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pochipop · 2 years

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＃MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — ASKING THEM TO SLOW DANCE AT THE PARTY.

#. synopsis! — asking them to slow dance with you at the official rfa party .

#. characters! — jumin, yoosung, hyun (zen) .

#. warnings! — none .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

𖦹. ━ JUMIN !!

Jumin took a few ballroom dancing classes when he was young, but never found himself enjoying it. He'd only attended diligently because his father had insisted that he do so, and back then, Jumin had yet to learn how to stand against that man's frivolous wishes. Thankfully, the need to attend the classes went out the window after Jumin's father and one of the young, female instructors ended their fleeting relationship. So, he never went back, and the proper way to dance elegantly with a partner that Jumin once memorized in order to appease those around him eventually got lost to time.

When you take hold of his hand, your warmth seeping from your palm to his own, and ask him if he wants to dance with you to the slow song that just began playing. . . He hesitates.

"I'm not much of a dancer," he says, —but he hates the way that little twinkle of excitement in your eyes dies out like a meteor crashing to Earth's surface.

You're not going to force him to do something he's uncomfortable with, and that much he knows for certain. But he also knows that you've put yourself in some very precarious situations in order to help and even protect him, and he feels it would be wrong to deny you something so small. In the end, if he were to make a fool of himself, you'd still love him. You'd still be there, even if everyone else were to turn his way and laugh. Your opinion matters to him more than anyone else's in the room.

"As long as you're alright with having me as a partner, though. . . I'll give it my best," Jumin adds.

It doesn't really matter to you how he performs. You just want to feel his hands on you, holding steady along your hips with your own arms around his neck. This isn't a dancing competition, after all, you're simply seeking closeness and something a little romantic to sweeten the pot. Two slow songs had gone by, and you were worried that as the party drew to a close, you might not get another chance to ask. By the time the third one began, you'd gathered up nerve to do so, and you were elated when he didn't choose to turn you down.

Your heart bursts as the dimmed lights glimmer off his eyes. A rainbow of colors reflects off his irises like stained glass windows to the soul. He takes one of your hands in his own, and you watch as his long, lithe fingers find their homes in the slits between your own. His other arm reaches out, allowing the flat of his hand to match the curve of your body, touching just along your side. Sheepishly, you bring your free hand up to rest along his shoulder.

Even now, when you can feel the stiffness and slight apprehension in his body and in the way he moves, Jumin looks as elegant as ever. There's something regal about him, as if he were born with such high confidence and the ability to work his way smoothly through any situation. Of course, you've seen many sides of him by now, but. . . You'd still venture to call him princely, even after knowing all you do.

When you meet his gaze and offer him a small, bashful smile, his lips curve up at the edges.

"I feel honored when you smile at me," he comments softly, mumbling the words into your hair before pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

Some eyes naturally draw to Jumin as he dances with you, stiffness melding into something much more fluid as he relaxes into the movements. You know a few women here at the party are looking on with scorn in their eyes, jealous of you for being so close to the man they dream of. Still, you can't bring yourself to care much about them when Jumin pulls you closer, his grip steadying.

Others are simply shocked that Jumin is dancing with someone so intimately, seeing as he's gone the vast majority of his career without ever parading a lover about. And even now, that's hardly what he plans to do. He doesn't care if people don't understand. . . All that matters is that you see right through him as if he's made of glass. Shattered glass that you've somehow managed smoothed back together.

You've taken the mangled threads inside him into your graceful hands, nimble fingers untangling the mess he's been caught in for as long as he can remember. You've soothed the ache inside him, —and your heart skips a beat when his breath ghosts against the shell of your ear as he whispers to you that he loves you.

𖦹. ━ YOOSUNG !!

Yoosung has lived a fairly normal life, all things considered. He never learned how to slow dance, just like many young men his age. There wasn't really a reason for him to do so, and if he's being honest, the idea of it has never particularly appealed to him. After all, you're the first lover he's ever had, and he's at least eighty-five percent sure that you need a partner to slow dance with before you can really figure out how to get the hang of it.

So, when you ask Yoosung if he'd like to dance with you, he initially panics a little, worried that maybe slow dancing is just something everyone knows how to do, and somehow he's been left completely out of the loop.

"I. . . I don't really know how," he admits, "—but if you want to, then I'd like to try!"

If you were anyone else, he'd have wrapped that up by requesting that you not make fun of him for having no clue what he's doing. But, you are, in fact, you, and Yoosung knows that you're not the type to make fun of him when he's making an active effort to please you.

The music is soft and slow. It plays in the background like a living soundtrack synced to your heartbeat as Yoosung puts his arms around your middle and you rest your hands along his shoulders. He shivers under your touch, still reeling from the idea that someone like you is his, —his to love, to respect, and to admire like you're some celestial being that ascended from the heavens above. His heart is beating like a drum, and with you being so close, his cheeks flush a pale pink at the idea that you may be able to hear it.

"Am I doing this right?" The blond asks, glancing down at his feet for the fifth time within a minute, careful not to step on your toes.

"You're doing fine," you reply, massaging your fingers into his shoulder ever so gently in hopes that it might soothe some of his worries.

Yoosung feels his heart blossom at your touch. He's never felt like this before, and he's not sure what to do with himself. His heart throbs more with every brush of your fingertips, and all he can think about is you, —your eyes that temper the anxiety as it crawls up his spine, threatening to send him into another downward spiral. Your lips that he's brushed his own over, and every single time it's sent a shockwave of starkly innocent pleasure to every cell in his body.

"It doesn't even matter how you dance," you add softly, "—as long as I'm dancing with you, I don't care about anything else."

He feels himself melt like wax under a wick's flickering flame. If he could, he'd like to crawl inside your heart and live there, safe and warm. Yoosung feels comfortable here, when he's close to you and has nothing left to hide. His walls have come down, and you've embraced him, —all of him. The broken young man he still is on dark, lonely nights as well as the smiling student he shows the world so they won't worry. He wants you to see every face, meet every version of him, because he knows you'll love each and every one of them down until he's learned how to weld himself back together again.

"I'm really happy to hear that," he says, voice nearly catching in the back of his throat.

You feel his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer to him. When you rest your forehead against his chest, he doesn't bother to bite back the happy smile that forces its way onto his face.

This is what true love feels like. . .

𖦹. ━ HYUN (ZEN) !!

Hyun is no stranger to dancing. In his line of work, he's mastered lots of talents in order to be eligible for a wider array of roles. It's certainly paid off, if his diverse history of characters and projects is anything to go off of, —but even so, dancing with his lover seems to present a completely different challenge. There are so many more emotions with this; real ones that he doesn't have to muster up the skill to act out. These are raw and just about as genuine as Hyun has ever felt anything at all, —so authentic that it's driving him wild.

It's not that he fears messing up. Much the opposite in fact, Hyun is fairly certain everything will go his way, and even if it didn't, he knows you would be the last person in the room to laugh at his expense. Still, he's never been in love. Not for real, anyway. He's played a lovesick fool under blindly white lights or up on a velvety stage, but he's never let someone in like this. He's never torn himself open to let someone else see everything that lingers below that confident, handsome surface. You're the first to know him inside and out, and that scares him as much as it quenches his anxiety.

When you ask him to dance, he shoots you a smile and quickly agrees, but you take note of the way his crimson eyes quiver. The sharpness of them dulls a bit, —and you make note of it, reminding yourself to tread gently with him.

While he plays up the inner beast that seeks to devour his love, you know well and good that sometimes, that so-called beast is nothing more than a silly little puppy frolicking behind in Hyun's shadow.

"I've slow danced for performances before, but this. . . This is my first time with someone I actually love," Hyun admits.

His strong arms are tight around your waist, keeping you close to him, while your arms are wrapped around his neck. He guides you, clearly being the more experienced of the two when it comes to dancing of this kind, —and he does it with such delicate precision that it's hard to imagine he could be anything less than perfectly confident about it. But, then again, Hyun does seem to be completely and utterly golden in nearly every aspect, almost too much to be real. . . And yet there's something much less flattering (in his own eyes, anyway,) that lingers below the surface.

"It still feels a little bit like a dream," you admit, "—to hear you say you love me, that is."

With robotic precision, Hyun guides you in this dance. His grip is secure and snug, but far from tight. He offers just enough pressure to set your heart on fire.

"Really?" He blinks, shocked to hear you say that to him, as if you've managed to read his mind and spout his own sentiments right back at him. "I feel like I should be the one saying that to you."

The giggle that erupts from the back of your throat leaves Hyun laughing softly with you before he bends over slightly and presses his forehead to your own. Sighing gently, he mumbles your name under his breath. Your heart skips a beat at the mere sound of it as it falls from his full lips. If it were physically possible, he'd pull you close. But, unfortunately for the both of you, it's not, —especially if you're keen on continuing this dance with him.

Hyun likes that there's no pressure here with you, no demands that he knows he has to meet at the end of it all. You don't want anything in particular from him. . . You just want him as he is, no qualifiers or conditions attached.

This, he thinks to himself, is what falling in love feels like.

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fury176 · 3 years

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I'm so happy for them my heart bursts into fireworks _(:з」∠)_

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity #renga #langa hasegawa #reki kyan #my stuff #here's wild fact #when i was sketching the one with hands it was like #i'm drawing p*rn or something adsdfsf #for some reason i got a bit embarrassed?#like #you can't SIMPLY draw it alright IT'S INTIMATE #..idk how ppl still doubt they love each other #IT'S ALL OUT THERE BEFORE YOUR VERY EYES jeez

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kaizoku-gary · 2 years

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Nice and slow

- Love and lust. What a wonderful combination.

Pairing: Bartolomeo x Straw Hat g/n reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Word count: 2323

Warnings/Tags: nsfw, dry humping, fingering, first time, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, tender sex.

Summary: Barto and you have been together for a while now, and you wonder if his overexcited self could handle a little more... Fire.

A/N: This is nothing but a self-indulgent work of filth.

Help! I've fallen for Barto and I can't get up.

Read it on AO3

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Bartolomeo was shaking underneath you, barely keeping his overwhelming emotions under control. You were straddling him, wearing nothing but your underwear. Your hand grazing over his well-defined abs, and his clothed erection pressing delightfully against your crotch.

"You know we can stop whenever you want, right?" You reassured with a soft smile, afraid that he was gonna pass out from joy like the last time you tried to be more intimate... and the one before that... And the one before that too.

"I... I'm fine, babe," Bartolomeo said and his blush deepened. His eyes avoided yours for a few moments. The feared captain of the Barto Club was nothing, but a shy mess and you simply loved it.

"You are so beautiful, Barto," you said cupping his cheek in your hand, caressing it with your thumb, and leaning down to place a soft kiss on his lips. The cannibal sighed and melted under your touch. The time stopped around him and a single happy tear ran down his face.

The warmth of your skin against his and the mixture of tenderness and lust in your kisses were making him harder by the second, but his strong feelings for you restrained him, making it almost impossible to touch you or even move.

Your own arousal was testing your patience and gradually clouding your mind, but for the sake of your poor boyfriend's heart, you had to be gentle. This was his first time and you needed to help him overcome his nervousness before you could bring things a step further.

You reckon he’s made a lot of progress in the time you’ve been together: he was now able to look you in the eye for more than a minute without turning into a mumbling mess or touch you and kiss you without crying -too much- or hyperventilating. But all of this was a whole other level and you needed to be extra careful.

With your lips still on his, and your thumbs stroking his face, you began to slowly roll your hips against him; chuckling at the desperate whine Barto let out. Feeling his growing bulge rubbing against your own arousal.

"Oh, babe~" Barto moaned, before hiding his flushed face under his hand. His entire body was trembling like jelly.

"Everything alright, love?" You whispered in his ear, and he shuddered.

"Y... Y... Yes~" He replied between heavy breaths, and you continued grinding your hips against him, all the while peppering soft kisses on his face.

"Good boy," you cooed tenderly stroking his hair, and the pirate squealed inside.

"Ooh... that feels... so good~" Bartolomeo moaned softly as your mouth traveled to his neck, lightly nibbling, and licking at his sensitive skin. The tip of your fingers began massaging his scalp to the pace of your hips and Barto purred your name.

"You're doing a great job, baby," you praised between kisses, noticing he was more relaxed now and responding quite well to your ministrations.

Hesitant hands moved to the small of your back and trembling fingers began drawing circles on your skin. The sudden sensation drew out a faint moan from you, and you arched your back seeking more of that delicious electric feel. Luckily, your boyfriend got the hint, and his hands began stroking gently up and down your back, matching the tempo of your hips.

Your mouth met his again, and you sucked on his lower lip before sliding your tongue inside Barto’s mouth, feeling his sharp teeth brushing against it. His taste was intoxicating; better than the sweetest sake you had ever drunk. It made you feel dizzy with passion.

The room was quiet except for the sweet sounds of pleasure coming from both of you and it felt like the universe itself had stopped moving just to give you some privacy. Nothing else mattered now, problems and worries were long forgotten, buried under thick layers of affection and pleasure.

Bartolomeo’s hands became eager as if he didn’t want to let a single millimeter of your skin unexplored; kneading and squeezing while he whispered your name with devotion. His long fingers ran down your sides and grasped at your hips as you pressed harder against him.

"Would you let me try something else, my love?" You asked, emphasizing your words with another agonizing roll of your hips.

"Y... Yeah~" Bartolomeo managed to say before letting out a long groan. My love. The words echoed in his mind like a choir of angels.

After earning his allowance, you began kissing your way down his chest, trailing the outline of his tattoo with your tongue, savoring the saltiness of his skin. Bartolomeo's eyes were shut, his eyebrows curved in a tight frown, and his lower lip trapped between his teeth; his fingers tangled in your hair as he began bucking his hips to meet yours.

Leaving a peck on his sternum, you sat up straight, adjusting your position to have better access to Barto's pants; carefully studying his reaction as your fingers teased at the buckle of his belt. The cannibal flushed and stared at you with a mixture of devotion and lust in his heavy-lidded eyes. He was completely surrendered at your mercy.

"May I?" you asked and waited patiently for his answer. A few seconds later Bartolomeo nodded, and you unbuttoned his trousers; slowly pulling them down to reveal his hard member already coated with precum.

"Damn, Barto," you said biting your lower lip, resisting the urge to take him in your mouth… but it had to wait for some other day; you didn't want to give the poor man a heart attack.

After helping him get rid of his pants, you straddle his lap again and took in the view. Bartolomeo’s lips were parted, white fangs lightly peeking out; his hard member was the same color as his blushed cheeks and it contrasted perfectly with his tanned skin.

As light as a feather, the tip of your index finger traced the veins on Bartolomeo's shaft, and he let out a shaky whine. Your thumb joined soon, brushing the underside of his member from the base to the head, before circling on its tip, spreading precum all over its velvety skin. The desperate sounds he was making were like music to your ears.

"Barto, I need you inside of me," you confessed after your patience had reached its limit. "Would you let me...?" You let the question hang in the air.

Bartolomeo gasped at your sudden petition and his eyes snapped open. His breathing became shallower, his pulse was racing and for a long second, he felt like he was about to explode from excitement.

"Itwouldbeanhonor~" Barto mumbled wiping the tears already pooling in his eyes.

"Sorry, baby. I didn't hear you," you said, giving his lower belly a gentle stroke.

"I said that..." Bartolomeo talked, taking a deep breath. His eyes focused on the ceiling, unable to look you in the eye. "It would be... an honor." He concluded and you swore you had never seen his face so red before.

"The honor will be all mine, my love," you said, blowing him a tender kiss.

Reaching to your night table you took out a bottle of lube from the drawer, rubbing the container between your palms, to heat up the transparent liquid. The pirate was following your every move with curiosity and impatience. After applying a generous amount of lube to your palm, your mischievous gaze moved to his, and your warm hand wrapped firmly around his shaft.

"Hnnng~" Barto grunted as you began to slowly stroke his throbbing member. His hands tugged at the sheets and his muscles tensed following the enticing movement of your hand. Touching himself had always been enjoyable, but your hands on him brought a new level of pleasure he had never imagined possible; he was gradually losing his mind.

"My beautiful Barto," you praised, admiring the exquisite sight before you: your boyfriend captured between your legs, sweat glistening on his chiseled torso, and a pink flush on his cheeks; his fangs on full display as he moaned your name again and again.

"...so good... babe~” Bartolomeo let out in a long grunt, as you continued with the delicious torture.

A few moments later, you withdrew your hand from Barto's member. The piece of fabric still covering your arousal was starting to upset you and you got rid of it in the blink of an eye. The pirate whined like struck by lightning when he saw you completely exposed to him. He wondered how you would feel wrapped around him; what noises you would make when he pounded inside of you. A deep primitive urge invaded him.

Noticing Bartolomeo’s lascivious gaze on your body, you began touching yourself. Your fingers played with your nipples while your other hand wandered over your sex. Barto’s focused his entire attention on the show you were pulling off for him.

For a moment, you teased your entrance with two fringes dripping with lube and Barto's precum, before pushing inside; stretching your walls, and preparing your body to take him.

"You're so beautiful, babe~" The cannibal sighed while tenderly stroking your thighs. His hips moved involuntary, seeking some friction.

Once you were ready, you placed a hand on his chest, adjusting your position before guiding him to your entrance. Your gazes locked as you slowly sank down onto his length, moaning each other’s names all the while.

“Don’t move… Please ~" He panted when you took him whole, afraid that he wasn’t going to last long. You felt amazing wrapped around him, and the fact that you, of all people, were his first, was sending him over the edge.

“Barto, shall we stop?” You asked softly, unable to hide the bit of concern in your voice.

“No,” He rushed. “Just… Do it slowly, please.” Bartolomeo added and you gave him a sweet smile.

“Alright,” you cooed and began rolling your hips at an agonizingly slow pace; sliding all the way up until only his tip remained inside, then back down again. The texture of his cock felt wonderful against your walls, and it took all the willpower you got to keep you from riding him harder.

"Fuck... Barto," You moaned throwing your head back. Your eyes were unable to focus anymore as delicious waves of pleasure hit you with every passing second.

"Faster… please~" Bartolomeo groaned a few moments after. His fingers digging in your hips and his mouth pronouncing your name like a mantra.

You began moving faster, circling your hips as your hands ran over his abs up to his chest. Your thumbs brushed his nipples and the sound that came from his mouth made your walls twitch. He looked so sexy like that, completely undone and aroused.

"Barto... Fuck me... Please," you begged between moans. Your self-control was long forgotten.

Something feral took over Bartolomeo when he heard your pledge. His raw lust finally won the battle over his emotions, and he obliged, rolling you both on the bed until you were beneath him. The wild look he gave you sent shivers all over your body.

You wrapped your legs around Bartolomeo's waist, and he began rocking his hips against you. His pace was rather erratic at first, and you could tell there was still a pinch of nervousness gnawing at his mind. Lucky for you, Bartolomeo was a quick learner. Soon he got used to the position and began pounding inside you with an incredibly sensual rhythm. Barto’s mouth met yours in a passionate kiss and you felt the world crumble around you. He felt so good.

"Please do it~" you whimpered when you felt his fangs teasing the crook of your neck. Barto obeyed and his sharp teeth sank gently into your skin, making your toes curl.

Grabbing a handful of his green hair, you pulled at it gently, compelling him to look you in the eye.

"Barto... Fuck me harder," you commanded, allowing him to use your body as he pleased.

Still holding your gaze, Bartolomeo began pounding mercilessly into you; the look of ecstasy in your face burning into his brain. His teeth returned to your skin and your eyes rolled back into your head. The shy fanboy who would collapse if you stole a kiss from him had finally let out his darker side.

"Oh, baby... Please don't stop," you whined as the tingling sensation in your lower belly grew exponentially. Your hands kneaded the muscles on his back as he hit that magical spot over and over again.

"Oooh Barto," you finally cried out, closing your eyes, and holding on to him for dear life as bliss hit you in powerful warm waves, making your muscles spasm. For a moment, it seemed you had abandoned your body and were floating in space with his arms preventing you from drifting away.

"Fuck, babe~" Bartolomeo let out a low grunt when your walls clenched around him. A couple more desperate thrusts were all it took for him to reach his own climax, and he emptied himself inside of you with your name on his lips.

The two of you remained still for a while, relishing the aftermath, feeling tired, but incredibly peaceful. Bartolomeo placed a chaste kiss on your forehead and surrounded you with his arms, holding you tightly as if you were going to vanish into thin air. Everything felt so right and perfect that, for a moment, he feared it had been nothing but a dream.

You placed your arms around him as well, letting yourself get lost in his embrace, while tenderly running your fingers through his soft green hair. Bartolomeo purred at your caresses, and you let out a loving sigh.

“Oh, my beautiful, Barto,” You cooed, and he held you closer. Shortly after, both of you drifted off to sleep, wearing a pleased smile and the reassuring confidence of knowing that you belonged to each other.

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#bartolomeo x reader #bartolomeo #bartolomeo one piece #one piece #bartolomeo the cannibal #one piece fanfiction

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yandere-wishes · 3 years

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A Story Told In Maybes {Part #1}

🗡️Yandere! Enma Yuuken x reader

🗡️Summary: Enma Yuuken lives on the fine line between "Hero" and "Villain" but his story will never end in a "happily ever after" or a "tragically ever after" it will only end in Maybe...

🗡 Edited by the amazing @tealyjade-libran

🗡️ Alternative title: How many times can Genie use "Damn" in a story...

Maybe in some other world, they could have been lovers

Imagine that...

picture it as vividly as a fresh stab wound to your heart. Sketch the vision of a red waterfall carrying away your life.

Now picture two people. A young man and woman, sitting on a park bench, holding hands and laughing, inching closer and closer.

Imagine love, happiness, tranquility...

But those things only exist in fairy tales. And his life was most certainly not a fairy tale.

They were foreigners, outsiders, aliens. Banished into a strange land were twisted fairy tales, roamed the earth. Where magic and mischief came as naturally to the inhabitants as breathing. Where nothing mattered, because nothing was. Everything is and thus it isn't. Nothing made sense, and sometimes, in some rare moments of stolen repose, Enma Yuuken was scared that nothing would ever make sense again.

All of it, every microscopic thing about this 'new world' was wrong, abnormal, twisted.

Everything except his traveling companion. Another lost soul as disjointed and out of place as he was. Another ghost trying to survive in this matrix of a so-called reality.

There was no shock initially, no surprise in not being the only normal creature to be transported to this bizarre world. Enma knew full well that he wasn't special in any way. Another foreigner being here was one of the few things that actually made sense.

But as the old expression goes, everything comes at a price.

Someone else just like him being here, being stuck in this nightmare, made sense. Yet the price of logic was a thread of hysteria that had woven itself deep within his battered heart. A maddening sense that gripped his lungs, robbing them of breath. That picked off pieces from his tattered mind, replacing them with clear cutout thoughts of her. It was always only her.

His companion in this broken world just had to be you. A frail, naïve little girl with no sense about her. Some pretty-girl protagonist straight out of the pages of Shojo Beats. The kind of girl who finds her happily ever after no matter where the hell she is.

Yet he did not have that luxury, his life was dictated by a series of maybes and could bes. He was a secondary character at best, a background shadow at worst. With no purpose other than smiling and waving. And listening to the protagonist weep about their love-driven woes.

Some days, when the dreary bell chimed for the last time, when the students marched back to the solitude of their dorms, Enma would wander around the halls, squirming in his own misery. Pondering why, oh why of all the people, in all the towns, in all the worlds, did you have to be the one to wind up in this grim land along with him.

Why fate always had to be so cruel, so domineering, thinking it knew better than the people whose miserable lives it toyed with. He wanted to be your lover, your prince, yours. But what would a guy, who doesn’t even belong in this backward world, have to offer some heroine-type sweetheart?

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

The Ramshackle’s flickering porch light glows in the distance. Like a dying star beckoning him to a destroyed paradise. He knows what's waiting for him behind the worn door. He knows you'll be there standing by the cracked dinner table, laying out days-old sandwiches for dinner, while Grimm rangles with an expired can of tuna. He knows you'll smile with tears in your doe-like eyes as you retell the fables of your endeavors. Telling him in great detail how the so-called king of beasts overpowered you in the school garden. How the King of poisons stole yet another kiss. The tales go on and on. Never-ending, never stopping, never giving him the chance to scavenge the fragments of his shattered heart.

You play your role so damn well. You know how to be the damsel in distress, the poor thing in need of saving. It's repulsive, disgusting...but only because he doesn't know how to be the hero that you need.

If he was being honest -something he rarely did nowadays- Those "prefects" were the root of all his problems. They were the evil that made this dark world an endless horror. They'd been the ones to drive him into the "caring older brother" role. They had twisted his hand, leading him to the role of the "side-hero" like a lamb to the slaughter. Made him into a prince charming in a world that ate princes alive and spat them out once more.

They had sealed his fate with a few insults and loaded threats. With just a few longing stares overflowing with lust and envy. They were villains, in a world that celebrated sinners. A world that cheered when the dragon steals the princess and rejoices when the evil king sits upon his skeleton throne. They were villains in every dreadful sense of the damn word.

It's hard to be in love when all odds are against you.

When your fate binds you into one role with no way out.

Like a rabbit hole made of quicksand. It dragged him deeper and deeper into intimate madness.

Maybe in some fair world, those leeching villains could keep their greedy blood-drenched hands off of you.

Maybe in a world where the sun never dies, you could bring yourself to love him.

Maybe he could have been the love interest, maybe, maybe, maybe.

It's always only MAYBE!

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

"Welcome home Nii-san,"

It's a sweet greeting that ties his guts into ribbons. His hands grow damp as his heavy eyes stare into yours. His lips curl into a painted smile, shielding you from the pain that's clawing in his stomach.

"Hi..(Y/n)"

His voice cracks and croaks like a dying frog. His lips feel abnormally dry and his eyes sting as if they've been pierced by diamond daggers. His steps are heavy as he plops down in his seat. The weight of his worries pulled him down harder than gravity ever could. He watches you through tried, restless orbs. Watches as you waltz over to your seat and sit down with the half grace of some future queen to be. It's bitter, dreadful, leaving a sickly toxin-like taste in his mouth. The mere thought that someday one of those, sinners, will take your hand and drag you to some kingdom far far away makes Enma want to claw his brain out with his bare nails.

Enma's focus shifts over from his traveling companion to the silver-coated fireball licking his paws. Grimm's teal eyes scan him nervously before he offers a nervous smile, a rarity for the narcissistic cat. He's usually so talkative, so boasting, there was never a moment of tranquility with that cat around...

It takes a moment. A steel coated moment before the gears in Enma's head begin to turn. Before he can place his finger on the heavy abnormality weighing down the atmosphere. His nerves jolt to life, leaving a freezing sweat behind their trail. The room is spinning like a ballroom floor. Something's off, something big and obvious and hidden and...

Maybe...

"So..."

It's your sweet voice that breaks the tension creeping into the air. Melodic and luscious just like the sensation of a blissful dream. The room freezes in its tracks. The heavy atmosphere melts away like a cube of ice. Normality has one foot through the door. Behind it, hope and tranquility peek their heads through the tiny gap.

Maybe just maybe everything is alright. Maybe it's just him, his stress and anxiety are starting to play cruel jokes on his wonder mind. Maybe he's just going mad. Yeah, that's the sanest conclusion to draw from all this.

Enma cranes his neck to the side to get a better view of your face. Distress is scribbled all over your skin, like pristine razor cuts. You shift around in your seat, clawing at your uniform skirt as if the midnight black fabric is cutting off your circulation. Your fingers nudge the entrance to your pocket fiddling with something he can't quite make out.

His voice is low, shaky, as he replies. The unusualness of the situation has him on edge. Nervous to the bitter bone. Maybe he was wrong, maybe his nerves were right to be wary of whatever this was. This uncertainty permeated the air-tight room.

"What is it?"

Slowly you drag out a white envelope flooded seven times over from your pocket. You stretch out your hand placing it in between his fingers. Enma throws a passive look at the note, his nose wrinkled up at the familiar scent that pervaded from the paper.

"What's this?"

It was rhetorical, asked out of dull, morbid courtesy. This time he didn't bother looking at you, in fear of seeing you look -lord forbids- gleeful.

"A love letter, Grimm found it in our locker after class."

There was a pause, lengthy, nerve-wracking, heart wrenching. Yuuken could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat, he could almost feel the excitement radiate off your body.

"Can you believe it Nii-san? Someone actually left me a love letter!"

It hurt it really did, this time his heart didn't shatter. It simply broke, in two or three or maybe four. Who knows, who cares. They had escalated from simple harassment and unsightly displays of public affection to leaving you love letters. How ungodly, how absurd, how brave...

He laments, eyes tracing over the fog of his breath as it wafts through the musty room. He wants to rip that damned piece of paper, shred it into millions so the words become ineligible, so you'll never read those horrible words again. So you'll forget that some damn fool other than him can actually love you. But he doesn't, he has too much self restraint and too much respect for his dear "little sister" to actually do it.

His arm stretches over the table, skin illuminated by the dying candle on the center. He places the letter back safely in between your fingers. His eyes meet yours for only the second time that night. He takes in your face, Committing every piece of it to his miserable memory. The heartily glow in your crystal eyes, the faint schoolgirl smile dancing across your lips, the rose blush kissing your cheeks, the way the candle illuminates your skin, wrapping in a sparkling glow like the princess from those tales of old. You're mesmerizing in every way, it would be reasonable for other men to notice your elegance. No wonder those "prefects" were drawn to you so naturally like moths to a golden flame.

"Who sent it?"

His voice comes out like a block of ice, shielding away any and all his stray emotions. He doesn't want to know how doleful he is, he just can't have you taking pity on him.

Your smile fades ever so slightly, your brows draw closer. Confusion is etched on your face. You haven't got a clue.

"Well...I'm not sure, but they did say to meet them at the school gates when the clock chimes twelve."

Oh, joy, another fairy tale reference. It's comedic how fairy tales have begun to dictate his life. Everywhere he turns there's a grim tale awaiting him. Yuuken spares a quick glance at the crooked clock hanging by a loose thread. It’s a minute to midnight.

"I should come with you"

It's not a request but you take it as so.

"No need to bother, I'll take Grimm, he could use the walk. He's starting to bulk up a bit"

"HEY! The great Grimm-Sama doesn't "Bulk up" He only gets more powerful!"

Before the older male can protest, you're already halfway out the door. Grimm scurrying to follow you on all fours like a pesky rat. The door slams on your way out, leaving Yuuken alone with his morbid screeching thoughts.

There goes the only good thing in his life. Into the arms of another.

For a second he contemplates leaving you to fate, after all, who's he to disobey fate, go against whoever orchestrates this universe. But it's only a second, short lived and quickly died.

Maybe he's a hero.

Maybe he's a Prince Charming.

Maybe he's a villain.

Maybe he's just some honorary older brother looking out for his kid sister.

Maybe, just maybe, he's your future lover;

and he'll be damned if he lets you slip out of hands.

Enma's quick to grab his old practice blade from the overstuffed closet. It's not much, but it's all he has from the normal world, from his world.

The door grates for the last time that night as he steps out into the cold midnight air. The stars blink in some sort of secret tongue, either warning him or encouraging him, he doesn't know. Nor does he truly care, for Enma Yuuken is done letting life and fate and villains decree his meaningless life. Here and now that's where he'll make his stand, he'll save you. Kiss you. Love you. Marry you. You, You, YOU

But there's still one nagging thought that screams inside his head as he dashes for the school gates. This world worships villains, prays at their feet, and hands them death and destruction on golden plates. And he's no villains, he's some sort of upside-down, in-between. Rotting alone in the border between Hero and Villain. By law of society, he's a reject, a useless foreigner, an alien, an outsider.

and MAYBE he's already too late...

Who wrote the love letter? Was it the head of the savanaclaw dorm or maybe the head of the heartslabyul dorm ? Maybe it’s the ever mysterious Tsunotarou...

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oh-atlas · 2 years

Text

APPARITION (.4k, Ophelia x Strahd)

Ophelia tries to have a moment alone with her thoughts.

The night hangs heavy, draping over the forest as thick fog brushes the tops of the trees. Ophelia stands a few thousand feet from their camp. It's far enough that she has privacy, quiet to be alone with her thoughts, but close enough that she will hear if there is danger.

Wolves howl mournfully in the distance. Ophelia's skin prickles. The sound is common, she hears their cries nearly every night. It's not the wolves that scare Ophelia, it is who the wolves rally behind. She cannot say whether the wolves are passing along her messages or simply calling out for one another.

"Were you thinking of me?" Ophelia hears a familiar voice, rich and silken, behind her and the pressure of a hand on her shoulder, firm but not forceful. Her throat tightens, shoulders tensing as she turns to face the countess.

Strahd's close, inches from her, a wicked grin already perched on her lips. Ophelia is rigid, her limbs feel frozen, and her heart rate spikes: quick, angry, and aching. Strahd's other hand rises, thumb and index finger cupping the cleft of her chin and forcing her eyes upward to meet hers. "Happy to see me, Ophelia?"

Ophelia's stomach twists and she feels dizzy when Strahd says her name. (She hates the way she says her name). The cool humid air is suffocating.

"Why are you doing this?" The words bubble out of Ophelia's throat, quick and pitiful. Her cheeks burn matching the sting between her breast that usually keeps her focused. She's not focused now.

"Because I love you." Her eyes are a bright crimson, hypnotic in the darkness, deceptively affectionate.

The words make Ophelia flinch, "No. No, you don't." She can't stand the way she looks at her.

Strahd's expression shifts, more reserved now, guarding a reaction Ophelia couldn't quite catch. "I did." Her tone is cooler.

Ophelia draws in an unsteady breath and Strahd pounces on the opportunity, "I could love you again."

She runs her fingers along Ophelia's jaw and tucks a loose wave of her hair behind her ear. "You could love me too."

Her touch is gentle and intimate, words so sweet that something fractures in Ophelia. Her heart throbs with need, a need she knows Strahd can't give her. That she doesn't want from her. That she can't want from her.

Ophelia trembles, ashamed when her voice cracks, "Just stop. Please."

Strahd's smile drops and Ophelia prepares for her hands to dig into her skin or wrap around her throat. Maybe if she was feeling merciful it would be quick. Instead, she hears a quiet downcast sigh, "Alright."

Strahd concedes graciously, her hands falling away. Before Ophelia can move to react, her body is already receding into mist. As she watches her distorted form fade, Ophelia swears she sees the ghost of a wistful smile. Then she lets her body crumple down into itself on the damp forest floor.

#ch: ophelia #r: ophelia x strahd #mine: writing #this one gets a title so this goes into the big boy tag lmao #anyways i feel like kermit on fire #i woke up at 6am and was possessed by the dialogue exchange of:#'i love you / no you don't / i did. i could/ you could love me too.' and yeah. this had to happen #likes replies and rbs appreciated please scream at me it only fuels me more #aes: ophelia

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nctrice · 3 years

Text

Professor Jaehyun x Female Reader

Rating: 18+🛑

Word count: 2K

Content: smut, unprotected sex, fingering, dominant Jaehyun, praising, teacherxstudent, dilf Jaehyun, slight public intercourse

Disclaimer: I do not own Jung Jaehyun nor claim him in any sort of way. This Fanfiction is made up out of pure imagination and is strictly just fiction.

A/N: this is my first time writing for this tumblr platform and please give strict constructive advice if needed! Thanks!

___________________________

"Gosh he's hot!" I whispered under my breath gazing upon the dilf himself, Mr.Jung or in other words my calculus professor.

He stood tall and confident in front of the oddly huge white board, broad shoulders facing the class until he eventually turns around to ask a random student to answer the question that I had yet to even realize what it was. He swiftly scans the multiple rows of seats depicting who had been paying attention and who hasn't. I slowly began to sink in my seat avoiding be called on at any cost.

"Ah, y/n! I see you there! Come up here and answer this question for the class." He demands in a polite manner.

I had no problem with it of course, until he said to come forth. This is a first he's ever asked anyone to write the actual answer. My heart pounds within my chest, praying I don't make a fool of myself walking down or back up these unnecessarily wide stairs.

Mr.Jung steps aside and greets me with his well known charming smile. The amount of times this man alone has made me want scream to knock all the built up nerves out of my body. He made me feel more than just butterflies, I couldn't quite put a finger on it.

"Need help?" Mr.Jung folds his arms stepping closer.

"N-no thank you, I'm sure I got it."

My hands fumbled to reach for the dry erase marker he held out for me. It was a bit warm considering he's been holding it for more than half the class. I took a quick glance at the question, immediately regretting what I said. I did indeed need help, and I don't got it. I'm sure he could tell I was hesitating as my finger sits comfortably above my top lip.

'here goes nothing.' I thought before writing what I thought was the right answer. Mr.Jung examined the question, "close but not quite. The answer was -9, you forgot to subtract this which why you got -2. Try another easy one similar to this."

Bullshit. This question didn't look no where as easy. If I mess up again oh well, it's not like he'd pop out with another question to further embarrass me. As I thought long and hard about the problem, it began to feel like it was just us two. Him applying an uncomfortable amount of pressure with just the distance between us and me panicking underneath his anticipated stare.

"Not quite right neither, it'd be best for you to stay after class you seem to be having a lot of troubles."

Mr.Jung wiped the whiteboard free of any writing once I answered the last question and moved on with his lessons. I barely made it to the first step before he had wrote the next problem to briefly go over thanks to me. His words far more stern and exaggerated in attempt to sub me. Out of my entire time being in his class this had been the most I've ever seen this man share eye contact. Yet, it wasn't sweet and kind, more like curiosity had taken over and he couldn't get why I answered both questions incorrectly.

That exact thought had been on his mind throughout the rest of the class. A part of him felt anxious to know what it was that made me fumble at the problem that he knew I could solve perfectly fine on my own.

______________________

"Alright you all have a great rest of your afternoon and please do study for this upcoming test. It'll be more than 40% of your grade!" Mr.Jung announced as the classroom flooded out the doors, All except one person.

"Ms.l/n,"

He heaved a deep sigh, shoving his hands into his almost too tight dress pants pocket. He paced around his desk before sitting directly on the rounded edge. He looked dramatically intimidating, like he wanted to degrade you the moment he could.

"Is everything okay? You're normally really good with math. It hurt me to see you troubled with such an easy question."

My hands couldn't help but fiddle with the zipper sewed into my bag. How was I supposed to tell my teacher that he was the problem. Not in any sort of bad way, and not in any good way neither.

"Yeah I'm fine, just had a rough week." I lied.

"You seem kind of tense. Am I making you uncomfortable?" He innocently spoke while his eyes examined my body for some type of body language.

My knees buckled, hands folding anything to keep me calm, and not mentioning my blushed face. I was 100% sure that my face was completely flushed a crimson red. There was no denying it.

He didn't wait for an answer, and simply lowered his curtain covering the window then locked the door. I was unsure of what his intentions were but my mind was far off somewhere it shouldn't be regarding the fact that I'm just his student. The thought of him shoving all of his folders and papers off his desk and pinning me clouded my mind. My dying fantasy to have the slightest interaction that no other girl has ever had with him.

"I'm all ears. That's if you're comfortable with telling me of course." He knocked me into reality as I began to feel guilty for thinking negatively of his intentions.

"I'm not sure I can be completely honest." I mumbled beneath my breath breaking eye contact.

"And why is that?"

Mr.Jung held his arm out for me to grab. With little to no hesitation at all, I placed my hand in his. His thumb grazes over my knuckles a fee times until his eyes darted up towards mine.

"Cause I'm in no sort of position to have such thoughts."

I simply remove my hand from his grip feeling the tense sensation overwhelm me once again building up the need to put an end to this. He sensed it immediately.

"Turn around."

"Huh?"

"I'm not gonna say it again." His voice had more depth and demand stringing to it.

I did exactly what he said, no questions asked. His hands set firmly on my shoulders guiding me closer towards him until I felt the warmth radiating off of his body and onto mine. His thumb running deep circles into my shoulder blades releasing the tension that remained.

"Now tell me what position you feel you need to be in."

His hands made its way to my spine tracing all the way down to my waist before kneading my lower back.

"Missionary?"

"That can work too but I meant regarding to what you said. What position do you need to be in to have such dirty thoughts?"

By now, you were inches away from in between his legs, as much as I wished to be in this dearest situation, my first instinct was to freeze up. Was this really happening?

"I'm just your student. The things I want to do will ruin your career." I admitted.

He hummed at my answer willingly holding my waist and pulling me directly into his lap. I felt the slightest bulge poking me through my thin leggings. His head rested onto my right shoulder sending shivers down my back.

"There's nothing wrong with the student getting a little extra lesson with chemistry." He bluntly stated right beneath my ear.

I began to feel throbbing and anticipation between my legs. Or maybe I had just noticed it now. His hands ventured from my waist toward the hem of my leggings, thumb pushing past my leggings and rubbing the outline of my panties. My stomach bursted with butterflies under his touch. He bit his lips as he felt the smooth lace of my underwear.

"Good choice Ms.l/n," he huskily whispered.

"Tell me about how you fantasize about me in explicit detail if you would."

My chapped lips parted realizing a deep breath I held in since he began to touch me in the ways I haven't yet imagined. His fingers trailed down to palm my womanhood gently creating the knot in my stomach.

"You had me alone like now, desperately removing everything off the desk to pin me down. Ripping my shirt in half as you cupped my boobs. One hand busy playing with my nipples, the other rubbing rough circles on my clit as you told me come."

He chuckled in response as he removed his hand from me and remained silent. As much as I wanted to turn around a catch a glimpse of his face, I was already too embarrassed sharing my intimate dreams with him.

He bit his lips dauntingly, "can I?"

"What?"

"Can I make that dream a reality?"

He slightly nibbled onto my ear, heat fuming from my dripping core soaking my panties by the second. I silently nodded afraid to speak at all. "I want to hear you say it, can I touch you?"

"Yes, Mr.Jung."

"Good girl, just for this I'll allow you to call me Jaehyun okay baby?"

I nodded once again holding back the whimpers threatening to leave my lips. His hands rubbed my ass gently getting rough within seconds, groping me every chance he got. The bulge teasingly poked at my core as he undid his pants lowering his draws enough to let his member spring free; slowly stroking himself onto my ass. Jaehyun grunted as the friction increased. His fingers tugged the the hem of my leggings sliding them down to my knees locking them in place.

"Damn you're sexy." He moaned taking in the sight of my now exposed ass. He stroked himself aggressively before tracing my spine with his fingers and bending me over. His other hand pushing my panties to the side as he inserted double digits into my soaked core curling his fingers and his thumb circled my clit. My breath became unstable panting like there was no tomorrow. My walls clenched amongst his digits fighting the urge to come. "Mhmm I-I can't hold it." I moaned balling my fists up against my knees for support. He took his digits out sucking every ounce making sure I heard the slurping noise before he lined himself at my entrance.

I inhaled a sharp breath as he entered his tip inside me. I had no clue how big he was but felt my walls adjusting to the girth of him. I bit my lip, holding back from the moans. His hands firmly placed on my hips as he shoved the rest of his large length inside me. I let out a small gasp followed with hitched breaths as his length reached what felt like my cervix. "Shh, you don't want no one to hear you don't you?" He whispered stopping in his tracks for a split second. He pulled almost all the way out coated with your juices only just to shove his length in back in reaching spots he may have missed.

"Oh fuck." Jaehyun groaned thrusting sluggishly. My walls clenched around him causing his grip to tighten on my waist. Tears streaming down my face in pleasure. He picked up the pace being careful enough to refrain from making any clapping noises. As much as he want to rail me until my eyes rolled back and seen stars he couldn't, not in this environment. Yet it was still enough to satisfy the both of our needs. Soft whimpers were the only thing he'd allow out of my mouth, anything louder than that he'd immediately pull out as a sign of punishment. His hand left my waist grabbing fistfuls of my hair and yanking it to see my fucked out facial expressions.

"Jaehyun." I breathed out as he rammed into me.

"Ms.l/n, you dirty little slut of mine, Ms.l/n you feel so good taking all my length in your wet pussy." He groaned aggressively in my ear pounded into me completely forgetting the fact that we were in his classroom. ~

"Ms.l/n! Please stop zoning out in my class!" Mr.Jung semi-shouts jolting me out of my day dream. I immediately fixed my posture examining the dozens of eyes all drawn towards me including Mr.Jeong. He cocked an eyebrow at me before running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"See me after class." He demanded and continued on with his lesson. And just like that, I added on to my series of fantasies with my Calculus professor.

#nct #kpop #nct 127 #jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct smut #nct fanfic #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun smut #nct 2020 #nct u scenarios

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mimisempai · 3 years

Text

Wait for me on the other side 7/8

Summary:

Will we attend the long awaited meeting?

Notes:

Final stretch before the end... How are you doing?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32948254/chapters/82448716

Loki's apartment - 2021

I WANT TO MEET YOU!

FOR REAL THIS TIME!

Loki turned the drawing over, Mobius had added a few words to it.

Answer me after 6pm, I'll wait by the mailbox.

Loki looked at the clock, it was 5:15 p.m., he took his notepad and his pencil and left in a hurry towards the house on the cliff.

Arriving a few minutes after 6pm, he went to the mailbox, scribbled quickly on his notebook, tore out the page and after putting it in the box, he raised the flag.

It was lowered almost immediately, the start of another conversation punctuated by its movement.

Mobius House - 2019

Mobius was pacing around the box, avoiding looking at his watch every minute, wondering if he had frightened Loki with his request for a date, when the flag suddenly rose.

L -How?

M -Pick a place. I will be there. I promise. Tomorrow, what do you say?

L -Mobius. It's not tomorrow for you. You'll have to wait two years.

M -I don't care. I'll wait. Meet me at the restaurant tomorrow and I'll be there. I'll be two years older, but I'll be there.

L -What will you be doing all that time?

M -Think about you. And working out every day, getting in shape, praying I don't lose my hair...

L -Are you sure?

M -I've never been so sure of anything in my life. I've already lost so much time. I don't want to waste any more with you.

Loki suddenly felt almost dizzy. Mobius had two years to prepare for this appointment while Loki had less than twenty-four hours. He took a deep breath before closing the mailbox.

L - See you in two years, then.

M - See you tomorrow night. Where would you like to go?

Frigga restaurant - 2019

Mobius entered the restaurant and was greeted by the hostess.

"Hi, I'd like to reserve a table for two."

She flipped through the reservation book before telling him in an apologetic tone, "Well, I'm sorry, but we just received our fourth star and I'm afraid it's extremely difficult to get a reservation at this hour. When did you expect to dine here?"

Mobius replied with a smile, "Two years from tomorrow. September 15, 2021."

The hostess blinked a few times and then closed the book, before answering with a big smile, "We should be able to accommodate you, sir."

Loki's apartment - September 15, 2021 - Morning

Loki prepared to leave for work. He looked at the outfit he prepared for that evening. He couldn't remember when he hadn't felt such excitement. He couldn't remember ever feeling this excited.

September High School - September 15, 2021 - 5pm

As he packed up his things after having finished his last class of the day, and was already looking forward to the evening ahead, he was jolted out of his reverie by Thor's stormy arrival in his office.

"Thank God you're still here."

"Obviously." replied Loki, pointing out with irony.

"I'm sorry, I know it's not your week, but can you do a detention watch for an hour? Jane is visiting between flights and I was supposed to monitor tonight's detention, but-"

Loki looked at his watch and sighed, "Yes, I can, but one hour not more. I have a date."

"Thank you, thank you! I promise, it's just an hour, no more. But I want to hear all about this date tomorrow, okay?"

Loki shook his head and chuckled, "Alright, alright, go meet Jane!"

Before leaving, Thor threw over his shoulder, "I don't know who that is, but I've never seen you smile like that before, Loki, and it suits you! Bye!"

He was gone before Loki had time to answer.

An hour later, Loki was walking quickly towards his apartment. He entered in a hurry, ran into the room and threw off his clothes.

Croki followed him around, curious, as Loki muttered, "He waited two years. What's another half hour? Right?"

He continued his preparations, but at a calmer pace. He put on a dark green v-neck sweater, of a shade that he knew brought out his eyes, at least that's what the saleswoman had told him, a pair of charcoal-colored pants that highlighted his silhouette. He looked at himself two or three times in the mirror before shrugging his shoulders.

A few minutes later, he left his building and took a cab to the restaurant.

Frigga Restaurant - September 2021

Loki stopped before entering. He inhaled several times to calm himself. He was ready, excited but confident. He opened the door with a firm hand.

While removing his coat, he scanned the room. There are not many tables. Before he could find Mobius, the hostess approached him.

"Good evening sir, can I help you?"

Loki cleared his throat, "Yes, I have a reservation. Laufeyson. Or Mobius, I'm not sure what name it was made under."

The hostess examined her book and looked up with a huge smile, "Oh yes! You're the..." she paused before pulling herself together, "Follow me."

Loki was led to a table for two. It was empty. He was a little surprised.

The hostess turned to him and said, a little embarrassed, "I hope you'll forgive me, but I can't help asking..."

"Yes?"

"This reservation is sort of... legendary. It's been here longer than most employees. There's always been intense speculation about who made it, and why, and whether you were really going to show up. Some of the team members even made bets..."

Loki looked around. Throughout the room, waiters were glaring at him. The chefs and kitchen helpers were looking out the kitchen door. Loki suddenly felt very embarrassed.

The hostess immediately apologized, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have... I'll send the waiter to get your drink order right away."

A little later a waiter returned and poured Loki a glass of champagne.

"Compliments of the chef."

Loki nodded in thanks.

Just before leaving, the waiter threw him a small smile, "Good luck."

Loki began to sip the champagne, a little more nervous.

Some time later, his glass was empty and he was still waiting, alone at the table. The waiter approached to refill his glass, but Loki stopped him.

He was aware that the restaurant staff was watching him, whispering among themselves. Two hours passed, other customers lingered over dessert, coffee, chatting intimately at the candlelit tables.

Loki was still alone.

After a long moment, he pushed back his chair and stood up. Everyone was looking at him, gravely.

He walked to the front, expressionless, and took his coat, without speaking to anyone before leaving under the sad look of the hostess watching him leave. Loki returned home, alone. His stoic facade began to crumble. He had tears in his eyes.

He took a paper and wanted to write but didn't have the heart. Not now.

House on the cliff - September 16, 2019

The day was gray and windy, Mobius stood in front of his mailbox and read the words "YOU WEREN'T THERE." He shook his head, lost.

M - I'm really sorry. I don't understand. Something must have happened. Look, I have two years. I'll try to fix it.

L -No, Mobius... You don't understand. It's too late. It's already happened.

I'm not upset. I mean, I was at first.

But now I just feel stupid... that I forgot how much a person's life can change in two years.

And for expecting yours not to change.

For expecting you to wait, to stand still, to put your life on hold, for me.

M - But I can do it. I can wait for you. I know I can. I won't forget.

L -Maybe you did. Maybe, wherever you are, you are busy, happy, and living so fully in the present that the dinner you planned two years ago just... slipped your mind. Just like you forget about impossible fantasies when they're over, when you get on with real life.

M - You mean I should go on with my real life?

L- I mean... I think we both should.

After seeing his words, Mobius hurried to answer, his hand trembling with emotion.

Please write to me, answer me.

Mobius put his letter in the mailbox and raised the flag. It stayed up.

An hour later, the flag was still up, Mobius opened the mailbox, there was only the note he had put in.

Hours, then days, then months passed, as Mobius wrote and posted letter after letter. Finally, there was a stack of his letters in the box. They continued to pile up, unanswered. Until the box was so full that Mobius could not put any more letters in.

Bi-Frost Bar - Février 2022

It was winter, everything outside was covered in snow.

Loki was sitting at a table with Bruce, Thor, Heimdall and Carol.

They were now meeting here at least once a week after work.

As Bruce and Carol debated some obscure point of astronomy, mediated by Heimdall, Thor leaned toward Loki and put his hand on his arm.

"Are you okay?"

Loki gave a half-smile and answered honestly because Thor was one of the few people who could read him, "I've been better."

"Are you still writing to your mysterious pen pal."

Loki, his throat tight, could not answer and shook his head.

Thor simply said, without insisting, "I'm sorry, Loki, if you need to talk, you know my phone number."

Loki did not answer.

Later, as he returned home, he found a message on his answering machine.

"Hi, Lo. It's Sigyn. I'm in town. I had to come in for a meeting."

Loki started to press the button to delete the message, when Sigyn's voice continued, "A real one this time. I swear to you. Call me. Only if you feel like it."

The next evening Loki and Sigyn were sitting in the pizzeria where they had met before. Neither of them really felt comfortable.

Sigyn said quietly, "I didn't think you'd come out."

Loki replied wryly, "Don't take this personally but..."

Sigyn interrupted him, "You couldn't say no to the free meal."

"Exactly." they both laughed.

Then Loki asked, "So. How did your ' meeting ' go?"

Sigyn looked slightly offended at the way Loki had emphasized the word meeting.

"I told you I didn't make it up, it really happened. They offered me a job.A bigger firm. I'm going to be in-house counsel." She smiled proudly before continuing, "Call them if you don't believe me."

A little later, they arrived in front of Loki's residence which was on the way to Sigyn's hotel. They stopped at the door.

Sigyn said quietly, "I took this job because I wanted to. This is not an ambush, Lo."

Loki nodded and replied softly, "Well, that's great news. Congratulations, Sigyn. I'm really happy for you."

Sigyn smiled, "Thank you, and thank you for coming."

Loki leaned over and kissed her goodnight, briefly. Sigyn looked surprised and pleased.

Loki watched her, it was comfortable and familiar, but then his gaze slipped to the tree behind Sigyn. Its leaves swayed in the night air. It was the tree Mobius had planted. Loki looked at it, then closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, I'm sorry Sigyn, but I can't."

After a tearful goodbye, as he walked back up to his apartment, Loki muttered to himself, "I may not be able to meet him, but I can't lie to myself either."

Mobius House - 2020

The mailbox was covered with snow. It was so cold that the lake had frozen over. Mobius, who was walking outside, looked inside the mailbox, by reflex. It was empty. He closed it slowly, disappointment on his face.

Distracted, he didn't notice that Croki was walking away quickly, towards the forest.

Mobius finally looked around.

Croki started to run. Mobius chased him. But soon, in the density of the forest, he did not see him anymore. Mobius ran straight ahead, continuing to call. He tripped on a stump and fell into the snow, he got up and called again, looking around, upset. Croki was really gone.

Mobius was about to run again, when he suddenly stopped. A realization dawned on his face.

Croki was going to find his new owner.

Mobius knew what he had to do.

A few days later, he was talking in the living room with Casey.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Mobius replied with a wistful look on his face, "Yes, I need to move on, staying here, I won't make it."

Casey nodded, understanding and added simply, "If you need help, you can count on me."

A few weeks later, "Mobius packed the house methodically and with determination. He assembled boxes with tape and threw his things in. He put the trash in bags, swept and mopped.

As he was tidying up, he found the stack of letters from Loki. He looked at them for a moment, then packed them up and shoved them in the bottom of a cardboard box before carrying the box to the attic and sealing it.

Hill & Fury Law Firm - 2020

Mobius checked the address on his phone, walked in, and headed to the front desk.

"Hello, I'd like to speak to Sigyn Iwaldi, I don't have an appointment, but tell her it's Mobius and it's urgent."

A few minutes later, Sigyn arrived in the lobby, and motioned for him to follow her into an adjoining meeting room. She barely greeted him and did not look happy to see him.

Mobius didn't wait and asked her point-blank, "Do you still want to rent a house by the lake?"

He didn't wait for an answer and tossed her a bunch of keys. Sigyn looked puzzled.

Mobius continued, "That's what Loki wants."

Sigyn looked angry and asked him abruptly, "How can you know that? How can you know what he wants? Besides, we're not even..."

Mobius shook his head, "I don't want to know anything, but trust me this is what he wants."

Mobius waited no longer and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Later, as Sigyn was opening her car, something caught her eye in the distance. An alligator was slowly strolling down the street, looking lost but heading straight for her. It was Croki.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

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I've said in the last chapter, as a reader I hate cliffhangers. So for you, I've put the turbo on and I'm just saying, stay tuned... you won't have to wait until tomorrow for the last chapter... maybe with only one comment on this chapter, I'll be convinced to publish it even sooner... 😏

#lokius #Developing Relationship #no powers au #Alternate Universe #Letters #penpal #loki series au #loki #mobius m. mobius #lokius fics

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dothewrite · 7 years

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gwahhh i love your scenarios so much they're amazing !! could you do a scenario with kuroo, tsukki and iwai where their fem s/o is an insomniac? and whenever she can't sleep she does her own hobbies like baking or drawing or she just takes a walk outside etc and one night they stay over at the boys houses and they wake up to see her doing her own thing and try to coax her to go back to bed?

It slipped my mind while writing that they were only supposed to be visiting- I hope you don’t too much that they ended up living together, I’m sorry! Anyhow, this was an incredibly heartwarming prompt to write for, and I hope that you enjoy it, and thank you for your patience. :)

At age twenty five, Kuroo is a far cry from just five, which was when he last believed in monsters underneath his bed. Or perhaps they’re still there, but he’s become far too old and too boring for them to find entertaining anymore, and they’ve moved on to people who sleep more, who have fewer nightmares, who can sleep fine alone.

He hears the noise from downstairs first. It’s a soft clang, but it’s enough to pull him out of half-awakeness and his fingers curl curiously around the edge of his pillow. She’s not there, and her space is cold and empty from the exposed bedsheet.

The clang comes again, followed with a very, very quiet curse that makes the edge of his lips curl with laughter at four in the morning. It’s no clawed thing, but his own little monster he relies on to comfort him each night in their multitudes of blankets at pillows that cradle them into mutual drowsiness. Her pills lie capped on her side of the bedside table, untouched and unmoved, and he knows that this must be a special night. The stars, maybe, or the autumn chill that treads it way softly through the corridors of their small house, trailing eagerly along the warm footsteps of whoever’s awake at this time of night.

Not for the first time, Kuroo regrets not wearing fluffy slippers with bears on them when his feet finally touch the ground. He swings himself off the edge gingerly, aware of how his head fogs with unfinished sleep and the way his muscles seem to creak at him, scolding him, potentially threatening to shut down completely if he doesn’t return this instant. He goes off hunting for slippers instead, and for you, even though he knows beyond familiarity where exactly he’d find those things.

There’s only one light turned on in the entire house, and he follows it like a moth follows the lantern glow, padding silently across the hardwood floors and a hand hovering over the wall to guide him through the shadows. There’s very little noise from his end after so many months of practice, and he smells it before he actually sees you, exactly where he’d expected you to be.

“I hope you realize that coffee is very different from warm milk,” he calls to you from his place by the doorframe, hips cocked and resting soundly against the cool metal. “Was it worth abandoning me in the middle of the night?”

He hasn’t really registered the coldness, but the warmth that brews in his abdomen that chases across his chest from the way your shoulders tremble from gentle laughter makes him forget that there’s temperature at all.

You turn around in your seat, a solid, fixed armchair, and you’ve to twist your body entirely with your folded legs aching a little from the stretch to catch the sight of your boyfriend lounging lazily by the door. It makes you grin, that he’d rather stand all the way over there and look cool rather than come and touch you, like he sounds like he wants to.

“Want a sip?” You slide him a cheeky grin, and he finds himself fighting the pull of the teasing tilt of your head.

“Some people like to sleep at four in the morning, night-owl.”

“Hoot hoot.” Your grin relaxes, and you pull your knees up and against your chest so that you’re comfortably turned towards Kuroo. The hunch of your shoulders keeps you warm from the chilly night, and in response, Kuroo’s smirk melts into a smile that glows just for you, his eyes softening and his fingers longing to reach for you. So he does, taking a step at a time until he can cradle your head against his abdomen, rubbing your shoulders with his large, permanently warm hands.

“I just had something on my mind,” you confess, and he knows that you’re offering an explanation for not taking your usual sleeping pills tonight, “I didn’t think that it’d take so long to write, I’m sorry.”

“Mmmmm, no problem,” he murmurs lowly into your hair, his tall frame pressed firmly around you and his face buried against the crown of your head. He feels infinitely more drowsy next to you already, even though he’s still standing, and his embrace starts to feel less like a hug and more like a cuddle. His fingers curl around your neck and you start to giggle into his neko-atsume shirt when he starts to, although he’d never admit it to anyone else, almost purr.

“Tetsu,” you whisper conspiratorially, “I’m not the bed.”

He shakes his head minutely against yours. “You’re better.”

“But I’m cold.”

“Then come back to bed with me,” he hums into your ear, and you feel a flush of heat that warms you down to your toes. Your cheeks burn, but he’s too sleepy for you to make anything of it. Besides, it’s honestly your fault that you’ve got such terrible resistance against Kuroo. “I’ll warm you up.”

Your boyfriend’s already half asleep by the time you pry yourself out of his arms, laughing as quietly as you can at his ridiculous hair and his vacant expression. “Alright,” you press a slow, loving kiss against his chapped lips and give them a small flick of your tongue to tease him awake, “but c’mon, I can’t carry your dead weight up the stairs.”

“You calling me fat?”

“Tetsu, you’re six feet tall. Your bone structure weighs more than my whole body.”

“Rude!”

You gasp loudly. “I didn’t realize I was dating Tooru tonight!”

Kuroo only lifts his head and gives you a grin that leaves you with cavities and a crushing urge to burst out laughing. Full of shit, his face seems to say. “I’m so much hotter.”

“Only in the dark,” you giggle into the dip of his shoulder, and your heart squeezes in your chest, like the way Kuroo squeezes you, so very tightly in the sweetest revenge known to mankind.

It’s even darker when you reach out a finger to flick off the desk lamp, the rich orange glow extinguished in a single second into the intimate hushes of black. Your palm is cradled into his side as your guide, but it’s unnecessary- you stifle a soft cry when your world is turned upside down in a tick of a clock, and Kuroo has you in his sleepy arms, biceps flexing reluctantly to support your weight, heavy and wonderful against his chest.

“Don’t drop me,” you whisper, and in the darkness, you feel him nod into your cheek and you wonder why you’d ever thought to leave the bed with this drowsy, adorable, feline of a man who’d carry you all the way back across the house and hugging you to him all the while.

Kuroo slips you underneath the blankets, padding your right side with pillows before slipping in by your left. You see, the words get stuck somewhere behind his throat each time he tries to say it casually, to remind you of it whenever he can- and they fade away before he can dislodge them again. So he tries to become all the things he feels like he should say, but loses. He knows you’re not going to be able to sleep tonight, not with the way you’re already sliding yourself upright against the headboard, but it doesn’t matter.

He curls up into your side, burrowing his face in between a stray pillow and your shiba-inu pajama shirt, and he memorizes, lazily, the way your fingers card through his hair and the soft beating of your heart. He manages, in the end, an unhurried ‘love you’ slurred into the warmth of your hold before he quietly dozes back off.

When Tsukishima’s arm falls to the other side of the bed and meets nothing, he’s utterly unsurprised, even when half awake and relatively dead to the world. He himself isn’t a particularly deep sleeper and of all your friends he knows that if it’s anyone, it’d be him who understood your insomnia the most. He’s just as tired as you are most of the time, but somehow the bags underneath your eyes have simply become a part of you that he accepts for what it is. It simply makes him hold you closer on the rare nights that sleep manages to reach you before morning does.

It’s not tonight, however, and at three in the morning, the only things in the near vicinity that are awake are the university students several streets away holding their parties in their compact apartments. No birds to be found here, none that are still singing at night, and within minutes Tsukishima is already finding himself irritated at the headache that’s blooming from the unrelenting bass that shudders through the empty night. Carelessly, he slaps a hand onto the bedside table beside him in search of his glasses before wrapping a blanket around his neck and trudging off in search of the one thing that’d possibly soothe his nerves.

You’ve slipped away during the night countless times, as Tsukishima’s discovered from his usual restless patches of lucidity, but this is the first time he’s gone out to look for you. It’s a small apartment that you two share, with a soft, silvery carpet that muffles the thud-thud of his bare feet against the ground, but it’s dark and quiet enough that he struggles to locate you- the leftover chaos from his neighbours still ringing in his mind, conjuring up sounds that fade away with a little focus.

“Kei?” A voice calls his name from behind a corner, and Tsukishima has to gather his wits about him for a few seconds to realize that it’s just you, and nothing sinister materializing behind him. It irks him a little, actually, how startled he was. You only watch him with knowing eyes, the curiosity set behind, and let a small grin tick your cheek upwards. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles to himself, “of course.”

You wrap a small hand around his wrist that’s far too thin for your liking and he allows himself to be pulled into the light, the two of you bracing yourselves against the chill of the metal window. The high rise buildings block out a lot of natural light, and what would be a breathtaking moon is hidden behind the edges of skyscrapers that only glint with reflected street lights. It doesn’t look too bad, your eyes adjusting to the dimness, but it does cast a shadow on both your faces that colour this exchange just a little more intimate.

“What are you doing up?” You ask him softly, your fingers still glancing over the ridges of his smooth palm. Tsukishima stares calmly into your face, expression open and a little amused by the question.

“Looking for the one who was up first, I believe.”

You chuckle lightly, letting it tumble out from your chest like marbles. “I mean, you don’t usually get out of bed.”

He just shrugs. “Maybe I finally miss you enough.”

“Then maybe I should start letting you sleep alone.”

“Don’t,” his mouth open in a sudden start; he knows you’re joking, but it must be the lighting because he finds himself being entirely serious tonight, “I wouldn’t have to miss you if you didn’t get up.”

Your gaze is tender and the curve of your lips fall into a remorseful line.

“Sorry.”

He catches your hand when it falls from his arm, and you’re tugged firmly into a gentle embrace that’s entirely out of character for your tall, stoic boyfriend. You make sure to press your face into the crevices underneath his chin, breathing in his late-night scent and you lean into the way his arms snake around your waist and your neck like they were meant to be there. His heart is loud, and his thoughts are leaking from his body.

“...Kei?”

“Hm?” It’s clear and delicate against your ear.

“Are you tired?”

“No,” he murmurs, and his fingers dance across the bare skin between your shirt and the hem of your pants, making you shudder into him, “just love you.”

There must be something special about this night, because your chest feels like it’s about to burst, and this to you is more dreamlike than anything you could have ever come up with in sleep.

He still hasn’t let you go, and you’re still slotted against him like yin and yang, but you can feel his breathing slow and the weight of his shoulders on yours grow. You didn’t want to go back to bed just yet, not tonight.

“Would you like to stay up with me?” You ask, almost a breath, almost a wish, and Tsukishima pulls his head up from its perch on your head and eyes you critically from behind reflected lenses.

“You don’t think you can fall back asleep tonight, can you?”

You shake your head in slow admittance.

“Alright,” he inhales deeply, preparing himself for an evening of activity and a morning of hell, “what’ve you got in mind?”

“Well, I was actually folding some paper cranes in the kitchen when you came looking for me-”

“-really?”

“Really,” you grin. “It’s therapeutic.”

Also pointless, Tsukishima’s shadowed expression reads very clearly, but he doesn’t say a word and you keep your laughter under wraps. He’s starting to question his decision, you knew, but the way he keeps you close to him is an insurance that he’d stay by your side this evening even if you asked him to garden together.

“...How many have you made?” He asks reluctantly.

“It’s the fourth night, so I’d say around 200?”

“Jesus,” he pulls a hand across his face and you start into a fit of giggles this time, “I’m going to miss class tomorrow because I’m folding cranes with my girlfriend at three in the morning. Seriously, won’t you come to bed?”

“But imagine how we’d be able to double the rate of production if we worked together!”

“Don’t try to win me over with statistics,” he tells you dryly, “I’m still not becoming a mindless cog of the industry.”

It’s too much of a temptation, and it’s a final attempt at coercion anyway when you stretch upwards onto your tiptoes and slide your lips across his in a slow, burning kiss. It takes a few seconds for Tsukishima to warm up into it, knowing full well your ploy, but it fades from both your minds when he curls his arms around you and pushes his nose further into your cheek to grab at your lower lip between his teeth. You let out a soft sigh of pleasure, and he swallows it right from your mouth in a smooth suck that drags your tongue along his in a slippery motion.

You somehow manage to break away for a quick gasp of breath, and you feel your heels trembling with effort and his breathing is as rough as he looks. “We’re still not folding cranes,” he rasps lowly, “but I’ve thought of something better to do that still involves warm sheets.”

You laugh at his insistence, head still a little dizzy from so much happiness in such a short period of time and there’s no protest that comes to mind when he starts to drag you by the waist back towards the bedroom.

“Are you still going to miss class?” You grin cheekily as Tsukishima tosses you onto the bed and begins to peel off his shirt. The smirk he sends you once he’s abandoned his glasses somewhere on the floor leaves you almost gasping.

“That depends,” he drawls, pressing you further against the mattress with each suggestive tilt of his neck, “how long do you think you can keep me occupied tonight?”

If there’s one thing good about this slightly out of the way residential area, it’s that it’s almost as silent as mountain peaks and the sky is almost as beautiful and clear as a stream in winter. Perhaps that’s the reason why Iwaizumi, who’s usually an incredibly deep sleeper, finds himself blinking awake the last vestiges of a passing dream from his eyelids, fingers clenching and unclenching against cool sheets that betray their occupant’s absence. He’s suspected for a while, from the melatonin pills in the bathroom and the way your complexion seems a tone duller in the mornings that you’ve struggled with falling asleep, but he’s never quite realized how strange it can feel, to wake up alone in a bed meant for two.

You have your side perfectly folded up as to not let any air in that might wake him up, and Iwaizumi, not quite yet awake, finds himself gazing longingly at the empty space beside him, jaw lax and vision still blurry. This house isn’t huge, but it’s big enough that it has him wondering where you’d possibly be in the dark, and what would you be doing alone? His calves ache in protest, but he ignores it dutifully in preference for his search for you throughout the house.

It’s a lot brighter than he expected it to be, from the way the half-moon illuminates the pale wallpaper and reflects off the wooden surfaces he passes by, but there’s not a lick of brightness that could come from a lamp, or even a phone. Iwaizumi takes a moment to still and let his hearing catch any hint of where you’d be tucked away, but all he hears is the reliable chirping of crickets outside and the hooting of the barn owl that’s taken up residence two houses away in an old tree.

Then, he catches a slight scratch of something against cement, somewhere far away that he’s barely managed to notice, and without a moment’s hesitation Iwaizumi grabs the thickest thing he can find nearby and sets off out the front door.

He’s been up here before to do some repairs on the antenna, but at three in the morning it’s chilly even for him, and it leaves goosebumps trailing along his tanned skin and a shiver takes over at least twice. He supposes he should congratulate you for your creativity, but all it takes is a single glance at your silhouette and then up into the sky for a warm smile to break across his face. Of course. It was silly to think you’d be anywhere else.

“Do you come up here often?” He breaks the silence with a sudden question, and you start in your huddled position on the rooftop, butt scraping against the rough grain.

“Oh, Hajime, how are you so quiet for so much muscle?”

“I’m not a robot,” he replies smoothly, “my muscles don’t clang as they move.”

A small huff of laughter slips past your numb lips and you beckon with a small hand to have him take a place beside you. He crosses the distance with only two and a half steps, and he lets his long legs stretch out on either side of you as he makes himself comfortable wrapped around your back. You can’t help but lean into his unfailing warmth, the firmness of his chest a contrast against the woolly jumper he has on, but all the better. You snuggle backwards and allow your head to tip backwards into his waiting shoulder.

“Did I wake you up?” You wonder out loud, slightly worried that perhaps you had made too much of a commotion climbing out of bed, but Iwaizumi almost immediately soothes you with a soft press of his much warmer lips against your cheek. Blood rushes to the area that he’s touched, and your cheek burns with an ache to feel him kiss you again.

“No,” he says quietly in his low, gravelly tone, “maybe tonight’s just strange.”

“Yeah, you usually sleep like the dead.”

You don’t have to turn around to feel the stare that he levels you that’s several shades of unimpressed. “And you’re usually finding hiding places, it seems.”

“I’m not hiding,” you grin, and you poke a finger at his chin to tilt it upwards, “I’m in plain sight. Of everything.”

He hums quietly in assent behind you, and you feel it travel down your spine and through the way his hands grasp you tightly against him like a hot water bottle. The two of you share several minutes of silence just like that, pressed against each other for warmth and for comfort, leaning back to take in the brilliant echo of the milky way in the clustered skies. If not for the winds and the weather, you’d probably drag a mattress up here each night to lie down and pretend that you’re floating away from earth, immersing yourself amongst the stars and gazing down at the small spark that you call home from the heavens.

“Would you like me to build you a tent up here for you?” Iwaizumi whispers softly into your shared quiet, careful to only pull you out of your dream as gently as possible. He feels you shift against him, arms finally regaining some warmth against him and he begins to wish that he’d brought an extra layer for you if he’d known you’d only be wearing a thin jacket. His jacket, he smiles wryly.

“If you did,” you chuckle, “I’d probably never leave, and you’ve never find me again in bed.”

“Guess I lose against the stars, huh.”

This time you do turn around, torso twisting in his grip until you’re stretched out almost completely against him, chest against chest and your noses almost touching. There’s a bright glint of something in your eyes that takes Iwaizumi’s breath away in a swift moment. “What do you mean?” You murmur against his lips, and the coldness of the air forms visible puffs with your exhale. “You’re going to be up here with me.”

“What’s wrong with the bed?” He can’t help but grin.

“Nothing, just that there aren’t any galaxies in our room.”

“You’re enough galaxy for me,” his voice melts into something molten, something that pours right into your veins and sets them simmering in the background, “I’m just watching you watch the stars.”

“You’re missing out then,” you breathe huskily against him, eyes hooded and almost close enough to touch.

Iwaizumi lets you feel his smile against your lips. “I don’t think so.”

He doesn’t press any closer, and the tension that hangs between the two of you keeps your body taut as a bow, hands propping you up on either side of him. He’s so close, so very close, but all you indulge in is a happy smile that blooms on your face and makes his stomach flutter uncomfortably. Iwaizumi misses your heat the moment you pull back and settle yourself back into his arms.

“Stay with me,” he hears you murmur into the night, and his heart beats at every word, “everything’s brighter when you’re here.”

“You can wake me up next time,” he tells you, and you squeeze his fingers laced through yours. “I’ll make sure you wear enough clothes too.”

“It’s okay,” you laugh, exhilarated from something you can’t quite express in words, “I’ll try to take less time up here.” You tilt your head backwards all the way to glance at Iwaizumi upside down. Right now, he’s the man you catch only when you’re alone together, all soft and love and pressed against your shape. “Want to head back to bed now?”

“Five minutes,” he asks, and the surprise leaves you glowing, “just five more minutes.”

#kuroo tetsurou #tsukishima kei #iwaizumi hajime #sfw #fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu #i writes the haikyuu

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