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softguarnere · 4 months

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Memories Feel Like Weapons

Edmund Pevensie x gn!reader

Summary: “People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.” A/N: What's up, y'all?! It's been freezing these past few days and I hate it! 🥴 So this is for all you other lovelies who are currently being plagued by SAD 🫶🏽 Also, in case it's not clear in the fic, for the purposes of the story, we're just gonna assume that reader's parents also sent them off to the country during the war to stay with the professor, that they met the Pevensie's there, and went to Narnia with them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Warnings: Edmund has SAD but it's Narnia so it's never actually called that, the author is (once again) overusing commas

As interesting and as magical a place as Narnia is, you’re willing to admit that diplomatic negotiations are something that usually bore you to tears.

You try to take an interest, you really do, for Edmund’s sake. Political wheeling and dealing is his bread and butter. You’re not particularly adept at it yourself. Edmund has tried to explain the finer points to you many times, but it’s not something that you can wrap your head around. But maybe that’s just because you get too distracted thinking about how good looking your tutor is. Sometimes you raise a question or a particular point that you know he’ll jump to answer just to see how passionately he talks about his favorite subject. As far as you know, he hasn’t caught on yet.

Today proves to be different, though.

A chill in the air greets you when you awake. A crackling sound from the corner tells you that a servant has crept in at some point and started a fire in the hearth to stave off the cold. Blinking to adjust your eyes to the light, you’re greeted by the type of cold, white sunlight that announces a wintery morning and the season’s signature magical touch that often appears overnight – snow.

You leap out of bed, gasping when your feet kiss the cold floor. Hurrying to put on slippers, you wrap yourself in a fluffy robe and hurry to the door.

Edmund hates the winter. He hates the snow even more. No one can blame him for that. But you’re the only person he’s confessed this to.

Sure, his siblings might suspect as much. Those first few years in Narnia, no one dared suggest that they play in the snow whenever it arrived, for fear of what it might imply, and for fear of inadvertently upsetting the youngest Pevensie brother. After a few more years, he would find excuses to be tucked away in his library on snowy days, and no one would breathe a word of the fun they had without him while he was around. A delicate subject and a fine dance around it, to say the least.

It was only last winter that Edmund confided in you, and only because you had recently become a couple. He said the winter was hard enough on its own, but the snow brought back too many bad memories, ushered in nightmares so vivid that he sometimes woke up questioning what was real and what wasn’t.

This is going to be a rough day for him, to say the least. Which puts a damper on the mood, since ambassadors from a nearby kingdom are arriving to negotiate trade – something he was so looking forward to.

“Edmund?” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet library, and the echo makes you flinch slightly at the loudness of your own voice, at the desperate quality it holds.

Stepping further inside the room, you listen, and tune into the crackling of the fireplace along the far wall. You follow it until you can see the chairs in front of it, and in one of them, Edmund, slumped over a large tome, asleep.

He’ll have a crick in his neck from sleeping that way, you think. If you hadn’t known why he was here, finding him in his favorite place like this would be sweet. It still tugs on your heartstrings, yes, but in a different, heavier way.

“Edmund?” You gently shake his shoulder before stepping back.

The Just King startles awake, his book slipping out of his lap. His eyes are wide and wild as they flick across the room, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Finally, they land on you and soften. “(Y/N)?”

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, casual. “If you say that your neck doesn't hurt after sleeping like that, then you’re a liar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The painful popping noises that echo from his spine say otherwise, but you let it go. Slowly, he rises, stretches, and then takes a step closer to you and plants a kiss on your forehead. He sighs through his nose. “Today is the day.”

You slip your hand into his, intwine your fingers. “How are you feeling?”

Edmund shrugs. His relationship with his siblings has improved leaps and bounds in all the years that they’ve spent in Narnia, but sometimes he still hesitates to show certain emotions around them, to express himself the way he should. Sometimes it’s easier when it’s just the two of you in a space like this where he’s comfortable.

“I’ll manage.”

“If you’re not feeling up to it – “

He squeezes your hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a day that I have to get through.”

“Spring will come again,” you assure him, using the mantra that you often whispered to comfort him through last year’s winter season.

“And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts,” he finishes. He attempts a smile, but it looks more strained than usual. “Don’t worry, darling. Everything will be fine.”

. . .

It is almost immediately not fine.

The ambassadors arrive in all their splendor. Fine fabrics and shimmering jewels assure that no one can take their eyes off them as they enter the hall and approach the five thrones. They bow to Peter in the center, to Susan and Lucy on his left, then to you and Edmund on his right. Servants carry golden trunks behind them. They have come to these diplomatic negotiations bearing gifts in the most literal sense.

Though you will all retire to a separate chamber for the actual negotiations, the gift giving is a public affair for the whole court to witness. And because it’s so formal, it’s rather slow.

Strong weapons forged of foreign metals are gifted, followed by clothes of their country’s latest fashions, and small samplings of food for each of you, a different dish for you each to try based on what the ambassadors have heard about you.

Thank goodness you’re a good actress, because the ambassadors seem to think that you really do seem excited to try the food in the bejeweled silver container that they gift to you. In reality, you’re trying your hardest not to grimace at the unfamiliar looking treats inside of it, and trying hard not to become preoccupied wondering if the taste will be as . . . unique as the smell that emits from them.

“And finally, for King Edmund,” one of the ambassadors says with a bow before presenting a silver container to Edmund with a flourish. “I have heard a rumor that you are quite fond of these.”

Thankful for a distraction from the gift in your own hands, you turn your attention to Edmund. Sitting beside him, you are in full view of the show that his siblings are not. You can see the rosy color, the powdered sugar. The Just King’s smile immediately falters. Strong hands clamp the container shut before anyone else has the chance to see what’s inside – Turkish Delight.

For a moment there is nothing but silence, the labored sound of Edmund drawing a breath. It goes on just long enough that his siblings glance at him. Only then does Edmund seem capable of forcing himself to smile, to nod, to thank the ambassador for such a thoughtful gift. If his siblings sense that something might be wrong, they don’t even know the half of it.

Because what has just happened, really? Is this a slight on behalf of the other country’s rulers? Or do they genuinely have no clue the implications of their actions?

As the exchanging of the gifts comes to a close, Edmund coughs into his fist, clears his throat. Does it again. He thumps the flat of his palm against his chest.

Peter turns to him. “Are you alright?”

“I think I just require a bit of fresh air, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Edmund replies. He says it far too quickly, and he uses the excuse to dismiss himself from the hall. The silver container that holds the Turkish Delight has been abandoned, left behind on his throne.

It takes everything in you not to race after him, to follow him, to make sure that he’s okay. Instead, you’re stuck helplessly glancing between the doorway that he’s disappeared through and the ambassadors who won’t seem to shut up.

Finally, the niceties end. The other king and queens of Narnia begin to migrate into a separate chamber with the ambassadors to begin the negotiations.

Quickly, quietly, you catch Lucy by the sleeve of her dress and lean in close to her ear. “I’ve got to go find Edmund,” you whisper. “I’m worried about him.”

Lucy’s eyes go wide, but she holds her composure under the watchful eyes of the court and the visiting representatives. “I’ll cover for you,” she whispers back.

As one of the five Narnian monarchs, you don’t technically need anyone’s permission to leave – except maybe Peter’s, since he’s the High King. Still, you’re the only one who’s not a Pevensie sibling, which can sometimes be a little isolating. Knowing that Lucy has your back boosts your confidence as you slip away, heading for the nearest place that you think Edmund might have disappeared to.

A quick search reveals that he’s not in the library. Or the armory, or any of his usual haunts. As a last resort, you duck into his bedroom, and it’s there that you find him, standing before the hearth, staring into the flames. His hand holds the place on his side where the White Witch stabbed him on the battlefield, though the gesture seems absentminded.

“Ed?” You make your voice soft so as not to startle him.

He looks up, eyes wide, surprised anyway – and hurt.

You don’t waste time asking if he’s okay. Instead, you cross the room to meet him in front of the fire. “Oh, Edmund.”

He doesn’t bother lying and saying that he’s fine. That’s how you know it’s bad. When Edmund Pevensie goes quiet, retreats within himself, it means that he’s truly wounded. This is something deep inside of him that aches, that rots.

Not knowing what to do, you take a seat on the rug in front of the hearth. You’re careful not to touch him, trying to offer him the space if he needs it. But he follows your lead and takes a seat, too, which seems like a good sign.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit near each other, staring into the fire. Edmund looks very numb when he finally says, “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I just . . . panicked.”

“No one blames you.”

“Seeing that stupid Turkish Delight – “ He shudders. “I can’t figure out if it was a poor choice given with good intentions, or if it was a slight on my honor, a reminder of what I did.” He frowns. “I suppose to some people I’ll never be Edmund the Just – I’ll only ever be just Edmund, The Traitor.”

“No,” you protest. Space be damned; you grab his hand in yours and squeeze it, like that gesture can also grab his attention, infuse the meaning of what you’re about to say to him so that he cannot ignore it. “Edmund, you’ve changed. You’re not a traitor.”

“Anymore.”

“People forget that I was there, too,” you remind him. “I tried to follow you to Jadis’ castle.”

“That was different. You were trying to stop me from betraying my family.” His brow furrows at the memory. “So I shoved you into a snowbank and ran off without you. And then you went back to Beaver’s the help the others. (Y/N) the Loyal,” he employs the epithet that Aslan gave you, but you can’t be sure why. Because of what you did then? Because you’re here with him now?

“People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.”

Edmund shakes his head. “But they haven’t forgotten. And I can’t, either, if I’m being honest.” He doesn’t meet your eye when he confesses, “It haunts me, the memories. Every winter.”

“No. But you can do something else.” You pause to make sure that you have his full attention when you make your suggestion. “You can forgive yourself.”

Edmund blinks. As smart as he is, it seems like the thought has never occurred to him before now.

“It doesn’t have to be now,” you assure him. “It’s not an instantaneous thing. Just . . . something to work on. A project. An ongoing one.”

Silence falls between you again as he turns back to the fire. It takes a few moments before he nods, the light shining off his dark hair and his crown.

“I’ll work on it,” he says, resolved. He turns back to you, and when he speaks again, his voice is so unsure, so timid, that you have the sudden urge to hold onto him with one arm and use your other to draw your sword and fend off anything or anyone in the world who might come near and cause him harm. “Can you help me do it?”

You nod. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” he clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m going to need more than my own forgiveness for being late to these negotiations.” He makes no move to get up. His gaze wanders across the room, as if seeing it for the first time, before landing on the window and studying the portal to the frozen, white world beyond it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it.” Then, trying to lighten the mood, you bump your shoulder against his. “I’m sure Susan and Lucy ganging up on the ambassadors will give them a run for their money.”

Edmund chuckles, settles back on the rug. “Good, because I honestly don’t think I can look into the eye of a person who tried to give me Turkish Delight without hitting him over the head with my sword.”

Even though you’re in a relationship, it’s maybe the most vulnerable that Edmund has ever been with you. He places his head in your lap and stares into the hearth as you card your hands through his dark locks.

“Spring is coming soon,” he mutters, his voice heavy with the sleep that’s trying to catch up with him. “Maybe then I can start over . . . Would be nice to not have to worry about freaking out over a bad gift and embarrassing myself in front of the whole court.”

“Spring will come again,” you remind him, voice soft in case he’s already dropped off to sleep. “And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts.” Then, for good measure, you add a new line to aid you through your latest challenge. “And it will allow us to start over.”

#Edmund can have SAD - as a treat #edmund pevensie #narnia imagine #narnia fanfiction #narnia x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #my writing

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myfavoritesstuff · 2 months

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Crimson Hearts Part 2

Paring: Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Prompt: Meeting the Sturniolo’s gang wasn’t as bad as you thought. It almost made you forget why you were brought here in the first place. Almost.

Warning(s): Gore, Shooting, Profanity, Mafia type stuff, poorly written fight scene, not proofread

Note: I made some of the YouTubers from their most recent collaboration be a part of the gang. And yes, I have soft Matt. He along with some of the other members will show more of their bad, gangster side in future chapters. I also kind of rushed it, so I apologize. I will go back and fit it later.

Word count: 3,047 (I will make all my others chapters not as long as this for those who don’t want that many words in a chapter)

Part 1

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stirred, the memories of last night's encounter with the Sturniolo triplets creeping into your consciousness like a persistent fog. The images were vivid: the cold sweat on your father's brow, the imposing figures of Nick, Matt, and Chris, their presence commanding.

With a deep breath, you pushed the covers aside and rose from the bed, your mind racing with the possibilities of what the day might hold. The air was crisp, a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere of the party. You dressed quickly, the weight of the impending meeting settling in your stomach like a stone.

Stepping outside, the world seemed oblivious to the turmoil that churned beneath its surface. The neighborhood was peaceful, the only sounds were the distant laughter of children and the soft rustling of leaves. But the tranquility did nothing to ease your nerves.

The sleek black limousine was impossible to miss, idling at the curb like a silent predator. The door opened, and you were greeted by the sight of the Sturniolo triplets, their expressions unreadable. Nick's nod was curt, an unspoken invitation to enter their world. Matt's eyes flickered with a hint of curiosity, while Chris offered a reassuring grin, the edge of danger still lingering in his smile.

You took a seat, the leather cool against your skin. The interior of the limo was luxurious, a stark contrast to the ruthless reputation of its occupants. The triplets watched you, their gazes sharp and assessing. You swallowed hard, searching for words that wouldn't betray your anxiety.

"So," you began, your voice steadier than you felt, "I hear the city never sleeps because of you three."

Nick's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, and Matt's posture relaxed ever so slightly. Chris chuckled, the sound rich and surprisingly warm.

"We do keep things... interesting," Nick replied, his voice smooth like aged whiskey. “The city has many stories. Some are bedtime tales for the innocent; others are wake-up calls for the brave.”

Matt’s gaze was unreadable, yet you could tell that he was reading your expression, almost like he was deciphering the thoughts racing through your mind. “Marriage is a strategic move,” he mused, the words hanging in the air like a challenge. “It’s not about love, it’s about power and alliances.”

Chris leaned forward, light catching the edge of his grin. “But don’t worry,” he chimed in, his tone light but laced with seriousness. “We’re not monsters. We’re humans too. We’re businessmen, and in our world, we value a good partnership.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the reality of the situation settling in. This wasn’t just a marriage proposal; it was something much more. You thought of what you could say and the next words could potentially have consequences that would be yours to bear.

“I understand the stakes”, you replied, your voice trying to remain steady. “But I’m not just a pawn to be moved at will. Like you said, we’re all human here.”

The brothers exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them. It was clear that this was a new development, a wrinkle in their plan they hadn’t anticipated. But it was also clear that they respected strength, and perhaps, in that moment, they saw a glimpse of their own resolve reflected in you.

The conversation flowed more easily after that, small talk bridging the gap between your two worlds. You spoke of inconsequential things—the weather, the city's nightlife, the latest technology. And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, you could almost forget who they were and the dangerous game you were all playing. Almost.

The limousine glided to a stop in front of an imposing mansion, its facade a testament to the power and wealth of the Sturniolo gang. As you stepped out, the grandeur of the residence struck you, a stark reminder of the world you were about to enter.

Inside, the atmosphere was charged, a mix of opulence and danger. The triplets led you through the halls, their steps echoing on the marble floors. You were introduced to the other members of the gang, each one a vital piece of the Sturniolo empire.

Nick gestured to a man with an intense gaze, "That's Colby Brock. He's our eyes and ears on the street. Nothing happens in this city without Colby knowing about it."

Matt nodded towards a figure leaning against the wall, "And there's Sam Golbach. He's the tech wizard. If it's digital and it's secure, Sam's the one who can crack it. He also works great with all kinds of weapons. If a weapon was created, he knows about it and will find out everything about it.

Chris's grin widened as he pointed out a man with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Meet Jake Webber. He's the charmer, the face for our... less official dealings."

You followed their gazes as they introduced the rest. "That's Johnnie Guilbert," Nick said, "He handles our finances, making sure the money flows where it needs to."

“Tara Yummy," Matt added, "is our negotiator. She's got a way with words that can turn any deal in our favor."

"And last but not least," Chris chimed in, "is Larray. He's the life of the party, but don't let that fool you. He's as sharp as they come, especially when it comes to information gathering."

As you took in each face, a complex web of roles and responsibilities began to form in your mind. These were the people who ran the underworld, each with their own story, their own skills, and now, they were all looking at you.

The triplets watched you carefully, gauging your reaction. "Welcome to the family," they said in unison, their voices a blend of warmth and warning. It was clear that this was more than a mere introduction; it was an initiation into a world from which there was no easy escape.

After the introductions, you were led down a corridor lined with portraits of stern-looking individuals, their eyes following your every move. The triplets stopped in front of a heavy oak door, its surface carved with intricate designs that spoke of a long, storied history.

"This will be your room," Nick said, pushing the door open with a gentle nudge.

The room that greeted you was a study in contrasts. The walls were painted a deep, velvety maroon, accented with black trim that gave the space an air of sophistication and power. Heavy drapes in dark shades framed the windows, allowing slivers of light to pierce the room's natural dimness.

Despite the dark colors, the room was undeniably beautiful. A large, four-poster bed dominated the center, its ebony wood polished to a high shine and adorned with plush bedding in shades of crimson and gold. The furniture was of the same dark wood, each piece exquisitely crafted and perfectly placed to create a sense of balance and comfort.

On one wall, a fireplace crackled softly, the flames casting dancing shadows that played across the room. Above it, a painting of the city at night hung, its lights twinkling like stars in a dark sky, a constant reminder of the world that lay just beyond these walls.

The room was a sanctuary, a place of quiet strength and luxury. It was clear that every detail had been carefully considered, from the soft, thick carpet that cushioned your steps to the subtle scent of sandalwood that lingered in the air.

As you took it all in, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. This was a room that belonged to someone of importance, someone who wielded power with a quiet confidence. It was a room that spoke of the Sturniolo legacy, and now, it was yours.

The soft knock at the door pulled you from your reverie, the room's grandeur momentarily forgotten. You crossed the plush carpet and opened the door to find Matt standing there, his expression serious.

"May I come in?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The room seemed to shrink with his presence, the air charged with a new intensity.

"There are rules," he began, his voice low and steady. "Rules that are non-negotiable if you're to stay here."

You nodded, a silent signal for him to continue.

"First," he said, holding up a finger, "loyalty is paramount. You do not betray the family, not by action or word. Second, discretion is expected. What happens within these walls stays within these walls. And third," he paused, his gaze locking with yours, "you must contribute. Everyone here has a role, a purpose. You'll need to find yours."

The rules were clear, each one a pillar that upheld the Sturniolo empire. They were not just guidelines; they were the very foundation of the life you were stepping into.

"Understand this," Matt added, "we protect our own, but we also demand respect and obedience. Step out of line, and there will be consequences."

The weight of his words settled over you, a tangible reminder of the reality of your new existence. This was no longer the world of lost cats and late newspaper deliveries. This was a world where power and survival were intertwined, where every choice could mean the difference between life and death.

"Are you willing to accept these terms?" Matt asked, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.

You took a deep breath, the gravity of the decision before you not lost. "Yes," you replied, your voice a whisper of resolve. "I understand."

Matt nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of your acceptance. "Welcome to the Sturniolo family," he said, and with those words, the next chapter of your life began.

Led by Matt, you returned to the main lounge, the heart of the mansion where the gang congregated. The room buzzed with conversation and the clinking of glasses, a stark contrast to the solemnity of the corridors. You hesitated at the threshold, the weight of countless eyes upon you.

The lounge was expansive, the ceilings high and the furnishings a blend of luxury and comfort. Plush sofas and armchairs were arranged in inviting clusters, encouraging close-knit discussions. The walls were adorned with art that hinted at the gang's reach and influence, each piece telling a story of power and conquest.

At first, you lingered on the periphery, a silent observer to the camaraderie and dynamics that played out before you. The members of the gang moved with an ease that spoke of long-established bonds, their laughter and gestures, a language you had yet to learn.

But as the minutes passed, you found yourself drawn into the fold. Colby shared a street-smart joke that eased the tension in your shoulders. Sam's tech and weapon talk was surprisingly accessible, his enthusiasm infectious. Jake's charm was disarming, and soon you were sharing stories of your own, laughter spilling from your lips more freely than you'd have expected.

Johnnie discussed business with a sharp acumen that piqued your interest, while Tara's negotiation tales were both harrowing and exhilarating. Larray's vivacity was a bright spark in the room, his humor a welcome relief from the gravity of the situation.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the triplets. They stood apart, a silent, watchful presence. Their expressions were unreadable, but there was no mistaking the intent focus with which they observed your integration into the group. It wasn't surveillance, but rather an assessment, a measure of your ability to adapt and belong.

Nick's gaze met yours across the room, a silent nod of approval. Matt's lips quirked up in what might have been a smile, and Chris raised his glass to you, a silent toast. In that moment, you felt a flicker of something like acceptance, a sense that perhaps you could find your place here after all.

The evening wore on, and the initial awkwardness faded into a sense of belonging. You were still an outsider, but now you were an outsider with a foot in the door, and the path ahead seemed a little less daunting.

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen windows, casting a warm, golden hue over the faces of the assembled gang members. You entered quietly, still adjusting to the rhythms of this new life. The chatter ceased momentarily as all eyes turned to you, but a nod from Nick and a smile from Chris were all it took for the conversations to resume.

The breakfast table was a lively scene, plates piled high with food, and the air filled with the rich aromas of coffee and cooked meals. You took your place, feeling the last remnants of sleep fade away as the energy of the room enveloped you.

After the meal, as the others dispersed to their various tasks, Matt's hand on your arm stopped you. He led you to a quiet corner of the room, his expression earnest.

"There's something I need to discuss with you," he said, his voice low. "The wedding is going to happen soon. It's in a month."

The words hit you like a wave, unexpected and overwhelming. A wedding? The concept seemed out of place in the dangerous world you'd been thrust into, yet here it was, being presented as a matter of fact.

Your heart raced, a mix of shock and an emotion you hesitated to name.

"I... I understand," you managed to say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I won't disagree."

You looked into Matt's eyes, searching for answers, for reassurance. And there, in the depths of his gaze, you saw something. It was a look that conveyed a hint of respect for the role you were about to take on.

Days had passed since your conversation with Matt and you were starting to like your new living situation. You grew close with each member in your own way, and you were starting to see what was beneath all their hardened exteriors. Tara, with her sharp wit and silver tongue, had especially grown a liking to you. She had taken you under her wing as an older sister type figure.

One afternoon, Tara decided it was time for a break and claimed that “you look like you could use some fresh air. A little shopping might do us good.” You agreed, welcoming the chance to step away from your new environment.

The streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of daily life. As you and Tara made your way through the crowds, you two laughed as she was telling you about some of the gang member’s weaknesses.

“Seriously?! Matt is afraid of ketchup?! Like he has never really tried it?” A smile formed on your face as you giggled at the news. Tara nodded while recounting the memory.

“Yeah, he seems terrified of it, and in fact–” She suddenly stopped. A serious expression taking over her features.

“What is it?” You were greatly confused but soon you saw why she had so abruptly stopped. A group of figures emerged from the shadows, their intentions clear from the malice in their eyes. Now that you realize it, you two were the only ones in the area and you started to get surrounded by the men.

Without hesitation, Tara pulled out a black and pink gun from her belt and fired it straight up in the air. A pink smoke materialized.

“Oh you think your tough shit huh? Calling the rest of the gang to come help you?” One of the men called.

“No, I just want the rest of my gang to see me beat your ass.” Tara replied with an attitude. The men did not seem to appreciate that as they all soon started charging in your direction. Tara unfazed called out to you.

“Y/n! Get down, now!” Without a moment's hesitation, you crouched down just as Tara pulled out another gun, this time black with gold designs. She fired, aiming it towards the man closest to you. The sound made you jump as you shut your eyes tightly, not wanting to see the bloody scene in front of you. Tara kept firing and all you could hear was the sound of the bullets. At one point she seemed to curse, making your eyes open. You immediately felt nauseous for all you could see was blood, dead bodies, and men still trying to put up a fight.

It seemed as though Tara ran out of bullets, but that didn’t stop her in the slightest. She put her fists up and started striking at the men around you. She was a whirlwind, her strikes precise and lethal. You would have tried to help but you didn’t know the first thing about defense or attacking someone. You assumed that if you tried to interfere, you would just get in her way.

And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. The surviving attackers retreated once they started hearing the sounds of running footsteps headed in your direction. As you thought, it was the rest of the gang. You saw Matt, Chris, and Nick leading the way.

Jake and Johnnie went to go check up on Tara while Matt, Chris and Nick made their way over to you. Colby, Sam, and Larray stayed on guard and watched for any other potential threats.

“Are you okay?” Matt questioned, worry hinted in his eyes. Chris and Nick stayed silent as they seemed to watch the interaction in front of them.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little shaken.” Nick then suddenly signaled to Matt.

“I don’t mean to rush this, but we should probably go. We caused too much attention” Chris intervenes. With that, you all head out to the limousine and make your way back to the mansion.

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mrsbrekkers · 1 year

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𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒

🕊.⋆｡ what is this? me posting? that's c r a z y. long story short, my ibf convinced me to finish the first ever smut i started last year and left. now i have finished it!

with this though, my blog is now 18+! if you are under said age, please either escort yourself stage left, or don't comment about it. i cannot control your internet intake, but that doesn't mean i should know about it!

also, be nice about this because it is my first smut so ya. i am pretty proud though!

anywho!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; oberyn martell x ellaria sand x you [ no use of y/n ] 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; smut! light choking + degradation. fingering f!receiving. uses of pet names [ dove, sweetling, lover ]. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ; 1364 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ; a beautiful sunset seems to be the perfect time for a warm bath, and maybe some fun with your dornish paramours :)

SMUT UNDER CUT!

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Soft, dimming rays of the setting sun laid against the warm yellow curtains, a cool breeze brushing through the otherwise still air. A sense of quiet had enveloped the oncoming night, and you stood, enjoying the dornish sunset. Many claimed the sunsets in Dorne were among the most beautiful one could witness, and while you’d never believed it before; you certainly did now. The colors blended into a beautifully painted picture, almost amplifying the colors of the gardens below your balcony. A soft voice came from behind you, a handmaiden parting the curtains. “Your bath has been drawn, my lady.”

“Thank you, Sanira. If you could so kindly summon the prince and his paramour. Then you can retire for the night,” you said kindly, watching as Sanira turned and scurried to find who you’d requested.

Moving through the parted curtains, your fingertips followed the moving curtains, pulling them closed once more. Your soft steps followed to the bed, covered in red and the warmest of yellows, contrasting each other in an exquisite manner. Quietly, you sat, wine cup in hand as you thought of the night ahead of you. Memories leading up to tonight were vivid in your memory, demanding they be seen.

A knock came at the door, followed by the sound of quiet footsteps, but you knew those footsteps anywhere. “Oberyn, Ellaria,” you spoke smoothly, looking up at the two.

“Little dove,” Ellaria spoke first, her voice velvety as she took your free hand, pulling you lightly up to your feet. Her lips were against the skin of your ear in seconds, her fingers dancing around your waist, gently pulling apart the strings of your dress.

“Mhm?” You softly hummed, your eyes gliding over to Oberyn, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since entering the room. His fingers, though, slid the sleeves of your dress down your arms, his hands like silk against your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“We’ve been waiting for your summonings all night,” Oberyn spoke, watching the dress pool against the marble floors of the room. There was his voice, pulling you in effortlessly. You craved them both, but you knew that their hands wouldn’t travel any lower until you were seated in the steaming water of your bath.

Retracting from the both of them, your feet carried you over to the bath. The steam had surrounded the room despite the curtains allowing in the cool air of the night. It made it almost hard to breathe, and the sight of the two moments prior already caused most of the air to leave your throat.

Your eyes landed on two hands that extended, taking hold of them and stepping into the searing water. Lightly, your eyes fluttered, a hushed moan of satisfaction leaving your lips. “Dove, we haven’t even begun,” Oberyn teased, his fingers coming down to tilt your head up towards him.

“Don’t tease,” You attempted to speak, but the words came out almost incomprehensible as you descended fully into the water. The aches in your body screamed at you in delight, causing yet another slurred moan to leave your lips unwillingly.

“She’s had a long day, lover, let us only pleasure her,” a more feminine voice called to Oberyn, Ellaria now sitting in front of the tub, her fingers tracing small patterns on your skin. Your head lolled onto Ellaria’s shoulder, basking in her scent of marigolds and lilies. Tantalizing fingers then danced down your body, disappearing under the warm water.

Being unable to see Ellaria’s fingers only enhanced the feeling of them as they glided down your stomach and thighs before they finally made contact with your core, a sharp gasp falling from your lips. You’d been with the two dozens of times, but this time felt different. More intimate, and that feeling was only enhanced as Oberyn’s hand made contact with your throat, his lips meeting your own in a slow kiss.

With Oberyn’s lips on yours, you were unable to verbally react as Ellaria reached your clit, her thumb carefully beginning to work it. She knew how delicate of a process this was. How important it was to build pleasure, and oh was she an expert at it. Her thumb circled your clit, the feeling causing your pace in the kiss you shared with Oberyn to stutter. Still, you managed for the time being, enjoying the gentle pleasure that coursed through your body.

“Look at her, Oberyn,” Ellaria whispered, pulling Oberyn from your lips, his hand still resting against your throat. A silent, but intimate reminder. You felt vulnerable under his gaze, but were unable to think much of it when Ellaria pressed a finger into you, causing your back to arch slightly and a surprised moan to sound through the room, this one being much louder than your previous ones.

You couldn’t pay much mind to what Oberyn responded with, only briefly being able to make out the word ‘heavenly’ as Ellaria’s thumb began to circle your clit faster with some added pressure. You began to think maybe having the bath drawn wasn’t such a brilliant idea, because your thighs had already started to shake. “Ellaria-” your words failed you, the pleasure that coursed through you building slowly, but surely, making a promise of a deliciously warm end.

“Go on, our sweet dove, tell us what you need,” Oberyn’s voice broke through your foggy mind, his own fingers giving a gentle, barely there squeeze to your throat. The euphoric sensation that made its way through your senses caused your eyes to flutter shut. Ellaria thought this the perfect moment to add another finger, both of them curling inside you to press against that spot inside of you. The moment she did, you clenched around her fingers and managed to speak, “That! Ellaria, please…” and what was Ellaria to do other than repeat the same motion with her fingers when you sounded so pretty. Though after her repeated motion, she began to slide her fingers in and out of you, yet another moan being pulled from you.

“So needy and desperate when her fingers are inside of you,” Oberyn teased, your cheeks tinting with a rosy blush. You didn’t try to deny his words though, knowing they were all too true. Ellaria seemed to know exactly what made you tick. What would wind you up so efficiently. It didn’t help that she was dangerously good with her fingers. By now, you’d lost count of the number of times they’d been inside of you, but you did know without fail, they’d bring you to climax. Now was no exception as her thumb pressed just slightly more into your clit, the pressure and build to it perfect. Your mouth hung open, your breathing hitching, and that reaction was all Ellaria needed to know you were close. The way you were clenching her fingers was sign enough, but your expressions were what she desired to see most.

She took those moments to speed the pace of her fingers up, catching you off guard. You tossed your head to the side, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure that’d been building seemed to sneak up on you. You could’ve sworn her fingers had just begun working you, and now you were on the verge of cumming hard around them.

“Ellaria-”

“We know, sweetling. Cum around my fingers, wanna feel you,” her voice was like silk, guiding you into your orgasm so calmly, and yet, so firmly. With one more curl of her fingers, you came undone around her fingers, a cry of her name being interrupted by the way Oberyn expertly timed yet another squeeze around your throat. The pleasure that seared through your body increased ten fold, stars erupting behind your eyes as your walls clenched Ellaria’s fingers so tightly she could’ve sworn you were trying to suck her in with them.

Your orgasm seemed to go on for hours, but in truth, it’d only been maybe half a minute. Your head slumped against Ellaria’s shoulder, a soft whimper leaving your lips as she gently removed her fingers and let your thighs clench together. Your eyes grew heavy, but a soft kiss to your lips reminded you that Oberyn was still there too.

“Ah, dove, you didn’t think we we’re quite finished with you yet, did you?” t <3

573 notes · View notes

obae-me · 1 year

Note

Yo! If you’re currently taking requests I have a hurt/comfort request with the bros for you :)

What about some headcanons where MC has a really bad and vivid nightmare and goes to one of the brothers for help to get out of their fear? To make it more interesting the nightmare can be about something like the infamous lesson 16 event too

That’s all, have a nice day/night!

Ooo hurt/comfort, you know exactly the way to get to my heart, anon! And as someone who used to experience awful awful nightmares, I can do this easily. And for some spice, I will make it about the infamous lesson 16. Angst is the spice of life. Hope you enjoy, anon!

Another Day, A Different Dream Perhaps.

Spoiler Warning for Events in Lesson 16!

TW: Violence, Blood, Broken Bones, Mentions of Death and M*rder. As Always, Read Safely!

__________________________________________________

Running. They were running again. Panting, crying, panicked. These halls that held so many good memories also kept haunting nightmares in their walls. They couldn’t breathe, feeling the faint touch of hands gripping around their throat, the joy in the eyes of the person who was watching them struggle.

The others...they had to find the others. The shadow was behind them, bloody claws reaching out from the darkness to tear cuts into their skin. Running almost seemed useless, their feet hardly making contact with the ground. But they had to run, run faster.

The halls they were so familiar with kept changing on them, shifting, twisting, betraying them, like the whole house was in on their demise. They didn’t know where they were...they didn’t know where to go.

Then a hand grabbed them, pulling them back, pain searing into their body as they were flung harshly in the air. As they landed, a sickly sounding snap echoed in their ears. Their leg...they couldn’t run anymore. And their body...was warm...and wet. Crimson seeped out from under them, a seemingly impossible amount of blood flooded the floors. Figures rose from the dark liquid, looming over them, watching them writhe...watching them suffer with glowing eyes and crooked smiles.

They could do nothing but cry as they crawled, trying to claw through the ever-rising blood, trying to escape, to get help. But they knew there was none. They knew this was their death. And as they tried to scream, they were only met with silence as the sea of red flooded into their lungs, the shadows leaning over to push them further under.

As their eyes suddenly opened, they found their brain still filled with panic, confused. They couldn’t tell if this was still a dream. They were certain something would be back to kill them. The pain of death still lingered in their body. It had felt so real. What was reality? So once more, they ran, fleeing from their room, tired feet tripped over themselves as they stumbled. Their body seemed to be leading them where they needed to go, whether they were thinking about it or not.

Weak fingers grasped at the doorknob, pushing their way through the door. Their leg gave out on them, still tingling from the feeling of being broken. As they fell to the ground, they seemed to finally find their voice, their lungs wheezing from the strain. They sobbed, gulping in gasping breaths of frigid night air. Please, this time, save them. Somebody save them!

“Help me!”

Lucifer

He’s a light sleeper, so the noise of someone running through the halls had stirred him awake already. He was already in the process of sitting up, preparing to scold whoever thought it was wise to cause such a ruckus this late at night.

That was until MC barreled into his room, immediately collapsing, in hysterics. Screaming for help.

He’s seen a lot in his life. Nothing really gets to him anymore. But hearing MC like that raised every hair on the skin of his body.

His demon form came out immediately, wings pushing the comforter right off his bed, running out into the hallway to see what the problem was. Only...there was no one there. Rushing back into his room, he shut the door, getting to his knees, fearing he’d find them hurt. But there were no injuries.

His hands cupped the side of their face, trying to get them to stop their frantic rocking on the ground. “MC...MC! What is it? What’s wrong?” As much as he hated seeing them so out of it, he hoped they weren’t paying enough attention to hear the worried crack in his voice.

They grabbed at the front of his clothing, pulling themselves to him. “He’s coming! Please help me...”

All at once he knew what was happening. Once more, the walls surrounding his heart chipped away as he was reminded of another one of his failures. One of the most terrible ones.

With a hand against the back of their head, he rested them against his shoulder. “You’re alright. You’re alright.” He repeated to them, trying to keep his voice calm. “It was simply a nightmare.”

He hated this. He hated that moments like these came about too often. He hated always being damage control. But...he mostly just hated seeing them this way, being able to do nothing about it other than holding them close, hoping the sound of his voice will eventually bring them out of it.

He shushed them gently, stroking the back of their head while rocking them slowly back and forth on the ground, keeping the tune of a soft melody in his head. He’s reminded of several times where he’s had to do the same thing to his brothers when they were a bit younger. It’s been a while since he’s done this. Is he...doing it correctly?

Eventually, he noticed that the sobbing has stopped. They still seemed to be crying, but softly this time, perhaps a bit more aware of their surroundings. “Come now, you’re going to cry yourself sick.” He patted their back and started to stand, carrying them in his arms.

He brought them to a seat near the fireplace, settling them down, trying not to allow himself to be weak when they appear to refused to let him go, clinging to the fabric of his sleeves. “Hold on, I’ll be just a moment.” He has to take care of them first, no matter how much his heart is screaming to hold them just a bit longer.

He leaves, gathering tissues and a cup of water. When he returns, he notices that their tears have almost completely stopped, but now they simply looked blankly at the flames dancing in the fireplace. He set the box of tissues next to them, reaching down to grab their hand so he can place the cup of water in their grasp. “Drink,” he demands, although there’s no hint of harshness in his voice, only concern. He stands there and waits till they take the first sip, not allowing himself to feel any sort of relief till they do so.

He bends his knees, lowering himself so he can look up at their face, one of his hands settled supportively on their thigh. “Take it easy. Give it some time. Collect yourself. Shall I put on some music to calm the nerves?” They nodded, remaining silent. He straightened, heading over to his record player, his thumb brushing over the vinyl collection. He plucked out one that was dear to his heart. One MC had gifted him. He took it out with gentle fingers, placing it in the record player, settling the needle down, listening to the first few notes come through before he turned back to the human taking the chair next to them by the fireplace. The chair feels too far away from them now, even if he could reach over and touch their shoulder with his hand.

There’s a question on the tip of their tongue, one he can feel. Their pride is getting in the way. As much as he would wish to hear the suggestion straight from their lips, he’s more than happy to bring it up. “Would you like to stay the night with me?” As they open their mouth, he cuts them off, already knowing what they would say. “It wouldn’t be a bother. I would even like to think that I would sleep better, knowing you were safe and sound right next to me.”

They think about it, but eventually nod. If under better circumstances, he would be beaming. But he remains calm, standing up to extend a hand, waiting till they took it before leading them to his bed, tucking them in first.

The back of one of his fingers ends up trailing down the side of their cheek. A gentle touch he could not resist. “Just sleep now, and do not worry, you won’t have any more nightmares tonight. You can rest assured, I won’t let measly dreams best me.”

They raised an eyebrow, clearing their throat before they spoke. “Did you just make a joke?”

“Perhaps.” He got into bed beside them, and despite the grand size of the mattress, he moved to be right beside them. “I’ll find you,” he then promised. “In real life or in the hazy blur of your subconscious, I’ll find you whenever you need me. Don’t forget that.” The light of the fire and the sound of music seemed to dim. He shut his eyes, a subtle pleased smile on his face. “I will see you soon.”

Mammon

He sleeps deep. But not that deep. If someone comes bursting through his door crying, it’s bound to wake him up. Scared the life out of him at first, nearly jumped straight out of bed. His first thoughts running through his sleepy mind was a ghost.

But when he realized who it was...he almost wished it was a ghost. He’d rather be the one scared.

He scrambled over to them, tripping on his own comforter that had slumped to the ground, crawling over the floor till he was near them, pulling them into his arms. “What is it?! Who hurt ya?! What happened?!” He yelled. He has to be careful, focusing on not greedily digging his own claws into their pajamas, trying not to growl at whoever would’ve done such a thing to them.

MC could only speak in panicked statements, repeating the same phrase over and over again. “I don’t want to die...I don’t want to die...”

It hit him much too hard. The memory. The way he felt when it happened...for real. When they said those same words to him right before the light left their eyes.

He couldn’t help but cry. He’d seen it in his nightmares too. Over and over again.

With a lowered head, tears managed to escape his eyes as the guilt seemed to tear him into pieces again. Why? Why couldn’t he have been there to help them? Why were they still feeling the pain of this? Why them?

“I’m sorry,” he choked, his throat so strained with pain, he could hardly speak. He held them tighter, pulling them so close he was almost curved over them protectively. “I’m here with you now. I- I won’t let anyone hurt you again. Nobody. So please...stop cryin’. I’ll get you whatever you want! We can buy it right now!” His heart breaks further when they hardly seem to be listening. Money can’t buy their happiness right now...only he can.

Only...what can he do? Right...he’s the joke of the family. Maybe if he can make ‘em laugh, they’ll stop crying! Just pull something from his stand-up comedy routine with Levi.

“What- uh -” He clears his throat, trying to stop his own tears. He needs to be the strong one for them. They take care of him all the time, it’s about time he pays back his debt. “Why are relationships a lot like algebra?” He gave them a gentle shake, hoping to Diavolo that they were listening. “Be-because have you ever looked at your X and wondered Y?...Eh? Eh? You get it, because-”

MC squeaked a bit, a noise made from perhaps a bit of bewilderment at the stupidity of the joke. Although, their quick change in breathing gave them the hiccups, or maybe it was caused simply from crying too much. However, the tears seemed to lessen.

“Out of one problem, and into the next, huh? Can’t seem to keep yourself out of trouble.” He gave them a pained chuckle, knowing full well that most of their troubles were stemmed from him and his brothers. He felt their body make little jolts as the hiccups continued. He picked them up, letting their arms wrap around his neck as he brought them over to his bed. His demon form lowered, sharp wings and horns tucked away as he brought them underneath the covers.

They continued to cling to him, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel his heart grow warm. Unfortunate that they had to come here in a panic to get this way but...make the most of what you got, yeah? He let them sit in his lap, rubbing circles into their back as he wondered what Lucifer or Satan would say. Something smart and comforting.

“I’d try to spook the hiccups out of ya, but I don’t think that would work seein’ as how you’re too good to be scared like that.” At those words, they seemed to shrink into him more. “S-so, how about we just hold our breath for a bit? I’ll do it with ya. Hold it in as long as ya can. Ready? One, two,” he sucked in his breath, waiting till they did the same. They sat there in silence, counting in their head, feeling each others hearts beat in each other’s chests. Then MC let it all out in a long shaky exhale.

They both waited, hoping that the hiccups were gone. After a while of nothing, Mammon grinned. “There we go, we got it! All gone, see?... It’s all gone.” If only that were true for everything. If he could help them hold their breath and forget all their troubles, he’d never breathe again. A silly thought, one that didn’t make sense, he knows that, but...it’s an honest one.

“How about we try to sleep again, huh?” He tucked their head under his chin. “I’ll keep ya in my arms all night so you know you’re safe...and if any nightmares show up, just dream of me and I’ll beat it away!”

They finally let out a little chuckle. “Promise?”

He gives them a little squeeze. “I swear. I won’t let anything harm ya. Not even in your dreams.”

Levi

If even Levi is asleep, you know it’s late. He also doesn’t expect anyone to come to his room in general, much less in the dead of night. So when his door suddenly opened, he freaked out. He jolted up, climbing out of his bathtub-bed just to fall to the floor.

And that was all before he heard the crying.

He peeked around the porcelain curve of his bed to spot MC. His mind went blank, so many thoughts running through his head at once, his brain was shutting down. Why were they in here crying? Did he do something? Did someone else do something? Why were they here of all places?

“H-h-hey? MC?” He worked his way to his feet, coming over to them. “You...uh...you alright?” He hated how unsure and unsupportive he sounded. Of course they weren’t alright! He could see that! He needed to focus! They were in a much worse state than he was! Now was not the time to get lost in his own mind. Just...do what comes instinctively, don’t overthink it.

He shut his door first, knowing that if it were him, he would appreciate the privacy. He then quickly stepped over to his bed, pulling the blanket out from in it. He placed it over their shoulders, slowly settling down on the floor to tuck it tighter around them. “Wh-what’s wrong? I’m here. You can- you can tell me.”

They clutched at their head, trying to curl up into a ball on his floor. That’s usually his thing. He almost wishes he could claim it for himself, just so he didn’t have to see MC do the same. “I’m scared...I’m so scared...Don’t let him find me...”

“Don’t let who--” And then it crashed over him like a wave, the memory he had already tried so hard to forget. He hadn’t done much...when it happened. He stood behind everyone else, only able to watch, frozen in shock. Like a coward. So why him? Why did they come to him now?

Before he’s even fully aware he’s doing it, he’s stuffing his tub with everything soft he can find. Pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, the works. He’s not even fully aware of his tail slipping from it’s glamour, wrapping gently around their waist so he can be holding them while he works on this little nest of his. When he’s done, he uses his arms to lift them up, placing them in the cocoon of softness. Like a shelter, a safe space.

If there’s anything he knows how to do well, it’s hide. So he’ll hide them away, tuck them against everything he loves, everything that makes him feel safe.

The motion seems to pull them out of their state that they were in. They looked around, watching the light reflecting off the water in the fish-tank ripple across the ceiling. Then they turned their head to look at him. “Levi?”

He quickly releases his tail from them, gripping the front of his shirt to keep his emotions from spilling out. “Y-you can stay here for the rest of the night. It-it might sound weird, but the bathtub can actually be pretty cozy. It feels like a nest, and sometimes, when I get too hot I--” He was rambling again, his mouth releasing the anxiety for him, but he stopped talking when he felt them tug on his sleeve.

It’s not really made for two...it’s supposed to be a one-person sort of thing, since he’s always alone and all, but...he can feel them trying to pull them in. He...wanted to do that anyway but...he didn’t feel like he deserved it. This wasn’t about him though, was it? And that was okay.

So, he got into bed, the both of them much too close as they were pushed together by pillow and plush. He didn’t have much of a choice other than to hold them now. Or perhaps that was just an excuse.

He struggled to act first...always, it seemed. Especially when it was about something important. Just like before...and like now. Just once...he wanted to...he wanted to...

He settled his forehead against theirs. They were a bit warm, probably from crying so much. His heart nearly stopped in his chest from such a bold act, but he wanted to do it. So badly. To hold them, to make them feel safe, to protect them, like he should’ve done on that day, to show how much he cared.

“When-whenever I get nightmares, I just squeeze something really hard till I wake up. You can try that tonight. If you start to get another bad dream, just hold...hold onto me.” He’s tempted to press his lips to their forehead, like in a perfect anime episode. It’s the pinnacle of comfort. But he doesn’t have that much courage for it, compromising with pressing his cheek to their forehead instead. “We can try as many times as it takes to get it right. A perfect run!” His heart isn’t beating as fast as he expected it would. This was...nice. It was something he’d imagined for a long time. “...A perfect dream.”

Satan

He doesn’t sleep too heavily unless he ends up pulling too many late and sleepless nights reading his books. Tonight, fortunately, was not one of those nights. He wasn’t too far into his dreams, slightly waking up as he turned over on his other side, unable to fall into a deeper sleep with a book wedged under his back.

It was one fateful circumstance, because anyone who had the misfortune of crashing into his room in the dark was bound to wind up hurting themselves. Have you seen the state of his room? One clumsy bump was all it took for there to be a literature landslide.

Which was exactly what MC did.

Still under the sleepy fog of fear, MC threw Satan’s door wide, stumbling in the dark, falling to the floor, their shoulder making contact with a tower of books. If he hadn’t already been somewhat awake...and if MC hadn’t wailed from the top of their lungs, he might not have made it in time.

Dozens of book spines and hardcover corners pounded into his back as he covered MC with his body, trying to curl them under his frame despite not being nearly as large as someone like Beel would be.

Once the dust settled, he shook off a few tomes that had settled on his back. Then he took MC by the shoulders, so filled with wild concern that he didn’t even notice MC’s tears. “What do you think you’re doing coming in here like that?!” He panted a bit, blood pounding through his body with adrenaline. He had to take a second to compose himself, taking a deep breath...and then he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t shaking their shoulders...they were convulsing with sobs.

He quickly moved from above them, settling beside them instead, forcing them to sit up. “What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Hurts...” They cried. “It hurts...”

He was suddenly worried his quick action wasn’t quite quick enough. A book must’ve hit them, or maybe they hurt themselves when they tumbled. “Where?” He curled a hand around their chin, checking their face before tugging at their sleeves to check their arms. “Where does it hurt?”

Their fingers moved up to grasp at their throat, hands wrapping around them in such a way to show...

He takes both of MC’s wrists and pulls their arms down, lowering his head, some of his fingers moving up to weave themselves between MC’s. He doesn’t need anything else to go off of. He knows what they’re talking about. He had been one of the ones to check them over when it happened. Every grievous detail of every critical injury was seared into his mind.

He should probably make sure they weren’t hurt aside from...that.

So, he picked them up, pushing some of his books away with his foot, still doing so with great care. He settled them on his bed, making sure there were no hidden novels under the covers. He found the one that had been bothering him earlier and set it aside.

The light of the moon coming through his window provided adequate light to check on them with. Besides, doing a sort of check-up like this might bring them back to reality.

“Can you move your arms?” He made them move their limbs, wiggle their fingers, stretch their neck, flex their feet, just to ensure they felt no immediate pain. Phantom pains would be...harder to deal with. But it seemed the more they moved, the more they were forced to focus on something else, and in turn cry a little less.

He pulled the fabric of his long-sleeve cat-print pajamas over his hand, moving to dry their cheeks. “There, there. Still in pain?” They shook their head, which let him sigh in relief. “Not even a papercut?” They shook their head again as he lowered his hand, pleased to see the tears had stopped. “That’s good...Do you want to stay here tonight?” He could only hope they wouldn’t shake their head a third time.

“...Okay,” they agreed.

Calm. He had to remind himself, keeping himself from basically throwing himself beside them under the covers. He tucked them in first, joining in after, making sure they didn’t bonk their head against his headboard as they got down, placing his hand on the side of their face.

“I’ll tell you a story while you fall asleep. Maybe then you’ll finish the plot in your dreams. So, with that in mind, I’m going to be in the story, obviously, and a ton of little fluffy kittens.” He pulls the blanket further up their body as they turn on their side to face him. He rubs up and down their arm, being incredibly gentle as he does so, trying to massage out the tenseness in their muscles. “I’ll dream the same, so when you wake up, we can compare how they ended. This time, it’ll end the way you want it to. I know it.”

Asmo

He’s an early to bed, early to rise kind of person. When he’s not partying that is. Tonight he had nothing planned but a full night of beauty sleep for a more beautiful Asmo.

That was till someone barged through his door. And unfortunately, not in the way he’s always wanting.

As he heard MC shout and sob, he immediately sat straight up, wishful fantasies flying out of his head all at once. No...this was definitely far from what he wanted.

He flicked on a little side light, casting the room in a warm pink-hue, but he didn’t really care how the room looked. With the light on, he could see in more detail how frightened MC looked, how distraught they were. It broke his heart.

“Oh, hon,” he gasped, getting to his knees in front of them, holding their head in his hands, trying to almost frantically bush away the tears as soon as they dripped from their eyes. “What is it? Who did this? If someone hurt you I--”

“Am I alive?” Their watery and confused eyes stared at him, focusing and unfocusing, perhaps still in the process of fully waking up. They repeated their question again as their voice cracked, their hands coming up to grab the front of Asmo’s pajamas, hands shaking. “Am I alive?”

He couldn’t help but cover his mouth, eyes stinging as it all settled in. He didn’t want to remember it. He didn’t want to think about how they looked when... “Oh, MC...honey...” He wrapped his arms around them, pulling them into him, nuzzling his head against theirs, trying not to cry, feeling the warmth of their body, the beating of their heart, the sound of their breath so close to his ear. That way, he could say with absolute certainty. “You’re alive...you’re here, with me, right as you should be, okay?” His perfectly pitched voice was suddenly squeaking in odd places as his throat suddenly seemed strained. He didn’t want to cry. He wouldn’t. They both couldn’t be a mess.

“Come on, no more crying, you’ll end up feeling awful.” He coaxes them up, guiding them over to his bed where he helps them sit down. He gathers a few things around the room to make them feel better.

He is the king of pampering after all.

He uses a room spray to make the room smell like their favorite scent. He grabs the comfiest fluffy socks. He always has a spare water bottle on hand for hydration. But best of all, he brings over little circular gel packs that he keeps in a small makeup fridge to keep them cool. They’re even designed like little cucumber slices.

“Here you are, dear.” He does all the work making them comfortable, making them drink and then helping them lean back so he can place the cold packs over their eyes. “This will help with the swelling and puffiness...and probably the pounding headache behind those eyes.”

He sits beside them on the bed, his hand over theirs, rubbing his thumb back and forth against their wrist. “Just breathe...it’s alright, your beautiful Asmo is here.” He was hoping saying that would make them smile or chuckle. He’d even take a groan or some reaction, but they just remained quiet. He...doesn’t blame them.

After a few minutes, MC takes the packs from off their face, setting them aside. It did seem to help luckily, they didn’t seem as red as before. He can smile at that, although weakly, leaning forward a little to swipe away an eyelash that had come loose and fallen on MC’s face. He makes sure their cheeks are dry while he’s at it, rubbing the back of his hand up and down their face in soothing motions.

“I think you should stay here tonight,” he states. “If you don’t want to sleep, we can have a little slumber party! But even I think you should get some more rest. I think you look absolutely exhausted.” He speaks in a soft and worried tone, not ashamed to still be petting their head, hoping it’s as comforting to them as it is for him. “What’ll it be?”

“I’m tired...” They agree, but say so hesitantly, afraid of running into more nightmares.

“Then bedtime it is!” He puts away any stray objects, turning off the light before joining Asmo in bed. He lays beside them, his finger tracing the outline of MC’s face over and over again, in such a slow hypnotic way that it makes their eyelids droop. “I won’t stand for unbeautiful things in my room, which means nightmares are absolutely not allowed. Just look at me while you fall asleep, and I know for certain your dreams will be just as beautiful as I am. I know my dreams will be amazing tonight too...because I’ll be looking at you.”

Beel

Beel’s connection with his twin helps him sleep deeply at night, only waking when he’s hungry, and most times not even then. He’ll just eat in his sleep. However, tonight, it seemed Belphie was more active than usual, probably out star-gazing by himself. So, it was keeping Beel more awake than normal, only sleeping lightly, tossing and turning as he tried to not think about how hungry he was.

Then the door slammed open.

It’s not usually a sound he associates with Belphie, so his eyes opened, catching MC at just the right moment when they fell to the ground.

His feet touched the floor before they could even scream.

In fact, their ‘help me’ cry was muffled as he pulled them into his arms, careful not to crush them or squeeze too hard. It was difficult to control, but he was capable. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt them.

“Why are you sad? Why are you crying?” His heart seems to break with each racking sob. He glanced over to his twin’s bed only to confirm that Belphie was in fact gone. He would have to comfort them alone...

They grip at his sleeves, seeming to grow ever smaller as they shrink into him. They struggle with speaking, almost hyperventilating, but finally able to speak the words he’d never want to hear again. “He killed me...”

........

Oh...

He doesn’t always pick up on things quite like the others do, but this...he didn’t need to ask. That was about as straightforward as you could get...

He usually runs warm, but all the sudden his blood ran cold, goosebumps rushing over his skin, his stomach dropping.

He felt sick.

Even now, he still did his best to convince himself it never happened, that it was all a bad dream. But it wasn’t...he knew that. So in reality, it remained one of the worst days of his long life. How...how are you supposed to feel when...when your twin...when your family...

A pained groan rumbles in his throat, sounding almost like a whimper. It hurts. Their pain hurts him like it’s his own. That usually only happens with Belphie, but this time, it’s with MC. It’s awful...

He tilts their head back carefully, frowning deeply as he uses his thumbs to clear the tears from their face. His bottom lip almost quivers as theirs does, resting his head on theirs for a moment. He doesn’t think they want food to cheer them up...so he’ll have to do what he’s used to doing next.

He picks them up, cradling them against his chest, taking them over to his bed. He only needs to keep one arm under them to hold them while he uses the other one to give his sheets and blankets a firm shake, removing any lingering crumbs. He then uses one of those blankets to wrap MC in like a little burrito. He won’t eat them, promise. He’s pretty nauseous right now anyway, something people only thought happened when Solomon’s food was involved.

He settles them into his bed and lays himself next to them, placing himself lower than they were so his head was near their chest. He wanted to hear their heartbeat...every beat, every second, every breath was precious to him.

“I think you’re so strong,” he says, wrapping one arm over them. “Stronger than me. You do so much for us all. You’ve been through so much because of us...” After listening to their heartbeat for a while, he pushes himself back up on the bed so he can tuck them against his chest this time. “I’m sorry...I’m sorry, MC...”

He can’t help but feel like this is his fault as well. He should’ve known what was going on. How did he not know Belphie was in the House this whole time? His twin always gets too cranky if he’s by himself for too long, even if he’ll never say it. He could’ve done more...been stronger, been smarter.

Maybe not...he knows MC wouldn’t want him to think such things. He knows Lilith wouldn’t want that either.

MC already seemed a little more at peace, not fully calm, but not crying anymore. That makes him feel a little better. “I’ll become even stronger so I can carry all the heavy things for you. I’ll stop whatever is hurting you too. Let me have it all so you can sleep good, okay?” He plants a kiss atop their head and runs his hand through their hair, sorta like Belphie likes. “Just think of pudding or cake or ice cream, that way you can have sweet dreams.”

Belphie

It’s hard to wake him up most of the time. He sleeps like the dead. So, when MC entered the twin’s room, he hardly stirred. If anything, he assumed Beel was the one making the noise.

To be fair, he was dreaming himself. It was a pleasant one, one that he didn’t want to wake up from. He, Beel, and MC were enjoying a picnic under the stars. They looked so at peace, looking up at the constellations as he told them all about the stories. Then a leaf from a tree fluttered onto the human's shoulder. He reached a hand out to brush it away...and then...

“Help me!” MC’s cry rang through, even in his dream, forcing it to change in an instant. Turning it into a nightmare. His hands were around their throat. His fingers were squeezing them, hurting them. But he could not let go. Did he want to let go? Of course he does! He’s hurting MC! But that’s what he wanted. That’s what he planned. He didn’t know what he wanted! He was hurt! He was angry! He was desperate! Would he have cared if they weren’t connected to Lilith? That’s the only reason why he stopped.

In the nightmare, he’s standing over their body, watching the human suffer. Watching his brothers suffer. Even Beel. Had he enjoyed his own twin’s sadness? All he could do was stand there and watch as each of his brothers turned to him with eyes filled with betrayal. It’s not fair! He was the one betrayed! But he was doing this for them! For everyone! Humans brought nothing but pain and suffering.

“Don’t lie to yourself.” His demon form stood in front of him, like a twisted, bloody reflection. “This was never about humans in the first place. Something precious was taken from you. So in return, you wanted to take something precious from everyone else. Make them feel your pain. Make them suffer like you had suffered. Because that’s all you can do. Because you’re a demon. A monster.” The image changed to that of MC’s now, able to look at him with nothing but fear. “A murderer.”

With that, he awoke in a cold sweat, trying to give his fuzzy mind the time to recall that it was just a dream. Only...he could still hear MC crying. Was he awake, or not?... He sat up, looking over at Beel’s bed. Empty. His twin was probably in the kitchen getting a late-night snack. So then the sound... With a glance, he could spot the very end of their head on the floor, right by the end of...his bed.

The whispers of dreams and memories repeated in his head. Somehow, he knew. He knew they were crying because of him. He knew what plagued their mind at night.

Why should he help them? Why should he comfort them? That would be too selfish of him. He should just lie back down, pretend like he wasn’t awake, and have Beel help them when he came back.

So that’s what he tried to do, pressing his pillow over his ears to block the noise...to try to keep himself from crying with them.

But then...he realized he was doing exactly what his brothers were doing. Ignoring things. Pretending like they didn’t exist. Sweeping problems under the rug...or locking them in the attic. That’s one of the reasons why he got so angry in the first place.

So, he quietly got out of bed, dragging his pillow and a blanket with him. He stepped over to where they were curled on the floor, and sat beside them. He lifted their head and put his favorite pillow under them, throwing the blanket over their body. He pulled his knees up to his chest and started running his fingers through their hair, like he so often requested they do for him.

He won’t say sorry. Sorrys are saved for things like sleeping in and missing plans or eating someone’s snacks they’d saved for later. Sorry wasn’t good enough for this. Perhaps nothing would be.

Eventually, MC’s crying dies down, far too exhausted to continue. “B-Belphie?” Their throat sounded scratchy.

“Don’t say anything,” he demanded, both because it sounded painful and because he couldn’t stand to hear his name like that. He flopped over on the ground, turning so they were facing away from each other, the back of his head against theirs. “Try to get some more sleep.”

“I...don’t think I want to...” They paused, sniffling and trying to get their breathing back to normal. “I’m sorry for...waking you up.”

Hearing them apologize almost broke him. “Don’t be...I was having a nightmare too.” They both go quiet, and for a moment, he believes they’d fallen asleep. He did have a question, one he wanted to ask even if it never got answered. “Why did you come in here...where I was?”

Silence. He closes his eyes, simply content with the way things were, but then he heard them move turning on their other side to look at him. “I...don’t really know. Maybe, I just needed to be with the real Belphie…Leave the other one to the nightmares...” He didn’t dare look at them, but he felt them push the blanket over his body as well so they could share in the warmth together. He could feel them bury their face in his back. They were cold. “I prefer this one.”

He doesn’t understand...but...trying to understand was hard work. Not to be solved all in one night of guilt. Right now...MC needed him. He needed them too. “Are you comfortable on the floor?”

“...Not really.”

“Then get in my bed, silly.” He stood up, not giving them much of a choice, dragging them to his bed where they would be warm, tucking the covers around them. He sat beside them and waited...thinking. “I want to go on a picnic with you and Beel. Let’s go tomorrow.”

“A picnic sounds nice...but we have class tomorrow.”

“I don’t care. We’ll ditch classes. We’ll pack up the best food and the softest blankets and have Beel carry us to where we can easily see the stars.” He finally lies back down beside them. “That’s my dream. I want to make it come true. I don’t...” Again, this is selfish of him...but he’s the baby of the family, and a demon, so he can’t help it, right? “So you have to come with. I don’t want any of my dreams to happen without you...Think all about it tonight, so you can have something to look forward to tomorrow. So you can have good dreams tonight.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: broken bones #tw: death #tw: murder

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eldritch-spouse · 1 year

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I wanna be hunted down by Zizz in a dream, come get me big boy

[Ah yes, I've wanted to do something with him for a while. The chase isn't that long, but I hope it's fine! Fem reader.]

TW: Dubcon then full consent; Mentions of past non-consensual somnophilia; Spit as lube.

You're not sure if you can call yourself a lucid dreamer.

Because while you've been aware of dreaming before, things have always felt a bit distant, fogged. When you touched a table, it didn't quite feel like a table. So you knew that it wasn't one, and that you weren't awake.

Lately however, your nightly episodes of brain activity have taken a sharp turn into the unexpected, if not mystical.

Everything has become so vivid. So real. It feels as if every part of your conscious has been pulled into these dreams, like there's nothing beyond the dreamscape. You truly are living in them, with no care for anything else. Nothing appears to be out of place, every minute detail sculpted to perfection, something one's brain is largely incapable of without extensive visual training beforehand. Which you have none.

They almost feels like someone else's dreams, as if you have been invited to take place in them.

Nothing about the location in which they take place is familiar to you either. This scarcely lit maze of rooms and halls is a warm, comforting mansion you have never set foot on in waking world. Not a bit of it rings a bell. The patterns in the floor are alien to you, the symbols inscribed in the ceilings and walls are meticulous but utterly nonsensical, the blue-lit candles, flickering into violet hues, are entirely new to you. Even the starry, abyssal skies fogging the small windows of this place raise no memory. Everything here is suspended in space and time, a crafted capsule which has consumed your resting hours.

At first, you were charmed. And how could one not be, right? It is a beautiful place, if a bit ominous, but you enjoyed roaming by those uninhabited divisions, captivated by pleasant scents and lulled into a comfortable tiredness that beckoned you to simply pick a corner and settle down. Although bizarre, this felt like home, like a cradle. A respite to life's many hurdles and clawing duties. No good thing lasts forever, as is common knowledge, and this is no exception...

A couple of days ago, the ambience in this dream mansion has become a tad stifling. Nothing has visually changed, that you can spot at least, but the air is heavier with some form of tension you can't quite place. Moving between rooms, no matter how much curiosity beckons, has become a slightly dreaded occasion, for every step of yours elicits goosebumps on your flesh. Eyes. There are eyes on you. Somewhere. Somehow. Someway. Immaterial and tireless, prey instincts pick up on them sharply. You turn and turn like a dancer in their stage, but there's only ever shadows staring back at you.

Someone has taken note of your presence here and you're an object of interest to them. Now comes the belated realization that you may not ever have been the owner of this mansion, as your mind liked to assume. Maybe not even a guest, but only a mere intruder. Are they angry at you?

You can't answer that. You don't know.

So, tonight, in an effort to not offend this entity of your lifelike dreams, you refuse to leave the banquet hall. Maybe, if you stay put in one place and don't touch anything, not even those beautiful padded chairs, it won't get angry at you. And it will look elsewhere. Should you apologize? To the air? No, come on, there's got to be a way to force yourself to wake up, right? Yes, you've read about this before. You need to blink! Blinking helps stimulate the brain into waking up.

After several moments of frantic eyelid flapping, you've determined that either this method is complete bullshit, you're horribly incompetent at basic functions, or this is simply too soft a strategy. The next hypothesis is to pinch yourself, or otherwise induce some form of pain that would be great enough to force an awakening. Pinch after pinch, scratching your arm, and finally, actually giving yourself a slap. Fruitless... And the worst part is that you felt it all.

Joy.

OH! Falling asleep! Falling asleep in lucid dreams helps. Perfect really, this place is already so tailored to personal comfort. The banquet hall is large, furnished with its laced curtains and the ambient blue lights that you love so much, there's many a plush seat to choose around these large, generously furnished tables, but your eyes gravitate towards another option a slight distance away. By one of the massive windows of this residence lies the most dreamy chaise-lounge you've ever witnessed. Dear God, had you not known any better, you'd say the damn thing is made for a giant. It's certainly about the size, no, bigger, than a king sized bed. Why is it so damn big?

Nonetheless, your hands drift across its velvet greedily as you sink onto it like an anchor, sighing in great satisfaction. Oh, what you wouldn't give for one of these in real life! The perfect solace after a day of troublesome, annoying work. This must be tremendously expensive... An adequate position is found, the mansion is warm enough that no chill dares pry into your bare skin and the nightgown you wear is more than enough cover. A smile resting on your cheeks, your eyes finally close and you bid this dreamscape adieu.

...

" Mm, are you truly that tired? "

Every bone in your body freezes.

Suddenly, the mansion has never been colder. You're afraid to turn around, because you know something large is behind you, so your horrified hues poise on the darkness of the sky, spotting a horned silhouette just barely reflected on the glass. What is this?

" I can't let you leave so soon, but worry not, we have all the time in the world. " It, or rather he, begins. This smooth, low and almost disinterested tone. Attractive, if not for the fact that you've never heard it before, that you've never pictured anything that sounded remotely like him. " There is no time in dreams. "

That's a very nice way of saying "you're here until I wish otherwise".

You can barely swallow the lump in your throat. " Who- Who are you? "

He's tapping something on the wooden table. This distinct clack clack clack that you know only something with claws can achieve. " Turn around and find out. "

Figures. Knowing you'll never move on if you dwell on the choice, you rip off the band aid entirely and turn faster than a startled cat, sitting up on the chaise-lounge and setting eyes on what might be the most majestic monster out there.

You were right, this is made for a giant. You're looking at him.

Where do you start? The way his grayish light skin almost seems to sparkle? The odd, dark garb that clings to his supple form maybe a tad too scandalously? The curious shape of his thin, crescent-tipped tail? Speaking of crescent- That's definitely the shape of his striking horns, this shapeless glob of matter swirling almost hypnotically between them, hues of yellow and blue framed prettily. Even more curious is the ashy veil covering his head and face, the sides bleeding into star-adorned shades of mauve. For lack of better wording, he's unexpectedly gorgeous. Fascinating. Certainly some type of demon, there's no doubt about it, though never did you think they could ever share this sort of ethereal look to them- Even mellow as he seems to be, your subconscious recognizes the power basically seeping off his presence.

Nothing in the room matters anymore, your vision and your dream shrink down to the monster before you.

What now? What the fuck do you say? This feels too real, too dangerous, too out of your depth, like you shouldn't even be talking to this guy.

" H- Hi? "

Bravo. Perfect. Survival ensured. You're a master of raw charisma.

The entity chuckles. " Good night. " He takes a step forward, making you lean back. " I'm glad to see you enjoy the mansion. "

It's his. That's obvious now. You've been loitering around his living space for nights on end apparently.

" I probably won't have to change too much about it. "

Change? Your eyes narrow. " ... You live here? "

A vague hand wave. " Yes and no. This is a careful reconstruction. I made sure to be as meticulous as possible, just so you can get a proper look at your new living quarters. "

Fucking what now?

" Excuse me? "

The demon pauses, then appears to brighten. " Ah yes, my faulty manners. Everyone calls me Zizz, I am Sloth's Icon. "

None of that made sense. " You lost me at ´Zee´."

" Zizz. "

That sounds a lot like jizz honeslty.

" Zizz. " You correct yourself. " Sloth as in, the deadly sin? Sloth? That exists, that's a place? "

He sighs, snickering to himself, probably at you. Amidst your inner questioning, you fail to react in time when he, Zizz, sits beside you on the sofa. The weight of the monster causes a slight depression that pulls you to him like a magnet. All it takes is one slight brush against his warm skin for you to jump back. Not very far away apparently, because he can still grasp your hand with unnerving ease. Even now, you feel like a toddler gazing at an adult, it's uncanny.

" Focus. " He coos, unaffected by the panicked pull that only results in making your wrist sore. " You don't need to worry about any of that for now, I want to share this night with you, ridden of any fear or doubt. " The grip tightens, his voice takes on a desperate lilt, excitement bleeding into his speech. "To get to know each other. I've met many a dreamer in my time alive, how can it be that my true mate has escaped me up until now? "

This is the most insane dream you've had in your entire life. Though, deep down, something tells you it's definitely not just a dream, maybe a curse. Some sort of nasty prank dealt onto you by something you can't comprehend for reasons that elude you. What if all of this truly is real, and you've caught the eye of a being older than you can conceive? Is there even anything you can do or is your fate being carved into stone with every word Zizz speaks? Sweat forms on your forehead the moment the demon starts moving your hand, hovering towards his chest.

" W-?! L-Let go! " But he doesn't, only stopping once that palm is firmly planted. Any further protests die when a frantic thump thump thump is felt. It takes you a moment to realize his chest is heaving a little.

" Can you feel my relief? My happiness? I swear on my name this heart has never beaten so fast. " You don't need to see his face to feel the level of mania this monster is under.

" S- Shut up. This isn't real! Get away-! " Perhaps it was the shock of hearing you shout, or the slight slump of the great monster's frame, but you manage to drag yourself out of his grasp, up to your feet, taking several steps back, as if he may lunge at any moment.

That never happens, but he does rise as well. One measured step at a time, attempting to close the distance that seems to deeply perturb him now. " You know better. My lonely little star, how I long to quell you... " A chill runs down your spine at the dip of his pitch, a baritone full of promises making it feel as if your knees are about to run off in opposite directions. " Your dreams have kept me warm at night, I only ask that you let me do the same for you. "

Nope. Mind racing, heart hammering, adrenaline making you feel lighter than a feather, you race out of the banquet hall with terror in each stride, fueled by the ringing of amused guffawing in the distance. It should have been a blaring flag that you heard no footsteps hot on your trail, and you only realize what a pathetic idea it was to attempt to hide in his mansion when Zizz appears standing in the next hall you come across.

" Where will you run to? "

Anywhere, anywhere you can. The door to your left disappears right as you are about to push it open, replaced by a seamless wall that you nearly rammed into, making the demon lord snicker. " This is childish, dear. "

You know you were only able to dash into the right one because he allowed you to. Lo and behold, it's a bedroom. Or at least you think it is, it's hard to tell with the ludicrous amount pillows tossed onto every corner. There's a humongous bed inundated in blankets and pelts, more cushions than you care to count, it even has a canopy with lights. Are those plushies? This... This looks like a rich kid's pillow fort. What the fu-

It was a mistake to linger, because a figure traps your back against itself.

" Ah, you've found my resting chambers, how astute. " Oh yes, he's definitely mocking you. Your flailing and kicking goes vastly ignored, not only is this creature immeasurably stronger than your untrained self, it appears determined to end your pointless game of cat-and-mouse. It's poetic that he didn't actually have to move much to catch you, really befitting of his title as, what did he say again, "Icon of Sloth"?

A tug at the hem of your nightgown distracts you. " Do you always dress this scantily to bed? " Zizz taunts, a lewd grin audible. " Perhaps for me? "

" In your dreams, pervert! " Maybe you should have thought twice about the wording. Though not all is lost, because he does let you go, taken by another fit of merry laughter.

" Oh, absolutely... " The giant moves towards the center of the room, tossing pillows away and arranging the blankets on that opulent bed. " Has anyone told you how adorable you look in deep slumber? I could barely keep my hands off you, there's a softness to your body that's so addicting, I could never hope to replicate it. Nothing feels half as good. "

The color washes off your skin, leaving you as pale as Zizz himself while you try to guess what was done to you when you were most vulnerable. Did he fondle you? Used you like some toy, some doll, unwilling to let you wake, to let you know- You feel dirty, skin crawling with all sorts of emotions, one of them being muted arousal. In spite of the repulsive act he's just admitted to doing, all your mind wants to focus on is the possibility of that large body covering yours, large hands curled over your limbs, taunting images filling you with shame. This is far from the reaction you should be having.

In an effort to escape, perhaps not so much from him but more so your reprehensible desires, you make one last ridiculous attempt to flee the room, rewarded by the door slamming itself shut. It signals the finality of your little game, as if he won't let you flee from your own wants.

" That's cute, but I'm not very fond of running. "

Cute. He thinks your genuine efforts to flee are cute.

Defeated, you stand by the door, in the most vain of hopes that it will miraculously open for you when most needed. When Zizz turns, you can almost feel the frown in his stance, like he's pondering. Sure enough, he was.

With a snap of his fingers, your clothes are gone. It was like a blink, one second they were there, the next your body was bare and cold. " Much better. " Zizz hums.

All you can do is squawk and cover yourself, face steaming in fury and embarrassment. " You sick fuck! "

That only earns you a senseless coo before he's making grabby hands and closing the distance. The pitiful attempt you made to dash left is halted by a thick forearm, and, in a blur of movement, you've been tossed onto that massive mattress.

The impact itself was painless, lord knows this particular division is so thickly padded that he could just about launch you at the walls with no risk of serious injury. Maybe motion sickness. But the shock of his strength keeps you still like a catatonic animal ready to die. He just- He slam dunked you into his bed like a fucking doll.

Said moment of weakness is fully taken advantage of, as Zizz crawls on after you, arms holding your naked form to his front and ripping a yelp out of your still very much terrified self when he flips to lay on his back. The move was calculated, he gets to rest his head and upper back on the several pillows and stuffed cushion he was previously arranging, trapping your dizzy body against him.

More than afraid, you're now mostly confused, grasping those merciful moments of motionlessness to steady your breathing. What now...?

Zizz appears to be very comfortable, if not happy, his light hum-turned-sigh letting you know how at peace the demon apparently is right now. You suppose he ought to be, with your tits against his abdomen and thighs brushing a- Oh for fuck's sake. He's hard. Of course he is, the freak. You can feel it pushing at his robes, nudging beneath you. That's definitely something to worry about. Dream or not, everything up until now has felt so unbelievably real that you're not chancing getting penetrated by something that would tear you in real life. Because you know you'll feel it.

Renewed, frantic squirming is smothered by a powerful embrace as Zizz allows you to tire yourself out, scratching and arching pointlessly like a pitiful bug's death throes. You're more than sure that achieved nothing except getting him noticeably stiffer. With neither grace nor dignity, you proceed to flop dead onto him.

" ... So? Come on, fuck me already, I can't do shit. " Taunting a demon is a horrid idea, but you're livid.

" Mmm, I was hoping it'd be the other way around. "

That just about makes your brain buffer entirely. " Huh? "

" I love your fire, it's perfect. " Large hands start roaming up and down your sides, warming you in more ways than one. " Show me more, please? "

You blink.

Is he serious? You thought he'd just take you however, get it over with. And yet, here he is, spreading his legs beneath you, short of breath at the mere thought of having a human so much tinier than himself taking control. This has to be some divine parody. A nasty god's prank. Although, possibly fueled by the novelty of that same idea, or maybe just hatching a brand new fetish, you consider it.

And by "consider", you mean you start grinding on him.

Zizz immediately lets out a hiss, immensely pleased, tail thrashing against silk sheets. " O-Oh, that was fast. I'm glad we're on the same page. "

" Shut up. " The nerve.

Unwilling to take it easy on the pervert that has forced you into these dreams for the past week or so, you start tugging and pushing at his outfit, annoyed by the way it appears to cling to his curves. Really it's just an impractical mess, do demons really wear this? " I hate this shit, it doesn't make sense. " You grumble, resigned to trying to tear the straps clinging to his hips and upper thighs.

The other only delights in your roughness it seems, laughing heatedly. " Maybe it's me who should wear less for you, no? "

That's not a bad idea, but like Hell you'll admit it. Nonetheless, he scoots and lifts his ass off the bed for you, but only just long enough for the garb to be edged up. You're not content with the way it looks balled up on his tummy, as you'd like to have full access to his body, but it'll do. Because it's not the main prize, that would be the purple-ish length that bobs free. Pretty. Zizz is hardly anything to scoff at, and even if you think the odd curl which appears to wrap around his cock is curious, you know that can't be safely ridden.

The doubt must show on your face, because he makes a quiet chuff. A digit rises, the amorphous blob shifting by his horns darts to it, until he flicks it your way. Although you recoiled, as if the thing was going to splat itself on your face, you squint an eye open and determine, after some gazing around, that it's perched above your own head now.

" Uh- Thanks? "

That solves nothing.

" Among other things, it will help you welcome me. "

That solves everything.

" Perfect. "

And, with little to no fanfare, you spit on his hard dick, using it to lube him as much as possible while you position yourself above that girthy trial. It's exhilarating, you've never been this rash and gross to a partner, you've never had so much control or been in a situation half as peculiar, your heart thunders when his tip pokes at your folds.

Zizz gasps, fingers trying to settle on your thighs, though you bat them away. " What's the rush, my star? We have endless time to enjo- Hhrk- Fuck ohh! "

Your eyes water and roll to the back of your head as, in a ballsy move, you take half of that cock inside. Your own breathless expletives join his noises when you feel him warm and twitching, filling you tightly. He really wasn't kidding, this thing works, the pain is minimal.

" L- Like you deserve that. " Rocking in an effort to sink further onto him, you can't help moaning, every shift bringing you sharp waves of pleasure. Lord, that strange growth around his member has a delectable texture. " Teasing me for nights on end, doing who knows what- Ah! "

A piston upwards has your vision spinning, a cry loud enough to pass as a scream ripped out of your throat, drowned out by his low, satisfied groan when the root of his member is swallowed and you're flush to him. Zizz appears to tremble, you don't have the wits to push his hands off again when he grabs onto your hips, stroking everywhere and moaning at the fluttering of your walls. " Every second of the wait was worth it, ohff- You're so tight. " The smirk behind his next words is almost gross. " Feels good? You can have this every single night if only- "

" I-... Is this really a dream? " You interrupt.

It feels too realistic, too accurate. Even with the powers you don't doubt this demon has, this is scarily vivid. Would a dream ever be able to replicate the sensation of something as huge as Zizz inside you? Are you being tricked and this is actually reality?

A touch to your cheek startles you back to the present.

" Do you want it to be more than a dream? "

Mouth agape, all you can do is stare back at the demon lord. The ensuing silence speaks volumes.

" Wake up. "

" W- What? "

" I said- " His other hand rips that dark veil off his face, lidded eyes on yours as a pearly white grin stretches on a void-like face. It's... Incredible.

" Wake up. "

With a harsh gasp, you jolt upwards on your bed, head smacking right into something solid and warm.

Oh God...

Gulping, you glance up in total darkness, greeted by the same face, with the same swirl of yellow and blue glowing above it. A sudden thrust makes you realize he's been here all this time, in your bedroom, in your mind.

In your body.

" Did you sleep well? "

#Zizz oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #yandere demon #monster boyfriend #terato #monsterfucker #minors dni

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yoon-kooks · 2 years

Text

better than sex | myg | 1

🍑Pairing: Yoongi x Producer!Reader

🍑Genre: fluff, smut, studio!au

🍑Summary: As Min Yoongi’s studio neighbor and self-proclaimed nemesis, you’ve always seen him as someone who knew how to maintain a clean, well-put-together image without any careless slip-ups. But after nearly walking in on him with a hand around his cock, you gain a new perspective that leads to steamy fantasies in your bedroom and much-needed inspiration in the studio for Bangtan’s next album. A week before track submissions are due, you give Yoongi a taste of the dirty demo, and now the selfish bastard wants to claim it for his own solo album. In exchange, he offers to help you produce another Bangtan track by the end of the week. Your only condition is for this track to be better than the sexual fantasies that inspired its predecessor.

🍑Word Count: 4.7k

🍊Parts: 1 ◆ 2

🍑Warnings: yoongi touches boobs, masturbation (m/f), a lot more smut to come in future chapters

🍑A/N: this fic started as a shower thought🚿

As a songwriter and producer, you’re expected to create something out of nothing. You’re expected to turn a blank canvas into the next big hit—something unique, something that would never exist without you. But the thing is, nothing is truly ever spawned out of thin air. Like superheroes who save the world, every song has its own origin story.

This, of course, includes the final track you’ve been working on for Bangtan’s next album. As with many of your best tracks, inspiration hit you while you were showering at one in the morning. Sometimes the inspiration is a reflection of how good or bad your day went. Sometimes it’s sparked by the fruity dessert you just devoured, or the heated breakup you witnessed on your walk home. But not this one.

This one was lust. More specifically, it was the lust you felt after entering Genius Lab with pure intentions and leaving with the vivid mental image of Min Yoongi jerking off in his studio. You hadn’t caught him outright with his hand around his cock, but you certainly walked in before he had time to hide the evidence. You’d always thought him to be a man who never slips up, never shows any sign of weakness.

But boy did he slip up.

One week ago

“Hey Piano Guy, can I borrow you for a sec?” You knock on the studio door next to yours. “I have a melody in my head right now, and I think it’d sound kinda sick on the piano.”

After 30 seconds, there’s still no response. You could always work it out on the piano by yourself, but it’s a lot easier with an extra set of hands. And besides, you don’t hate the idea of spending time with the handsome boy.

“Yoongi, please. Before I forget how it goes. My memory is fading, please.” Just as you raise your fist to pound on his door some more, it swings open. Yoongi leans against the doorframe with a hand in his pocket. The first thing he does is pinch down on the hem of your sleeve, coaxing you to lower your fist out of his face. You don’t think too much about how his forehead and cheeks are looking extra dewy today. He smells like his usual cedarwood cologne, so you don’t suppose he just finished working out, either.

“Isn’t it too early for you to be picking fights with me?” His voice is low and calm, almost like he’d just woken up. On most days, you probably would fight him—he’s the enemy, after all. Not like an actual enemy, though. Just someone who goes along with your banter and gives you something to look forward to at work. Unfortunately, there’s no time for his teasing when there’s a billion-dollar melody on the line.

“I’m not picking a fight with you.” As you correct him, you do a mental calculation of the space between Yoongi’s body and the opposite side of the doorframe. A tight fit, but it might be just enough room to weasel your way in. “I’m enlisting your help for a potential song idea.”

He must’ve caught a glimpse of that mischievous sparkle in your eye because he’s quick to put his arm up across the entrance. “Don’t even think about it.”

You frown, but it doesn’t last long. With a playful grin and fluttery eyelashes, you say, “C’mon, this could be the hook that wins Bangtan a Grammy.”

You notice his fingers slowly slipping against the doorframe. The ends of his lips curve upward ever so slightly. This barricade is coming down whether he likes it or not.

Yoongi looks behind him, combs his fingers through his hair, and lets out a sigh. “You need me? Like right now?”

It’s hard to tell if he’s genuinely trying to shoo you away or if he just wants you to admit that you enjoy being around him. Usually, it’s the latter. But he does seem a bit off today.

“I mean, I could ask Namjoon—”

“Five minutes,” Yoongi cuts you off, dragging you with him into his lair and mumbling to himself about “the things he does for you” and how “you act like you can’t figure it out yourself on the guitar.” You take a seat at the piano bench and pull the boy down right beside you. He supposedly only has a handful of minutes to spare in his busy schedule, and yet here he is, taking his sweet time warming up with some scales.

Either he doesn’t trust Namjoon’s piano skills, or someone’s a little jealous.

For as many times as you’ve watched Yoongi at the piano, it never gets old. His long fingers stroke each key so gracefully, yet with purpose. It takes way more than a few years of dedication and a genuine love of the instrument to be at his level. It’s mesmerizing.

“So what’s this Grammy award-winning banger you speak of?” he asks, creating his own piano version of Yet To Come. Oh right, the banger. How did it go again?

You search every inch of your brain, but instead of recalling the melody you felt so confident in, all you find are Yoongi’s piano covers of Bangtan songs. Well this is awkward.

“It… kind of disappeared from my memory,” you say in a hushed voice, still staring down at the keys. In your defense, Yoongi was a huge distraction with those dexterous piano fingers.

He stops mid-measure and shakes his head at you. “Tsk, tsk, Y/N.” Rather than annoyed, he’s amused. “So were you just using that as an excuse to infiltrate Genius Lab or what?”

You roll your eyes. Yoongi always acts like his studio is some sort of sacred chamber only accessible to those he deems worthy. Maybe you should set up your own high-tech security system for your studio so that you don’t get 20 weekly visits from him like an alley cat coming back for more table scraps.

“Bold assumption, but I only came here with the purest of intentions.” With a hmph, you slide your ass off the bench. Instead of heading for the door, you wander over to the side of his studio with all of the fancy producer equipment. You make yourself comfortable and spin around in his big cushy chair. It’s still radiating leftover heat from Yoongi’s own ass cheeks. “Were you in the middle of something just before I got here?”

The boy strides over, waiting for you to have your back to his desk. He steadies the chair with a strong hand so that you’re facing him and can’t spin around anymore. “That’s confidential information.”

“This chair is still warm, so you were obviously sitting here working on something. You might as well fess up.” You hug your knees to your chest and peer up at him with wonder. “Is it your solo album?”

He doesn’t answer you right away. It’s a yes-or-no question. There shouldn’t be anything to think about. Eventually, though, he shakes his head.

You try not to frown so he doesn’t see your disappointment. Ever since D-2, you’ve been patiently waiting for a solo album from him. Because you’d love to snag a spot on it as one of the producers he collaborates with. But Yoongi doesn’t need to know that right now.

“Can you at least give me a hint, then?” You hop out of the chair, scurry around the boy, and examine his desk. Not much is on it aside from his computer, a few MIDI controllers, and a black bottle of cologne. You wiggle the mouse around to wake the computer up, but the screen remains dark. “Seriously? You turned your computer off so I wouldn’t be able to snoop? Is that why it took you a decade to answer the door?”

“We all know how nosy you are. Like a curious kitten.” His voice comes from right behind you. With the clicks of several buttons, the computer screen flashes on, and he types his password in faster than you can decode it. He takes control of the mouse, but you don’t move out of the way. You can feel just how close his body is to yours, and the cedarwood is starting to drown your mind in mildly dangerous thoughts.

As Yoongi looks through his files for a track that’s “safe enough to show you,” your eyes lock onto the fancy black bottle of that intoxicating cologne. It looks expensive, sleek, and something you’d want to get your paws on.

You scan the bottle for a brand, a name for the scent—anything that will help you get ahold of what’s on Yoongi’s body. But all you find on the front side of the bottle is a simple product description: Personal Moisturizer.

That’s definitely not cologne.

You quickly turn back to the computer screen. An unfinished hip-hop track you’ve never heard before is playing in the background. You don’t even know when Yoongi pressed play. All you know is that you can’t exactly focus on music right now.

You’ve been in Yoongi’s studio plenty of times, and you’ve never seen this bottle sitting so casually on his desk like that. Probably because it’s normally stored away where curious kittens would never check. If it’s still lying around out in the open, then…

Oh god. You’re so fucking oblivious.

No wonder he was trying to shoo you away. No wonder he looked like he’d just gone through an intense workout. No wonder his chair was still warm but his computer wasn’t on. He wasn’t in the middle of work when you knocked on the door. Min Yoongi was in the middle of jerking off, and you just entered his studio without a single clue.

Oh no. You can’t unsee it. It’s too vivid—the image of him panting, slumped in the same chair you were spinning around in like an idiot, hand around his hard wet cock. The long fingers that danced across the piano keys so elegantly were the same violent set of fingers that stroked him into a fervorous state where every ounce of his stoic demeanor had come undone. If his computer wasn’t on with porn plastered across the screen, you wonder who or what he was getting off to.

A tiny, tiny part of you hopes it was you on his mind.

The funny thing is, you’ve never once even thought about him like that. Sure, the two of you have some flirty banter going on, but to you, he’s always been the kind of guy who’s more focused on his music than his sex life. And to be honest, it never actually occurred to you that Yoongi did in fact have a sex life. With that small bit of information, you feel like you’ve gained a whole new perspective. This is why they say curiosity killed the cat. It completely shattered the perfect, well-put-together image you had had of him all this time.

You’ll never see Min Yoongi the same way ever again.

When you return home that night, you aren’t thinking about the company meeting you have tomorrow morning, or what you should pack for lunch, or the award-winning melody that vanished into the abyss along with the rest of your rational thoughts.

You plop your body onto your bed and let yourself think of Yoongi. It’s probably a big mistake, but you can’t help it.

He’s incredibly handsome, you’ve always thought so. And you admire the work he puts into each and every one of his tracks. Likewise, you know he respects you the same. After all, he lets you into his sacred studio more than anyone else. He couldn’t say no to you, even with a whole ass bottle of lube still out in the open.

The image of him with his fingers gripping tightly around his swollen cock haunts your mind once more. His head is thrown back, sweat running down his neck, and he’s out of breath. You want to know how he sounds when he’s overwhelmed with pleasure, when he’s lost all control. His voice is already so raspy, so low, and so goddamn hot. You want him to call you kitten again, but maybe without the “curious” part attached to it. Anything to hear his bedroom voice. A single moan from him might be enough to set you off.

You unbutton your shorts and slip your fingers beneath the lace of your underwear. To your surprise, you’re already soaked in these erotic fantasies you never thought you’d be having about your studio neighbor. You’ve known the guy for two years, and it’s only now that you’re lusting after him? How did you have that much self-control for so long?

A gasp escapes your throat as you rub around your center. You squirm to your own touch as you apply more pressure and speed. Harder, faster. You love it, but it’s familiar and predictable, and it’s been a while since you’ve been pleasured by someone else’s hands. Your body aches for those long veiny fingers to play with you like a piano.

As the pleasure builds, you wonder how far Yoongi had gotten before you rudely interrupted him. It’d feel pretty shitty to be so close yet denied of it all because you decided to knock on his door right at that moment. If you had known what was truly going on behind that door, would you have still chosen music over lust? Or would you have thrown that Grammy away to learn what Min Yoongi tastes like when he’s overtaken by his deepest desires?

In the end, it doesn’t really matter because you came out of his studio with neither.

After a rather underwhelming orgasm, you roll off your bed and drag your feet into the bathroom for a hot shower.

You know you should stop while you’re still ahead. Fantasies need to remain fantasies and nothing more. Sex between you and Yoongi isn’t going to happen. It’s not worth sacrificing the music you need to be making with him instead of love. You hate that you were considering it for even a second.

But your irrational desires need an outlet.

As hot water trickles down your body, the steam clouds your thoughts. And in the haze, you long for something new and different. Now that you know what you know, you wish Yoongi would show you that other side of himself, the side he keeps hidden behind those studio doors.

You want it so bad.

And that’s when it hits you.

It’s been a week since you visited Yoongi in his studio on that fateful morning. You’ve been hard at work, piecing together the final track for Bangtan’s album. The demo is nearly complete, and you’re actually super satisfied with how it’s turning out. The vibe is sensual, full of temptation, and far dirtier than any other track with your name on it.

It only makes sense that the file name for this track is “sex.wav,” which will of course be changed before anyone else sees it. You’ve always had a bad habit of naming your track files based on the first thing that comes to mind, and it really shows where your head has been at this week.

Even Jimin, who helped you record the demo, asked if there was some sort of recent breakthrough in your sex life. When you told him no, he winked and said, “Yoongi is single, you know.” Sometimes you regret confiding in Jimin about your desire to make it onto Yoongi’s solo album because now he’s under the impression that you have some sort of crush on the rapper.

For the record, you don’t have feelings for Yoongi. It’d just be nice to fuck him once, get it out of your system, and the two of you will probably be back to the usual harmless banter that keeps you going every day.

You have to admit, though, your sexual urges came through when you needed them most. After losing the precious (and very wholesome) brain cells containing that award-winning melody, you were in desperate need of a new idea to go off of for that final track. Thanks to the hot and bothered part of your brain, you became super inspired and productive.

For once in your music career, you’re actually a whole week ahead of schedule instead of just barely meeting deadlines at midnight. With the sex.wav demo near completion, you’ll have this week to relax and take time for yourself.

Thank you, Min Yoongi.

“Y/N, can I come in?” Speaking of the devil, Yoongi pops his head in the doorway. It’s his third visit to your studio this week, and it’s only Monday.

“Come, come,” you say, gesturing for him to hurry on in. You’re confident he’ll vibe with the track, and you’re excited to hear what he has to say about it.

“Jimin told me you guys finished recording the demo,” he says over your shoulder. He places a hand on top of your chair and leans his weight against it like he owns the place.

“We did.” You sit up tall in your chair with a healthy glow and hand the boy some headphones. “I might still go back and tweak a few things, but it’s pretty much done.”

You stare up at him shamelessly as he focuses all of his attention on your demo. Yoongi is the type of guy who doesn’t react or say much on his first listen. He’ll always listen with an open mind and give you his honest opinion once he’s had time to take it all in. That’s why he’s always one of the first people you show your work to.

When the demo ends, he doesn’t hit replay. Instead, he hangs the headphones around his neck and stares at your computer screen, deep in thought. You start to think he hated it so much that he can’t even give it a second listen and he’s trying to find the right words to tell you.

“Why did you name the file sex.wav?” Ah shit, he wasn’t supposed to see that. No one was.

“It’s sexy, isn’t it?” you say softly, starting to shrink in your chair. He still hasn’t said whether he likes it or not.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He drums his fingertips against your desk. You wonder if those fingers have touched any cock lately. “It’s different from your usual stuff.”

You just blink at him, unsure of how to react. Good different or bad different?

“Good different,” he clarifies, as if he’s read your mind. He’s still not giving you much to go off of, though. And you’re starting to get impatient.

Yoongi looks at you, opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it. You’ve never seen the boy so speechless.

“What?” you ask. If he doesn’t spit it out right now, you’re going to lose it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Please.” It’s hard to read his straight face, but something’s definitely on his mind. You need to know what’s bothering him.

“Who inspired it?” he asks. Not what. Who. This must be his not-so-subtle way of asking who you’ve been sleeping with. It’s none of his business, really. And he knows it. That’s why he was so hesitant to ask in the first place.

“Are you sure you want to hear about all the guys I’ve had sex with?” You casually raise an eyebrow at him and watch closely for a reaction. Maybe it’ll make him jealous.

“It’s about all the sex you’ve ever had?” He looks like he’s not fully convinced. No, it’s actually about the sex you haven’t had. The good kind. The wild kind. The kind that ends with you all tangled in the sheets with Min Yoongi. But you can’t tell him that.

“I’m just fucking with you. I wish I could say I’ve had good enough sex to inspire this track.” You take a jab at yourself, but you really hope you aren’t coming across as lonely or needy for a man.

Yoongi’s face relaxes a little more, still drumming those fingers against your desk. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

He doesn’t elaborate on that, nor do you ask him to.

“Can I have it?” he asks out of nowhere. Have what? Sex with you? “On my solo album?”

Oh.

“You want this track on your album?” Is the boy really tempting you with something you’ve waited so long for? Of course you want to scream yes, but… “You’d really steal from Bangtan to claim it as your own?”

“Well, when you put it that way, I sound like a selfish asshole,” he pouts. Since when did Min Yoongi ever pout? You’ve never seen this side of him either. It’s fascinating.

You bite your lip. “Yoongi, I’d be down, but the deadline is approaching and I’m going to be one track short if I give you this one.”

“When’s the deadline?”

“Next Monday.”

The boy pulls out his phone and flicks his thumb across the screen. If you had to guess, he’s checking his schedule.

“I’ll help you produce another one for Bangtan,” he says so casually and confidently.

“Are you sure you’ll have time for that?” You don’t know Yoongi’s full schedule off the top of your head, but you do recall Jimin mentioning this week would be hectic for the group.

“I’ll make time.” All he does is shrug. “I should be free after 10 on most nights. Sunday, I can be in the studio by 6AM—”

“Yoongi.” You stop him before he can say anything else outrageous. Not that you’re being any more rational. You’re about to kiss your much-deserved week of freedom goodbye all for this boy with a pouty lip. “I’ll see what I can do, and you can pitch in. But please don’t overwork yourself for this.” You point at the screen, at the track he wants so badly.

He nods. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You want to ask Yoongi what he’ll give you in return for doing him this favor, but you aren’t really interested in anything from him aside from his company. And maybe sex.

Instead, you ask, “May I ask why you want this track so badly?”

“Because I like it.” He pulls the headphones off his neck and hangs them around yours. There’s no way he fell in love with the track after listening to it only once. That’s unheard of for him. There must be another reason. “Oh, and I also heard you wanted a spot on my solo album.”

You’re going to kill Park Jimin.

“Right,” you say, spinning your chair around so that Yoongi can’t see the nasty texts you’re sending to his friend.

Y/N💅 [8:23PM] “fuck you park jimin”

Y/N💅 [8:23PM] “i thought we agreed not to tell my nemesis that id like to be on his solo album”

Jimin🍡 [8:24PM] “Yoongi’s your nemesis?”

Jimin🍡 [8:24PM] “I thought you had a raging boner for him🍆”

Y/N💅 [8:24PM] “i hate you btw”

“You have a raging boner for me?” You hear a mix of shock, amusement, and arrogance over your shoulder. But mostly arrogance. You lock your phone screen even though it’s already too late. You’ve been caught. Evidently, you aren’t the only nosy one here.

You swing your head around, practically nose to nose with your nemesis. He can probably feel the heat radiating from your cheeks. But you don’t back off. Instead, you glare. “Neither you nor Jimin know what you’re talking about.”

“I guess only you know then, Y/N.” Yoongi doesn’t back away either. He eyes your lips the way you eye a strawberry popsicle on the hottest day of the year. You make a conscious effort to not let your eyes do the same. You don’t need to be reminded of how perfectly plush his lips must feel against everything they touch.

But if he wants to play this game with you, you’ll play along. And you won’t lose.

You lean in closer and graze your cheek against his. In a hushed voice, you say, “Do you want to know who really inspired that track?”

He nods against your skin. Your lips tickle his ear.

“I was visiting a friend last week, and I left his place with a new perspective. I thought, maybe this guy wasn’t just the grumpy asshole workaholic I knew him to be. Maybe he’d been hiding this dirty, sexed-up side of himself the whole time.” You pause for dramatic effect. “Do you want to know why I thought this?”

He nods again.

“You forgot to hide your personal moisturizer before I walked into your studio.” You finally lean back to see the look on his face. His pupils are huge, his lips are parted, but he doesn’t necessarily look embarrassed for someone who was practically caught with his hands in his pants.

In fact, the more time he spends thinking about it, the more he realizes what your story says about you. “So what you’re saying is that you do in fact have a raging boner for me and I was your inspiration for that sex track? I’m honored.”

You hate that he’s such a good listener who knows how to dissect every word you say.

“Would y’all quit saying I have a raging boner?” You roll your eyes, but it does feel oddly satisfying when Yoongi and Jimin treat you like one of the guys.

“What should I call it then?” Yoongi chuckles. He doesn’t do it often, but you like it when he laughs. “Horny eyes? Unfulfilled sexual desires? A wet p—”

You get up and give him a light shove against the desk. He’s still got a smirk on his face as you pin him there. “Call it a severe distaste for your bullshit,” you say sweetly with a handful of his shirt in your fist.

A strong hand cups your chin. He leans in close enough for you to smell the minty lip balm you always see him applying. You want to taste it. “Admit it,” he says, “You like my bullshit.”

You feel each of his words against your lips. By the time he reached “bullshit,” you’d already pressed your lips into his. He doesn’t fight it. You taste the mint, then his tongue.

His hands start to wander along your curves. He finds the bare skin between your crop top and high-waisted shorts and works his way up your ribs. You hope he can’t feel the goosebumps when his thumbs sneak into your bra and flirt with the sides of your breasts. You just want him to keep exploring and familiarizing himself with your body.

In the next moment, he has you pinned in with your ass on top of the desk. In front of you is not the grumpy idol boy you’ve maintained a clean, professional relationship with for the past two years. The Yoongi standing here between your thighs is an irresistible temptation. He’s your fantasy turned reality. And maybe he wants you as much as you want him.

But before you can loop your limbs around him and lasso him in for more, he steps back and points his thumb at the door. “I have to get back to my studio.”

No, he doesn’t. He’s just playing hard to get. And you hate him for it.

“To work or to jerk off?” you call out as he walks further and further away from you.

“Work, of course,” he sings. You don’t believe him. He’s a liar and a tease. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Y/N. To work on the new track.”

You almost forgot about that replacement track. After all, Yoongi’s hands and lips were pretty big distractions that you once again fell victim to. But regardless of the hold he thinks he has on you now, you still want to establish strict criteria for the song you’ll be working on with him. Only one thing comes to your flustered mind.

“Wait, Yoongi.” You wait for him to turn back around in the doorway. There’s still a hint of a smile lingering on his face. He probably thinks you’re calling him back for some more studio mischief. Too bad he’s wrong. “I have one condition for that new track.”

“Go on.”

“It has to be better than the sex track I’m giving you for your solo album.” You kick your legs back and forth—the same legs that could’ve been squeezing Yoongi’s waist in a heated makeout session right about now. “Way better.”

You won’t accept anything less from the man.

“So it has to be better than your cute little erotic fantasies of me?” Yoongi puts a hand up. Then he’s gone. “Shouldn’t be an issue.”

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #suga smut #suga fanfic #suga x reader #bts fluff #yoongi #suga #bts

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little-emerald-snake · 5 months

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Smutmas Day 15

“Come sit on my face and I’ll show you how much I missed you.” - Garreth Weasley X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

1,103k words

Warnings: face sitting, oral f receiving

Garreth sat at the little round table next to his old best friend Leander. They were chatting away while watching as more and more people poured through the doors. Many of his old school mates from their years at Hogwarts.

It was a reunion after all. It had been many years since he’d been in school and even after all that time, his eyes scanned the growing crowd just hoping that he would spot one particular familiar face.

They’d been good friends after all. Maybe a little bit more than good friends. He could still to this day vividly remember the feeling of being locked in a broom cupboard with his cock down her throat.

Perhaps his favorite memory of them was when they’d gone out together to find ingredients for potions and she’d inhaled spores from a plant well known in aphrodisiac potions.

She’d thrown herself on the grass and shoved her hand down into her underwear, not seeming to care that he was right there. It very quickly turned to her begging for him, agreeing to a long term friends with benefits situationship where they ended up hooking up rather often till graduation.

Even on graduation night he’d taken her to a sandy bank along the black lake and railed her into oblivion. So hard that she limped up to him the next morning to say her goodbyes and even kissed him, not caring who saw.

They hadn’t seen each other since but they had written back and forth for a while till her work got too demanding for her and she spent less and less time by her writing desk.

When he finally spotted her he jumped up and slid between the bodies of his classmates to reach her. She looked overwhelmed by the sight of all her old classmates crammed wall to wall inside of the Three Broomsticks.

When her eyes met the familiar curls of red hair she remembered so well, she smiled, making her way to him quickly. He embraced her, laughing happily as his broad shoulders wrapped around her.

As subtly as possible he inhaled the scent of her shampoo, pleased that she smelled the same as she did back then. Vivid flashes of their various nights together flashed through his mind which he tried to tamp down. “Hey you, long time no see!”

She flashed him a brilliant smile as he led her back to the table just in time for Sirona to set a round of spiked butter beers down, patting her on the back with a warm greeting to the hero of Hogwarts.

She grabbed a mug, sipping with a moan before her attention met Garreth again. “Yes, it’s been a rather long time. I’ve missed you, Garreth. You are my favorite potioneer after all.”

He beamed pridefully, sipping his own mug. His anxiousness melted away, pleased she showed up and even more pleased that she remembers him fondly all these years later. “Ah, well that’s good to hear that some things haven’t changed. How has your work been? I know it keeps you rather busy these days?”

She nodded, letting her eyes lift as she looked at the crowd. “Ah yes, searching for ancient magic has become my new life. But I do love it though. So much travel and beauty in my life I really can’t complain. How’s your shop?”

He smiled, taking in Leander’s raised eyebrows and glancing at her from across the table before turning his full attention to her. “It’s well! I make a great living with my shop and I love what I do. Still working on new brews quite often. Some are better than others.”

Her eyes rake over the increasing tightness of the crowd anxiously and he takes note. “Would you have any interest in taking a walk? Get some fresh air instead of being cramped up in here?”

She eagerly nods, finishing her drink as he finishes his. She waves at a few classmates as she follows Garreth outside. The actual reunion is being held tomorrow so she knows she won’t miss much other than drinks and light catching up tonight.

To Garreth’s surprise she links her fingers in his as they walk outside and proceed to stroll around Hogsmeade. “So, how have you actually been doing? You know besides work?”

She sighs and shrugs. “Honestly, all I do is work. It’s not what I plan to do forever but as of right now it is sort of my responsibility. How about you? Have you settled down?”

She asked this with a curiosity in her eyes that Garreth can’t miss. She genuinely wants to know what he’s been up to, if he has a lover. “No, I’m content for the time being with my shop. No opportunities have beaten down my door so in the meantime I’m content.”

She nods, seeming pleased with his response. “You know…I’ve missed you. Missed our time together in school. I have regrets of not going public. I often still think about all the sneaking around we used to do.”

Heat flares to life in his eyes and he guides her in the direction of the inn he’s staying at. “Does that mean you’d like to come back to my room tonight and see what we can get up to in a proper bed for once?”

Her eyes are also filled with heat as she nods that he quickened his pace. “I’d like that. Are we far from the inn you’re staying at?”

He shakes his head and takes her to the inn. The moment the door clicks shut behind them he wraps her in a tight embrace, kissing her passionately while laying her on the bed.

He lays down beside her and pulls her on top of him. She straddles his hips easily and grinds herself against his hardening cock. “Oh Garreth. I’ve missed the feeling of your cock.”

He grins, grabbing her hands and kissing each one. “I’m sure you’ve missed more than that, love. Come sit on my face and I’ll show you how much I’ve missed you.”

She does exactly that, stripping down sitting fully on his face, knowing he won’t let her get away with a slight hover. His arms wrap their way around her thighs and she whimpers at the feeling of his tongue working inside of her. “Oh, Garreth.”

They spent the rest of the night wrapped up in each other and exploring the nature of their affections for each other. So many things brought forward that they even walked into the reunion hand in hand.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #writing challenge #smutmas 2023 #smutmas #garreth weasley #garreth weasley fanfiction #garreth weasley smut

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50calmadeuce · 2 months

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Ch. 12: The Ride

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

Despite having been married for four years, the dynamic between you and Jake still carried the fresh, explorative energy of newlyweds. The nature of your lives had meant you'd scarcely had the opportunity to deeply acquaint yourselves with each other's everyday realities. Riding together across these fields brought back a flood of pleasant memories, a reminder of the shared experiences that had initially drawn you closer while you were dating.

You closed your eyes and leaned further into Jake, embracing the comfort of his presence. You felt him skillfully switch the reins to one hand, and with his now-free arm, he wrapped it around you, pulling you closer into his embrace as the horse continued its gentle pace:

"I so needed this after today's test," you remarked, feeling the tension of the day start to ebb away as Jake guided the horse through the tranquil field.

"I bet. I wish I could bring a horse with me to my training," Jake mused, his voice carrying a hint of longing.

You couldn't help but grin at the thought, the image of Jake and a horse at his military training painting a humorous and endearing picture in your mind. "That would definitely be an interesting sight on a military installation," you replied, the amusement clear in your voice.

You felt Jake chuckle. "Yeah. It would be."

The memory faded away as the soft, soothing sounds of flowing water reached your ears, prompting you to open your eyes. Jake had guided the horse to the creek, a serene spot that held memories and promised a moment of peaceful reflection.

"Do you remember this place?" Jake inquired, his voice tinged with nostalgia as the horse came to a gentle stop near the water's edge.

"How could I forget?" You responded, a warm grin spreading across your face at the memory. This was where he had taken you for a picnic, a moment that had become one of your cherished memories together.

You felt Jake gently nudge the horse, prompting it to resume its walk along the edge of the creek, the tranquil sound of water accompanying your peaceful ride.

Around one bend, there was a small sandy area. As you came around that bend, you saw a blanket spread out and a small basket set up, awaiting your arrival with an air of planned surprise nestled against the backdrop of the creek's gentle flow.

You sat up straighter when you caught sight of the setup. "Jake," you said, your voice filled with happy surprise, and you could feel his smile against your back, radiating warmth and affection.

When you arrived at the spot, Jake smoothly dismounted the horse and secured it to a nearby tree. He then turned back to you, extending his hand to help you down with a gentle smile.

After assisting you in dismounting the horse, Jake wrapped you in a close hug and peered into your eyes. "What's your most vivid memory of this spot?"

You blushed. "Do I have to give you just one?"

He chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the rustling leaves around you, and his eyes sparkled with an invitation to share more than just a single memory.

"Alright," he conceded, his voice a gentle nudge to your comfort zone, "give me as many as you like. But start with the one that means the most to you."

"First off, this is where you gave me our first kiss."

His smile widened. "You mean like this?" He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, prompting you to close your eyes. The kiss was tender, affectionate, and filled with love.

The world around you seemed to pause, the only reality that mattered was the warmth of Jake's lips against yours, the gentle pressure that spoke volumes of the years spent in silent longing, now given voice in this single, perfect moment.

As Jake pulled back, the world came rushing back in a dizzying array of colors and sounds, but none of it could compare to the clarity you found in his gaze. It was as if you were seeing each other for the first time, the veil of familiarity lifted to reveal the truth of your feelings laid bare.

"That's exactly what I meant," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.

"You brought me here for a romantic picnic once," you reminisced, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as the memory enveloped you in its warm embrace.

Jake's eyes lit up with the recollection, a mix of nostalgia and affection dancing within their depths. He grasped your hand, his touch gentle yet filled with purpose, guiding you toward the blanket laid out on the ground.

As you both settled onto the blanket, the softness of the sand beneath seemed to welcome you, a familiar comfort that whispered of lazy afternoons spent in each other's company.

Jake opened the picnic basket, revealing an assortment of your favorite foods, each selection a reminder of past conversations and shared moments. There was the cheese you'd discovered on a whim during a weekend getaway, the wine you'd both enjoyed on a quiet evening under the stars, and an assortment of fruits and sweets that spoke to the many tastes and textures of your relationship. A smile spread across your face as you surveyed the selection of cheese. An interesting tidbit about Jake: he despised cheese, never touching it himself, yet he always made sure to include it for you, knowing well how much you enjoyed it.

He uncorked the wine bottle, carefully filled a glass, and then offered it to you. As his fingers brushed against yours while passing the glass, a familiar shiver of excitement coursed through you.

"Anything else?" he inquired, a playful glint in his green eyes.

You took a sip of your wine, holding his gaze firmly. "This is where we made love for the first time."

He reached out with his unoccupied hand, and you handed over your wine glass to him. Afterwards, he carefully took off his cowboy hat and placed it softly on the blanket next to him, letting out a soft sigh.

"You're right. Since we lost the baby, I haven't really cared about anyone but myself. I chose paths that I believed were right to protect you, but they weren't enough, and I almost lost you in the process," he confessed, eyes downcast to the blanket, idly twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. Then, lifting his gaze to meet yours, he added, "For that, I am deeply sorry. I can't express it any more sincerely than that."

The weight of Jake's confession hung in the air, a palpable presence that momentarily stilled the gentle rhythm of the creek around you. His words, raw and unguarded, cut through the tranquility, reaching deep into the core of your shared pain—a pain that had, until now, been a silent specter in your relationship.

The loss of the baby was a wound that had never fully healed, a shadow that followed both of you, often unspoken but always felt. You saw the burden of his guilt in the slump of his shoulders, the way his hands trembled slightly as he played with the blade of grass, a simple action betraying his inner turmoil.

His admission, sincere and heartfelt, bridged the distance that grief had imposed between you. In his eyes, you saw not just the apology but the love and the fear of losing what was most precious to him—you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, not just for the loss you both shared, but for the love that remained, resilient and enduring despite the trials it had faced. You reached across the blanket, your hand covering his, stilling the nervous movement. "Jake," you whispered his name and squeezed his hand, a silent reassurance, a promise of solidarity.

Jake's eyes, glistening with unshed tears, held yours, a mirror to the depth of emotion you both shared. In that moment, at the creek, with its beauty and tranquility, became a sanctuary, a place where wounds could be acknowledged, where healing could begin.

"I love you," he whispered, the words carried on a breeze, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. "And I promise, from this moment on, to be not just your partner, but your ally, your confidant, and your greatest supporter. We'll face whatever comes our way, together."

His promise, straightforward yet significant, served as a soothing comfort to your spirit. Leaning in, your foreheads met, allowing you to share a breath, a moment of connection and comprehension. You then cradled his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his, as tears began to trace down your cheeks.

The kiss began with a tone of forgiveness and apology but soon escalated into a hungered and fevered passion. You separated briefly, breathing heavy.

You reached out, starting to unbutton his shirt, gently tugging it free from his jeans. With the shirt removed, he was left in just a white tank top, his dog tags resting beneath.

Jake's gaze was intense as you ran your hands across his muscular build. It was the first time you found yourself truly taking in the details of your husband's physique. You lifted the tank top over his head, revealing his slightly hairy chest with the dog tags dangling in the middle.

You kissed him once more, this time with renewed passion. Your hands explored his chest and abs, sensing the strength in his body. Your right hand then cradled the side of his face.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured between kisses, tears streaking down his cheeks.

"I know, Jake. I know," you replied, offering comfort and understanding in your words.

You both pulled away, locking eyes, sharing a moment of deep connection and mutual understanding.

Jake reached out, his fingers carefully working to unbutton your plaid shirt, freeing it from where it was tucked into your jeans. You then removed it and casually tossed it aside.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and admiration. His hands traced your arms as if it was the most precious treasure in the world.

You reached down, pulling the tank top over your head, and added it to the pile with your shirt, leaving your naked breasts exposed.

He gazed at you, his eyes brimming with desire and admiration. "I need you, Y/N. Just as much as you need me."

You stood up, kicked off your cowboy boots and then slowly started to unbutton you jeans.

His eyes followed your every move, his breath catching in his throat as you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your jeans and pushed them down, revealing a pair of lacy tan panties.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of your smooth skin. You stepped out of you jeans and walked over to him, your hips swaying seductively. He couldn't help but reach out and touch you, running his fingers over your soft skin and feeling the heat radiating from you.

Jake got onto his knees, hooking a finger onto your underwear and pulling you to him.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with desire. You could feel the heat of his breath on your skin as he slowly kissed up your thighs, stopping just short of your mound. He teased you, kissing and licking all around but never quite touching the spot that was begging for attention.

Every time he came close to that spot, your breath quivered, sending your heart into a race filled with anticipation.

He could feel your need, and he loved it. He loved the way you writhed beneath him, the way your hips bucked against his mouth as he continued to tease you. He could hear your moans of frustration, and it only made him want to drive you crazy even more.

He then kissed your stomach, a moan escaping your mouth.

"You drive me crazy, Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion, as he looked up at you, grabbing your panties and pulling them down for you to step out of them.

You knelt down and held his face gently in your hands, your lips met his in a kiss. While kissing him, your hands trailed down his chest, reaching his jeans, where you began to slowly unbuckle his belt.

You broke the kiss and looked at him with sultry eyes. You slowly unzipped his jeans, and pulled them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, hard and ready.

Sitting back on your heels, you then reclined onto the blanket, eyes on Jake as he quickly removed his jeans and boxers. Before you knew it, he was hovering above you, gazing into your eyes.

You smiled at him, and he lowered his head to yours. He kissed you passionately as you ran your hands down his back. He moaned into your mouth as you gently scratched his back.

He broke the kiss and moved down your body, stopping at your breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking on it gently. You moaned as he continued to suck on it, then he continued to the other one. He sucked on that one too, running his tongue over it before moving back up to your neck.

"Jake," you moaned. "I want you inside me."

Jake smiled at you and then positioned himself between your legs. He ran his cock up and down your slit, teasing you. You whimpered in frustration, wanting him to just shove it in already. Finally he gave in and you moaned as he slid into you, filling you up. He slowly began to move in and out of you, savoring the feeling of your pussy around his cock. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper into you. He moaned as he felt your pussy clench around him, and he began to move faster. You cried out in pleasure, your body arching up to meet his thrusts.

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue plunging into your mouth as his cock plunged into you. You moaned into his mouth, your body shaking with pleasure as your orgasm hit. He felt you tighten around him and he came.

He collapsed on top of you, his cock still inside you, but he looked at you, sincerity in his gaze. "I'm sorry."

You brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. "I know." Then, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close to hold him tightly. "I forgive you." You kissed the top of his head that rested on your chest.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #glen powell #hangman top gun #hangman #top gun maverick hangman #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick #jake seresin fic #jake seresin #top gun hangman #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction

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edensbuttercups · 1 year

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Is this a joke? Pt. II - Jake "Hangman" Seresin x reader

Read part one here!

Summary: As the Uranium mission unfolds, Jake deals with his feelings and the knowledge that he'll have to talk to you once he gets back.

A/N: Finally here with part two! It's been an up and down week in terms of writing motivation, but the love this fic has received honestly warmed my heart. So, here we go with part two! I hope you all enjoy ♡ Has this been proofread? Absolutely not, in typical me fashion 😌

(also, half thinking of a part three with how the date would actually go, maybe a shorter part but 👀 I am open to ideas and/or suggestions 😌)

Words: 3.5k

As always, requests are open and comments are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading and hope you're all having a good day ♡

He could hear it all.

Waiting, hands gripping the controls, ready to takeoff if he was needed.

Daggers descending below radar.

Hangman sighed when he heard Maverick’s words, feeling the tension rise. It was the quiet before the storm, waiting and knowing that even shit hit the fan, he’d have to be in standby until deemed necessary. Unwillingly, he let his mind slip back to you. Your words echoing in his brain just as much as the ones on the radar had. I have a crush on you.

Now, that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair, because he had a crush on you. And as much as he should’ve been happy, should’ve jumped for joy, wrapped his arms around you, kissed you like he had craved so many times before, he couldn’t be, because it was real now. It wasn’t something he could dream about before bed anymore, resting his head on the pillow and thinking of what it would be like to tell you how he felt, hold your hand and call you his, no, now he had to face it. He had to choose words that he knew he’d be terrible at choosing, to tell you something that he’d be terrible at conveying. And the worst part of it all was that he had left you there, after such a revelation, and you probably hated him now. And he deserved it.

Sir, dagger two and four are behind schedule.

He listened in, cursing under his breath. “C’mon Rooster. You can do it.” he whispered to himself only, no one there to hear him. It felt small, the space around him, unbearably warm while on ground, beads of sweat slowly running down his brow, feeling like he needed air, needed space, needed time, while also feeling safe there, feeling useful.

You woke up that morning with a knot in your throat, the memory of what had happened still very much vivid in your mind, along with the knowledge of what the dagger squad was probably facing right now. Plucking your phone from the bedsheets, you looked at Rooster’s message again.

Roos 🐓: leaving now. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll text you when we get back, and drinks are on me!

You smiled at his words again, chuckling at his ways, always leaving with a smile even if you knew how much these missions stressed him, having told you the way he felt sometimes, the air not quite enough when things could go wrong so easily, when he thought about his dad while up there.

And then there was Jake. Confident in every way, except for that time he came knocking at your door at 2am after Bob and Natasha got hit by a bird strike and Coyote G-locked. Pretended he was fine, pacing in your living room, apologizing and trying to keep his jokes going, shaking his head in a silent laughter when you approached him, seeing the way his eyes softened when you stopped him in his tracks, a hand on each shoulder. “Are you okay?” That night stayed between the two of you, and even between you there had been no more talks of it. It lived in your mind, though, the way Jake had wrapped his arms around you, the height difference making it seem like he was the one comforting you and not the other way around, and if he cried then it was never mentioned, never acknowledged. He fell asleep by your side, far enough to not feel like he was overstepping, close enough to hold your hand through the night. The next morning he left with a soft smile, thanking you when you handed him his coffee, as if that was what he was thanking you for, ready to put on his usual front in front of the squad. And that was how Jake was. He was a mocking, teasing type of friend, one that you could joke with and pretend to hate as much as you wanted, but that ultimately won your heart by showing you those sides of him that were truly him.

You sighed, setting the phone down again and sitting up, letting your feet dangle off the bed. Radio silence would await you until they were all back, and even if that didn’t help with the incessant static in your mind, you moved on with your day, pretending that you weren’t worried, or hurt.

Hearing Rooster call bombs away had been the first part that caused Hangman’s nerves to grow, the tension in his hands making them tighten as he listened, following each word coming from the radio with a forced attention, ready for his signal. Then, bullseye was called, a smile growing on his face, a silent cheer shared with, once more, no one but himself, but the knowledge that they had made it, not him specifically, but the team. Barely the time to celebrate went by before tension rose again, the enemy missiles getting launched one by one, a mess of voices and screams over the radio, and then, just when things couldn’t get worse, they did.

Dagger one is hit! Maverick down. Dagger one status!

A jumble of words before the order to go back.

Recommend dagger flow south.

Hangman heard the panic in Rooster’s voice, understood the history between him and Maverick, knew what losing someone felt like. “Dagger spare, request permission to fly air cover” He spoke quickly, concisely, ready to takeoff. He had probably messed up his chances with you, but that didn’t mean he had to lose Rooster as well, seeing now just how much of a dick he could be with the people he deep down cared for. “Negative, spare.” he heard back, sighing in defeat. There was nothing he could do. Nothing. Useless, waiting for them to come back, a celebration bound to happen only on paper, one of them lost.

Dagger, you are not to engage.

Hangman almost did engage, but didn’t. His job was to follow orders, and that’s what he did. Yet dagger two did not. Rooster hadn’t followed directions, flying right back to where Maverick had fallen, ignoring everything and everyone else and heading straight back into danger. After all, he had more courage than Hangman had.

Dagger two is hit. Dagger two, do you copy?

There was nothing more painful than that silence. They couldn’t lose someone two people in one mission. Couldn’t lose Rooster. If Hangman was to come home to you, hoping you’d at least listen to him, how could he come back without your best friend?

Hangman let out a low chuckle when Rooster signal was traced again, and fully laughed when it had been clear Maverick was along. Soon enough, no matter how good they were, he got the all clear to help them, flying out to save their asses just in time. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts and return your tray tables to their locked and upright position and prepare for landing.” He wasn’t hiding the smile he was brightly wearing, adrenaline still coursing through his veins as he flew side by side with Maverick and Rooster, never happier to see both of their faces. They were okay. “Hey Hangman. You look good.” He could only see Rooster’s eyes, but it was evident that he was happy to see him, and god was he happy to see them. Alive. “I am good. I am very good.” He did feel very good indeed. This was the part of his job that kept him going, the adrenaline all the more intense when something bad almost happened, and while he never wanted to lose anyone again, he welcomed the feeling.

Celebrations done and hugs shared, everyone dispersed, preparing to go home again, each member of a team talking to someone while they still buzzed with adrenaline while Maverick talked to the Admiral. All except for Hangman. Everyone noticed, but no one approached him, knowing he had his times and not minding the silence his absence brought, yet Rooster eventually walked towards him, sitting by his side with a loud huff. “So what’s up, Hangman?” Rooster finally asked. He had been thankful of Hangman saving him, and despite not having had the best of relationships with him, his reaction to your words only adding to that, he seemed to have gotten over that once they landed, seeing a truthful relief in the aviator’s eyes. Hangman took a sharp breath in, looking down with a smirk on his lips. “You sure you want to talk about it?” He asked, looking up at Rooster. It felt weird, after so long of teasing and mocking to just open up to him, even if he was the only person he could open up to, considering that he was the only other person, besides you and him, to know about what had happened. “Hard to pick sides when you only know half the story. And realistically, I’m not going to pick your side, but you know.” Rooster shrugged, smiling nonetheless, glad to see the blond man relax, taking a seat by his side as he let out a breath he had been holding, glad for the mission to have gone the way it had, but still nervous to make his way back home. “She told me she’s got a crush on me.” Hangman muttered, letting his head fall back. “Yeah, and you just cut her short with a we’ll talk when I get back.” Rooster mocked, raising the pitch of his voice in mock-tone, rolling his eyes. “She told me.” He then added, noticing how Hangman’s eyes were back on him. “Was she upset?” He asked, and Rooster hadn’t always been the best judge of Jake “Hangman” Seresin, but if he had to judge him now he’d say the blond man was actually genuinely concerned.

And he would be right.

Jake had spent the night before the mission falling in and out of sleep, words left unsaid ghosting on his lips, along with worry in his chest, even if he hadn’t technically been chosen to fly, if not for backup, but the team he had warmed up to was, and he had grown to care for them, even if he didn’t always show it. “She… was… fine?” Rooster spoke after a moment of thought, glaring at Hangman when he rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t answer my question.” He said, letting out a frustrated groan. He hadn’t want to make you upset. He knew he had, and that wouldn’t change that he was mad at himself for it, but still, he didn’t like hearing it. “Do you like her back?” Rooster asked instead of fixing his prior sentence, letting that go. “Clearly.” “So why did you leave?” Hangman sighed, closing his eyes and trying to find some words that wouldn’t earn a That makes no sense, Hangman, or something along those lines.

He knew it didn’t.

It didn’t make sense to run away when the person he did like told him they liked him back, and yet he did. It didn’t make sense to crave your touch even when he had never felt it like he wished, especially not when he’d never get to feel it now that it had messed up. And it didn’t make sense to be here, confiding his secrets and feelings to Bradley fucking Bradshaw, and yet. “I was going to tell her that I have a crush on her.” he said, grimacing at the way the words felt as he pronounced them. He raised a finger when he saw Rooster move to speak, not wanting him to chime in just yet, not having said enough words to potentially save his reputation, or what was left of it. “I had time. Not telling her meant I could choose the moment, be in control of the situation, see how it played out, say it was a joke if she happened to reject me.” “What a way to own up to your feelings.” Rooster mumbled, rolling his eyes but letting him go on. “But she told me, now. Power’s in her hands. I’m the one that has to answer, and I can’t hide behind anything if…” Hangman stopped mid-sentence, frowning as he thought about what he was afraid of. “If she doesn’t like you? She said she does. That’s solved. And power being in her hands…” Rooster sighed, shaking his head, “this ain’t about power. It’s about liking each other.” He waited for Hangman to add something, anything, but he was just looking ahead, studying the floor with particular interest. “Hangman, you know about it. People flirt with you, you flirt back-” “Yeah, but they don’t like me. They like the idea of the confident Navy man that could easily swoop them to bed and rock their world.” He said smirking, before his lips fell back down. “She doesn’t.” Rooster hummed, understanding where he was going with his words. “She likes you.” “I don’t know when last time someone actually liked me.” Hangman revealed, knowing he’d regret being this open with Rooster, but allowing it to happen for now. “Okay, listen. I hated it, trust me, before today you were probably my least liked person.” Hangman scoffed and Rooster’s words, but nodded at him to go on. “But she made me change my mind about you, in some small stupid way. She likes you because of the way you are when no one’s looking. She sees something more, something I don’t see, and arguably, maybe she’s the only one that does, but either way, she likes you.” Rooster went on, not allowing the blond aviator to add anything else until he was done. “She went on about you every time we were together, asking about how you were doing, how you were, yet openly bickering with you when you were around. It was, and is, infuriating. But what’s more infuriating is you letting this chance go, breaking your heart alongside hers just ‘cause you’re afraid.”

Rooster didn’t add anything other than that, didn’t give Hangman the chance to reply, just stood and left, walking back towards Bob and Fanboy, clapping his hands over their shoulders and pulling them into a hug. Hangman knew he’d join them in a few minutes, put on his smirk and go back to his usual self, but he allowed himself a moment to consider his words, his fear. Rooster was, ultimately, right, and he was being scared of something that he shouldn’t have been scared of in the first place.

Time seemed to slow down when they landed back in Miramar, everyone still chattering and bubbling with energy, leaving him sitting in the back until most of them had risen to their feet, eager to get off. Hangman descended the stairs slowly, having, for once, allowed - and insisted - for everyone to go ahead, getting to the tarmac before he did. He saw Rooster turn back to him and ignored him, trying to prepare himself for the conversation he was going to have with you, clenching his hands into fists. He gave Rooster the chance to walk up to you, keeping his steps slow as he walked towards you, weighing his words. I’m sorry for leaving without saying anything. I like you too, I’m just afraid to give you the power to break my heart. I’m not good at relationships. He cursed under his breath, knowing that as much as there words echoed the truth, there was no way he’d actually be able to speak them.

Rooster knew Hangman was approaching when your eyes left his to land on the blond aviator behind him, a small smile on your lips, expression softening, before you let it go back to a more distant one, smiling only when you met Bradley’s eyes again. “I’m so glad you’re back.” You hummed, ignoring the man that was now steadily approaching. “You should listen to what he’s got to say.” Bradley said in reply, reaching to hold your hand, then letting it go when he saw your nod. You were going to listen, yes, but seeing him there, okay and alive, you felt the emotions you had felt on that night bubble back up, buried by the worry and rising once it had gone, and you weren’t sure you could do much more than listen with the sadness and anger taking over again. “Need me to stay?” He asked before leaving, nodding once again when you muttered a no, thank you, watching him walk towards Hangman and pat him on the back as he went to join the others, leaving the two of you alone. “Can we talk?” He asked you when he reached you, expression pleading for something, anything, when the stare you gave him was colder than it had ever been. “Drive me home?” You asked instead, not wanting to be around the others in the off chance you’d end up crying. Drinks at the Hard Deck had already been planned, but you had a few hours before that, and could easily pull yourself back together when he told you that he didn’t feel the same way. Hangman nodded,

You walked in, keys jingling until you left them by the door, closing your eyes when the door shut behind you. “I’m sorry.” Hangman mumbled, voice low and raspy, and you hated it. Hated it because had it been any other word, it would’ve had you blushing, but this made you feel bad, for you more than for him. “I should’ve known. I pushed it.” You said instead, sitting on the couch with a huff, grabbing one of the pillows and holding onto it. He paced the floor, much like you had that first night, going back and forth and back and forth until you stopped him by throwing a pillow at him, laughing when he lost his balance and almost fell. “Fighter pilot and yet a pillow takes him down.” You teased, smirking. “Not my fault, you’re an excellent shot.” He answered back effortlessly, a smile making its appearance back on his face. “Am I?” Hangman nodded, smirking as he picked the pillow up, setting it at the foot of the couch and sitting on it, looking up at you from there. “I’m angry with you.” You added, shaking your head when he tried to speak. “Not ‘cause you don’t like me back, that’s fine. It’s not something I expected from you, anyway, it was just a secret I couldn’t carry anymore. But I’m angry ‘cause you left with barely a word, and you didn’t text before leaving, and as much as I know why you didn’t… I was still worried. I care for you, and I knew there was a chance I wasn’t going to see you again, and I just-” “Stop.” You looked down to see him, eyes closed and cheeks red, his eyebrows drawn together. Shifting slightly, you waited, not sure as to what he was going to say, but hoping his next words wouldn’t be the ones telling you that your whole friendship was over. “Kiss me.” “What?” It takes you a minute to respond, expecting to hear anything but that. You smirk, rolling your eyes at your next words, but go on anyway, quoting him. “Is this a joke?” “I’m not good with words.” He hisses, rolling his eyes too. “Ah, but you’re good with kisses, you sl-” Before you could mock him he reached for your arm, yanking you down so that you fell in his lap, his lips easily finding yours in a bruising kiss, letting go of a shallow he wasn’t aware he had been holding, groaning when he felt you melt against him, your hand reaching to rest over his shoulder, slowly trailing up into his hair, tugging on it slightly. “Don’t tease.” He hums, smirking as he pulls away, lips red and pupils blown, a completely different image from the one that was pacing in front of you a few minutes ago. “Wasn’t.” You say innocently, leaning your head into his hand as if comes up to cup your cheek, a softness taking over his features you hadn’t seen often, not with anyone but you, anyway. And you realize, then, that it had been foolish to think he’d want to end your friendship, his looks always different from the ones he reserved for his friends. “I promise I will find words to tell you how I feel, but for now just know that I like you too.” He whispers, watching you closely and pecking your lips again, happy to finally be able to. “You owe me a date.” You hum, running a hand in his hair again, loving the way his perfect strands get messed up under your touch. “I owe you a lot more than a date, but how does tomorrow sound?”

Taglist: (For those that didn’t explicitly ask me to tag them, I hope you don’t mind being tagged, but I thought you might like to read part 2!♡) @alana4610 @bookaholics-stuff @addietagglikesbands @asshlyyyy @malfoysqueen54

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman angst #hangman fluff #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick #hangman

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f1gments · 1 year

Text

The Moon and His Sun - Hayakawa Aki

You come to him like a breath of fresh air, cleansing his soul, his entire existence. You fill the once empty void in his chest. He finds solace in every part of you. You're his sun, and he’s your moon. Home is not a place, but where you are, waiting for him with open arms.

author’s note: added a photo of aki in ep 6 because it’s how I actually imagined him. 🥰

Thinking about how you and Aki are sitting at the balcony, just sitting in one another's embrace one late night while you remember the day when you two first meet and speak of the possible future you might or might not have with each other. Also I feel like "Bouquet" by Ichiko Aoba goes really well with this imagine.

tags/content warnings: fluff, slight mutual pining, slight angst, slight mentions of sex but it's not that detailed.

word count: 3.5k words (not proofread btw)

Judging by the angle of the moonlight illuminating the apartment, it is clear that it is currently a time that both you and Aki should most definitely, be completely dead asleep. But going to bed early is a foreign concept for the two of you. On most nights like this, when Denji and Power have long gone to bed, you and Aki spend time together after a tiring day of work – huddled up on the balcony, just enjoying each other's presence with cigarette smoke filling the air.

“Hey Aki.” you say, breaking the comfortable silence as your head lays on his shoulder, staring straight ahead at the view of the urban area in front of you.

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever thought about what you wanted to be if we didn’t have devils and weren’t in Public Safety?”

Aki remains silent in thought. There were many times he’d think about what he could’ve been if those damn devils didn’t exist. If the sole thought of a person’s fear didn’t lead them to appear out of nowhere.

“Well, I’ve always enjoyed watching people play baseball, so maybe a baseball player. Or a detective.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Detective, huh?”

“Yeah. I used to watch tons of crime documentaries and I always thought the investigations and the process of it all was interesting.”

“Now that you mention it, I kinda see you as detective. I think it would suit you well.” you grin. His lips tug up slightly to give you a small smile in return.

Aki then mentions his younger brother Taiyo when you ask him what makes him want to be a baseball player.

“You remember him, right?” he asks before taking a long inhale from the menthol flavored cigarette.

You tilt your head up to look at the doleful look on his face while he stares out towards the other buildings facing you. You nod slowly, recalling the few times he’d share his memories about him and his deceased sibling, and the tragedy that happened to him along with his parents when the gun devil showed up in Japan – killing 57,912 people in its wake.

Aki gazes at you softly, exhaling a puff of smoke from the menthol stick held between his fingers. “How about you,y/n? What did you want to be?”

You hum in thought. Frankly, there were many things that you wanted to be. Many things you wanted to accomplish if you were given a chance to live a normal life.

“I’d probably be a lawyer, or a teacher.”

He tells you that you would suit either of those. He admires the way you’re passionate about standing up for others and seeking justice - how you have a big heart and give out kindness to those who don’t even deserve it. He loves that you complete him, like a puzzle piece that was made to fit exactly into the once empty slot of his chest. You were the bright and vivid colors that painted his once dull and grey world. He loves how you instantly make his day better with your smile and sounds of laughter on days when memories of his haunting past weigh on his mind. Sometimes he feels like you weren’t real. That you were an ethereal being with the most prettiest face. You’re an anchor that keeps him grounded.

“And what if we hadn’t crossed paths? Do you think we’d be as happy as we are now?” you ask him this time.

“I know I wouldn’t be. You’re the reason I look forward to getting up everyday.”

“I used to think that life was meaningless and being happy wasn’t maybe isn’t meant for everyone.” he tells you while looking you in the eyes genuinely.

“But you changed that for me. I’m grateful that the universe was kind enough to turn my lonely days into happy ones by gifting me with you.” he murmurs, taking the back of your hand to his lips to give it a gentle peck before he rests it on his lap to gently caress it with his thumb.

Your giggle shyly at his confession, fingers fiddling with the metal black promise ring that’s sitting on your other hand that Aki had given you on your second year of being together. You tell him you’d probably be out there somewhere living a miserable single life since chivalry is dead with most men nowadays.

He tells you that would be impossible since someone as pretty as you would have many admirers and sooner or later you’d let one of them sweep you off your feet. To which you deny and it makes you think back to how you and Aki ended up dating in the first place.

"Do you remember the first time we met?"

He lets out a chuckle, reminiscing the nostalgic moments of your first meeting.

"Always."

Flashback

There's someone I'd like you to meet." says Makima to you and during that moment the door opens and in strides a tall young man who looked about two or three years older than you were. A katana sits on on the back of the neat black suit he wears. Dark and inky blue locks from his wispy bangs frame the rather emotionless look on his face. The man keeps his gaze straight ahead with his hands clasped behind his back, head held high. Despite the stoic expression on him, you find that he looks very handsome.

"Hayakawa. This is Y/N. She'll be joining us from now on and she'll be your new partner." Said Makima.

"What about Himeno, ma'am?" he questions. His voice is deep and although it comes out monotonous you can’t help but find it rather attractive.

"She'll be Kishibe's partner as of now." Makima responds shortly before scribbling away at a document on her desk.

You turn to look at Aki, whose midnight blue irises are already staring at you with an unreadable look - though it almost seems as if he’s examining you. From the way his eyes flicker to yours, down to your lips then briefly at your figure before he completely breaks off eye contact with you and turns his head to look ahead once again.

"I'm Aki. Nice to meet you."

"Hello, Aki. Likewise. I'm y/n."'

He doesn't know what it is, but something about the mere way you say his name in a honeyed tone has him fighting back a blush.

You follow Aki from behind onto the bustling street of city slickers and business suits out on your first time of patrolling. Aki doesn't say more than a few sentences of explaining what usually happens during a patrol should the both of you encounter any devils. There isn’t much of any devil activity that day so you both head back to the headquarters.

You don't ask many questions and you only speak unless you're spoken to and Aki prefers it that way since he really can't be bothered to explain the whole works of everything.

Thankfully the both of you work well together and you there was this one time you managed to surprise Aki when you deal with decapitating a medium level devil all by yourself.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and after being promoted by Makima, you're now in the same ranking as he is. And within that period of time, the both of you can't help but notice the mutual attraction that's blossoming between you. It starts of as shy glances from one another across the office, to the brief bumping on one another’s elbow or brushes of fingers whenever the both of you are next to each other. But you're both not sure whether to let it turn into something more from there or even address the subject matter.

On top of that, you notice the way Himeno eyes Aki on the few missions you all go on together along with her Kishibe, who's another senior in the division. You can tell that she has a thing for him and as much as you would like to pursue your feelings for Aki, you decide that beefing with another girl to win the mans heart is something you can't be bothered with. So you idly watch them through the window of your office when you see her link arms with him in the hallway, asking him if he wants to join her for lunch. It’s only normal to feel a tad bit of jealousy when you see your crush (you know it sounds childish) get touched by someone else. Especially if that someone else shares the same feelings for him as you do.

Surprisingly though, Aki moves her arm off him to turn down her invitation, telling her that has to meet up with Makima during that time. You know that he's lying because he's avoiding eye contact and you're his partner - if Makima actually wanted to see him, you’d be the first to know.

While Aki's just plain awkward when it comes to women and relationships, you on the other hand can't remember the last time you even kissed a guy.

Speaking of kissing, your first kiss with Aki happens on a nondescript Friday evening after work - everyone has left and it's just you and Aki in the office packing up your bags to head home. For the first time ever since the day you joined Public Safety, Aki takes the initiative to walk over to your desk, hands in his pockets as he struggles to find the proper words to ask if you wanted to join him for a few drinks without embarrassing himself.

"So um," He clears his throat as he feels his cheeks slowly begin to heat up. "I was wondering if you were free to join me after this, for drinks."

You slowly turn your head to look up while you blink at him silently at the sudden invitation, but then you smile and give him a nod.

“I’d like that.”

Aki takes a deep breath and his eyes slightly light up while he tries contain the excitement from your response which makes you laugh. Your grin grows wider when you notice the tips of his ears becoming red.

You're both now sat next to each other at a hidden bar Aki frequently comes to on days where he feels like he needs a glass or two to allow him to relax a little after an exhausting day of work. There aren't many people in the bar - just the both of you along with two other patrons siting at the far corner of the place and the young bartender whose occupied with a clean towel in hand to wipe a shot glass.

Smooth jazz plays in the background at a low volume as Aki motions over to him with an upward nod. "I'll have the usual."

The bartender flashes him a smile before he turns to you. "Got it. And what'll your pretty friend be having?"

"I'll have a whiskey sour." You smile.

A few hours and about five or six glasses later, you start to feel a little buzzed from the alcohol in your system. Thankfully you're not completely drunk so you're still able to hold a proper conversation or two. The same goes for Aki who is able to hold his liquor well, but there had been some nights where he would pass out cold in the bar to have the bartender wake him during up closing time.

Tonight was probably the most you and Aki speak compared to the times you both are at work where only a few sentences are shared between you both and they have nothing to do with your personal lives.

A couple clicks sound from a lighter going off makes you turn to see Aki lighting up a cigarette. The light from the flame of the lighter reflects onto his face, forming a shadow on his handsome features. He has his usual hairstyle down in its natural state and you can't help but to stare at him.

His eyes shift to yours, blowing out the smoke from his lips away from your direction. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You're pretty." You tell him, grinning lazily. Maybe it was the alcohol that gave you the courage to say that.

Aki's eyes widen and he inhales sharply, letting out an shy gasp as his cheeks turn an even more rosy colour than the one that’s already staining his cheeks due to the alcohol he’d been drinking.

The bartender witnesses all of this and he lets out an amused chuckle. Aki gives him an annoyed side eye to which the bartender raises his arms up in surrender. Aki slides him a few bills and tells you that maybe it's time to get you home before you end up getting even more drunk.

You're now walking side by side at a comfortable distance next to each other, on the way to your place. You shiver slightly at the cool night breeze that swirls around the both of you. It's late but thankfully there are a few cars driving pass the both of you and although most of the shops in the area are closed, there are still lights illuminating your surroundings.

"Hey Aki. Are you seeing anyone right now?" you ask out of nowhere.

Aki shakes his head. "No. Why?"

You shrug. "No reason. Just wonder why a handsome guy like you doesn't have a girl waiting for you at home."

You hear him chuckle for the first time ever because usually Aki only ever lets out so much as an amused exhale from his nose during your conversations - barely even smiles to anyone at work. He isn't one to show that many emotions from what you experience in being his partner.

"First you call me pretty and now you think I'm handsome?"

"Just telling the truth." you shrug with a grin this time.

The mood seems to shift, the amused expression falling off his face once he sees realizes that this is the chance for him to finally confess his feelings to you. You're both currently stranding underneath a non functioning street light.

"There is someone I like though." he murmurs as he stands a little closer in front of you.

You don't want to get your hopes up but you feel like you already get feeling of who it is. Nevertheless you ask who it could be.

"I'm looking right at her." he tells you. It isn’t a second later that he initiates the kiss by leaning forward to press his lips firmly against your soft ones. The kiss itself tastes like a mix between a minty taste of the cigarettes Aki had been smoking and the drinks you had earlier.

It's an innocent kiss. No movement - no tongue. Just the both of you feeling the sensation of each other's lips and how they feel pressed against one another. But Aki lets out a soft groan when he tastes the minty cherry flavor from what's left of your lip-gloss. That's when he decides to pull away so that he doesn't end up being greedy to deepen the kiss.

Aki watches as there's a shade of vivid coral dusting your cheeks - and he feels that his cheeks are doing the same. He clears his throat, nervously stumbling over his words to apologize to you before he regains his posture. Aki takes a deep breath before he gazes at you with one of his serious expressions.

"I like you."

You grin shyly at him. "I like you too."

The first few months of dating after that is a learning process for the both of you since you’re both not at all that experienced in relationships. But Aki does his research on finding out what girls like and dislike. What makes them happy and sad. (He also hesitantly went up to Kishibe one day for a few tips from since the older male seems to have experience when it comes to women) He puts all the effort into anytime time he takes you out on dates and you notice that Aki slowly cracks open his hard-outer shell for you. He smiles more when he’s with you – he’s gentler when speaking to you, and he makes sure to stay attentive to all the things you have to say.

Aki loves hearing you speak. He could fall asleep to the soft and gentle tone of your voice.

The relationship progresses with stolen kisses from him in the empty hallways or office. The journey back home after work consists of holding each other’s hands and the sharing of one another’s life stories.

Most of your colleagues at work have become aware of your discreet relationship with Aki – even Himeno. She was with Kishibe then, when they catch you and Aki making out at his desk. You're straddling your boyfriend when the two of them walk in with an astonished expression on their faces. They were about to invite the both of you for lunch, but it seems apparently you were both already busy with eating each others faces off.

Himeno chuckles dryly at the scene. "Geez, just get a room already." she mutters as she pushes past Kishibe to walk back out the room.

The blonde haired male on the other hand finds this somewhat amusing and he throws a wink at the two of you telling Aki to make sure he puts a wrapper on it, before he exits the room with his hands in his pockets. Aki's covering his face in embarrassment while you only giggle at his reaction.

You were both each other’s first. It was a rainy afternoon filled with giddy laughter, trembling hands and hungry kisses. Although he was big, it didn’t hurt like you expected it to but the first few moments after he pushes himself into you feels a little strange but soon that turns into pleasure and Aki thinks that he can never get enough of the way you’re begging for more under him, crying out his name.

“I love you.” He tells you once you both come down from the euphoric high of your orgasms. The rain is pitter pattering against the windows, and the room is filled with the smell of sex, cigarettes along with the scent of your warm vanilla perfume that Aki loves so much. You lay your bare chest on his, pecking him on the cheek, making him blush even after was buried deep inside you a few moments earlier.

“I love you too, Aki.”

End of flashback

The sun begins to slowly peek from the horizon, a light shade of tangerine and coral lining the sky.

Thankfully you didn’t have work in the few hours to come so the both of you remain sat at the balcony, sitting comfortably with cigarette smoke surrounding you, talking about anything and everything that came to mind. Aki then begins grumbling how your lives were more peaceful before those two rascals came to ruin it. You let out an airy laugh telling him that they were nothing but individuals who found comfort in the solace of you and Aki’s home. (Somewhere along the way, you decide to move in with Aki since he had given you a spare key to his apartment during your ninth month of being together.)

Aki glances at you. Taking in your breath-taking beauty. He considers himself lucky to have someone as understanding and loving as you by his side. Someone who’s able to accept the deepest, darkest parts of him. Someone who’s also independent when you needed to be, and strong when you face any devils together. A sudden sadness washes over him when he thinks of the days he has left on his life. He wonders how you’ll be able to deal with his loss one day. He can’t help but feel a little jealous if you were to find someone else other than him to share intimate moments with.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” you hum, interrupting him from his deep thoughts.

“Our future.”

“What about it?”

“Just about who’s going to take care of you when I’m gone.” He says, pulling you onto his lap, burying his face into your neck to inhale the soft florally scent of your shampoo. You’re aware of his decreasing life span from the contract he made with the devils he’d come across.

You caress his hair gently, giving him a loving kiss on the forehead. “Aki, look at me.”

The man looks up at you with an unreadable expression. You cup both his cheeks, stroking your them with your thumb. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. If anything happens, I can handle it by myself. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods wordlessly.

“And if you’re worried about me finding someone else, you don’t have to worry about that either. My heart and soul belong to you. I am yours, as you are mine. Right?” You tell him. Aki gives you a boyish smile, something you see often now but it never ceases to give you butterflies in your stomach.

“I am yours.” He replies before capturing your chin with his thumb and index finger, kissing you passionately on the lips. He groans when you bite down on his bottom lip, making you smirk. He pulls away to give you a look.

“Careful. Don’t start what you can’t finish.” He warns. But his words only make you smirk even wider.

You make a joke how you’re both practically in a contract with one another just like with the contract he makes with the devils he’s come across. You then say that he would probably be the love devil with the way you’re madly in love with him.

Aki rolls his eyes with a scoff. “That’s so cheesy. That’s not even how it works,y/n.”

You snicker. “I know but one of us has to be the comedian in this relationship.” You tell him to which he rolls his eyes again. Then, you notice the mischievous glint swimming in his eyes as he asks you. “You know what devil you’d be?”

You shake your head. Aki smirks as he reaches up to whisper in your ear. “You’d be the sex fiend.”

You slap him on the chest playfully, making him laugh before gently cups your face as he kisses you on the lips once more.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Aki.”

©️ don’t repost or claim my work as yours that’s all i ask.

this was something very random. just got inspired by the song i mentioned at the top. big fan of ichko aoba's music :)

#aki x reader #aki hayakawa #aki fluff #aki chainsaw man #aki hayakawa imagine #hayakawa aki #hayakawa aki headcanon #csm aki #csm imagine #chainsaw man #csm #aki hayakawa x reader #aki smut #hayakawa aki x reader #i love him much he makes me soft #aki hayakawa headcanons #csm headcanons #chainsaw man aki

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seineko · 6 months

Text

it's fluff but minors still do not interact!

note: it's extremely extremely extremely self indulgent (so please proceed with that it mind) and diluc is probably a bit ooc here but i really did think he'd open up a bit more and have fun a bit more with his partner. cheeky diluc isn't written enough. he was absolute chaos as a kid, i won't believe for one second that he did not at least have 1% of it hidden deep inside his heart.

my grandma just gave me a oil massage after so many years and i just felt like i was in actual heaven, that's where this idea stemmed from. i wanted diluc to have someone relieve his stress too so here i am, writing a drabble about it because he deserves everything in this world.

diluc did not hate his hectic days as much as he did before.

they still suck of course, but you make them much, much better.

the first time it happened he was, understandably, confused.

the memory was pretty vivid.

despite being tired, sleep seemed really far away. diluc slowly tried to untangle himself from you, trying his best not to disturb you.

"'iluc?" which was evidently not successful as your half opened eyes stared at him, confusion clear in them.

"go back to sleep, love," he whispered softly. continuing when you did not, clearly waiting for him to answer, "i just cannot sleep, thought some fresh air might help."

yawning, you sat up and bend across him towards the cupboard beside his side of the bed and grabbed a glass jar of what looked like oil.

"come 'ere," you sat on the edge of the bed, patting on the side of it, indicating him to sit down in front of you. voice still thick with sleep, you continued, '"this will help."

diluc couldn't help but be confused as he walked towards to sit where you told him to, watching you pour the oil from the jar into its threaded metal lid, carefully wiping around the edges of both with a tissue that was a constant at the side of your bed. ("you don't know when you come across an emotional part of a story," you had said. "better be prepared than to have my snot all over my clothes.")

"help me warm it a bit, please," voice a bit more sober, you hovered the lid filled with oil in front of him as he sat down.

"what is this?" diluc asked as he regulated a bit of warmth around the lid in his hand to warm it up.

"it's coconut oil," you replied taking back the lid after you probably deemed it to be warm enough. "my amm- i mean my grandma used to massage my hair with warm coconut oil regularly. one massage from her hands and my fatigue completely disappeared."

diluc stared at the smile on your face, heart fluttering a bit at how warm your voice sounded.

"turn around," applying the oil around your fingers, you gripped his scalp to turn his head around and rubbed them through his tresses, applying a bit of pressure on his scalp as they combed through.

oh.

oh!

this is what you meant.

the gentle firmness of your fingers massaging his entire scalp, applying a bit more pressure at just the right places had him practically melt into the floor.

stress slowly seemed to release from his body as he let his head fall backwards barely on your lap, most of it on the pajamas pooling around it, a embarrassing whimper leaving his lips as just at that moment, your fingers hitting a newer still tensed spot.

a small giggle left you and he couldn't help the small upward curl of his own lips as he looked at the upside down laugh on your face.

"does it feel good?" you asked him as his eyes slowly closed on their own accord, hands constantly changing places around all of his scalp.

"mn," he let out as a reply. if it was in the present, a bit of mischief would take over him and he would add something along the lines, "this is probably what people call heaven."

your hands would completely freeze in his head and he wouldn't need to open his eyes to know that you were flustered.

but you weren't there yet.

he did change pretty drastically compared to when he was a kid, but the childishness and the mischievous streak was still a part of him, no matter how small or how deeply buried in the corner of him they were. it only ever came back in front of you now.

"there is a secret to this process, though," he hummed in question at that sudden talk. "magic!"

he opened his eyes to take a look at you as you said that, a small smile still present on his face, "magic?"

you nodded, "my hands are now magical," combing the front tresses of his hair to pull it back into the rest of it, you continue, chuckling a bit at what seemed to be nostalgia, "grandpa used to say that when you give the massage to someone you really love, your hands turn magical."

diluc felt his ears and his neck burn.

"then i'm glad to be one that can experience them," he pushed his arms up to gently pull your head a bit towards himself and planted a kiss on your forehead.

pulling back, the flutter in his heart stayed the same despite the change in surroundings. your hands more precise at massaging the exact spot on his head, but still just as gentle.

his head now cradled between your naked thighs, touching the buttons of his shirt that you were wearing.

you were humming a song that he couldn't quite remember the name of, but did remember it being a favourite of your grandmother's.

"you know," diluc said after the song reached its end, before you could begin another. "i know what your grandfather meant now."

at the questioning hum, he continued, smile widening infinitesimally as a bit of mischief did run through him this time, "your hands do seem pretty magical."

"diluc!"

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact diluc #diluc genshin impact #genshin diluc #diluc genshin #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #diluc #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc fluff #diluc ragnvindr #🐈‍⬛boba.drabbles

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filmofhybe · 5 months

Text

The perfect blend - YJW

part 3 of “IN EVERY MULTIVERSE”

In which..

can you ever imagine in this multiverse, you having the biggest fattest crush on your best friend - Yang jungwon, however knowing he already has a “girlfriend” hurts more than just a sting from a bee.

💌 PAIRING : yjw x reader

GENRE : friends to lovers , fluff

WARNING : angst , fluff , kissing , CHAPTER 2 NOT PROOF-READ!!

🗯️ FEATURING : huh yunjin - LE SSERAFIM

word count : 2,066

MASTERLIST to “IN EVERY MULTIVERSE”.

I strolled into the cozy book café, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloping me. Jungwon, my best friend and crush, was already there, immersed in a book. With a grin, he looked up and waved me over, marking the beginning of another one of our countless hangouts. “Y/n! Quick I’m on the next book already!” He cheered causing the owner to shush him up. I giggles as I quickly walked towards him ans sit beside him

As we spent hours laughing, discussing literature, and losing ourselves in the melodies of shared playlists, the warm atmosphere making his features and his personality stand out. I found my heart entwining with his in the multiverse we were building together within those walls. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken emotions, creating a bond that transcended the pages of the novels surrounding us. That was 2 weeks ago.

“Yah Jungwon why aren’t you joining my hang outs anymore?” I said with a annoyed tone, yet I was joking around. “Is nothing y/n just school okay? I’ll hangout with you soon.” And before I could reply, he hang out. I sighed, disappointedly walking towards the closet and picking out a outfit a planned out for other next reunion. I guess I’ll just wear it today to return to our sanctuary, hoping to catch him at our usual spot.

To my dismay, as I pushed open the café door, I witnessed Jungwon passionately kissing a girl in the corner we had claimed as ours. The world crumbled beneath my feet as I grappled with the realization that our connection might have existed only in my dreams. Heartache and confusion overwhelmed me. Confusion spread across my face. “Y/nnie~ your here!” My hearing was blurred in that heartbreaking moment, I felt like a character in a tragic novel, betrayed by the person I thought knew me best. The emotions were so vivid that it became unbearable. Just as the pain peaked, I snapped out of the dream, gasping for air. Tears streaming down my face.

“Y/n wait please let me explai-” pushing the café door, rain mixed with my salty tears. The café that was once filled with love and warmth, was now just a feeling of coldness and bittersweet memories. Feeling the world absolutely crumbling beneath my feet-

“Fuck omg…” i jumped, snapping out of my crazy multiverse that felt a bit too real. Realizing I’m in my boyfriend - jungwon’s arm calmed me down. “Hey baby you alright? A bad dream again?” The word “again” felt like a knife to my heart. How many times have that multiverse must torture my thoughts. As we lay there, I couldn't shake off the echoes of the dream. The emotions lingered, haunting me like shadows from an alternate reality. It made me appreciate the tangible moments with Jungwon even more, cherishing the genuine connection we had built together. His hands softly massage my hair as he tries to calm me down by whispering sweet nothings. “Is okay if you don’t want to tell me but I wish I could beat those demons and monster in your dreams.” I don’t think you want to beat yourself up… “maybe a little date to your café would work?” He asked. Not sure would I really want to go after the so called dream. I just nodded as we held each others hands, walking towards the café that’s filled with bad memories in our next universe.

The book café remained our haven, but now with an added layer of vulnerability. We continued to share laughter and music, our bond deepening with each passing day. The dream served as a reminder of the fragility of emotions, urging me to embrace the reality of our connection.

I know he knows something was off the moment I step inside the café. I didn’t bother to read our normal series nor even listen to the music we always dance to. I just sat there thinking, I know he would not do such a thing in this life. But it scares me. And for what?

jungwon’s multiverse POV

I couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt that settled in my chest every time he canceled plans with y/n. The temptation to see the mysterious girl from school, whose name I had heard whispered in hushed tones, proved to be too strong. Me and y/n’s café, tucked away in a quiet corner, became our secret haven.

I grappled with the conflict between my feelings for y/n and the magnetic pull I felt toward the enigmatic girl from school. The thrill of secret meetings with her overshadowed his sense of responsibility. Despite the guilt gnawing at him,I found himself canceling hangouts with y/n more often, weaving a web of lies to conceal his true motives.

“jungwon should we hang out again today?”

“I’m sorry I can’t y/n..”

“You never hang out with me anymore.”

“I will next time ok?”

“Fine..”

One day, I met up with the girl, at the café, sharing a stolen moment in our café, we both leaning in, her arms around my neck, pulling me closer to her as our lips connect like a perfect puzzle. I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. The café owner's excited voice echoed through the air, calling out a familiar name. "Y/N!" The realization hit me like a tidal wave as I turned his head towards the entrance, only to find Y/N standing there, eyes filled with tears.

In the most beautiful outfit I had ever seen her wear, she looked like a vision. Panic set in as I tried to explain, don’t know how to explain to her, why he kept canceling their hang outs, why he decided to take another person to their secret hang out spot. "No, Y/N, it's not what you think it is." But the words hung in the air, too late to catch her as she ran out, leaving me helpless in my remorse.

Desperation fueled my actions as I attempted to reach her, but before my fingertips could brush against her, I felt the world breaking down below my feet.

The bustling café faded away, and Jungwon found himself in y/n’s arms, realizing that this vivid scenario was just a cruel illusion. Relief washed over him, and he embraced the solitude, grateful that y/n was in his this reality.

The weight of the dream lingered, prompting Jungwon to reassess his priorities. The guilt he felt was a stark reminder of the potential consequences of his actions. Determined to make amends, he resolved to be honest with Y/N and prioritize their relationship.

“Hey you alright? You slept for like 45 minutes while reading the book.” She chuckled.. the girl that makes him cold Just by his laugh.”

“Yeah I’m fine baby. I’m sorry I fell asleep…” he sighed rubbing his eyes

“No is okay, maybe we should go home now.” Grabbing his hand, and pulling him out of the store. Jungwon felt lucky to be able to have his arms around his beautiful girlfriend in this universe. He made a conscious effort to be present for y/n. In this reality, y/n and Jungwon's bond strengthened, proving that sometimes, even in the face of temptation and mistakes, true love can prevail. Jungwon, grateful for the second chance, cherished every moment with her. ensuring that their story unfolded authentically, free from the shadows of secrecy that once threatened to tear them apart.

; AUTHORS NOTE : omg part 3?!? We are almost coming to the end of jungwon’s series!! (2 more to go!! I’ll be posting twice a week soon🤭)

series taglist : @enhaz1 @dubuii @in-somnias-world @ultimatestayandminoronce @yenqa @euncsace @hoondiors @yannew @mrchweeee @ariadores @oldjws @frukkoneeeeg @dimplewonie @seobstarr @asteria-wood (white = i cant tag)

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aquagirl1978 · 9 months

Text

No Regrets - Chevalier Michel x Reader (Ikemen Prince)

A/N: I had entirely too many thoughts after reading his sequel route, so instead writing some summary, you get this. Part of the Summer Days Sultry Nights event I am co-hosting with @violettduchess.

Pairing: Chevalier Michel x Reader

Prompt: garden party

Tags: spoilers (mild) for Chevalier sequel route - please read with caution - you've been warned.

The table was set, a pot of hot tea and a plate of freshly made beignets were placed in the center. Two chairs, with pale yellow cushions, were nestled by the table. The roses surrounding the gazebo were in full bloom, drenching the air with their sweet, floral fragrance. There was no special occasion for this party, but you needed no excuse to show your love for Chevalier.

Everything was perfect. Everything that was, except that your love was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s okay,” you muttered as you settled into your seat with a book. “He will be here soon enough.”

You were so engrossed in the fairy tale unfolding on the pages before you that you didn’t hear the faint footsteps approaching. You felt him before you saw him; he came up behind you, his face brushing up against yours, your body filling with warmth from his still-clumsy touch.

“You’re late,” you said, tilting your face to meet him, a soft, human smile spread on his lips.

“Indeed.”

No apology was offered, no “I’m sorry” was said. To apologize implied there was something to regret. And there were no regrets – not when it came to you or your country.

“Let me guess,” you asked with a soft laugh. “It was my favorite brother-in-law’s fault?”

“No. Blame Gilbert,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

The mere mention of Gilbert’s name stirred something inside you; the memories of your ill-fated trip to Obsidian still vivid.

But still. Something happened that day in the dungeons.

You didn’t know the details of what happened after Chevalier asked you and Leon to leave him alone with Gilbert. But the two men came out alive; did Chevalier have a soft spot in his heart for his old friend? Perhaps the two weren't so different after all; perhaps the friendship between two book-loving boys could be rekindled in some, strange way.

“Have one, they’re still warm,” you said, holding a beignet close to his lips. As he ate the treat in one bite – they were, after all, his favorite sweet – he closed his eyes as he rested his face against yours, the white tiger feeling safe by your side.

With the alliance between Tanzanite, Achroite and Kogyoku looming over everyone’s heads, it was hard to know what to expect – even Chevalier could not predict what would come next. When you left for Obsidian, it was as Chevalier’s fiancée, but when you returned to Rhodolite, it was as their queen.

He whispered your name as he pressed a kiss to your lips, the sound of him saying your name sending tingles down your spine. “I love you,” he said, looking at you, his eyes bright and blue as the skies this late summer day.

Tightening your grip around his waist, you stole this moment to simply savor the love you shared. With tomorrow’s peace not a promise, there would be no regrets – every moment with Chevalier, no matter how mundane or turbulent, was worthwhile.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady @queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome @kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @violettduchess @umi-adxhira @bellerose-arcana @yarnnerdally @crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @scorchieart @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings @wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage

#summer days sultry nights ccc #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen chevalier #ikepri fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

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hellobunny044 · 8 months

Text

Yours. | One shoot

************************************************************************

An original Haikyuu! AU Pairing Sakusa Kiyoomi and a female oc (I haven't thought of a name, so she is all of you female readers)

short desc. just thinking of post time skip Sakusa meeting the girl of his dream who is a reporter ??? (idk that came out of nowhere) and... I'm bad at describing my work properly so um... expect yourself to find some hopeless romantic trace, cringe-worthy remarks, and a little toe-curling smut at the end - and so, i wish you all good luck bearing with my work. heh heh.

⚠️warning!! 18+ Minors DNI. NSFW content ⚠️

word counts. 13107 words, good luck :)

***********************************************************************

Yours

Supposedly, Sakusa couldn’t possibly remember the last time he favored gatherings, people, and things that would eventually connect him to the public. The search for the word attention had long been eliminated in his terms. If only, that day he did not stop for an interview.

It was the first interview he had ever done in his terms being someone who genuinely hates being put in the spotlight. It was nothing, Sakusa just felt that he had no place in society other than a position as an opposite hitter on a volleyball team... anyway, getting back to the talk, well, actually his first interview was not as what of a disaster as he pictured it.

His first interview was still so vivid in his memory to this day: why he agreed to one (all because of that idiot Atsumu and a particularly tangerine-haired shorty), about the questions, his answers, and most importantly, the who part.

If only he did not stop for that one interview, perhaps his mind would be a little quieter these days.

It was because of a sports reporter for a national television channel that his mind turned into somewhere too noisy for him to hide from the world.

His monotonous and comfortable world fell into a massive transition since the intersection brought them. And don’t get it wrong, Sakusa is one of the many who don’t believe in love at first sight, to tell the truth he would gladly abuse the idea. He would a thousand times rather believe in how good luck charms work than believe in such clichés, until that damned unidentified, unfamiliar oddness struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Logically speaking, she wasn’t really the prettiest girl he had ever seen. And instead of wearing a revealing outfit like some of the reporters on their flirty attempt to get an interview with him, she just wore a track jacket. Track jacket sets, navy blue in color, white sneakers, a small black watch on the left wrist, hair tied in a ponytail and her hair wasn’t something that of a distinguishing tangerine color though she has some bangs, ideally parted just right, her eyes are the same color as her hair which was deep brown, and less make up. If he would say something, compared to most female reporters that he had ever seen, she almost looks like someone who was forced to do an interview yet there is something very bothering about her.

Something about her was just irresistible.

She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, yet she knew how to carry herself. She was not the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, yet her eyes whisper of forgotten familiarity. She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, yet when she laughed, it was as if there was a sprinkle of amusement in the air, and before he knew it, his smile unfolded.

From then on, his head never stopped fussing about her. And on the question “Do you have a girlfriend, Sakusa Senshu?” During his second interview with her, Sakusa’s answer came with a firm, “No.”

That was definitely not for the public. Rather, the answer was for her. To let her know that Sakusa Kiyoomi was single, and perhaps, she could consider that.

Another thing about this woman was that she was a professional at her job. Her eyes never went to check on him when the camera was off, but instead, it was Sakusa’s hobby to steal glances in her direction until one time on an off-air interview session that he voluntarily accepted, the PD suggested that they talked with each other while waiting for the set to be ready.

Her gaze then met his, for the first time, behind the wall that they were two professionally connected.

Her smile unfolded, acknowledgement. Her head bowed, politeness and formality. Her voice warm, pleasantries. Then she turns to the PD to say, “I think I know enough about Sakusa Senshu for there is more left,”

She laughed. How sweet. She has a good laugh. He likes that.

“There is though,” Sakusa said.

Her eyes were on his, before briefly glancing at the staff and returning, “You have a question?”

Sakusa didn’t bother answering that one. Purely an impulse from within him prompted by his inadequacy in small talk, his question was blunt, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

He had enough time to see the gradual change on her face just like how she had enough time to take his question in before reacting.

“Oh?” Her voice low, followed by a small nods before, “No.”

The answer came after some consideration, or perhaps confusion—he didn’t know, don’t ask him whatever. He’s never really good at this kind of stuff in the first place.

Sakusa nodded.

“Why do you ask?” She asked, her gaze on him.

“To make sure,” Sakusa said.

He saw the slight change in her eyes to his words, like something flickering, and didn’t miss it.

“That means, I can get your number without a problem, right?”

Her answer came a little too late for it to be, “Um... yeah... I’ll give you my business card later,” then her smile unfolded just as the frown in her brows, but something about it amusing to the sight, “when we’re done.”

Sakusa hummed. His gaze did not leave even though she already did. He didn’t hide the way he looked at her curiously, studying every inch of her face that wasn’t pretty but somehow wouldn’t leave his head silent every night ever since. When her eyes returned to him briefly, Sakusa hadn’t left, reluctant to.

****

The station corridor is where she gave her business card as promised. Her smile unfolded, but this time it was a little awkward when her hand gave it to Sakusa. Rather than her business card, Sakusa lingered on her eyes and everything he could capture on her face.

And perhaps feeling too much of a stare, she frowned and asked, “What is it?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sakusa shook his head. His eyes leaving as he felt something in his stomach reacting, uncommonly but not uncomfortable, odd yet amusing— who put some damn butterfly and asked them to flap their stupid wings there? He didn’t bother hiding his broken smile, why would he?

“Why are you smiling?”

Her eyes to him, his smile gradually leaving yet it somehow lingered in his eyes, in contrast to the seriousness he masked himself with.

“Why? You don’t like that?”

He waited quite a while for her answer, and in that long time their eyes locked, captivating each other, and spoke to each other in a language that was easier to understand. Yet then her answer was a rejection.

“Hm.”

She got him.

****

Sakusa knew that she was lying. Obviously she lied when she said she didn’t like it when he smiled, because otherwise she wouldn’t have been here to see him on the weekend.

To be honest, she could have refused in many ways. Immediately rejecting him outright when he proposes this whatever date, canceling the appointment at the last minute, or pretending to have forgotten about their plans. But instead, the same woman who said that she didn’t like his smile, showed up in a pretty dress, hair styled differently, smelling a little more sweeter, and some hints of makeup on her face.

It was during their first meeting behind the what-so-called professional wall that all the things that seemed to be silenced breaking free, evident through gazes. Suddenly, Sakusa was no longer a stranger to conversation. He suddenly forgets that in general, he genuinely hates conversations, especially those that are called small talk, stupid pleasantries. However, who was he to choose? Before him is a sure thing.

It was also during these encounters that he became familiar with clichés such as questions about the weather, about complimenting the taste of coffee after the first sip or also when seduction was channeled through gazes, and some new things that had never been taught to him. And the one enlightened him the most, was that when he complimented her on her looks, her eyes went to other places but his that then another smile unfolded.

His heart pounding in joy, a long rhythm of comfort and celebration, yet desperate to jump into her hands, wanting to be held.

It was clear that the more time passed into something old and decrepit, everything that was done was thick with every element of deliberation.

Sakusa returns to his more accustomed silent self, letting his eyes convey his feelings to each second that is left to tick on its own. His eyes on her, her eyes on him, three, six, nine seconds... isn’t it easy to fall in love? Then after enough of looking at each other as they enjoyed the ecstasy of falling in love, they left each other being even sure of what they wanted.

Sakusa’s smile unfolded when he returned to obviously watching her. The woman, intrigued by his gaze, frowned and didn’t forget to smile back at him as her hand put her cup down.

“What?” She asked, and Sakusa shook his head.

Her brow furrowed, and her gaze on him, as if demanding an answer that was obvious between the two of them. Sakusa is clearly reluctant to compromise, a man of few words yet his eyes speak a variety of languages that she can easily understand. But at times, Sakusa can also be the most vocal and outspoken person she’s probably ever known, and an example of this is when he bluntly asks:

“You don’t have a boyfriend?” he asked, incredulous.

His words were like a spark, igniting a flame of amusement in her. She laughed, the sound spilling like a cascade over the rim of her coffee cup.

“Are you really asking that?” she countered, still chuckling.

His tone and eyes flat, yet flickered with amusement, “What else am I supposed to be asking, then? I’m not a reporter,”

Sakusa Kiyoomi is definitely not a sweet talker. His words would be thicker with sarcasm or teasing rather than smooth remarks which was probably something she sought from men. And amused by his sarcasm, as if all too familiar with it, the woman smiled.

“Of course,” she said. “Rather than asking questions, you’re someone more used to answering, aren’t you, Sakusa Senshu?”

Sakusa smiled, drunk in the way she played her tone and words just right. He hummed in agreement.

Her eyes returned to him just before she started, “There’s something else, like perhaps am I your type, or something like that…”

He liked it when her eyes momentarily returned to half-heartedly trying to explain a misunderstanding.

“Well I am clearly not your type,” she mused, her lips quirking in a smirk. He liked it more how she decided to keep things the way it is the next second, clearly not hiding the seduction in her sarcasm. She is a quick-learner, and he loves it when she takes his remarks and plays it like she owns it.

Sakusa didn’t miss a beat. “And what makes you think you’re not my type?” he shot back, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

There was a beat of silence between them, each gauging the other’s reaction. The tension was palpable but not uncomfortable. Finally, leaning his head into his palm prompting the arm of the chair, that damned question slipped out of his mouth mindlessly.

“Am I your type?” he asked, his voice soft and calm, knowing what it could cause in what was to come between them.

His eyes didn’t left any movement she made since the question came, as if anchoring her in his gaze and telling her that there was nowhere to hide from something so unspokenly obvious in the air.

But sipping her coffee was her way of hiding. Winning the silence that was Sakusa’s territory was also her way of avoiding the hand that had almost caught her. How he didn’t bother hiding his feelings from her eyes was a victory for her instead, at least to prolong this little catch-me-if-you-can until the last thread of his despair snapped.

Then after quite some log of stealing much of his time, and enough consideration to decide how much she wanted to reveal, she met Sakusa’s gaze head-on as she set the cup down.

“No,” she said simply, her voice matter-of-fact.

Sakusa’s lips stretched into a grin. “Liar,” he accused playfully, voice low and gentle.

She shrugged, the motion fluid and relaxed. “It’s true, though,” she said, meeting his eyes again, this time smiling.

For a moment, they were both silent, simply regarding each other over the rims of their coffee cups.

Sakusa was the one breaking the silence, asking, “What’s your type, then?”

She locked him in her eyes, wooing him with her eyes yet rejecting him outright through a short, asserting answer, “Not you.”

Sakusa was not backing down, he took the challenge and stared right back. He hummed, “Clearly,”

Just know that cupid did a very great job; they’re just testing their limits.

****

This time her dress was dark red, knee-length and quite covered, and her hair— oh, he didn’t know why women spent their money on stupid things like some big bow clips to wear on the back of their heads, but it gave the impression that they were lovers on their way to have brunch at a fancy restaurant— well, he would love to take her to one, it’s just, let him drink all of the moments during this stupid cringe-worthy date for a little longer, though. He wanted to know her in different ways, from different perspectives, through the traces her feet and fingers left in every corner of Shinjuku. Today it was Shinjuku, next week he could probably take her to Harajuku, then to Shibuya, then have dinner in Roppongi. Perfect.

On their way to a café, Sakusa had asked, “You mean what you say?”

She turned, “Which one?” smile lingering on her face, eyes searching.

Sakusa was silent for a while. Not considering what he wanted to say, rather, taking her in: the look in her eyes, her face, the full picture of her standing before him, halting and waiting for him to come with her, every bit of her in that moment he hung in silence. When his answer came, Sakusa hid a smile behind his flat tone, “That I’m not your type,”

Something just flickered in her eyes and he didn’t miss it.

He knew the answer. It’s just that asserting is important. Oh, and he had yet to add how lovely it was to see her trying to fool him despite the tenderness evident in her eyes.

“Am I still not your type?” Sakusa pressed, his tone laced with a hint of playfulness.

Her eyes on him, letting the silence take over, also letting Sakusa think that he was in control of the situation. Finally, she answered, a clear hum that made the stupid butterflies in his stomach go mad— seriously get the fuck out of there, he’s going to break a laugh.

A huffed laugh, amusing laugh, as he muttered, “Liar,”

She sighed, smiling, “Well, everyone needs a little distraction on weekends.”

“Oh? I’m being promoted as the little-distraction-on-weekends, I see.”

Her gaze on his and the world disappeared on their senses.

Sakusa was the first to break their eye contact as he walked ahead of her.

“This way,” he said, as his hand opened the door and let her in.

It’s nothing, really. It’s just about two people connected in an unspoken desire, enjoying the sensation of falling into an endless abyss called love, fully aware of it, yet in terms where they are only two little fingers away from each other, they never turn to each other to express what is obvious. And just know when you see cupid with a deep frown on her brows, it’s because of these two.

“What about you, Sakusa Senshu?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

“What?”

Her eyes were everywhere but his when she asked, “your type, I mean.”

Her gaze returning, familiar with how Sakusa had waited and would remain so for some time before he answered.

“Red dress, a reporter,” he replied, immediately without hesitation.

Seconds ticked by in silence, their eyes still locked, but the silence was chased away by an amused huff of laughter. Her eyes returned to him when she finished exploring the other side of the cafe, her hand somewhere on her nose, still not recovering.

“It’s true, though,” Sakusa said, his eyes serious and sincere tracing her gaze, as far as she would allow.

She shook her head, “That’s the lie.”

“Really?” He retorted, amused.

She hummed.

“How would you know?”

Her eyes on his, and she smiled, “You like European women,”

Sakusa’s brows rose at her reply, his eyes trailing to her gaze slowly leaving his the second he decided to think about her words further.

He pulls backward in his head, traces back and quickly searches for something about European women then remembers that one time in an interview with some of the other Black Jackals players, Miya Atsumu, that muscle-brained stupid fox, blurted out a statement about how “Omi-kun likes blonde European women with sexy eyes,” when the reporter asked about their Ideal types. He remembered now.

The frown on his forehead was with a smile that spread across his face, amused. “You... Did you look for some things about me?”

Her eyes returned to him, a pause, and as if it took a lot of energy to say something, she took a deep breath, “Well, my job requires me to look for some things about some of the people I’m going to interview, like some key words and highlighted remarks for reference. And yes. Since you’re one of quite a few I’ve interviewed, I did. I did and I found out some things about you, a lot,"

Sakusa nodded, unconcerned with her overly convoluted explanation, “And if so, you also know that it wasn’t me. That was Miya,”

“Answering on your behalf,”

“Answering on my— no—”

“Since you’re mute,”

Sakusa stopped when she chuckled.

“I’m joking, okay?” She said.

“On which part?” He asked.

When she didn’t answer, Sakusa sighed. “Miya didn’t answer on my behalf,”

“I thought you were agreeing afterwards?” She retorted.

Which was true, “Yes– but,”

Meeting his gaze, her brows raised, “No buts.” She said.

Sakusa frowned, “What?”

“We don’t need buts, Sakusa Senshu,” she said, her smile sweet and thick with innuendo. “You don’t need to explain anything to me in the same way I don’t need to explain why you’re not my type."

“Well– logically speaking,” Sakusa agreed. His eyes on hers, she was sipping her coffee after shrugging playfully.

“The last one’s incorrect,” he said. When her gaze returned, he continued, “you are my type.”

There was a missing beat before she retorted: a sigh like she was wincing as she closed her eyes and slightly scrunching her nose, “Too bad, I’m not even a European woman.” She looked him right in the eyes as she said, “and you are not my type to begin with.”

Sakusa laughed. He nodded, humming in agreement, “Keep doing that,” his words a gentle mutter of intrigue, “you’re doing a great job.”

She echoed him in a small laugh and returned to her coffee.

The silence that slipped itself between them was another face of comfort, and perhaps a distraction as she said. And in this long-lasting silence, Sakusa’sgaze doesn’t leave her. There was determination in his gaze; something about finding out more about her through the loudness of her silence, a tenderness that didn’t bother hiding, a certain amount of visible affection, and a hint of possessivity.

Shutting out the world was probably the wrong choice, and before he realized, they were being watched. And finally, someone interrupted.

Standing before him were a couple of girls, much younger than him, staring at him with heart eyes, almost drooling.

When he found out that they were Black Jackals fans as they started attacking him with questions about the clubs and the other player with familiar remarks, not to mention that they were getting closer and about to touch him, a horror threat to his privacy, Sakusa immediately went on high alert. His body was pulled away, and the frown on his forehead deepened when he had to cover his face and look away from the camera phone of one of them who was already happily taking a selfie with him.

Without thinking, he quickly grabbed her hand and led her out of the cafe. Then as they expected, the girls ran after them while shouting his name hysterically. They could still keep running, at least until the girls got tired, or Sakusa could carry her and keep running until the girls lost track of them.

Asking why Sakusa Kiyoomi is popular is like asking why romance books are so popular with girls.

Although he wasn’t the topic of conversation as the hot player like Miya Atsumu, something about Sakusa made girls crazy about him, although perhaps one of the few girls who didn’t like him was this woman.

His senses were too busy alerting for the worst to realize that they were very close.

Later, after making sure that the hysterical screams of those girls faded, Sakusa let out a sigh of relief. As his head lowered to ease his beating heart, and their gazes locked, he realized that it probably wouldn’t be at ease for some time.

The silence that had fit itself between them now was the spokesperson for their feelings that were spilling out of each other’s eyes, and honestly their position was just perfect: her back pressed against the wall, her body locked by his arms, one near her head and the other somewhere that would probably be close to her waist. From then on, in the silence that turned into the ticking of a newly found despair, Sakusa kept highlighting the part that they were in somewhere quiet, far from the public, away from distractions, not even the sunlight could bother them here.

The narrow space created an intimate enclosure, intensifying the connection that seemed to crackle between them. Time seemed to slow to a standstill as they stood there, suspended between reality and the raw, unspoken desire that enveloped them.

Besides underlining the chance in his favor, Sakusa also didn’t stop convincing himself that she was lying when she said he’s not her type— and really, he doesn’t want to ruin anything if suddenly something more than just staring in this damn situation happens. He was willing to put up with it, as long as they could still see each other next week.

That was a story on a different page, one where her eyes don’t look like they are calling him in.

As the tension mounted, Sakusa’s movements became slow, sensual, as he leaned in closer, his lips just mere inches away from hers. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, electrifying their senses. But just as the world around them faded into a blur, she looked away and said, “We should—”

The fuck? She even for a moment looked like she was mirroring something in his eyes, he swore she was breathless and her words were barely above whisper– damn.

Sakusa huffed a disbelieving laugh, hiding the embarrassment, humiliation, and the fact that he was so vulnerably lost in the thought of them finally having their kiss.

“Hotel?” he asked, returning to her. His frown deep but his gaze amused.

Her frown melted into a playful expression, her laughter restrained. “No,” she asserted with a teasing glint in her eye. “Correct yourself before joining me.”

A chuckle escaped Sakusa’s lips as he reluctantly relinquished his grip. He trailed behind her, an invisible thread connecting them.

Catching up, Sakusa corrected himself, “there’s a good caffe three blocks from here,”

They walked the streets of Shinjuku once more, their laughs intermingling, their eyes holding a secret language that only they understood.

They entered another cafe, one with dim lighting and comfortable couches that seemed to invite them to stay forever. They sat close to each other, their fingers almost touching, as they talked about everything and anything.

“You still don’t like the way I laugh?” Sakusa asked, his tone light, as if he didn’t really care about the answer.

She looked at him for quite a while, her eyes taking in every part of him, from the way his hair fell over his forehead to his dark, piercing eyes. It was as if she was studying him, trying to see beneath the surface of the laughter and the smiles.

A flicker of mischief dancing in her eyes. With a subtle lie, she responded, “Hm.”

That was the lie.

Sakusa hummed in understanding, accepting her unspoken truth. His gaze never leaving hers.

*****

“The setters are undoubtedly the favorite,”

In the bar where they met again, what the point was of saying such a thing in front of him? Well, women— he knew where the last stop of this conversation would be. A subtle hum was his answer he took a sip of his beer.

“Kageyama Tobio from Schweiden Adlers and Miya Atsumu from your team are on the constant topic,”

Sakusa hummed.

“But Miya-san is undoubtedly the darling of the fans,” she commented.

Under his breath, Sakusa muttered about the familiar call he had just heard. There was no professionalism in that referring, and Miya-san was too much when he was plainly Sakusa Senshu.

His eyes on her, studying every inch of her face in this topic, studying every fiber of the muscles in her face in every second he braced himself as they entered this topic. He didn’t feel like competing with the hot setter or the whatever-darling of the public, but why should she talk about Miya Atsumu in the first place, though?

Another thing to underline during this conversation was that possessivity in his eyes had become thicker as time grew. And she was not unaware that there was a loud displeasure in his silence as he listened to the whole pleasant description that she delivered so neatly about the blonde idiot— oh obviously it tickled the jealousy hiding behind the possessivity in his gaze.

Amused, she asked, “What?”

His tone remaining in a collected demeanor when he asked, “You seem to be enjoying yourself,”

She cocked an eyebrow, still amused, “Excuse me?”

“Well, he is comfortable in the spotlight— he loves it, I bet,”

“I told you, he’s the darling of the public. Reporters are competing with each other to get an interview with him,”

“Which include you in it,”

“Exactly,” she said. Her eyes on his, “I make a living by who I interview, and it could be Miya-san.”

Sakusa’s possessive nature immediately surfaced, and a frown creased his brows. He almost clicked his tongue when once again he heard the referring. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Sakusa finally spoke up.

“Do you really want to do an interview with him?” His eyes on hers, watching.

“I mean, he’s a great player,” she started, taking the snack they ordered before. His eyes trailing her every movement and stopped in her eyes when she swallowed, ready for another mess she was about to make in him.

“Miya-san is an outstanding player to begin with. I was looking at some stuff about the MSBY Black Jackals and came across something about the best high-school setter in Japan who had participated in the Youth— ah, the setter of Schweden Adlers also went there if I was correct,”

“I was in youth too,” His competitive nature fired up.

“Yeah, but you’re not a setter, Sakusa Senshu,” She replied, her tone calm and collected. Not bothered at all, purposely.

Her pointer played with the rim of her glass, tracing it as she continued, “I’ve done an interview the Adlers’ setter,” her pointer tapped gently on where she stopped, her tone smiley, and when he shifted, she was actually smiling as she said, eyes tracing the memory of that interview, “he was such an angel.” and she returned to his eyes, a moment before she took a sip of her beer and looked away.

That was the most bothering part.

When she finished, she said, “I think I might have to try harder for an interview with Miya-san.”

He did not like Miya-san, and he swore to let that damned Miya-san knows that he hated him with every fiber of his wellbeing.

“I’m telling you, he’s just an idiot, a simpleton,” he prompted his head with his hand and watched her.

“And hot,” she added.

He hummed in agreement and asked, “what about me?”

Her eyes hesitating, inferior to the piercing gaze of Sakusa’s dark eyes since the last time she referred to Atsumu as Miya-san. And despite still continuing with what she believed was right for her to be doing, her fingers playing with her beer glass told him that she wanted to run from that question, knowing that this time if she wasn’t careful enough, her mouth might betray all her efforts to be in control in their little game of pushing gears.

“What?”

“I didn't get any of those things coming from you?” he elucidated, his voice low. His stare locking, sharp yet tenderness lurking behind his dark eyes, possessivity an evident truth.

“Like... just, hey, Sakusa Senshu, not Sakusa-san obviously, is such a good guy. Or that I am good at my play, since Miya-san obviously takes all the crunchy parts for himself.”

Her eyes widened, and she burst into laughter, unable to contain her amusement.

In that moment when time ticked in the clear ringing of her laughter, Sakusa kept his gaze locked on her, taking in the lovely sight of her laughing.

He was actually intent on playing a little annoyed, but all the walls he had built collapsed when her laughter broke out. And like someone had sprinkled intoxicating smiling powder, he echoed her laughter through a vulnerable smile as his eyes traced all of her.

This time, however, he did not forget to tell her, “I like your laugh,” he said, “since the first time.”

When she finally recovered from her laugh, and when her eyes were tender in silence staring into his, Sakusa is to play the annoying little jerk that he wanted.

“Though you still hate my laugh and I am not as hot as Miya-san,” he said.

It took a while for the response to come, and for that she smiled as she said, “Well, I think you’ll have to live up with the fact that Miya-san is hotter than you,”

Sakusa scoffed, childishly retorting with, “yeah, just like the fact that he’s just so amazingly stupid.”

She giggled. He was ready to sip his beer when he said, “Just tell me if Miya-san is free and up for an interview. If you’re willing to lend me a hand of course,”

He turned, almost wincing, “Seriously?”

She shrugged.

Sakusa stares at her for quite a while, only to sigh then shake his head. He then turned away, and took a sip of his beer. When his eyes returned to her, he was surprised to find her waiting for him. Her gaze was warm, and welcoming. The significant warmth that bloomed in his chest at that sight almost had him wincing, and his heart was struggling to get away, desperately begging to be released from his body to jump into her palms.

For a while they were immersed in silence, this was the part where they ran away from their egos and immediately declared what was obvious between them. Through their eyes, in the protection of the loud silence, they were free to express what they had delayed through words.

Then in a moment of vulnerability, when her eyes flickered, her hand reaching out without hesitation, as if familiar with all of him. Sakusa automatically closed his eyes and let her, betraying his ego just once would not make him die. In fact, he would probably die if he dared to stop her hand from going where she wanted of him.

He felt it somewhere in his hair, and opened his eyes to see her hand pulled back, dropping something he couldn’t catch somewhere on the floor. His eyes returned to hers, “What is it?”

Before him, the woman smiled as she said, “I already threw it down,”

Sakusa frowned.

“Just some stuff,” she said.

Sakusa immediately left to search for any trace of it. His eyes only briefly on the floor to return and conclude, “you just want to touch my hair.”

He didn’t miss the way she smiled, and somehow she didn’t even try to hide her smile anymore. But even then, she was still the stubborn woman he knew would say, “No.”

Sakusa stares: taking her in, considering, making sure. Making sure that she was lying. Then the next second was about his hand reaching out to him, his fingers hesitating as they came into contact with her forehead, bringing his eyes back to her briefly before he brought his fingers to just lightly brush her bangs. The blush on her cheeks wasn’t of the alcohol, it was for him.

"Is there something in my hair?" she asked.

Sakusa looked up at her when she said, “No. I just want to touch you.”

Something flushed in her face, the look in her eyes wavered, probably of the alcohol. Clearly it was the alcohol because Sakusa, on the other hand, was also fighting so hard to resist the huge urge of kissing her right away. He shifted, immediately. He was about to take a sip of his beer when he said, “I’ll let you know if that stupid fox is up for an interview.”

“Hm?”

He returned, her head tilted while looking at him in confusion, innocence.

“Miya,” he said, still having enough urge to emphasize, “your Miya-san.”

His eyes did not leave her, locking onto her even as he sipped his beer.

Later when this whatever-date ended, she was drunk enough to be left home alone, so, after calling a taxi, Sakusa decided to tag along and make sure she got home in one piece.

Arriving at the apartment where she lives, Sakusa makes a little dash to open the door for her. And even though she preceded him with her hand opening the door smiling, being familiar and friendly to the taxi driver in the thanks she said, he waited for her. His hand outstretched to help her up, he leaned down. And instead of taking his hand to help herself with, both her hands were brought to cup his face and she warmly brought her face close to his, leaving a soft kiss on his cheek after tracing all the way before it with her warm breath.

“I had a great time.” Her voice was just above a whisper, and somehow fucking unrealistic. Then she pulled away, enough to stare and say, “Thank you, Sakusa-san.”

Her hands are still there on his cheeks.

The world stopped, and Sakusa froze. No, he didn’t. He didn’t freeze. Rather, his entire body was warm. He was so warm and he knew that his face was probably as red as a fuji apple.

Rather than using his hands to help herself out of the car, she helps herself out of the taxi, missing how Sakusa follows her with his gaze, everything she’s done since the moment after she said his name in a familiar calling. Don’t blame him, blame her for making him lose his cool, his composure, his damn self-control– are they something now? Like… what? Was that made her his girlfriend, no?

Sakusa immediately said, “I’ll call you later.”

The woman paused, turning to face him again. She blinked and shook her head, “Not sure If I’m sober enough not to say some incorrect things,”

“You’re correct, I promise,” he replied.

Her smile unfolded, vulnerable.

*****

Sakusa had never considered that Miya Atsumu was his rival since she had left her trace on his cheek that night. Her kiss was definitely a sign of the new thing they were bonding over. Although no cringe-worthy words like I love you, or stupid confession session happened, they were two adults who loved each other and that was enough. Honestly, after that, Miya Atsumu’s name disappeared from his head.

But today was a different story. At an MSBY Black Jackals match, and she interviewed Miya Atsumu with a beaming face full of enthusiasm, the story took a different turn. Miya Atsumu earned his place on the top list of his rivals— and he swore, from the moment he saw how his hand touched hers as he reached for the mic for whatever he was going to do after that, something in the back of his neck snapped.

He no longer had enough good mood left to linger there, shoving Bokuto Kotaro’s hand off of his shoulder as he walked away, coldly ignoring Hinata Shoyo. Far enough away to exclude himself from the boisterous crowd filled with media, his fingers typed out a message to her, a meeting in a place away from everyone’s attention, where there was no Miya Atsumu.

After the message, he waited in a corridor at the back of the gymnasium leaning against the wall, his arms folded in front of his chest. Greeting the footsteps he heard from afar, his eyes shifted, taking in her arrival which started with how she stopped to reply to what seemed to be a very important message, until eventually their gazes met and her steps quickened towards him. No fair, she was so cute.

“Sakusa Senshu,” she should know that right now is not too good a time to call him that way.

Sakusa straightened up to meet her, seeing the smile on her face that broke out sincerely when she said all the praises for him and congratulated him on their victory. His heart warmed at the thanks for a good game, but he was defeated by the intoxicating jealousy. Then without thinking, he blurted out, “I see you finally got to do an interview with Miya,”

“Oh, yeah. Well,” She smiled, nodding. “I didn’t expect that he would stop in front of me either.”

Sakusa scoffed, “Really? Aren’t you the one who’s purposely lining up on the first row to get his attention?”

Eyebrows raised, she frowned, “Huh?”

Sakusa scoffed, “In the end you are only after Miya.”

And her answer that came had only made everything worse, “Well, everybody’s after Miya Atsumu Senshu after he serves us a good game and I was just one of many reporters looking for the star of the match and I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that he was the MVP of this match. He scored 3 aces— and, Sakusa Senshu, I don’t think I need your help to interview Miya-san—“

“You clearly don’t need my help for that,”

Sakusa didn’t care about the hint of confusion in his gaze, his words flowed like a stream of water, “Did he get your number after the interview? Oh, I bet he insisted on shaking your hand,"

“Excuse me?”

Sakusa returned to say, “Which hotel did he ask you to meet at?”

Her brow furrowed deeply, “I don’t like the direction you’re going. This is dangerous,”

“Not as dangerous as you are,” Sakusa cut in quickly, “and I don’t like how easily you go to one person after being satisfied toying with the other.”

“Toying? What are you—“

Sakusa approached, towering over her as his sharp eyes locked onto her, “Yes, toying. You seem to be really enjoying yourself, huh? Knowing you had me under your little fingers while you made your way to another man– what do you want, really? You want me, you—” Sakusa paused, his feelings churning at his dead-end words. He began again, “—you kissed me and I don’t know if you’re greedy enough for someone else or if you were just after Miya from the start,"

There was a silence that made Sakusa even more uneasy. After the answer comes, she laughs, and that’s not really not good. “We’re just doing an interview,” she said, “After all, weren’t you the one who said that you’ll let me know if Miya-san is up for an interview?”

“No, you’re not going there right away,” Sakusa shook his head, adamant, “you missed the part where you had to tell me if you were greedy enough to want me and Miya at once,”

She frowned, "What are you talking about?"

Something on the back of Sakusa’s neck snapped, and he was sure that was the last thread of his despair, of his patience, and of his rationality, all at once.

“My feelings for you are so obvious—”

“No. That’s not—”

“— in fact even blind pig could tell that I stare at you like I would go crazy if I didn’t—”

“—what I mean—”

“— but you had the balls to play with it like it was nothing!”

“No—what?” Something flushed into her eyes, “Repeat yourself,”

Sakusa immediately responded, “no. You heard it.”

Her brow furrowed, “What did you say? Playing with your feelings? And what else was it- toying?" She leaned closer, her gaze challenging, “Try telling me If I wasn’t the one kissing your cheek— and what, playing with your feelings? Do you even know what you're talking about?"

“That’s where all the trouble started,” Sakusa exclaimed, almost snapping.

“What are you talking about, Sakusa?”

All formality, warmth, and respect left her words as she called him by his last name.

“You kissed me and left with Miya, which hotel he asked to meet you at, huh?"

“Sakusa, that one’s—”

“Or did he manage to touch you somewhere before you came to me?”

“Are you really up for the rest of it?”

“And here I am, getting only the scraps of the trace of his hands on you,”

“Sakusa!”

“My feelings for you are real!” He snapped, missing and not caring how she flinched, and subconsciously pulling away when he approached her closer.

“They are fucking real! Ever present, not a past tense! They’re always there to put up with all of your cooing, and tell me I’m hopeless but I sit and dream of the way my hand would traced your face and stupid me for thinking that you would have just a slightest bit of mercy towards me and my feelings but fuck you because my feelings are real for you—”

“So are mine!”

In the seconds she let drown in silence, she gave him a chance, and his silence was too long for her to deal with. However, before it was too late he quickly pulled her as she was about to exclude herself from him. The slightest jerk of his grip brought her back to him, into his eyes.

“Did you mean it?”

She did not answer, deliberately silent to punish him. And rather than having any intention of saying anything, she wanted to leave.

His grip tight against her will to break free. Then a little tighter than before, he pulled her, bringing her back to his eyes that were almost overflowing with all the unspoken truth that had been trying to be silenced. His tone broke as he said, “Tell me you mean it,”

Her eyes leaving him while her hands tried harder to break free but he was clearly too strong for her to handle half-heartedly. Her eyes returned after her last attempt was a repeated failure, “You know what, I didn’t. I didn’t mean any of the thing I said—”

The next second, her breath caught in her throat when he had locked her waist possessively.

“You liar,” And though his tone cold, his eyes vulnerable.

Their lips collided in a heated embrace, tongues intertwined and hands exploring every inch of each other’s bodies. In this kiss, where all the feelings that were previously taboo in words, all poured. Sakusa’s grip tightened as he pulled her closer, his breath hot against her skin. It had been a long time coming, this moment that they had both been avoiding for so long. But now, everything seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in each other. The world around them ceased to exist as they were consumed by their love for each other.

For so long, they had both fought against their feelings, denying the attraction that burned so deeply within them. But now, with every brush of their lips, every touch of skin on skin, they knew that it was all worth it.

Sakusa, melting in vulnerability under her touch, kissed her like there would be no tomorrow for them, like this was the last day that the world would exist. There was despair in every trace he left on her, but he didn’t rush her, he made sure every touch was enough and providing. Before they knew it, they had stumbled upon the wall, but his hand was quick to get behind her head.

They were fragile, succumbing to this moment.

Her hand gripped somewhere that she could grasp of his jacket, only to fail as she was too lost in their kiss, then she went to trace somewhere on his neck, squeezing on the skin which he responded to with a hum. Her other hand went somewhere on his stomach— really, he didn’t want her to stop touching him, he didn’t want her to be finished with him, he didn’t want this kiss to end. He wanted to forever drink from her scent, fight for air with her, dance with her lips against his, and feel her knuckles tracing every inch of his body. It was only after what seemed like forever, with their breath catching, that they finally let go of each other.

Panting against his mouth, she said, “I think now’s the right time for…”

Sakusa immediately connected the last word, “hotel? Yeah. Me too.”

His hands were on her waist and behind her head, caging her possessively, as he caught his breath, while hers were on the back of his neck and somewhere on his stomach. Again after that, unbidden, they went hand in hand to welcome each other into another kiss that this time was softer, unrushing, something calmer and warmer.

But then just suddenly, Sakusa abruptly pulls away from the kiss, having her whining for the sudden loss of contact. His words come quickly after that, “Now? I’ll have to go first, though,”

“Later, then,” she said, her hand slipping to the back of his neck, pulling him to meet her again at the end of her words, “when you’re done.”

Sakusa smiled before their lips collided. This time, both hands curled around his neck, reciprocating the possessivity that had only been shown one-sidedly before, not wanting to be outdone. Unfortunately, this kiss doesn’t last long, interrupted by a familiar voice out of nowhere, a calling that Sakusa will only hear from a particular party.

“Omi-kun!”

Immediately, still drunk in their feelings, they pulled away from each other, trying not to leave a trace to each other when Miya Atsumu got there for Sakusa. They’re lucky they had enough time to part and to slightly wipe the remnants of the kiss.

When Miya Atsumu got there, he immediately greeted Sakusa with his amusing calling. And he who was also familiar with the reporter also greeted her. But later, rather than listening to Sakusa’s words, the hot setter of Jackals was now preoccupied with his own search and it took him a single glance to understand what happened on the scene before he got there. Then right before he lead the way, he turned, “Omi-kun,”

Sakusa frowned, “What?”

The blonde setter’s face was convincing when he said,“you got lipstick on your mouth.”

Sakusa spontaneously touching his lips, to halt and realize when the setter giggled. When his gaze returned, he heard him, “Gotcha!”

*****

It’s funny how at the end of the day, Sakusa was the one who got her all for himself in a very hotel room. Sakusa Kiyoomi, the one’s filthy of his words, accusing her of having Atsumu taking her to a hotel, was the very man having his mouth and hands all occupied once the door to the room closed, blindly tracing over their way to the bed.

Arriving somewhere near the bed, his kisses shifting, tracing every inch of her face, then down, stopping by her lips, then down to her chin, and away down her neck, nuzzling, kissing, sucking, nipping, and licking at the vulnerable spot on her neck that enlightened him with sweet sounds that are her responses to his good work.

Sakusa gets the determination to play longer there, he loves hearing her voice. And as he continues to explore her neck with new things his lips can do to satisfy her desire, he hears her, “you know, before, when Miya Senshu came,”

Sakusa responded in a hum, not stopping. Wicked thought flashing when he heard that name mentioned. They are making out and she dared to mention that very name– no, he’s going to show her who owns her. In the next second, he had her moaning his name when he licked that sweet spot, sucking on it expertly.

Though she stretched herself even more, giving him more access to do as he please, he was wrong to think that she’s stopping, “I didn’t use any lipstick,”

He hummed, still nipping, kissing her neck. “Yeah,” he managed to answer before moving to the other side of her neck.

“And you fell for that one,” she tugged on his hair just enough to make him stop. His eyes on hers, vulnerable, thick with love and lust. In that short pause, he took his time to gaze into her eyes, grateful that they had finally ended up the way he had always imagined. He heard her say, “idiot,”

Sakusa hummed and then kissed her again. His hands quickly guided her arms to lock around his neck, along with how his hands went tracing down her curves, stopping somewhere in her waist for a gentle squeeze.

His kisses continued down her neck, sucking, small bites or gentle licks that made her giggling in amusement, but when his mouth suddenly sucked hard on the crook of her neck, his name left her mouth as an exclamation.

He chuckled, satisfied with her reaction as he returned to kiss her. In between kisses, he said, “but you like it, don’t you?”

She whines and he chuckles. His hands went to undo the remaining buttons of her shirt, and by the last few remaining buttons, he pulled away her kiss.

He went on to kiss her shoulders, stopping by her chest, and the other shoulder before helping her out of her shirt. Following the shirt that he discarded somewhere on the floor, was her hands that went to undo her bra, his eyes wide with anticipation. And when it completely left her body, his face flushed in redness to the sight of the way she shyly presented herself to him. His gaze long admired her breasts, alternating with his eyes, as if studying what was going on and what he should do with it— obviously though, the hunger he had on his gaze was enough to tell that he wanted to feel them with everything.

Slowly, he brought his hand to touch her breast and watched her reaction. Her eyes were on him at first touch, and when she nodded, he immediately brought both his hands to squeeze them, slow and sensual at the first few, and gradually greedier through each attempt. When she moans, Sakusa gains new determination to repeat what he did. Then he switches to his mouth, dominating.

Sakusa is professional in his work on her breasts.

He gives them equal attention when he plays with them. When his mouth was busy playing with one, then his hand would keep the other company. Simultaneously gently squeezing the mound as his mouth sucked on her nipple and the mound of the other, greedy for what he could take in. He was like a hungry little baby being served his last meal. But more than that, he knew what he had to do. He licks, sucks, and swirls his tongue on her breast just right the way she wants him. He puts her on cloud nine with every single thing he does to her, not to mention the sounds he makes in response to her moans.

“This isn’t your first time, right?”

On the edge of the bed where he had laid her down, Sakusa, who was about to return to her neck, halted midway at her question. He looked at her with furrowed brows, “What?”

Somehow in his gaze, there was enough dislike- disappointment. And before he could say anything, her hands cupped his face as she said, “Just asking, pretty boy,”

His frown fading, replaced with a warm dusting on his cheeks as he welcomed her in. A kiss on his lips to soothe him, or an apology for her accusation being so sharp, which brought all over the place below his lips until he finally had to stretch his neck and give her room to go down, tracing him with her kisses.

Her name was warm on his lips, a shudder when she left light kisses in the crook of his neck, and a satisfied hum when she was softly nipping on it.

“Mark me,” he commands.

“Hm?”

She paused, pulling away just enough to ask him, “are you sure?”

He turned, greeting her as his hands tightly hugged her waist, and said, “yeah, as yours.”

Meeting his eyes, she smiled, then leaned in to leave a vulnerable kiss on his cheek. Then her mouth descended, tracing his chin, under, and his neck, with feather kisses. A moan slipped past his mouth when he felt her sucking on a spot behind his ear, as her fingers moved sensually massaging the back of his head. Her name was in his mouth as she continued to repeat it on several other spots on his neck. His hands moved greedily grasping and squeezing her waist as she sucked his neck, just enough to leave a mark.

“Yes—ahh….”

Again, repeating it somewhere else on his neck and he called her name in a whimper. She giggled, and went to kiss the marks she had left gently.

Her fingers went to trace the mark, “They are visible,” his eyes met hers.

“And?”

“They’re somewhere you can’t cover with your jersey, Sakusa Senshu," she said.

His hands trailed down her back, pecking them sensually. When he gave a light squeeze on her back, he said, “Just let them think that my girlfriend is a pervert.”

“Girlfriend?” She frowned, amused.

Murmuring, Sakusa jerks her closer to him, “what are you then?”

She chuckled, “yeah, girlfriend. And clearly they don’t know that the boyfriend asked to be marked as hers,”

"What then?" He retorted. He went to kiss her shoulder and arm.

Coming back to her briefly, he heard her, “don’t make me famous, please.”

He chuckled and went to kiss her collarbone gently, tracing. But while he was so lost and determined to left more trace, she pushed him, then said, “Let me,”

Then her lips were on his chest, tracing them with soft kisses, licking it with her hot, wet tongue, and as she played with his nipples, he moaned her name, his hands tracing her back greedily, possessively.

Her kisses are brought down and her eyes open with anticipation as he gets further down. His hands in her hair, not missing a second of the moment when she goes down for him. His moans a shudder as her hand brushes over his clothed cock, rock hard for her name on his lips. His hands scratching the back of her head and press her to kiss his stomach more. At the sensation that was heating up and making his chest tight with anticipation, she pulled away almost too suddenly for him to even react. Her eyes returned to how she had held him, neck stretched to meet his gaze.

Finally, she said, sighing, “I really am hooking up with a Black Jackals member,”

They stared at each other for quite some time in silence. His hand went to reach her face, stroking it gently. His heart swelled with love and affection seeing how she closed her eyes, melting under his touch, and returned to look at him warmly, mirroring the affection and love he had for her. Finally, he said, “as long as your feelings are real,” voice barely a whisper.

“They are,” she responded immediately.

She pulled away to release her embrace, and brought her hands to start unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants. His chest tight with anticipation as her hand traced his cock while looking up at him. But what makes him throbbing with desperate need is when she goes down to kiss him while locking gazes with him. He’s hot, red, and overcome with need.

Then she strips off his briefs, giving room for his hard, angry cock. In her palm, he couldn’t calm down and instead gets greedier with need. He hissed, subconsciously jerking his hips towards her hand. His moans were a series of disjointed, imperfect shrudders of pleasure, and she quickly cut it off.

Her hand on his stomach, calming him. Then when he looked down, her gaze laced with teasing.

“Relax, big guy,” she said, her voice soft. And he did calm down, completely surrendering to her mercy.

Her hands moved to start playing with his length, leaving kisses on the red tip as his hand ran through her hair, tugging them from time to time. Then other kisses went down his entire length as her hands moved to continue pumping him, and in the end, she made sure to meet his gaze as she gave him a long, hot lick on his length. His cock twitched, his greed firing.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “That was so hot.”

She smiled, giggling. She seems to be enjoying herself as she plays with his cock. Her other help to further lower his pants down, letting him get off of it to rush back and submit himself to her hands. The remnants of his sanity leaving his body in each of her strokes, he was on cloud nine.

“Relax, it’s just my hand,” she whispered, her voice cold and evil.

“Fuck! Your hand… your hand feels… s’good…”

She increased her speed, only to turn him down as he was so close chasing his high, starting over with slower pumps— this definitely wasn’t the first time she’d done this.

In the midst of his thoughts being solely occupied with his cock in her palm, and he let out a satisfied moan at her work, he managed to say something.

“What about you?” He hissed when he saw the way she pumped his cock in her palm, expertly destroying him.

“What?” He asked, his gaze on the innocent.

“Is this your first time?”

Their gazes met, and she was not surprised as he was. Her hands remained focused on working him out just how he wanted.

Then her answer came at last, a, “Yes,” as she gave a nasty lick to his cock that almost had him losing his mind, “you are,”

When her hot mouth captures the entire of his long-hardened length, aching and desperate for her touch, keening for it, his world momentarily disappears from his senses. Suddenly, she is everywhere filling him up. In his hearing, above and below the surface of his skin, lingering on his tongue, everywhere in his entire being filled with her.

Each pump, each of the ways she sucked him deeper into her mouth, taking him flying higher in pursuit of his high. She knew exactly what she was doing when she was working on him, and like someone whose senses were filled only by her every second she was destroying him with her mouth and hands, Sakusa clearly couldn’t hear how desperate his moans sounded with every minute the intensity of her touch felt less and less like enough.

He was desperate as he whines for more, closer to his high, subconsciously helping himself with small thrusts into her mouth and hands.

“Please… please… please…”

She had him going crazy, completely losing his mind in her unforgiving touch. Under her touch, there was never enough. Every time the high felt so close, it was like he had to try harder to beg to be delivered there immediately. His breathing ragging, racing with all the incoherent, uncharacteristic utterance that slipped past his mouth the further she took him. He couldn’t feel anything, just her, and the powdery bliss of her hands and mouth rubbing against his length.

He was at the end of his rise, almost arriving at the place where he could see stars, when her mouth and hands worked doubly fast and intensely in their work down there— oh god, was this heaven? He swore he moaned as loudly as that one of a porn he had once accidentally watched in high school and he now knows why that time the actor had to moan so disgustingly. His eyes rolled to the back of his head he swore he could see his skull. Her name came out of his mouth like a prayer, a mantra dominated by all sorts of begs.

One long suck, and his eyes returned to her at her mischievous hum and he was done, coming in a long, thick white rope inside her mouth. His first orgasm struck him like a tsunami.

He braced himself towards her, hands gripping on her shoulders, eyes locking with hers. He jerked his hips deeper into her mouth as he chanted her name desperately, and she rolled her eyes whilst taking all of him in. However, he doesn’t stop yet, his first one is probably quite a lot for her to handle and she coughs.

Worried, Sakusa immediately pulls himself out of her mouth while soothing his throbbing length with short, fast pump. He grimaced, groaning, then he returned to her, with enough worry and guilt, cupping her face and asked, “are you okay?”

She was still coughing, her hand somewhere on her mouth, yet she still managed to lick the remnants of his cum on her hand and on the tip of her lips afterwards, a wicked sight that shot right to his cock. Sakusa almost whimpered as the sensation that came over him made him hard again.

“That was pretty fast,” she commented. She smiled at him, her eyes mirroring his own.

Sakusa sighed, “Yeah, you worked really hard for it.”

“It was fun,” she winked.

Sakusa’s voice was low, and his gaze dangerous when he said, “you naughty little demon.”

She laughed at his words, quickly adjusting herself to immediately releasing her bottom without being asked to. He came hard to the sight as she lay down for him, clearly under his mercy. Her face flushed with shyness as he took all of her in, trailing every inch of the full picture of her raw beauty in his gaze.

“Stop gazing,” she said.

And Sakusa immediately stopped, his gaze returning to her eyes as he descended.

“Is it wrong for me to look at you?”

“No,” she replied. Her hand went to move the pillow away, not needing it. She caught him in line with her legs, blushing when she saw him kiss them gently and attentively. Her heart swelling with love and affection at what she had just seen, and when his eyes returned to her, his hand briefly took hers.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers.

“Because I’m naked, and at your mercy,” she retorted.

Sakusa shakes his head, contrasting with how his hand slowly, sensually, strokes her leg, going between them.

“You know, even though I really want to fuck you right now, I want you to feel comfortable,” Sakusa said, eyes never leaving her through each strokes.

Her brow furrowed, catching his words amusingly, “I don’t know whether to be pleased, touched, or honored of what I just heard— is that your confession?” She asked.

“Don’t try,” he warned, his dark orbs piercing through her, “I mentioned every damn word pretty clearly just now.”

Silence falls upon them, and in the silence, the temperature in their bodies rises along with the tension that is also mounting. Within each touch, Sakusa gives the message that she is his, that no one else has the right to mark what is his and he is quite competitive and determined in this regard. One last touch and he gave her a light squeeze and gentle look in her eyes yet his tone a command, “spear your legs.”

She spread her legs for him, shyly at first.

“More,” he said.

And more.

“More,”

“I think that’s—“

Sakusa’s eyes are on her, sharp and coldly piercing, demanding, “More,” his low, deep voice sending shivers down her spine, and something down there throbbing with need. Her eyes narrowed in desperation as she whimpered his name, she felt a quick wetness down there.

“Sakusa-san…”

Her breath caught in the back of her throat when his mouth cupped her pussy quickly, kissing her in the way he kissed her lips, something that made her mind go on an instant error. Her moan a naughty, reciprocated with a satisfied hum that makes her slowly tighten up. How could she not? His tongue and lips know what exactly they are doing, licking, sucking, then slightly swirling a circle that makes her breath catch in her chest.

“Don’t stop right there— ahh…. Don’t… please don’t….”

He hummed, working his tongue like an expert who never failed in his first try. For a moment, just a moment, she thought that he might be lying about this being his first.

Her hands reached for his, locking his fingers with squeezes every time he did his thing, finishing her with a pleasure that left her only craving for more. His name in her mouth a barraging of desperate whine, needy moans, and though he let her press his head deeper into her welcoming cunt, each time he denied her when she was so close to be done.

“Please… I want to cum,” she whines, eyes glossy with need, despair, lust, and love.

He hummed.

The next time his name slips out of her mouth in a whine, he slips a finger into her hole, and his name is a satisfied cry as he pulls them out and pumps them in along with his tongue at work on her clit.

Her ragged breathing, needy moans, and words of praise, as well as his name almost a prayer in her mouth becomes music to Sakusa’s ears.

“Sakusa-san… Sakusa-san… don’t stop don’t stop….” She mindlessly muttered.

And when two of his fingers fit themselves into her holes at once, his name a pleased shuddering, begging him not to stop.

Sakusa knows better and does exactly what she wants, gladly satisfying her while pumping himself at every sound she makes on his work. He comes once again just for her voice and the sweet taste of her juices in his tongue— it sounds pathetic and exhausting, but even then, his cock was still too excited to the thought of her.

With increased speed and intensity, his fingers and mouth bring her to the star she’s been desperately wanting to see, and his name a barrage of satisfied cries interspersed with sweet moans. His fingers creamy when he pulls them out, and he licks them in her watch.

His other hand was still pumping himself lazily as their eyes locked together in silence, drowning in the love and lust thick in the air, begging for immediate repayment.

The first to break the silence, she said, “that wasn’t really the fuck part.”

Sakusa smiled, “I know right,” he said. “I’ve been pumping myself.”

She chuckled, “Oh, I bet you really want to fuck me.”

“I’m rock hard just because you call my name, is that a good enough answer to make you let me fuck you?”

Their gazes locked together.

“Or should I just keep pumping myself on my own with you watching me?” He asked.

Sakusa waits quite some time for her answer, and his hand doesn’t stop pumping his still hard and very excited length. His heart racing, and honestly, he’s at the limit.

“Why would I watch you pump yourself?” She said finally, spreading leg open for him.

Sakusa smiled. Still pumping his cock lazily, he brought his length closer, lining against her entrance.

Sakusa doesn’t immediately insert his length into her, he lets the tip in for a while, then pulls it out, kissing her awaiting cunt with the tip and repeating it a few times until she says, “don’t tease.”

Sakusa smiled, not stopping what he was doing, this time locking his gaze with hers.

“Sakusa…. Please…” she begged, face flushed red, desperate.

“Please what?” He didn’t stop, “I didn’t recall that you’re desperate to be fucked.”

He enjoyed the sight of how her breathing was ragged and her gaze was pleading. Her hands reaching for him desperately, and though he won’t stop teasing her until she begs for it, he didn’t leave her alone and catches her hand in his.

“What is it, babygirl?” He cooed, tone gentle, fingers intertwining with her own. “What do you want, hm?”

“Please… I want to feel your cock inside me…”

He groaned.

“Fuck me, Sakusa-san, please,”

Her words shot right through his hard rocking cock. He groaned as she giggled, realizing she got him again. This time, though, he let it be.

“Fuck, I want to fuck you so bad…”

The next second was their moans coming together in satisfaction as he finally slid himself into her cunt. His hand fell down to hold the weight of his body beside her head, the other still locking with hers, squeezing each other in bliss.

“Fuck! You’re so tight!” He hissed, having trouble going deeper with his size inside her tightness, not yet used to him.

Underneath she softly whimpered. Her hand looping on his arms, clinging to it, squeezing like her life depends on it.

“F-fuck— Just a little more,” he peered down, then left a kiss on her forehead, “ahh... just a little more and I promise it’ll feel good.… f—shit! You’re so tight— is it hurting you? Are you okay?”

When she didn’t answer, Sakusa called her name, panic evident in his eyes. His hand went to guide her back to his eyes, “Hey,” his voice soft. “Talk to me,” he said, “are you okay?”

She smiled, chuckling, “Yes… I am okay.”

His eyes on hers for quite some time, searching for something that spoke of doubt or fear to find nothing. His hand then went to wipe her sweaty face, his touch gentle.

“It’s… started to feel good now,” she said

Sakusa hummed, obeying with a few slow thrusts as he helped himself in. His free hand immediately sought her out, spreading their fingers together to lock back as he brought himself in deeper with each thrust. His hand tightened against her, locking possessively and protectively.

With each thrust, he gambled with what was left of his sanity not to do this depravedly in one go, but the looser and more accustomed her walls became to him, the less he could resist turning up the intensity of each of his thrust. Their moans were in sync, something that spoke of satisfaction and blind, raw pleasure, where love and lust melted into one. He drew himself closer to her as he left her hands, leaning down, longing for her warmth and she welcomed him with a hug. He murmured her name in her ear, nuzzling further into the crook of her neck, and nipping. Her hands snaking on his back, gripping, scratching sensually.

“Oh my god you feel so good, baby…” he moaned, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts.

“You want my cock to thrust deeper into you, don’t you? You want it to keep filling you, don’t you? You want it to fuck you, don’t you? Should I continue fucking you?” He rasped in her ear,

“Yes please, Sakusa…” Her head nodding mindlessly, she moans desperately, begging, almost crying with need.

“We gotta say it, baby,” he said.

“Yes please, don’t stop fucking me, Sakusa—ohhh….” She says it clearly in his ear and Sakusa completely throws his morale after that, gone brutal in the pace he sets as he manages to hit the spot that had her moaning even more desperately in a barrage of his name.

His name a barrage of prayers, greedy whimpers, pornographic moans and everything else in his hearing the entire time his cock hitting that spot perfectly on each attempt and all praises, whatever it is:

“Oh good it feels so good Sakusa… please don’t stop…. Oh yes right there… Sakusa…..!!!!!”

She came once more, creaming the tip of his still rock hard cock with her sweetness. Sakusa groaned, his cock hard. He’s about to come once again. His hands quickly flipped her over to bend, exposing her ass to him, her hands and knees on the bed. She gasped for air when he immediately inserted his length without a warning. He groaned at the familiar, welcoming sensation. Her walls were still pulsating and still warm, the imprint of his cock still there. His hands held her waist steady on the first, intense thrust and made her gasp for air in an imperfect moans.

Sakusa positions himself better before he thrusts again, this time having her perfectly moaning. Before his next thrust, he stops and kisses her back, curing his longing for the warmth of her body. Welcoming him who traces along her shoulder with a soft kiss, she reaches towards him. Her hand scratched his head as he squirmed on her shoulder, and he hummed to acknowledge her. He briefly kissed her arm.

When he finally pulled away, their room was again filled with their colliding moans as his waist continued to help him push himself deeper and deeper into her, deep where he remembered a spot that would make her moans in contentment.

It wasn’t long enough for him to stay in that position, as he was quickly missing her warmth to him, craving her touch. He went closer, hugging her while calling her name desperately, longingly. He kissed her back and shoulders, the back of her neck while his hands went to trace her curves as his waist continued to work to bring his thrusts home, repeatedly hitting that spot that had his name slipping out of her mouth in a mindless plea, a satisfied, pornographic moan.

He began to lose his rhythm as her walls pulsed, squeezing him in. He groaned at his name as a desperate call in her mouth when she was close.

“Sakusa-san…” she called out, desperate, glancing through her shoulder.

He responded, calling her name in each of his thrusts.

Her hands reaching out, calling out to him once more. And he greet her, kissing her fingers and letting her touch him.

“Sakusa-san….”

He called back to her name, and said, “I’m close…” voice trailing, unable to contain himself for any longer. His rhythm was messy, just a raw need of wanting to be done, to see those stars again with her walls wrapping him.

“Me too…” she said.

He pulled her into a short, intense kiss. Then in the midst of their hazy thoughts of exploding lust, she asked breathlessly, “Are you mine?” hands still tangled in his hair, squeezing him.

Sakusa replied, catching his breath, “yours… yeah… forever…”

And she asked again, “you promise you won’t leave me the next morning?”

Sakusa nodded breathlessly, “I won’t leave you, I’m yours…. I’m yours…. yours to take…”

Then she pulled him into an intense kiss and ended it with a desperate moan, “Oh…. So good— god I’m so close!!!”

“Yes…. Yes…. Have me with you, baby… I’m so close too…” Sakusa answered.

She responded with an incoherent hum, a proposal, “Inside please,”

Sakusa’s mind was foggy but he managed to make sure, “Huh?”

“Inside,” she asserted.

“Y-yeah?” he asked, breathless.

She nodded, “cum inside me, please,”

Sakusa doesn’t need to be told twice, he picks up the pace and lets her cream on him as his name slips out of her mouth mindlessly, and shortly after she comes, he follows, breaking into the rhythm of his thrusts as her name is the final fragment of satisfaction on his ride. He did not just see stars, heaven was all along in his every sense.

He fell, his body limping against her on the bed as exhaustion finally rippled their muscles. For some time they are silent, focused on calming themselves and catching their ragging breaths.

Sakusa is the first to recover, and is calm enough to bring himself to kiss her back, her shoulders, the back of her neck, and whispering a thank you in her ear, and was responded with a hum and a soft kiss.

After that there was only silence, and also love bubbling in the air as they became too tired to talk. However, when Sakusa slowly trailed his arm to cage her, he had enough urge to say, “I bet your hot Miya-san can’t do something like this,”

“I will bet that he’s the type to last longer in bed though,” she retorted.

Sakusa chuckled, “yeah, clearly. Atsumu’s a bed master. A professional playboy.”

“And you?” She asked, hunching her shoulder slightly as she peeked on her shoulder.

He welcomed her affectionately, nuzzling his nose into her cheek, “I’d say a dedicated lover.”

She hummed, a skeptical hum, then added, “Or you can also say, a jealous, possessive, hyper protective, high-guarded little brat.”

Sakusa hummed, finding his comfort in the crook of her neck.

Then she said, “Now get off of me.”

Silence, then, “No,” he said, giggling against her shoulder.

“You’re going to hurt my back, Sakusa-san,” she said.

“I’ll massage you later…” He gently muttered, a cute plea with a pout as he peered into her.

She sighed, “I warned you. We’re not sleeping like this.”

Sakusa hummed.

She turned to meet him, and just like that he understands what she needs and gives it immediately. Another kiss on the lips. Tender, unrushing, a promise.

#sakusa kiyoomi #msby sakusa #sakusa x reader #haikyu x reader #sakusa smut #haikyu smut #haikyu post time skip #original story

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