earth 42 #across the spiderverse #itsv #spiderman across the spiderverse

[seethesin]

multitasking

pairing: Shane McCutcheon x F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, facesitting, cunnilingus (mdni, 18+)

a/n: based on this prompt. enjoy :)

The dinner party invitation from Bette & Tina came as a surprise to you. You accepted, of course, wanting nothing more than to spend quality time with Shane's loved ones. However, a part of you couldn't understand why you were added to the guest list. What you and Shane had was—for lack of better words—a situationship. Neither of you expected more out of the other than incredible sex, mutual respect for boundaries, and someone who was always down to have fun. Something as intimate as attending a dinner party together screamed commitment. Regardless, the two of you agreed to go together. Shane insisted on picking you up by 7:00 to be there for 7:30.

"It makes it easier," you remember Shane justifying over the phone. She babbled on about something regarding limited parking space; in hindsight, it was a lame excuse just to spend more time with you.

As promised, Shane was punctual. She was at your home by 6:30 sharp for a pickup. However, you were nowhere near ready. Thankfully, you showered, dried, and styled your hair already. But, you still needed to pick your outfit and put makeup on. You were going to need at least a half hour.

Shane blaring her car horn while parked in your driveway brought you back into reality.

"Oh my god," you mutter to yourself, searching your bedroom for your phone. Finding it underneath the dresses splayed over your bed, you smash the call button by Shane's contact and wait. Her car horn finally stops and your favorite husky voice answers on the other line.

"I'm here, [Y/N]."

"Yes, I know Shane. As does the rest of my neighborhood."

She chuckles, tickled by your tone.

"Are you ready?"

"Not yet, I still have to do a few things."

"Do you know what you're wearing yet?"

Silence. Shane's laughing now.

"Should I come in and wait?"

You sigh, defeated. "I'll unlock the door."

You end the call and hustle over to the front door. You unlock it and hold it open for Shane as she makes her way towards you, a smug smile glued onto her face.

She looks good. She always does. But there was something about the tailored suit jacket, dress shirt, and trouser combination she donned that made her look even sexier than usual. You shake that thought out of your head; you need to get ready.

"Hey, [Y/N]," she greets you, stepping into your home as you shut and lock the door behind her. You turn to face her and she's already leering at you. Her smirk does not falter.

"You sure you don't want to wear that tonight?"

Glancing down at yourself, you blink back your shock. Since you couldn't decide on what to wear, you kept your bra and underwear on but threw a robe over yourself for modesty's sake. If you weren't crunched for time, you would have taken it to throw a smart comment back at Shane. Instead, you playfully punch her in the shoulder, unable to stop yourself from grinning back. She holds up her hands in mock surrender.

"Do you want anything?" you ask, getting ready to step into the kitchen. Shane shakes her head, settling down on your couch instead.

"I'm going to finish getting ready. If you need me, I'm in my room, okay?" Shane salutes you like a soldier, snatching up the TV remote before turning it on. Half seriously, you roll your eyes before slipping down the hallway.

Your brain kicks into overdrive as you check the time. 6:34. Okay, you have some time.

Exhaling slowly, you look at the three dresses spread on your bed. Childishly, you close your eyes and whisper out the eenie meenie miney mo spiel to yourself. Once you finish, you open your eyes and take in your randomized decision. It was a batwing, beige a-line dress with a white floral pattern. Good enough.

Shedding your robe off, you slip into the dress before smoothing it out. You check yourself in the mirror and, once content with how you look, put the other dresses away. You then pull the chair out to your vanity and take a seat.

You’ve just finished applying a layer of foundation when you see Shane enter your bedroom from the corner of the mirror.

“Hey,” you offer, looking back at yourself and you start blending blush into your cheeks. She nods in reply.

“I got bored.” she finally admits, settling down on your bed. It sounds like Shane wants to add something to her statement, but she ends it curtly. She's fiddling with her rings, looking around your bedroom as if it's the first time she's been inside. If you didn't know any better, you would think something was making her nervous.

“So you’ve come to bother me?” you question teasingly, your tone light as you move onto bronzer.

Shane flashes a boyish grin at you, watching as you paint across your hairline with great interest. “Absolutely.”

“Lucky me.” It’s hard not to smile back at her, so you don’t bother to hide it.

Shane lays back on your bed, her legs draped over the foot of it while her head hits just under your pillows. She's staring at the ceiling, eyes wandering until she notes the windowsill above your headboard. Her brows furrow and then, a wicked thought crosses her mind.

"[Y/N]?" Shane's sitting up now, watching as you finish your highlight.

"Yes?"

"How much more do you need to do?"

"Just my eyes and lips, why?"

Shane beams.

"How good are you at multitasking?"

You don't follow. Your interest, however, is piqued.

"Pretty good. Why?"

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips as she stares at you. You know that look all too well.

"Set your stuff up on the windowsill and c'mere."

You watch her incredulously through the mirror before turning around to look at her directly. She's serious; she's waiting for you expectantly as she drums her fingernails on her thighs. You glance at the clock. 6:45. Fine, you'll humor her.

Gathering the rest of your makeup and a desk mirror, you walk towards your bed before putting everything down on the windowsill. You take a moment to set up the mirror before you look down at Shane.

"I'm here, Shane," you mimic her from earlier, watching as she lays back down on your bed. Raising her hands toward you, she wiggles her fingers in a come hither motion.

"Take a seat."

"Shane—"

"Multitask," she chides, one hand dropping to the hem of your dress. "Unless you really don't want to."

Truthfully, the idea of grinding your cunt into Shane's mouth sounded heavenly. Receiving an orgasm or two out of it sounded even better. So you relent, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear before sliding them off. Scooping up the skirt of your dress, you climb onto your bed and kneel over Shane's face.

"You ready?" you ask, watching Shane nod eagerly before seating yourself on her face. She grips your thighs, readjusting you so you're positioned comfortably on top of her. You reach for a makeup brush and shudder once you feel Shane lick a stripe from your slit to clit. Fifteen minutes you remind yourself as you start with your eyeshadow.

Shane, meanwhile, does not feel the same time crunch. She's consuming your cunt with open-mouthed kisses, pivoting to kitten licks to get a feel of what you like in this position. Her blunt fingernails dig into your thighs, grounding you as her mouth continues to work. A devious suck to your clit makes you whine and her smirk sears into your skin.

Meanwhile, you've managed to complete your eyeshadow for one eye and have moved on to the other. Shane is insatiable though; she rips another moan from your throat as her tongue rubs tight circles around your clit.

"Fuck," you whisper, trying to compose yourself before starting the other eye. Shane hums in pleasure underneath you; the vibration against your pussy makes you squirm. The coil in your stomach is beginning to tighten and desperately, you try to control your panting. You instead focus on breathing through your nose as you blend the powder into your lid. Shane keeps you on edge, her tongue flickering against your clit before sliding down to your slit.

It's when she slips her tongue inside your pussy that your resolve falters. You finished with the eyeshadow, but you didn't trust yourself enough to put eyeliner on. Or mascara for that matter. One hand sinks into Shane's hair, grabbing tightly as you lurch forward. You choke on a groan as your hips teeter, enjoying the feeling of her tongue pistoning inside you.

It's garbled, but Shane is snickering beneath you.

"Shane." It comes out as a pitiful rasp while you shake like a leaf. Maybe no eyeliner tonight. She pinches your thighs playfully to retort, making you swivel around her tongue. You opt instead to put your lipstick on. You remove your hand from Shane's hair to grab the tube in front of you. Popping the cap off, you twist before applying a quick swipe on your bottom lip. Another whimper peels from your throat as you feel the flat of Shane's tongue stroke against your clit. The tip pumps into you, maintaining the same rhythm as before.

The sensations are starting to overstimulate you. Quiveringly, you swipe your upper lip before mashing them together, rubbing the lipstick in. You snap the cap back and nearly toss it onto the windowsill, in favor of grabbing the edge of it for purchase. Your thighs keep Shane's head vised in place as your orgasm washes over you. You're gasping and panting as you cum, eyes screwed shut as your body goes rigid. Shane's pace slows, opting instead to let you rut into her tongue to ride out the remainder of your orgasm. A few moments later, you slump forward.

You feel her tap on your thigh gently and taking the hint, you scramble off her face. Shane takes a few seconds to rest before sitting back up. Her chin is shining with your slick and she rubs it off with the palm of her hand, throwing a half-lidded gaze in your direction.

"You look good," she slurs huskily, taking the time to drag her eyes down your face. You're not sure if you're flushing from her compliment or if it's just the afterglow.

"Thank you." You glance at the clock and your eyes go wide. "Fuck!"

7:05.

You spring back up to the windowsill, swiftly grabbing the tube of mascara before twisting it open and brushing it through your lashes.

"We're gonna be late!" you hiss, scanning through the rest of the products spread out in front of you. There was no time for anything else and you instead take a moment to look over yourself in the mirror. Hopping off the bed, you swipe up your underwear and pull them up, smoothing down the skirt of your dress.

Suddenly, Shane's hands are on your hips and she yanks you into her chest. You stop moving and peer up at Shane through your lashes. Your heart flips in your chest as she flashes you a rare, genuine smile.

"You know, there's a thing called being fashionably late, [Y/N]." She winks and you can't help but mirror her grin. You press a kiss on her cheek, almost upset that the lipstick didn't transfer.

"Doesn't mean we have to keep everyone waiting." You got her there. Nodding, she released your hips before motioning to your bedroom door.

"After you, sugar."

#shane mccutcheon #shane mccutcheon imagine #the l word #shane mccutcheon x reader #the l word imagine #tlw fandom #tlw #wlw #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

[mattmurdock42]

Henry's special night.

Summary: Henry's had a stressful week and you help him relax

Warnings: MASSAGES, BATHTUB, COCKWARMING, FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF

WC: +- 2k

It´s been three months since Henry started to work out for his new role, August Walker. He´d wake early and go to the gym, then, he´d go straight to the set´s gym to train for his fight scenes. He usually´d be home by 7 pm, but latelly, he was arriving at 9 pm, always sanding you picutes and videos of him training when he was late, apologizing and stuff. You didn´t knew how he could manage this schedule.

This has been his routine for a while now. However, this week you noticed he was a little different. He´d get home and go straight to the shower and bed, falling asleep in seconds. He used to always dine with you and talk and cuddle in bed, so this new behaviour of his shocked you. One day, while he was showering, you passed in front of the bathroom, which was with the door open, and you saw him leaned against the wall while the water ran against his back. You couldn't´t stand this situation anymore, not when, one day, his meals that he took to the trainig secions, came untouched. You knew all his diet, he needed to eat, and a lot, otherwise he wouldn´t even be able to stand still. You decided to do something, and it would be this weekend.

This friday he made home by 7 pm, then bath and bed as always. At weekends he would always just go to the gym and for a walk on the evening. He needed to go to the gym for his job, so you didn´t intervined in that, but tonight, he was not going out. You decided to accompany him in the gym, going 7 am, instead of your usual time, 5pm. You could tell he was tired, always yawning, sitting whenever possible, and making some exercises limited.

Getting home, you both went to have your morning snacks. "Henry, i´m worried about you." He looked confused at you. "You can barely stand still for to long. This days, your food came untouched. You need to obey strictly to your diet."

"Oh, that day i just forgot to eat, darling. It´s okay." He quietly says.

You knew he wouldn´t admit he was tired, he always wanted to pass an impression of being always strong, healthy and excited, rarelly letting his guard down. Moreover, you knew you were the only one he´d confess if something was bothering him. He trusted you with his life and didn´t know how he could love you so much.

"I won´t admit this situation to keep going. So, today i planned a special day for you." You say with a smile. He tries to say something but you cut him, already knowing he would say something against it, but in his heart, he really wanted it. "This saturday will begin with you taking a shower and doing whatever you want until i make luch, then, you´ll take a nap until down. During evening, i have a surprise for you."

"Baby girl, you know i don´t like surprises, even if they are nice, so tell me what it is." He pleaded.

"No baby girl today. Now, you are my baby boy, and will do as you are told. About the surprise, you´ll like it, don´t worry. Still, i´m not telling you." You winked.

He rolled his eyes and went to the bathroom. A few hours later lunch was ready. "Darling, do you have remedy for headache?" He asked you, because you were the one who usually had then, so his question was unexpected.

"Yes, i´m gonna get it." You go to your purse and reache him a pill. After lunch he was going to do the dishes but you sent him straight to bed, with a kiss on his lips and a soft smack on his ass, making him smile teasingly at you.

It was 4pm when you went to wake him. As you entered the bedroom you saw him shirtless tangled in your giant duvet. In your hands, you had a tray with boiled eggs, orange juice, and a sandwich of chicken with gratted carrot. The part of waking him, you left for Kal, who was standing by your side, waiting for your signal to wake his best friend. He patted the way through the bed, sniffing Henry´s feet who was out of the duvet. Henry sighed groggy, shifting in the bed. Kal got on the bed and went to lick Henry´s back. He turned to face Kal, opening his eyes and softly petting the dog´s head. Then, he turned to you. "Hello, my world." He says. You sat by his side on the bed and placed the tray on his lap. He kisses you on the cheek. "What i did to deserve this special treatment, may i know?" He asked. "Well, you worship me in every single way i could be worshiped, you give me love i didn´t know i deserved, and, the most important thing, you make me cum every week." He chuckled loud, smiling at you and saying "Well, maybe i should make you cum more, so i can always have special weekends." You grin and place your hand on his thigh, going up and down teasingly. "Maybe you should. You know, four times a week is enough for me." You joke. "Carefull with what you wish, my love. So, now it´s night, what is the surprise?"

You kissed him and gave a knowing smile, making him groan. " Now rest, dinner will be ready in a couple of hours, and you need to eat, my baby boy. Oh! And by the way, no going for a walk tonight. I´ll go with Kal to the park, but when i get home, i wanna see you doing nothing stressful, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am". He said with a pout.

After your walk, you put the lasagna in the oven and go to prepare things for the night. As you passed through the living room, you see your husband playing his video game. "Did your headache got better?" You asked as you seated by his side hugging his bicep. "Yes, that nap was heaven." He said as he didn´t took his eyes from the game. You untengled yourself from his arm and when you went to get up, you feel one giant arm embrace your waist and pull you backwards. You fall on Henry´s lap. With his other arm, he leans you to the side for a kiss. "Is this surprise anything that involves, i don´t know... my body? Since you comanded me to sleep all day."

"Yes, it does involve your body. But not in that way." You managed to say before your lips smashed togheter. "You are mine" he whispers as he lets you go. As you prepared the bedroom and the bathtub, you went to set the table. You both ate and did the dishes, Henry pestering you all the time, like a curious child.

"Now that everything is set on it´s place, can we go to the surprise part? It´s killing me!" He whined.

"Well, if you want it so much, lets go." He suddenly pulled you to a passionate kiss, sliding his hands with hunger to your ass, placing one between you legs, massaging your core. You break the kiss and push him away, one hand on his chest. "What have i told you? This is not the surprise." You grab his hand and guides him to the bedroom.

As he entered he saw candles everywhere and a chair by the bed. "Darling, if the surprise is not sex, then i really don´t know what it is." He says as he looked confused at you. You push him to seat on the bed. "My baby boy, i watched you on those videos that you send me of you training and i saw how stiff you were, you are to stressed. So, i´ll make you relax this night." You explain as you cup his cheek and with the pad of your thumb you massage his cheek. "Now, get naked." You command. He does as he is told. "Seat on the chair, but with your back turned to me." He straddles the chair. "hug the chair and straight your posture." As he does, you start to massage his shoulders. He flinches and let a pain sigh scape. He was too stiff. "My baby, so many knots. I can´t let you get to this state again." You start to work on it, making his shoulders go down slowly. When you were done, he inclines his head back, lips slightly parted. You grab both sides of his head and inclines it to expose his neck. You start to massage it, giving soft squeezes. You can feel his Adam´s apple. After you finish you say "Now, lay on the bad, back´s up." You straddle him and starts to work on his tensioned low back muscles, where he kept all his weight. After many minutes scrubbing and undoing knots, you went to his chest, feeling his defined abdominal muscles under your hands. You loved his broad chest, it made you feel safe and cozy. After he was entirely relaxed, you gave squeezes to his legs to release the accumulated tension.

The massage part was over. You sat beside his head on the bed and quietly says. "My baby, i´m finished." You say as you pet his head. "It´s my special night, so i demand more." He whispers, eyes still close. "Darling, your muscles are completely soft now, and the night is still not over." You took his hand and lead him to the bathroom. You had prepared the bathtub full of bubbles and soaps. "Get in there and seats in the middle." After he did, you seat behind him. Each of your legs on each side of his body. You pull him to lean on your chest. He hummes silently. "You are my favorite person on this universe. I must have been an angel in some other life to deserve you." He whispers.

"Well, i can´t say if you were or were not, but i certainlly was, because i got the most gentleman, loving, funny, smart, worshiping, prestative and handsome husband ever." You say as you place a kiss on his hair.

You both just stay there for a considerable time. After, you take a shower and go to bed.

"This was the best night of my life, dove."

"I´m glad you enjoyed it." You say as he pulls you closer, cuddling you. "You know how you were suggesting something before, then i started thinking..." You didn't finish your sentence with words, letting your actions take control. Your fingers went through his short's waistband and you grabbed his cock, already semi-hard, giving it gentle strokes. "Let me cockwarm you. I missed you these days, we didn't cuddled for so long!" You whisper, your lips hovering his. Before you could tell,he had already turned you over, back pulled to chest. You took off your pajamas and he entered you, making you gasp. Gosh, how you missed his giant cock. You both fall asleep in each other arms. The next day, you would give even more care to your baby boy.

#henry cavill #superman #dc universe #henry cavill fanfiction #fanfiction #geralt of rivia #henry cavil husband #henry cavill canon #witcher geralt #fluff #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavil x reader #henry cavil x y/n #august walker

[sugolara]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Feat. Katsuki Bakugo x Shoto Todoroki x Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

A series. Book One

cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, updates thursday/sunday, slow burn, cross-posted on ao3, wattpad, qoutev

˗ˏˋ+ ´ˎ˗ After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge.

Inspired by, ''The Walking Dead''

(ongoing)

playlist!

" Space Junk - Wang Chung " Wolf - First Aid Kit " Into The Black - Chromatics " My Life In Rewind - Eagulls " Hush - Trills " Bad Before Good - Dayone " Run Boy Run - Woodkid " You're So Cool - Jonathan Bree " So Bored - Gorgeous Bully " Operations - Duster " Blue Light - Mazzy Star " Civilian - Wye Oak " Can't Stop - Red Hot Chili Peppers " Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns N' Roses " Skyfall - Adele " Struggling Man - Emily Kinney (original: Jimmy Cliff) " The Last Pale Light In The West - Ben Nichols " Up The Wolves - The Mountain Goats " Blackbird Song - Lee DeWyze " Be Gone Dull Cage - Kiev " Into Dust - Mazzy Star " Warm Shadow - Fink " Tomorrow Is a Long Time - Bob Dylan " Poison Tree - Grouper " Rhymes Of An Hour - Mazzy Star " You Are The Wilderness - Voxhaul Broadcast " Running - Delta Spirit " People, Turn around - Delta Spirit " The Lion's Roar - First Aid Kit " Pain - Boy Harsher " The Setup - Favored Nations " The Old Death - Ben Nichols " Revolution - Red Shahan " The Man Who Sold The World - Nirvana " Beautiful Mess - Balian " The Day The World Went Away - Nine Inch Nails " Mr. Splitfoot - Paris Motel " Empty Words - Bowery Electric " No Longer Making Time - Slowdive " Step Away from the Cliff - Blue-Eyed Son " Paradise - Silverberg " Take Care (To Comb Your Hair) - Ty Segall " Glad I Had a Friend - Galt MacDermot " Machine Gun - Portishead " Shadows of Planes - Duster " No Peace at All - Aldous Harding " Save Us from Ourselves - Digital Daggers " I'm No Heroine - Emily Wells " Salt in the Wound - Delta Spirit " It's All Right - Sam Cooke " To Build a Home - The Cinematic Orchestra " 6 Underground - Sneaker Pimps " Edge Of The World - Dayshell " Bye Bye Bye - School of Seven Bells " Arsonist Lullaby - Hozier " It's All Over - Johnny Cash " The Stars Just Blink For Us - Say Hi " Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division " Knockin' On Heaven's Door - Guns N' Roses " Runnin' Down a Dream - Tom Petty " Fly Like An Eagle - Steve Miller Band " You Are Not Alone - Mavis Staples " Welcome - Harmonia & Eno ‘76’ " Hope We Can Again - Nine Inch Nails " outside - Oneheart " sleepless - Odyzon " Alesund - Sun Kil Moon " Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd " Don Abandons Alice - John Murphy " Wicked Game - Chris Isaak " Rule of Rose OST - Playing Airship " 1908 - Repulsive " I Shall Cross This River - The Black Atlantic " Easy Way Out - Low Roar

table of contents:

Season 1: Episode 1: Begin Episode 2: Not alone Episode 3: Gone but not forgotten Episode 4: You belong in this world Episode 5: Because all life is precious Episode 6: Musutafu, we'll meet again Episode 7: Izuku: I'd always thought there be more time

Season 2: Episode 8: During these two weeks Episode 9: Diopside, like your eyes Episode 10: For the first time in a long time Episode 11: Almost complete Episode 12: Determined to survive, stay alive Episode 13: Fear Episode 14: Katsuki: You are going to beat this world

Season 3: Episode 15: Away with you Episode 16: Three months ago Episode 17: Slowly withering away Episode 18: Don't die, not yet Episode 19: How long before I’m alone Episode 20: Nothing else to lose Episode 21: Shoto: Everything you would be will be gone

Season 4: Episode 22: Trouble Episode 23: For however long that'll be Episode 24: Searching Episode 25: The fallen city Episode 26: Stay who you are Episode 27: All together Episode 28: F/n: With you beside me

Season 5: Episode 29: Here Episode 30: Cruel Episode 31: Too loud Episode 32: Back on road Episode 33: All is lost Episode 34: Safe in your arms Episode 35: And so it begins Episode 36: At stake Episode 37: Sorry or whatever Episode 38: Familiar eyes

Season 6: Episode 39: A relief Episode 40: Upcoming trouble Episode 41: Never to easy Episode 42: To good for death Episode 43: Old memories Episode 44: A stroke of luck Episode 45: Be aware Episode 46: Bait Episode 47: A thump in my heart Episode 48: Belong to me Episode 49: One step closer (Towards you)

Season 7: Episode 50: Sorston Episode 51: Tenderness Episode 52: Here to stay Episode 53: The start Episode 54: Crushed Episode 55: Reporting to duty Episode 56: Good morning and goodbye Episode 57: An end to sorrow, grief & regret Episode 58: On the move Episode 59: Confirmation Episode 60: The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

Season 8: Episode 61: Not who you were Episode 62: Just you and me Episode 63: The Plaza Episode 64: The other side Episode 65: To be ready

to be continued...

Book two: To The One You Left Behind

taglist: @mikeyswifie @k0z3me @sky-angel101 @stevenknightmarc @nahwajinswhore @mn-0p @a-helen113 @azrral @mary-jinx @chixkadee @flowers-4-you

#bnha shoto x reader #bnha tomura #bnha deku #bnha midoriya #bnha dabi #bnha class 1a #mha shouto x reader #mha denki #mha ochaco #mha bakugou #mha #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugo katuski #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x y/n #mha izuku #izuku midoria x reader #izuku x y/n #izuku x reader #mha midoriya #izuku midoriya #midoriya x y/n #shoto todoroki #shoto x you #todoroki shoto x reader #sugolara! #welcome to the new world

[yellowwithalisp]

can u do hobie brown with a mall goth s/o or something please!! I’m curious what Hobie would think about nu metal

• You have Invader Zim stuff. No questions asked ok.

• You shop a lot at Hit Topic and Spencer's. And you know the mall like that back of your hand. You know all the short cuts and what yikes to not be there to avoided crowds.

• You go to hot topic and you get something from bath and BodyWorks right next door while you're there.

• You walking down to your favorite store to but some new hair dyw when you see a very tall man looking at some of the shirts. You walk over to a worked and armed who he was. They said that he came in here with other people. A younger boy was walking around with a girl trying to act like he knew what some of the things in the store were, only for him to be wrong and for her to correct him.

• You were watching the two when someone stood next to you.

❝You thinky he's going to ask her?❞

• You shrugged.

"He's trying so hard to impress her."

❝He doesn' need to try, my drummer already likes him.❞

"Whos gonna confess first?"

• You thought it was just another shower talking to you. You see him shrugged in the corner of your eye.

❝Don' know. My drummer. Or someone going to have to help them.❞

"What? Play match-"

• You started to talk as you turn to look at your new friend and paused. It was the hot guy--

• His hands were on his coat pockets as he watched the two walk over to the area of the piercing.

❝Any concer' near by he could take her too?❞

• You pulled yourself away from starting at his lips and shook your head.

"No, but there's a art mural contest the malls hosting in a bit.if he's any good at art."

• He shrugged slightly and shook his head. Both of you went back to watching them.

"... He could get a peircing."

• That made the man chuckle.

❝Matchin' piercing?❞

"I could work. Fun date Idea."

- 💛 -

📱🐈‍⬛: What?

📱🤘🏿: I win.

📱🤘🏿: I win. My drummer asked firs'.

📱🐈‍⬛: Ahhh, she made the move. What jt only took like what... 5 months.

📱🤘🏿: Five months and 7 hours.

📱🤘🏿: So, abou' wha' you said back then.

📱🐈‍⬛: Mister Brown! =O

📱🐈‍⬛: Are you asking me out! Oh my goshhhhhh!

📱🤘🏿: Well I was going to nabe you for one of my shows. But, if you don't wanna.

📱🐈‍⬛: Was?

📱🤘🏿: I still going to. We jus' have a date to chaperon firs'.

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #spiderpunk #spiderpunk x reader #x reader

[brrbrina]

Just want to request prompt #16, maybe where the reader was super busy and tired and wasn’t able to do any of the chores. However Joe also had a long day but he wanted to do the chores for the reader to take off some stress from her. Something like that filled with fluff 😚❤️

warnings: none

You came home extremely tired from work, ever since you were tiny you dreamt of a flower shop. After you went away to college and came back you earned a little money you decided to open it, later on your journey you met Joe, he was there picking lilies for his mom on Mother´s day and he kept showing up every week until he ran out of excuses to give flowers for his mom

"You know I can physically see you thinking of something to say when you order these flowers right?" you said looking at him and you saw his eyes smile for the first time "Well, I love giving my mom flowers is that a bad thing?" "No it isn´t, that´s actually really sweet," you said on the other side of the counter "How can I help you today Joe?" you said smiling "Can I have your number? I would love to take you out on a date?" he said hopping you didn´t had a boyfriend -which you didn't- but to him it was impossible, you were gorgeous and the times you had talked you were as sweet as pie.

It´s safe to say you went on a date with him, and three years later you had your first and only child -until now - a little baby boy with the biggest blue eyes ever, he looked exactly like his dad you were crying tears of joy when you saw him for the first time.

Joe was an excellent father, boyfriend and above all he was an impeccable man, he loved spending his nights in and taking care of you and your little one, even though you didn´t plan on having a kid so soon, it happened and you were sure you were made to be his mom and he was made to be your son. And Joe loved it, he loved the fact that he could teach him the same things his dad reached him, but deep down he was born to be a girl dad, there wasn´t a single day where he didn't wonder about his life having a little girl

"We´ve talked about this before Joe, Jack is still so little and I´m focused on the flower shop, the off-season it´s the only time you are here 24/7 and I don´t blame you it´s your job but you have to understand that I have my dreams as well" you said putting the dishwasher on, as much as you loved being a mom, it wasn´t in your plans soon, "I have told you a hundred times I make enough money for us, you can stay here and watch our children, and, " Joe said but you stopped him, it was getting in your nerves he couldn´t take a no for an answer "This isn´t about me needing your money, you had a dream when you were a kid and you worked hard for it, you got it, and you´re living your dream, this is about me and what I need to do because I owe myself this, and I´m not ready to be a mom again, the last pregnancy was on the season and I hated being alone, I can do this again, you said walking out of the kitchen going upstairs to take a shower, you had been working all day and the last thing you wanted was to take out your anger on him.

When you came out of the shower and made your way to your bed you saw that Joe wasn´t there, he knew he had done wrong so he gave you space, and as much as you would love for him to come back to you you saw him sleeping with Jack on his bed, the bed was so tiny and Joe was so big it made you giggle.

The next morning he left for practice and he dropped Jack off at school, it was a weird feeling because you didn´t want him near you, you just wanted to be alone, you loved your kid, but being a mom can be an exhausting job.

A few hours had passed and the doorbell on the flower shop was ranged "Can I get a big bouquet of peonies?" he was standing there, with your favorite matcha latte and his sorry eyes, "Sure, do you want to write a note?" you said not making eye contact with him "Yes I want to write I´m sorry, I´m the world´s worst boyfriend please" he said trying to make you look at him, "Joe" you said but he interrupted "I´m sorry, I know I went too far, this is your dream and you´re pretty good at it, to be honest" and you punched him on the arm as he laughed "C´mon let´s go pick up Jack" you said telling the girls on the flower shop you were leaving, you rarely did this but there wasn´t any jobe due that day and you needed your family.

Later that day you were on the couch watching Cars with Jack and while you were falling asleep you heard Joe whisper "I forgot to add in the note that you´re the hottest MILF ever" he said kissing your ear but you decided to just close your eyes and go to sleep.

a/n: I know this isn´t exactly what you asked for but i got carried away writing this one and tbh i´m falling asleep writing this lol BUT I loved writing this, hopefully, i´ll get out of my writers block and give you the last chapter of fwd series :)

#joe burrow #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow angst #joe burrow blurb #jj mayback imagine #spideybrina #dad!joe burrow

[fungalittleweirdo]

Maybe one one of the brothers(rise) with a crush on reader but hears from Casey that resder marries/falls in love with someone else/doesn't make it.Whatever you feel like.ALSO LETS GO NEW WRITING BLOCK‼️‼️‼️

cyrill my friend i am going to feed you so well here

hmmmm

donatello x male reader, set a couple years after kraang-- the good timeline

i asked my friends at college to pick a turtle and a gender so i got that lol

i'll get more organised as i write more on this blog trust meee </3

enjoy!

Communicate With Your Lab Partner, Donatello!

"I see the way you look at him, Donnie."

He blinks, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head with an awkward laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about Casey, it's nothing. I've just been thinking a lot about him lately. I hope he and his eventual partner are happy together, that's all. I want my lab partner to be happy." Donatello's face contorts for a moment before it finally lands on an off-putting smile, "Anything but could affect the efficiency of which our labs are conducted."

Casey shakes his head and looks away, "Now I regret telling you about them." The time traveller sighs, standing up to frown at the softshell mutant. Donatello waves him off and urges him out of his lab, muttering about how Casey has nothing to worry about and that he would carry on like normal. But that very night he finds himself staring at the ceiling of his lab, blinking away the blurring of his vision. Donnie reaches for his phone without adjusting his posture, holding it above his face to check the time.

2:42 am.

He yawns, scrolling up to find his lab partner had texted him a funny picture of some cat meme. Donnie's lips curl up and his chest blooms with warmth as he reacts to the photo with a laughing face emoji, then responds with a meme of his own. His friend reacts with a straight faced emoji, responding with you're not funny, stop pretending you are. Donatello rolls his eyes, continuing to talk to him as the hours pass by, and when he checks the time again it is seven in the morning. It's time for the spiny softshell to head to bed even though he was meant to stay up all night regardless.

Lab Partner (7:02 AM): I know you should be heading to sleep now, but before you go, what's the weather going to be like Friday night?

Donatello sits up straight and winces as his neck's pain receptors send massive signals to his tired turtle brain, screaming at him to go to bed. He opts to shrimp over his keyboard as he checks his weather prediction algorithm, finding that there would be a seventy percent chance of rain over the tri-state area. He texts the extensive information to his lab partner, then asks him why he needs to know.

Lab Partner (7:11 AM): I asked this person out to go to Central Park expecting it to be sunny because of this week's forecast

Lab Partner (7:11 AM): But I trust your weather algorithm a lot more

Lab Partner (7:12 AM): Especially since they let Warren Stone back on the air

Delivered (7:12 AM): Scoff, any weatherman who associates themselves with that literal worm cannot be trusted for the weather. You came to the right turtle.

Lab Partner (7:13 AM): Yeah, I know I did

Lab Partner (7:13 AM): Get some rest, okay Don? I love you <3

Donatello's heart skips a beat and he stares at the screen for a moment, blinking at the three silly little words he somehow feels like he stole. Just for a moment, I could pretend... he thinks, pursing his lips as he responds in kind, then gets up from his chair to turn everything off in his lab, save for the emergency low lights. He begins heading toward his bedroom with his phone off in his hand.

The softshell is now lying awake, staring at his ceiling as he lay in bed fantasising of silly things he thought could never happen. It's bothering him, he knows it, but he doesn't feel like paying a visit to Dr. Feelings. His hand's gentle caresses on his plastron remind him of how his lab partner would hug him from behind and sway with him as he works, even though it always distracts him for a moment. The stim always brings him down to earth when he is in too deep in his work. Donatello misses the way he nuzzles into him when he's sleepy, spending days working on something together and letting him sleep on the air mattress he has set up in the corner. He misses the opportunities in which his lab partner would ask for him to sleep beside him, curling up in each other's arms.

Now that he thinks about it, Donatello and his lab partner are not strictly platonic, the way they interact with each other is quite intimate. The turtle blushes at the memory of his lips carefully planting kisses on his lab partner's head, and him doing the same. It was kismet, the way they met, since Donnie's lab partner was a former member of the Purple Dragons. Kendra let him go after he started spending too much time with the softshell rather than just spying on him. He risked so much for me, Donatello thinks, wringing his hands as he blinks away his exhaustion. He decides to take matters into his own hands, falling asleep with an uneasy feeling in his gut.

~

Donnie's lab partner wakes up with a start after a four hour sleep, promising Leo he would sleep more, then berating him for staying up late too. He makes himself a small breakfast and goes through his phone, then gets ready for his free day. Donnie calls him and he answers with a dramatic groan of annoyance. "Don, I swear, go back to sleep," he starts packing a bag to go out while listening to Donnie whine over the phone.

"I know! I know! You told me to rest and I already did. But you didn't sleep enough either so you're a hypocrite. I... wanted to talk to you about something."

"Can it wait? You need to sleep, dude."

"No, it can't."

Donnie seems to take a shaky breath, then speaks again.

"I need to tell you something important and I can't wait another day to tell you."

The mutant's lab partner sighs, then nods, even if 'Tello couldn't see him make the gesture.

"Yeah, I'll be over tonight. As long as you rest."

"I promise... I love you."

He pauses, the words ringing in his ears, bouncing around in his head like a screensaver avoiding the corners of its device. He's never heard Donnie say those words out loud before. He's never said them to him either, so the initiative shocks him into silence. Before the boy could respond, Donnie hung up the call and he stands in the kitchen with toast crumbs in his palm and marmalade on his fingers.

The difference between saying it out loud and sending it over text is made apparent in the boy's head, a realisation taking over as his heart beat faster in his rib cage. Oh... no... Being Donnie's lab partner has been fun these past few years, especially developing a close friendship like the one they have, but he finally realises how he must have come across. I should get my errands done quick to be at the lair in a timely manner, he thinks, washing his hands and grabbing his things to step out of his apartment, locking the door and starting his day.

~

Donatello is bleary-eyed and yawning to the point where his throat is dry. He stumbles into the kitchen to look for a glass of water, asking S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. to serve him some hydration. He gulps it down instantly and slams the glass down on the counter, then jumps at the voice in the corner of the kitchen.

"Happy to see you're drinking water, 'Tello."

An awkward smile plasters itself upon his face as he turns toward his lab partner, looking him up and down. He is wearing comfortable clothes as if he plans to stay a while. His tail twitches before he stops it from wagging in excitement.

"Ah, my favourite friend! I... I expected you to come to the lair much later."

"I can see that," He raises an eyebrow as he gives Donatello a once over, noting the black sweatpants he donned. "Cold?" The boy's arms snake their way around Donatello's waist and he jumps at the contact, nudging him away with a robotic laugh.

"Cold? Scoff! Who said I was cold?" Donatello now feels awake enough to serve himself his own water, watching it fill his glass as his friend stood beside him curiously. Then he gulps the entire glass down again.

"You usually wear clothes down here when you're cold. You don't opt for pyjamas like your brothers either, so you must be cold."

"Oh dear lab partner, how dare you use your observational skills on me."

Said lab partner chuckles and leans against the fridge. "You also don't reject my physical advances toward you... Is today a bad tactile sensory day?" He taps in a pattern against the countertop, signalling to Donatello that he is mildly worried. The softshell sighs and puts the glass down in the sink, stretching and cracking his limbs. He inhales through his nose, then exhales cool air that gradually calms him down.

"I am afraid of what I want to talk about."

The boy's eyes widen, his face depicts concern, and he moves on to sit on the stool beside the rack holding the pots and pans. Donatello goes to sit on the counter across from him. A couple beats of silence pass as the two look at each other, studying one another's body language. The turtle came to the conclusion that his lab partner is laidback enough to take the conversation seriously but without too much panic. He feels relaxed enough to continue talking, so he does.

"I am aware that the future Casey speaks of—whenever he feels ready to, that is—is much different compared to ours. Everything that happened in that timeline is completely irrelevant to now due to the butterfly effect. You know, how a flap of a butterfly's wings could summon a hurricane? Well... something he told me keeps nagging me. It keeps this voice in my head rambling on and on, it won't stop telling me things that make me feel... Things. I don't know what! I am feeling things and I hate when I do because I can't label them!"

Donatello stands up and begins pacing, cracking his fingers one by one as he continues to talk and his lab partner listens.

"Casey told me you had a partner in the future. It was great at first... spending a little under a decade together... then they were possessed by Kraang biomatter. You... you disobeyed Leo's orders to look for them, to capture them and keep them under control for when I found a serum to inject in them, one that could kill off the Kraang schmuck but leave their human flesh unaffected... But you didn't make it back to base."

He stands from the stool he sat on and approached Donatello, carefully holding his hands out, palms facing up. The softshell takes his hands and revels in their softness, visibly relaxing and staying put.

"Your passing is not what affects me the most," Donatello reaches up to cup his friend's cheek in his hand, swiping his thumb lightly across his face. "It's you sharing your affections with anyone other than I. That is what is bothering me."

The boy freezes, blinking up at Donatello with a confused smile. "You're the only one I share moments like these with. I don't understand what you're saying," he giggles, reaching up to squeeze Donatello's hand. The scientist is equally as perplexed.

"I'm saying that I love you."

He stands up straighter, rigid and unyielding. Heat spreads upon his face and he looks away, his laugh wavering.

"You know, hearing that in person sounds a lot better."

Donatello still holds his breath, waiting, waiting, waiting.

"I love you too, Donnie."

The mutant feels lightheaded when he exhales, then leans in for a second before stopping himself. His lab partner grins, nodding while he bites his lip knowingly. Donatello springs into action, gripping his friend's shoulders and pulling him in to meld his lips on his, tasting, savouring, fluttering his eyes shut as a grin stretched across his face, parting from the kiss with muddy, blushing cheeks.

"Can we do that more? That was really nice. I would like to open a document for this... if you let me."

He rolled his eyes and pulled his favourite turtle closer.

"Yes, you may, 'Tello. We have all the time in the world."

#rottmnt #rottmnt writing #rise of the tmnt #rise donnie #rise donatello #rottmnt donnie #rise donnie x reader #oneshot #no beta we die like gram gram #angst #light angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #yippee

[queen--of--shadows]

Healing Shadows: Part 4

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is a gifted surgical healer and water bender. Rhysand needs her help when he finds out about Feyre’s risky pregnancy. Azriel finds out reader is his mate.

Warnings: mentions of surgical wounds and scars

Word Count: 1,896

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

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

Part 4: Truth

Nuala and Cerridwen cleaned up, removing any trace of the traumatic morning, while you and Rhys set up a cozy array of soft quilts, plush blankets, and thick pillows in Feyre’s old room so she could nest with baby Nyx. “Feyre, let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in my--” You stammered as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Rhys questioned, raising a brow.

“Nothing, I’m sorry. I was about to say my room, I didn’t mean to assume I could just take over the guest room. I…Is there somewhere else I should bring my bag?” You only had your supplies with you, not foreseeing that you would end up moving in so soon.

Rhys and Feyre shared a sympathetic look. “Y/N, please, consider the House like your own home. Take whichever room you prefer. If you want to stay in the guest room, by all means, do,” Rhys continued, “We have no problem using another room for guests.” He gave you a warm smile, and you knew he meant it.

Your chest swelled with joy and gratitude at their generosity. Turning to Feyre, you said “I’ll be in my room. Shout if you need me.”

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

It was late and although you were physically and emotionally exhausted from the day’s events, sleep escaped you. Soaking in a long steaming bath usually helped, but maybe it was the nerves of being in a new home. And not just any home, but the High Lord’s. You still were having a hard time believing the trajectory of your life changed so drastically in just a few days.

You paced in your room, read a few chapters of the book Nesta had lent you, trying to tire yourself out, but after a half hour gave up. Maybe I just need some tea, you thought, grabbing a robe from the dresser and making your way downstairs.

The House was dark and dim, save for the faelight torches along the length of the stairs. You were already familiar with its layout, or as much of it that you’d seen so far. Nesta had mentioned she would give you a tour of the Library tomorrow, and Cassian offered to show you around the rest of the House and the training ground on the roof.

With one hand against the wall, you made your way into the opulent kitchen. Beautiful white marble glistened underneath the iridescent faelight. You grabbed one of the torches to guide your path to the end of the room, pulling back the thick curtains draped around giant floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing the famed starry Velaris night sky and a full moon. Even though you had spent most of your life here, the sight still took your breath away.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Azriel whispered.

You jolted back and turned to face him, not realizing he was in the kitchen before you had come down.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he chuckled, bringing his hands up in innocence. His deep, breathy laugh caressed your soul. Azriel was donning a simple black ensemble, the V-line cut of his sweater showcasing dark sweeping tendrils of his tattoos across a broad, muscular chest. Your heart began to pace and you were sure he could hear its pounding. Moonlight shining bright on him from the window, you couldn’t help but marvel at his perfect features. The sharp angle of his jaw, his soft, full lips, and gorgeous, blazing hazel eyes. His shadows slithered around his arms and shoulders, and you looked down to see one of them wrapping up your leg, like a cat brushing and winding against you. A cheeky smile spread across your face as the shadow slid up and around one leg, then the other.

Meeting his eyes again, you realized you hadn’t said a single word.

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” you breathed. Turning back around, you continued, “I’ve loved the night sky since I was young.” Azriel hummed in agreement, taking a seat at the oak table in the center of the kitchen. You just noticed the odd-shaped chairs, and as he sat down, it made sense that they were fashioned to accommodate their massive wings.

“I was going to make myself tea, would you like some?” You looked to Azriel for his response, but he just stared at you, as if searching for an answer from you in turn. His cold, beautiful face yielded no emotion.

“Sure, thank you.”

You worked in comfortable silence, steeping the tea, unsure what to say or how to make conversation. He was the notorious Shadowsinger, and although that alone didn’t scare you, you had just been invited to move in and were still getting to know everyone.

Straining out the rich chamomile drink into two mugs, you handed him one before deciding to head back upstairs. You wanted to stay, some feeling in your gut telling you to take a seat, but figured it would be better to avoid any situation that would cause you to gain feelings for someone in the Inner Circle. The few moments you’ve had with Azriel thus far already had you in bed at night, imaging his tall lithe body, pushed up against yours.

Azriel wrapped his hand around the mug and your fingers, warm and strong. He looked up at you as if expecting more, but you instead pulled back with a soft smile and mumbled goodnight.

You didn’t notice the shadows that followed you back to your room, slithering along the cold stone floors in the darkness.

You were kicking yourself as soon as you shut your door.

How will I ever fit in around here?

The tea worked its magic to clear your mind, and with heavy lids, you drifted away into a deep sleep.

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

The following day, you were awoken by a loud knock at your door. “Come in,” you grumbled, eyes still half-closed.

“Morning, Y/N!” Mor squealed as she let herself in, her citrusy cinnamon scent filling your room. Jumping onto your bed and propping her head on one elbow, she asked “How did you sleep?”

Her eyes sparkled as she awaited your answer. “Fine,” was all you could manage. How did she look so good this early?

“Madja is here. She said she wanted to come check on Feyre and Nyx.”

Rubbing your eyes and pulling on your robe and slippers, you followed the tall blonde downstairs.

You entered Feyre’s room to find Cassian holding Nyx with Azriel seated next to him, both cooing over the baby. He was looking healthier and stronger by the day. Rhys was helping Feyre out of bed and onto the couch so you and Madja could look at her wounds. Madja slowly peeled back the bandages and gauze from yesterday morning. She whipped around, meeting your eyes with a menacing gaze that made you want to shrink.

“Why do her cuts still look so fresh?” Madja’s words shook you out of your sleepy stupor, and an icy fear mixed with rage washed over you.

No…please, please don’t say anything.

You didn’t respond.

“What does that mean? Are they not supposed to look like this?” Rhys asked, his night-kissed power slowly thrumming throughout the room. All eyes were on you, again.

“Madja? What are you talking about?” Feyre protested.

She didn’t shift her gaze away from you.

“I thought you were going to tell them. When I asked for your help, I meant all of it.”

You threw your head back in frustration. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Madja,” you replied coolly. “I performed the surgery, Nyx is healthy and Feyre is healing appropriately. Her wound is already closing.”

You prayed that everyone would believe you, despite Madja’s death stare.

“Y/N, what are you hiding from us?” Rhys knew how to sound like the High Lord when he needed to. Guilt and shame-- you suddenly felt horrible for not telling them the whole truth. Fine, they offered you their home and trust, the least you could do was give them this.

“Rhys, Feyre, I’m sorry. I haven’t been completely honest with you. I…” You were having a hard time putting your thoughts into words. “I have healing…powers? Magic? Something beyond just my surgical skills. I’m not entirely sure what to call it. I learned a lot from studying medical texts, but my healing power is similar to...” 

They all stared at you, awaiting your explanation.

“It’s hard to describe, and I haven’t fully mastered it yet. I need to practice more, but essentially I can heal using water.”

The blank stares you received in return had you stumbling over your words as you continued, “I think it would be better if I just showed you.”

Focusing on the glass of water next to Feyre’s bed, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes to center yourself. You searched deep down in your core for that power, that magic that hummed along your veins, allowing you to bend water to your will. Opening your eyes, you lifted one hand with a flicking motion of your wrist, the water following, easing out of the glass and into the air like a fluid rope. You turned your palm towards the water to stop it, and then continued to bend and twist your wrist and fingers, weaving and dancing the water through the air, not unlike Azriel’s shadows when they wreath around his neck and limbs. You were so focused, you didn’t notice the multiple sets of eyes darting back and forth between the water and you.

“Incredible…” Azriel all but whispered to himself.

Halting the water above Feyre, you motioned for her to lay down on the couch. The room was silent as if everyone was holding their breath, watching you command the element to your will.

With one hand holding the water still above her, you used your other to lift Feyre’s tunic above her abdomen to reveal the site you had cut into just a day ago. Using both hands, you twisted the water into a circle and brought it down above her wound. “This may tickle,” you warned. Feyre nodded, and you were grateful for the trust shining bright in her eyes.

You slid the water across her abdomen, willing the magic from deep inside you into the liquid. The water began to glow a soft blue, illuminating Feyre’s belly, and you moved it in long strokes across her wounds as if you were washing and wiping with a towel. You continued for a few seconds, the redness from the stitches slowly subsiding, and the wound fully closed. You were done with a few more strokes, then eased the liquid back into the glass on the nightstand and reeled your power back in. The water stopped glowing.

“That was…unbelievable,” Rhys muttered. “Y/N, it seems you have a sort of elemental magic. Have you tried using your power with other materials?”

Already following his pattern of logic, you responded with a sigh and shook your head in disappointment, “I have, but for some reason, I’m not able to connect with the other elements. I don’t know why, but it seems I’m only able to do this with water or other fluids that contain water, like--”

“Like blood,” Azriel finished for you, wearing the cold mask of the Night Court’s Spymaster.

“Yes, like blood.”

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

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #shadowsinger #spymaster #ACOTAR #rhysand #feysand #ACOTAR fanfic #mating bond #cassian #nesta #nessian #rhysand x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #acotar fandom #sarah j maas #azriel fic #acotar series #acotar flufff #acotar smut #rhys x feyre #nyx #azriel fanfic #acotar headcannon

[bluepeachstudios]

Ghost's Birthday Part 3

Ghost's Birthday Masterpost

Where do you take Ghost first? You chose to take Ghost to see the dinosaurs first.

Leo made a good argument for the planetarium, but in the end Mikey's idea won out. Ghost had been giving them random dinosaur facts since they were kids; it was hard to ignore that.

They headed for the 4th floor, where the majority of the dinosaurs were, and began exploring. Donnie and Ghost took their time looking at the displays and reading the descriptions while Leo and Mikey were the opposite, giggling as they ran around pointing out the skeletons and taking selfies of each other pretending to be eaten by the displays.

Ghost paused by the triceratops, staring at it harder than he had the others. Mikey noticed first.

"Your favorite?" He guessed.

"Least," Ghost answered. He reached up and scratched his temple.

"Oh. What's your favorite, then?"

"My favorite is the argentinosaurus," Ghost answered, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "It's one of the biggest land animals to ever live, possibly the biggest. It lived during the Last Cretaceous period, and they've only found fragments of fossils of it before, so it's a little hard to guess what they really looked like, but there are computer model recreations and estimations based on the bones they have found."

As he talked, he became more animated, his eyes brightening. He shifted his focus from the triceratops to the stegosaurus, ambling over.

"The one specimen they found was in Argentina, which is where it got its name from. A computer simulation that was studying its gait found that it actually walks at a decent speed despite its size, about 7.5 kilometers per hour. And even though it's the largest known titanosaur, there are some other sauropods that may have been larger, but there's so little pieces left of them it's impossible to tell. The blue whale's mass still far outweighs even the argentinosaurus, though. The argentinosaurus is only about 75 tons, and a blue whale can get bigger than 150."

Ghost had drawn Leo, Donnie and Raph's attention now as well. He'd always gotten excited talking about dinosaurs, but he'd never had his eyes wide and his voice so expressive. He shook his fists at his sides and leaned up on his toes.

When Ghost finished his small infodump, he looked down at Mikey and his expression faltered. If Mikey didn't know any better, he would have thought Ghost was flustered.

"You know sometimes I'm reminded how much of a huge nerd you are," Leo blurted.

"Leo!" Mikey gasped with a laugh.

"Says the guy who can quote all of Jupiter Jim 7 1/2: Don't Forget Pluto," Donnie snarked.

"Far off at the edges of our galaxy-" Leo started loudly.

Ghost quickly slung an arm over his shoulders and pressed a hand over his mouth, whispering, "Inside voice, Leonardo."

"Sorry," Leo said through his hand. "But I really can recite the whole thing."

"I know," Ghost murmured, a hint of pride in his tone.

"Ghost, look!" Mikey squeaked from the doorway to the next room. Ghost walked after him, peering inside.

"That sure is a giant sloth," Donnie noted, peeking around him.

Ghost let out a breath, ducking his head.

"Sabertooth tiger!" Mikey pointed and rushed over to the display.

"That's a smilodon," Ghost informed him.

"I don't see any smiles on Don," Leo quipped. Donnie shoved him and he toppled over.

"They lived during the Pleistocene," Ghost continued as Raph pulled Leo to his feet. "Only went extinct about 10,000 years ago."

"That's such a long time," Mikey marveled.

"Not in the history of the entire planet, Michael, it's quite recent," Donnie said matter-of-factly.

"I can't even wait 10 seconds for an egg to heat up in the microwave," Leo complained.

"An egg in th-?!" Mikey whipped around to stare at Leo, mortified.

Ghost rubbed a hand over his face. "Leo..."

"Whaat I learned my lesson!" Leo defended. "You only put it in for five seconds at a time!"

"With the shell?" Mikey moaned.

"Well how else am I going to fast-boil an egg, Miguel?"

"As our family court stenographer, I've put Leo down for a second consecutive life sentence for culinary-related crimes," Donnie said, tapping away at his wrist pad. "May we have the jury's approval?"

#tmnt #tmnt ghost in the shell #Ghost's Birthday cyoa #rottmnt #tmnt 2003

[pedroshotwifey]

Creampie

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings/Tags: No use of Y/N, oral sex (M receiving), Reader is a menace, piv sex, Creampie?, rough sex, established relationship, Slight food play, what who said that? (Previously "Added Ingredient" on ao3)

Summary: You can't sleep so you decide to occupy yourself with a project in the kitchen. Ezra is quick to distract you ;)

A/N: Hello again! This is probably my least favorite work that I've done, but it was only the second ever published lol. I did go back and make some edits so that it sounds/flows better, though. Despite that, I will say that it's not complete trash so I would appreciate anybody who gives it a chance! I will be posting my all-time favorite work soon after this one, so keep on the lookout for that! Thanks for reading :)

***

You had been staring at the ceiling for a good hour and a half before you finally decided there was no use in trying to get back to sleep. The last time you looked at the clock, it had been 2:27 am and you have been wide awake since. 

You sigh quietly in frustration so as not to wake your partner as you throw your covers back and slide yourself out of bed. The sight of Ezra still sound asleep makes you smile softly in the dark room. 

It seems that the only time that he looks truly at peace is when he can close his eyes and let go of any thoughts that plague his mind in the daytime. When he is awake you can always see something in his eyes—no matter how much he tries to hide it. You still haven't been able to figure out what it may be, but you do know that whatever it is, it haunts him. 

When you first started dating, you had asked him often if he wanted to talk about it, and each time he would turn you down. He only told you a little bit, gave you the gist of how he lost his arm, how he ended up on your planet, just the small things. It's obviously a sensitive subject, but you can guess that he will confide in you eventually if you give it a rest.

Still, though, it's like taking a fresh breath when you are able to look at him without traces of worry decorating his perfect face. The only lines that grace his appearance as he sleeps are the crowfeet by his eyes and the thin, curved scar on his left cheek.

Quietly bending down, you place a gentle kiss over the faded wound and you swear you see the corners of his full lips tug up a little. It warms your heart to see how much he responds to your touch, even subconsciously.

Being careful not to wake him, you stand up straight and reach for one of his faded t-shirts, pulling it over your bare torso. You have had many nights like this, so many in fact, that you have developed a routine; tug on a shirt, sneak out of your room in your panties and said shirt, pour yourself a glass of wine, and find something to busy yourself with in the kitchen, all while being silent enough as not to rouse your lover. 

It’s proven to work pretty well, the wine lulling you to sleep quickly enough that you are able to climb back into bed before sunrise, only to wake back up later that morning to cut a slice of whatever fresh pastry you had busied yourself with making while the wine was settling. Which is why you find yourself here now, quietly opening cabinets on your tippy-toes and pulling out ingredients to bake an apple pie. 

It’s one of your shared favorites between you and Ezra, the memory of your first date coming to mind. His plan had been to take you out to a nice new restaurant that had just opened up in your town. Ever the gentleman, he picked you up at 7:00 on the dot in his nice button-up and slacks.

You had been donned in one of your favorite cocktail dresses - navy blue with tiny black sparkles decorating the bottom, and a pair of black heels to match. The two of you had been friends for a while, but you had still been nervous to make the right impression and had tried on about four dresses before forcing yourself to wait at the door.

All doubt had been lifted, however, when you saw Ezra's jaw drop just slightly as you stepped out onto the front porch. The pure lust and adoration in his eyes had been enough to make you blush a bright shade of red, and you recall him doing his best to hold in a chuckle at your reaction. 

Everything had gone smoothly after that until you reached the restaurant—which had apparently closed for the night due to pipe troubles, and not called to cancel reservations. You could tell that Ezra had been a little disappointed because he wanted to be able to take you somewhere nice, but he didn't let it ruin the night, and neither did you. 

After reassuring him that all you really cared about was spending time with him, you went back to your place and baked an apple pie—because that was the only thing you actually had all the ingredients for— in your fancy clothes and all. Looking back, you can't imagine how the night could have been any better. 

***

He had only been on earth for a few years then, and you have been together ever since. He had asked you to move in with him about a few months after that, and you jumped at the opportunity, both of you already knowing what you wanted.

Caught up in your fantasy land of memories, you failed to hear the man in question sneak up and lean, hand in his pocket, against the doorframe. Blissfully unaware, you were in your element, and Ezra found himself unable to move from the spot he had settled in once he spotted you. 

You are flitting silently around the kitchen, an absentminded smile adorning your features, finishing rolling out a wad of dough. You look so damn sexy in his t-shirt, your lacy black panties peeking out from under the hem every time you reach your arm up to swipe a stray hair from your face with the back of your hand. 

His lips part and he feels his cock twitch when you bend down to pull a tin from a lower cabinet, giving him a perfect view of your ass. He has to suppress a groan and it takes everything in him to not jump your bones right this moment. 

***

You sigh as you finally finish rolling the dough out, bending down to grab a pie tin from the cabinet beneath you. You set it down and take a sip of your wine before starting to shape the dough in the tin, using a fork to press the edges down. 

Once satisfied with the way the crust lays, you reach to the stove beside you and grab the pot that holds the simmering apples. You give it a quick stir with a wooden spoon before beginning to scoop them into the dough-covered tin. 

When all the contents are in place, you set the pot back down and reach for the rest of the dough, only to be stopped when you feel a strong arm wrap around your middle. You yelp in surprise and have to steady yourself so as to not flip your halfway-done pie off of the counter.

“Fuck, Ezra!” You exclaim as you quickly realize what happened. You hear him chuckle darkly behind you before he presses a kiss to the side of your neck.

“Sorry, little dove,” he says between kisses, “It was not my intention to startle you.” Though his words are apologetic, you can hear—and feel—the smirk on his lips, and you know that he has absolutely no regrets about sneaking up on you.

Playfully rolling your eyes, you grab his hand and pull it away from your torso, spinning around to face him in his loose grasp. He must see the slightly guilty look mixed in with the loving gaze you meet him with because he frowns when he realizes that you probably think that you woke him.

“Don't worry your pretty head now, birdie,” he says, bringing his hand up to cup your cheek, which you lean into. “You did not rouse me, I woke with a dry mouth, I simply desired a glass of water before I noticed you missing from our bed.

You smile with relief to know that you didn't interrupt his peace, feeling a bit better about him being awake. He seems to be in a good mood, and when you look into his eyes, you see no trace of tiredness or stress. There are rare moments when you feel like you have Ezra completely to yourself, without having to share with the burdens of his past, and this is one of them. You lean into him, placing another soft kiss to his lips.

“I'm making an apple pie,” you state the obvious, unsure of what else to say. You almost laugh at the comment, and you can see Ezra trying to hold in his own chuckle. Out of all the things you could have said… 

“I’ll pour you a glass,” you say, breaking away and reaching for the wine on the island behind him. He says nothing but you can feel his gaze follow you as you pad across the kitchen to get another glass from a high cupboard. As you reach up for the handle, you hear Ezra’s breath hitch from behind you, and you smirk, realizing you must be giving him quite the show right now. You wiggle your butt a little as you grasp the glass and close the cabinet back. 

With your back still to him, you set the glass down and pick up the wine bottle, plucking out the cork and pouring a good bit into the goblet. Ezra is still glued to the spot you left him in so you bring his glass over and set it on the counter next to him, looking innocently up into his eyes as though you hadn’t been practically waving your ass in his face thirty seconds ago.

You can see the warning in his gaze as his eyes darken with lust, sending a wave of arousal to your core, but you pretend to ignore it as you bend around him to grab your own half-full glass, once again giving him a full view of your panties. You know it's not the best idea, but it was too enticing to pass up. 

As you straighten, you feel his hand deliver a swat to your behind, once again making you yelp. You jump up and shoot a look at him, which he reciprocates by raising an eyebrow as if to challenge you. You are not one to roll over and show your belly at the slightest show of dominance, so you silently accept his challenge.

You stare at each other in silence for a moment before you decide to continue your task, grabbing the remaining dough and the rolling pin. As you work, Ezra grabs his wine and leans against the counter beside you, seemingly deciding to truce for now. 

You can feel the tension in the air, both of you holding a silent competition, seeing who will be able to resist the other the longest. It takes all of your willpower to not give in, your panties sticking to your now-slick cunt a constant reminder of that. The ever-growing tent in Ezra’s pants makes you feel a little better about it though, knowing that he is stuck in the same dilemma. 

You make an effort not to look his way, knowing you wouldn’t be able to restrain yourself from giving in if you were met with his hungry gaze again. You force yourself to focus on rolling out the dough to an even consistency in order to distract yourself from the growing need to turn around and beg Ezra to bend you over the counter right this second. 

He sounds so fucking pretty when he has his cock inside of you, and the thought alone is enough to have you biting down on your lip to suppress a moan. You are pulled from your thoughts when you see Ezra shift out of your peripheral, probably to refill his glass. That theory is proven wrong, however, when you feel his hand snake around your neck to grasp at your cheeks, covering your mouth and effectively muffling your sounds of protest as he pulls you back into his chest. 

You gasp behind his palm as you feel the firm outline of his cock against the small of your back, already rock hard from your previous teasing. He says nothing as he rubs against you, seeking friction and making you bite down on a whimper. 

“F-fuck, Ez,” your words are almost incoherent behind his hand, but you feel him smile into your hair at the way they tumble from your lips, already desperate to have him close to you—to have him inside of you. Your stubbornness makes it hard to give in, but you decide to let him take the lead for tonight, and he knows that. 

You gasp as he tightens his grip and spins you around to face him, you can see the insatiable look in his eyes as he slowly trails his hand down to wrap around your neck, applying just enough pressure to make your mouth drop open in a gasp. He says nothing yet, but the way his eyes rake over your figure makes you shiver, his pupils take over the chocolate irises almost completely. 

When nothing progresses, you stand on your toes to try to capture his lips with your own, but he leans away just enough, his hand still firm around your neck. You give him a confused look, but he obviously has no intention of answering your silent question, instead choosing to let his hand fall to your shoulder. 

“On your knees, Dove,” he says with a smile, giving you a slight push. His voice alone is enough to make your weeping core clench around nothing, and you find your body following his order before you can even think about denying him. You let your knees hit the floor and you look up at him through your lashes, the only other option being to stare directly at the prominent outline of his cock right in front of you. 

As he locks his gaze with yours, your face flushes red and he lifts his hand to cup your cheek, smoothing his thumb over the heated skin. You open your mouth to ask him what he wants, but he takes the opportunity to slide his thumb into your mouth, effectively silencing you as you suck on the digit. The groan Ezra lets out is absolutely sinful, making you smile around him. 

“Go on, birdie,” he says, voice straining to sound level as he feels you swirl your tongue around the tip of his thumb. “Be a good little girl and take my cock out.” His voice sounds much deeper in his lust-drunken haze and you think to yourself that you would do anything he asks of you as long as he says it like that.

Your clit throbs at his words and you frantically bring your hands up to tug his sweatpants down enough to free his weeping cock and heavy balls. The sight makes your mouth water, causing Ezra to squeeze his eyes shut when he feels the wetness pooling around his thumb. 

“You want my cock in that tight little pussy, don’t you, you hungry little thing?” he asks, taking his thumb from between your lips. With your mouth free, you moan at the thought of having him stretch you out on his girthy length, filling you up in the most delicious ways only he can manage to do. 

“Yes Ez, I want it so bad,” you say, trying to hold your composure. “I want your fucking cock so bad.” You hear him chuckle tauntingly above you, but your eyes are now transfixed to his throbbing dick, unable to look away. 

“Is that so, sweet thing?” he asks with mock sympathy that would bring you to your knees if you weren't on them already. “Show me how bad, and maybe I’ll give it to you.” With his signal, you finally take his cock in hand, rubbing your thumb over the precum beaded at the tip before fisting him a couple of times, spreading the wetness down the entire length. Ezra groans above you and moves his hand to thread his fingers through your hair, trying to find some stability.

You smile as you lean forward, licking up the underside of his cock, right over the vein that runs from tip to base. When your tongue finds his slit again, you take his tip into the hot cavern of your mouth, making Ezra groan and buck toward you. You have to lean away from him in order to keep his cock from slipping all the way in, if he wants to be in charge, he's going to at least have to be patient. 

You can feel yourself growing wetter every time you elicit a sound from Ezra, the moans tumbling from his lips bordering on whines. The feel of his velvety skin sliding across your tongue is enough to make you whimper around him, both of your filthy sounds filling the moonlit kitchen. 

“Fuck, baby,” Ezra pants out, “doing so good sucking my cock like that, so f-fucking good…” His praise encourages you to take him deeper, letting him slide down your throat until you feel him hit the back of it, making you choke on his length. 

You moan around him as you feel your wetness begin to soak through your panties, your hips bucking for friction at the way the fabric clings to your cunt. Ezra sees your struggle and laughs tauntingly at you, eliciting an annoyed glare from you, though it's not very convincing. You move to pull your mouth away from him, but he knows you too well and uses his palm to keep you on his length, pushing you to him with a light pressure. 

“Aw, you poor, little thing,” he says with mock sympathy. “You started this with your teasing, and I'm not going to touch that pretty little cunt until you can convince me you are going to be a good girl for me.” He continues pushing you onto his cock as he talks to you, knowing that you will tap his thigh if it becomes too much. He picks up his pace after a few more seconds, pistoning his hips to chase the pleasure hidden within the warm cavern of your mouth.

You cry out at his words and look up at him with teary eyes. You know that he means it, this isn't the first time you have found yourself on your knees after teasing around him a little too much, and—as much as you hate to admit it—it probably won't be the last. The look of pure bliss on his face is almost enough to ignore the throb of your empty core—almost. 

Unable to say anything, you continue to work your tongue around him until you feel the way he starts to twitch and pulse. You know he is close and you bring a hand up to cradle his balls, making him hunch over slightly. Just as he is about to come, he grabs onto your hair and pulls you away with a pained expression. The disappointment written on your face when he looks at you is almost enough to have him coming undone anyway.

He moves his hand from the back of your head to cradle the side of your face as he squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on his breathing. You say nothing as you watch him, confused as to why he didn't let himself come. Unable to help it, you moan when you feel your slick start to drip down your thighs, making Ezra open his eyes to look at you. 

“You did very well, birdie,” he says, wiping a rogue tear from your cheek. “But as much as I would like to indulge in the pleasure of watching you swallow my cum, I believe that feeling you come undone around my cock would easily surpass that.” You don't know if you should laugh or moan at his choice of wording. 

Before you can say anything, he reaches for one of your hands, gently pulling you up, only releasing it to tap on the counter in front of him. You smile as you hop up, spreading your legs and beckoning him towards you. Ezra groans as he lifts the hem of your shirt up, revealing your soaked panties to him. 

“Fuck, birdy, all this from my cock in your mouth?” He looks into your eyes as you smirk and nod your head. At your admittance, he brings his hand around to grab the back of your neck, pulling you into a sloppy kiss. You know that he can taste himself on your tongue as he kisses you hungerly, the thought making you even more aroused. 

“Need you, Ez.” You pull away from him just enough to whisper the words across his lips. Ezra releases your neck and backs away, moving his hand back down to play with the hem of your shirt.

“Need me how, gem?” Ezra asks you with a cocky grin that you would probably want to smack right off of his face if it didn't turn you on so much. He always teases you, making you beg until he finally gives in to your pleading. 

“You know what I want, Ez,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes. How long is the bastard going to have you wait this time? The fact that it could be a minute or an hour has you swallowing a lump in your throat—you need release, and you need it soon. 

“I don't think I do, birdie,” he says with mock misunderstanding. “Please, indulge me in your desires.” You ignore him and instead take your shirt out of his grasp, pulling it over your head to reveal your bare chest. You think it almost works for a second when Ezra's tongue darts out to wet his lips, his pupils blown even wider than before. Obviously, though, you were wrong, because he makes no move to touch you other than planting his palm on your waist. 

“Ezra,” you start to beg. “Please, I need you to touch me.” You look at him with your best puppy-dog eyes and bring your hands up to circle his neck. “You always make me feel so good, only you.” That seems to get to him because he finally starts to inch his fingers down to where you are dripping for him. 

You can't stop the shaky moan that tumbles from your lips as Ezra cups your wet heat, grinding his palm onto your clit ever so slightly. Your hands unravel from his neck and find purchase on his shoulders, grounding yourself so you don't buck your hips and fall off the counter. 

“P-please, Ez, I need it so bad,” you tell him, voice almost a whisper. “I know, birdie, I've got you, I'm going to make you feel good,” Ezra tells you in response. He brings his hand to one side of your panties and you bring your hand to the other, both of you working to tug them down your legs as you lift your hips up. 

You are now completely bare in front of him and he takes a step back, smirking as he admires the view. Neither of you say anything for a moment as he takes you in, his eyes lingering on your chest before he closes the gap again. This time, his mouth goes straight to one of your breasts, lips wrapping around your nipple, his tongue immediately lapping at the stiffened bud. 

Your hands wrap around his head as he continues his gentle assault, only breaking apart for a moment when he murmurs something about “perfect fucking tits”, which almost makes you giggle. After he seems to have gotten his fill of your breasts, he drops to his knees and spreads your thighs, allowing him a perfect visual of your sopping cunt. 

Just as he moves his head forward, you stop him, looking at him with pleading eyes. You suddenly realize that you don't think you can wait that long to have him inside of you—if he started eating you out right now, he wouldn't stop until you were screaming after multiple orgasms. You want him now. 

“Ezra, please, I need you inside me,” you say it so frantically that it's almost embarrassing, but you ramble on all the same. “Can't wait for you, please.” 

“Are you sure, gem?” he asks, starting to stand up. “You know how much I love to taste you, there is truly nothing sweeter than the nectar you release for me.” He playfully tries to convince you otherwise, secretly loving the desperate look in your eyes he knows he put there. 

“Yes, Ez, im sure,” you cut yourself off as you grasp his t-shirt, bringing him in for another searing kiss. You can feel him smile against your lips as his hand falls back down, pulling the front of his sweats down to reveal his cock once again. When you pull away, you sneak a look and your jaw drops at how hard he is—that has got to be painful. His tip is red and weeping, precum dribbling down his shaft. 

Much to your dismay, you moan at the sight, your mind completely overcome by the need for him to be inside of you. When you look back up, you blush when you see Ezra staring at you with an amused look. 

“Like what you see, little bird?” he asks playfully. Your body seems to have a mind of its own as you feel yourself nod and scoot your hips up, trying to reach him subconsciously. He only chuckles as he wraps his hand around himself, lining his tip up to your entrance. 

“You’re sure you don't want me to warm you up, sweet thing?” he asks, worry marring his features for a moment—even he knows he won't be the easiest thing to take without some help. You almost melt on the spot, he can be so sweet, always making sure you are comfortable with what's happening, even if you are the one who had quite literally begged him for it. 

“I'm sure, Ez,” you say, little does he know, you look forward to the stretch. You have always liked a little bit of pain with your pleasure. With your confirmation he pushes forward, his eyes squeezing shut as his mouth drops open in a silent groan. 

“Fuck, birdie,” he says with bated breath. “You feel so divine, always so tight, squeezing the life out of my cock.” He is only about half of the way in, and every time he thrusts, it feels like it should be the end, but it just keeps coming. Your breath is stolen from you when he finally bottoms out, his tip already kissing your g-spot. 

“F-fuck,” is the only thing you can get out as you let your head fall to his shoulder. He stays still for a moment, allowing you to get used to his size. Only when you start to buck your hips does he begin to thrust again, bringing his length almost all the way out before slamming back in, effectively making you scream. 

The power of the movement sends you back and you cling to him so you don't hit the wall behind you. The kitchen once again fills with the sounds of your moans and Ezra's grunts as the two of you set a steady rhythm against each other. You bring your arms back, letting one hand land on Ezra's side, and the other goes under his arm to claw at his back.

You can already feel the bruises forming from Ezra's death grip on your hip, and you're sure he feels the same where your fingertips are digging into his flesh. As Ezra whispers sweet praise into your ear, you leave open-mouthed kisses on his neck, your saliva starting to coat the skin there. 

“Oh, gods, Ezra,” you moan as you pull your lips away from him. You let your gaze drift downward to watch his cock being shoved into your pussy, coming back out coated with your slick. The sights spurs you on and you look up at Ezra, bringing the hand that was on his hip up to grasp his chin and pull, making him look at where you connect. 

You can feel your orgasm quickly approaching, the wire threatening to snap when you hear Ezra fucking whine as he looks where you want him to. After he is able to break his gaze away from the sight, he looks back up at your face and leans in to capture your lips with his. 

“Are you fucking trying to get me to come early, you naughty girl?” he asks, looking you dead in the eye. “Like some fucking teenager, unable to pleasure their recipient, huh?” he slams his hips with his last word, bringing you over the edge. He continues berating you as you convulse around him, going slack against him. 

“Making me look at how good that pretty little pussy takes me in, how much she looks like she was made just for my cock.” Ezra’s filthy words quickly bring you to the edge once again, his pace never slowing as you immediately approach your second orgasm. 

“Go on, sweet thing, touch yourself for me,” he demands. “I know you're close, rub that little clit, I know you want to.” Your fingers find your bundle of nerves before you even realize you moved, your brain too fucked-out to understand what's going on at this point. Ezra must see your surprise because he chuckles darkly, you see his chest rumble through your half-lidded eyes.

“P-poor little bird, already cock dumb and I've only—fuck—only made you come once,” he teases you and you can feel his cock twitch, his words having an effect on both of you. You're lucky he talks so much because you have officially found yourself speechless. Suddenly, you remember what you were supposed to be doing before he so rudely interrupted you. 

You know you are about ready to break any second now, so when you let your fingers graze your clit, you immediately fall apart. You scream as a white-hot pleasure takes its course through your entire body, a feeling you have only felt a handful of times in your life. Your eyes widen as you understand what is happening. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you practically yell the words as you feel Ezra being pushed out of you, the force of your orgasm leaving no room for him. It must be perfect timing though, because Ezra doesn't try to push back in, instead, he pulls all the way out and starts to jerk himself off above you. You are still circling your clit, riding your release out as he starts to throb in his own hand, the image of you soaking his cock triggering his own orgasm. 

“F-fuck, birdy,” he says, his voice strained. “Look so—oh shit—look so good squirting for me, drenching my dick like a good l-little girl.” As the last word leaves his mouth, he begins to come, his spend splattering across your bare stomach and onto the countertop to the right of you. Normally, you would fuss about the mess, but right now, you are far too blissed out to give a fuck. 

Ezra leans forward as he finishes, both of your sweaty bodies collapsing onto each other, breathing heavily. If the countertop wasn't so cold against your ass, you would probably fall asleep there—you're tempted to ignore the cold and drift off anyway. Before you are given the choice, however, your eyes snap open at the sound of Ezra's sudden chuckles in your ear. You jolt upright and push him back, he is in absolute hysterics now and you have to look down to make sure you don't look stupid before looking back at him. 

“Ez, what the fuck is the deal w-” you are cut off as you look to your right. Sitting right next to you is your half-done pie… your cum-coated, half-done pie. You try, you really do try to hold your giggles in, but the bastard wiping the tears from his eyes right in front of you makes that an impossible feat, so you reluctantly join in. 

“Ezra, you fucking dick,” you scold him between giggles, “You came in my fucking pie!” The sentence sounds so ridiculous that it sends you both into a whole new fit of laughter. At this point, Ezra is doubled over and he has to walk back over to you to stay standing. After you both catch your breath, you look back up at him, trying not to laugh again as a new thought pops up into your head.

“Well, Ez,” you start, trying to hold your outburst. “Guess you’ll get to see me swallow your cum anyway.”  Yeah, there was no way you didn't lose it after that one—it's going to be a long, side-stitching night. 

#fan fiction #pedro pascal #ao3 #smut #ezra prospect #pedro pascal smut #please give me a chance #im sorry for this #please ignore my terrible attempt at comedy

[zzoomacroom]

Fic: If You Try Sometime, You'll Find You Get What You Need

Dreamling, Smut, 4114 Words

Tags and summary below the cut (very kinky, NSFW stuff here)

Chapters: 1/2

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Established Relationship, Dom/sub, BDSM, Light BDSM, (I guess? what constitutes "light" in this case? idk), Sex Toys, Dildos, Knotting Dildos, XL Dildos, Butt Plugs, Cock Cages, Nipple Clamps, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Coming Untouched, Humiliation, Masturbation, Double Penetration, Anal Fisting, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, King of Cats More Like King of Brats, Gentle Dom Hob Gadling, (well. he's just a teensy bit mean at first but then he's gentle), Under-negotiated Kink, Miscommunication, everything is consensual but it's not exactly what Dream had in mind at first, the importance of using your words, the importance of not assuming, probably out of character but idgaf, no beta we die like hob doesn't

Summary: Dream is being really bratty and gets more than he bargained for when Hob makes him put on a little show for him.

.....

It is 7:30 in the evening. Dream has been waiting for nearly two hours, and Hob still has not returned home from work. Dream is not worried for his beloved. Yet. But he is growing impatient. And restless. All day he has been feeling on edge. Agitated. He is “in a right state,” as Hob would say. His duties have left him feeling weary and in need of...something. He cannot say quite what. He hopes that Hob will know. Hob always knows just what he needs, what he wants, often better than Dream himself does. It should be an affront—that a mere human should perceive the Lord of Dreams so clearly—but Hob loves him deeply, and Dream loves Hob with every fiber of his arcane, incomprehensible being. It is...a relief, surprisingly. To be seen and known thus, when he cannot articulate his needs himself.

He stretches out on the sofa, though he is anything but relaxed. His posture is rigid as he fidgets with the slim, black leather collar around his neck, which he sometimes dons for his rendezvous with Hob in the Waking. Beneath his usual black jeans he wears a plug, despite the fact that his body needs no preparation, inhuman as it is. In the Dreaming, it is easier to express his wishes visually, but here he prefers to signify his intentions for any given encounter with such symbolic adornments as the collar and plug, or with his body language. He does not like to verbalize whether he wishes to dominate or be dominated, or both, or neither. He finds it...gauche. To speak of such things. Fortunately, Hob has more than six hundred years of experience in deciphering Dream’s nonverbal methods of communication. Tonight, he wishes for Hob to take control. To figure out what he needs and give it to him.

Finally, mercifully, Hob walks through the front door. He beams at his lover with that brilliant, beautiful smile of his, but he looks tired. His shoulders droop slightly and his eyes, usually so rich and earthy like fertile soil, look dull and lusterless. Dream considers leaving and postponing their liaison until they are both in a better mental state, but...he needs this. He needs Hob. Now.

…

“Hey, love. Sorry I’m late—office hours ran over a bit, student was in a tizzy over their thesis, but we got it sorted. You been waiting long?” Hob makes his way over to the sofa and gathers Dream into his arms before planting a quick, almost perfunctory kiss on his cheek. “You seem tense. Everything alright?”

“I am not tense, Hob Gadling,” his lover retorts haughtily. “I simply do not like to be kept waiting.”

Hob raises his eyebrows pointedly. “Oh no, of course not. That sounds terrible,” he replies sardonically. “My my, it seems someone’s in a mood tonight.” He hooks a finger under Dream’s collar and pulls him in for a proper kiss. Dream allows it, but gives Hob a sullen pout from under his eyelashes after they part. Well, if he’s going to be a brat, maybe some more waiting will actually do him good.

“But unfortunately,” Hob continues with a heavy sigh, “you’ll have to wait just a bit longer. I have a few emails to respond to, and I can’t put them off any longer. Won’t take but a minute.”

Dream lets out an annoyed huff. “I would prefer that you fuck me now.” He snakes a slender, white hand down to Hob’s lap and fondles his half-hard cock through his slacks.

“Not yet, darling,” Hob responds sternly, eliciting a shiver of excitement from Dream. “You can be patient for a little while longer. If you need to be fucked so bad, go ride one of your toys until I’m ready for you. If it pleases your majesty, that is,” he adds with a wicked smirk.

“Very well. If you insist,” Dream says loftily. He begins to rise from the sofa, but Hob stops him with a firm grasp on his shoulder.

“Wait,” Hob commands, and Dream obediently sits back down. “There’s a good lad. Can I trust you not to come, or do you need the cage?”

Dream glares daggers at him. “I do not need the cage, Hob,” he sneers. “I have complete control over my physical form, unlike yourself.” Oh, so it’s going to be like that. He’s angling for a punishment tonight.

“Fine,” Hob replies coolly. “But you’ll have to do it where I can see you, because we both know you can’t be trusted.”

He knows that Dream can make himself come with a mere thought, even with the cock cage, but he also knows that putting on such a display for Hob will send him over the edge, regardless of his alleged ‘control over his physical form.’ Luckily, this is no bother given Dream’s nonexistent refractory period, and Hob is curious whether he can succeed in taking his lover apart before he even gets his hands on him.

…

Hob makes tea for the both of them, then retreats to the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. He emerges minutes later in a faded Rolling Stones t-shirt and gray sweatpants that do nothing to hide his obvious arousal. He plants himself on the sofa with a weary groan and picks up his laptop, glancing expectantly at Dream over the top of the screen.

Dream, meanwhile, has commandeered the space between the coffee table and the fireplace. He has sent his coat, t-shirt, and jeans back to the unformed dreamstuff from whence they came, and in their stead he wears nothing but a pair of black, thigh-high stockings, held in place by studded leather garters that match his collar. He knows that these are a favorite of Hob’s, and if he won’t give him what he wants, then Dream will just have to distract him. If he is too aroused to focus on his work, perhaps he will bend Dream over the sofa and have his way with him sooner rather than later.

He stands before Hob, legs spread and cock already hard, gazing intently at his beloved. Suctioned to the floor at his feet is a large, beautifully-crafted dildo taken from the dreams of a Japanese fetish model. It is black and glittering, with curves, bumps, and swirls that do not resemble any penis found in the waking world. Dream reaches between his legs, not breaking eye contact for a second, and removes the sizable, tapered plug from his hole, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

Hob’s eyes widen and his breath hitches, and Dream smirks smugly as he crouches and lowers himself down onto the dildo in one fluid motion. Once he is fully seated, he lets out a contented moan and rolls his hips tantalizingly slowly before beginning to ride the toy in earnest.

Continue reading on ao3:

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #sandman #dream x hob #gentle dom hob #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #dreamling fic #dreamling fanfic #dreamling fanfiction #dreamling smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #nsft #this is way more kinky than what i usually write #i kinda grossed myself out writing this one lol #sandman fanfiction #sandman fanfic #sandman fic

[non-bionical-mecha-dude]

Hello! I was wondering if I could request Rise! or 2012 boys with a human reader that can shapeshift into animals?? Thank you for reading this and I Hope you have a good day and or night^^

ALLLLLLRIGHTY! Since ya didn't specify if you wanted a one shot or Headcannons, I'm gonna assume Headcannons (sorry if that's not what you wanted..) and I'll do Rise.

ALSO, to all the people who have requested stuff for different things (cause there are like 35 requests I haven't gotten to) I WILL EVENTUALLY GET TO THEM I SWEAR, I've been busy with musical theatre and the tolls of overworking, so, I'm trying as hard as I can to get them to all of you all!!

ROTTMNT Boys x Shapeshifter!Y/N

🐢❤️Raph❤️🐢

JENDKABEUWNALQOESWN

He's so happy like, when he figures it out, he feels like his head is gonna explode

Like, he loves animals so much, especially the smaller ones, and when he sees that you can do this, he is fawning over you, wondering what animals you can turn into

Constantly snuggling up against you when you are some sort of mammal

You once shifted to be an alligator snapping turtle, and ngl, it freaked him out a bit

His favorite animal for you to turn into is a chinchilla

You're so tiny and fluffy, you're like a cuter fluffier squirrel

Gushing over you 24/7

You two like to look up cool animals to see what you can turn into

If turning into animals uses a lot of energy, will definitely cuddle you and reminds you to take breaks after you shift

Whenever he has a bad day, you like to shift into the softest creatures you can so he can pet you

Is very worried about crushing you all the time

You have to reassure him that he won't crush you

Sometimes when you shift as a bird, you like to perch on his shoulder

Whenever you're in animal form, he likes to give you lil forehead kisses, or he'll just bonk his turtle beak against your head and it's adorable

When you shifted one time, he almost stepped on you, and he has never forgiven himself

You know when you step on a dogs paw? That's what he felt when he almost stepped on you

🐢💙Leo💙🐢

He thought it was so cool

He likes to see what ras animal you can turn into

One time when Donnie knocked on his door, you shapeshifted into a tiger, while he sat on a makeshift throne of pillows, and pretended to be some benevolent king, Don was definitely annoyed, but you both got a kick out of it

Whenever you shift as a cool big animal, like a lion or bear or horse, he tries to get on your back, and you've let him a couple times, but it's even funnier when he tries to be cool, and you just decide "lol no"

Sometimes you guys like to play hide an seek, but with powers, and honestly, it's so much more difficult and fun

He asked if you could shift into a cheetah, and wanted to see who was faster, you in cheetah form, or him (spoiler alert, it was you, but he tried to convince you it was because you were cheating, and he made a stupid pun out of it that made you giggle)

Has definitely cuddled with you whenever you shift into a mammal

Found it kinda cool when you shifted into a red-eared slider

Called you mini Leo for a while, and ever since then, you've never shifted into a turtle lol

He asked you that if you got a disease only animals could get, and if you shifted into a human, if you would be cured

You both sat there for an hour trying to figure it out

Definitely calls you more pet names

Definitely makes more puns

And truth or dare is alot more fun with you

🐢💜Donnie💜🐢

SCIENCE SCIENCE THEORY'S

Makes so many theories and science with your mystic powers

Asks many many questions

You have definitely shifted into small mammals, and just sit on his desk while he works

Pranks his brothers so much more with you as his accomplice

Has definitely confused you with some random animal before, and didn't realize it wasn't you until it was to late

Definitely embarrassed by that

Definitely asks you if you can help him when it comes to small hard to reach places with his inventions

One time he called you his "darling dearest" as he explained something, then when he turned his back, you turned into a deer. (Darling Deer-est lol I'm funny)

He didn't speak to you for a week LMAO

Anytime he has any overloads, you transform into a big soft mammal, and cuddle him until he calms down

Sometimes when you shift as a bird, you perch on one of his shoulders, and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N perches on the other

His brothers always comment it reminds them of Baron Draxum, but he's not complaining that much about it

You both celebrate Flat Fuck Friday and become flat-ass pancakes on the floor

You have scared him so many times on accident when you shift into small animals

Talks about your genetical and molecular make up and how your powers change that alot

And frankly you don't know

Gets kinda upset when many of your answers are just "magic" but understands

🐢🧡Mikey🧡🐢

Just like Raph, he's fucking estatic

Bouncing all over the walls for you

Loves to see what kind of animals you can shift into

Has mistaken random animals for you

Whenever you shift as an animal and want to eat something, he gets nervous cause he isn't sure if your kind of animal can eat that

Whenever he wips around in the air, you like to shift into a bird and glide with him through the air

Ever since the encounter with the Beaver/Gopher band, he absolutely forbids you from shifting into them lol

But you still do just to mess with him

You both like to come up with different tricks depending on different animals

Has definitely compared you to Beast Boy before

If you ever get tired from shifting, he doesn't allow you to shift unless you've rested

And he brings out doctor delicate touch if you don't want to rest even if you're dead tired

Loves cuddling with you when you're a super big or super small mammal

He's not sure why, but he loves it when you shift into a lizard, especially a chameleon

He found it so cool when you shifted into a box turtle and you and him chilled in your shells

You both make inside jokes about each of your animals forms

If very touchy with you, often either on your back when you are a big bear or tiger, having you on his head or shoulder when you're a rodent, ECT ECT

If he has a fear of a certain animal, you help him alot with them, by turning into them and showing him how harmless and non scary they are

Has definitely painted each of your different forms before

Big snuggler

Likes to hang out with both you and Mayhem

#headcannons #fanfiction #rottmnt #fanfic #save rottmnt #self insert #tmnt #rottmnt headcannons #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt raphael #rottmnt raph #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt michelangelo #rottmnt mikey x reader