#And that’s only because occasionally during I don’t know if fixations is the right word to use but during these same dish phases

[reloaderror]

Favorite food?

hello late answer cause i was busy losing a quiz <3 also struggled to put together a coherent answer.

short answer is: i dont know. it depends.

long answer is: i have come to realise i might have a strained relationship with the concept of favourites maybe especially when it comes to food. since cooking for myself, i don’t vary what i eat much on a short-term basis and i think this has helped me realise im not actually able to point to any one food in particular that id choose over all other foods even in a scenario where i dont have to prepare that food myself. i generally dont consider myself picky, i have many things i like and i can eat those for relatively long periods of time without getting tired of them. and so during these periods ig whatever dish im fixating on is my favourite? maybe? how do favourites work?

ask me one thing you’d like to know about me

[boyfhee]

⋆ NOW WE DATE ! · psh

CHAPTER THIRTEEN · dating hotspot

SYNOPSIS · everyone knew you were sunghoon's biggest fan— or so you claimed to be— it didn't take a scientist to guess after your nonstop gushing about him during enhypen's debut. now, they didn't know you found him 'so babygirl' not until you accidentally tweeted it on your main.

warnings · teensy bit of angst + suggestive dialogues, profanities

it took naya sixteen tries and forty-five minutes to convince you to come to the hybe cafe with the group. 

she didn’t think it would be this hard, considering your fixation with the desserts they serve. however, you happen to be sceptical and tend to sit and over analyse everything, and something about naya texting jake, and then asking the whole group to go to the cafe the first thing in the morning doesn’t sit right with you. 

you like giving people the benefit of doubt and believe that things are exactly how they seem, that naya and the rest of the girls only want to spend some time at the cafe since it’s been a while all four of you have been there, instead of there being a bigger, darker, picture. the four of you stand in the lift while waiting to get to the second floor as you watch naya type relentlessly on her phone.

“who are you texting?” you ask, pressing your lips in a thin line, raising your head up to get a peek if possible, however she tilts the screen towards herself, giving you a nonchalant shrug. 

“my brother,” and the lie rolls off her tongue ever so efficiently— it was bound to happen, her plan was deemed too good to fail. from what jake has told her, sunghoon is absolutely fucked in the head about you. not to mention, how he’s jealous of the fact that the actor park sunghoon got to kiss you first— although, for a scene— instead of the actual, real, park sunghoon who has real feelings for you and would like to kiss you on and off camera, every time, all the time. she is convinced that her plan has no loopholes, and that’s why her thumb softly taps over the send button ever so confidently as she texts jake about their arrival at the cafe. 

“uh, i’ll be right back,” yeon interjects as the girls take a seat, grabbing yinuo’s hands as she pulls the youngest member along with her, excusing herself to the washroom. 

naya smirks to herself as she sees the other two leave, looking over at you. “what do you want to eat? i was thinking if we should get macaroons or shortcakes, what do you think?” 

“macaroons would do,” and naya excuses herself to the counter, utilising every millisecond of her time to walk, occasionally stopping in her tracks to text jake on the situation. now, it’s just you and your suspicion sitting together at a table. 

and, the gaze of a certain australian boy projecting in your direction from a few metres behind. 

. . .

“sunoo, i need you to not fuck this up,” jake warns the boy again, hands on his waist as if this is about life and death (it almost is because they’re dealing with sunghoon) as he replies to naya, telling her that sunoo will be up there soon. 

“i’m telling you, i’ve never flirted with anyone in my entire life,” it’s sunoo’s last attempt at getting out of this situation, which is probably not possible because the rest six of enhypen members are terribly stubborn and practically threw him under the bus when it came to picking the ‘bait.’ “i’ll most likely end up laughing,” 

“dude, just tell her she’s cute,” heeseung pipes up, making sunoo roll eyes at his words. “compliment her hair or something,”

“why don’t you do it instead?” it’s evident how sunoo is sulking about the situation and jake is taking none of it, pushing him a bit as sunoo groans and walks up to you, making sure to look normal and like someone who’s approaching you without any hidden intentions. 

“oh, yn?” and sunoo is channelling his inner song joong ki as he fake gasps as you, making you turn around to look at him as you stand up and greet the boy. “wow, what’s a coincidence, i can’t believe you like food at hybe cafe too,” 

that’s the fakest, most unbelievable shit that has come out of sunoo’s mouth. even the intonation isn’t how he normally sounds, and he’s trying to be very normal here. he can see jay making annoyed faces at him from his peripheral vision although he tries not to react, focusing on your instead. you seem to believe is normalcy, and it’s going so good so far. 

“yeah, the macaroons here are quite good,” you reply with an awkward laugh, not internally screaming because naya is taking eternity to come back and it seems like yeon and yinuo got flushed down the toilet. you’re not the one with overflowing social anxieties, but how does one continue a conversation with someone who you have never really talked to so far? 

“just like you,” sunoo wants to dig a grave and bury himself alive because you look like you just heard the most inhumane thing ever. “i mean you and an idol, like your vocals are so good and i really look up to you. your dance style is cool, i like you—” 

and the next thing you remember is seeing sunghoon only a few steps away from you and sunoo, watching you two with a confused expression before he ran out. 

PREV · NEXT · MASTERLIST

note : crazy how i keep forgetting i have a smau to update anyway guys the writing here is shit i wrote that in ten mins hope u still like it though (idk how to end it)

[vincess-princess]

in darkness shall you be reborn

Chapter 15

Word count: 2789 Warnings: some blood A/N: rejoice, for i am almost done with college (for this semester) and have much more time and energy, hence this chapter. consider it a christmas present <3

By the time the potato fortress was demolished, the bandage on Vince’s shoulder had grown soggy and heavy, and underneath dumb pain accompanied every Vince’s movement, occasionally sharpening into spikes. When Mick turned away to fiddle with the pot on the stove, Vince unbuttoned his shirt and peeled off the three-day-old bandage.

The wound didn’t look promising, with the skin between the stitches red and inflamed, and the thread dark and wet with blood. If it had been healing, the process surely was disrupted. This really begged for a doctor, but he had just refused to do that to Mick’s face, so going to a surgeon would mean admitting defeat, and Vince had enough of it today. Besides, while death of infection wasn’t among the ways to kill himself that he considered, but for lack of alternatives…

A hand grasped his forearm, startling him. The bandage fell onto the ground with an audible plop. Not paying that any mind, Mick silently dragged him to the door and then along the corridor to the sick bay. Vince didn’t resist. It made sense with Nikki. Not with Mick.

Izzy the surgeon wasn’t alone. A familiar redhead was sitting on the bunk in the sick bay and sipping beer from a mug. There was a talk in hushed voices going on, but it was, naturally, stopped as Mick barged in without a knock and unceremoniously shoved Vince inside.

“Take care of this idiot before I do,” he only said and, not sparing Vince another look, slammed the door shut.

“Wow.” Axl raised an eyebrow. “Never seen the old man so pissed. What did you do, hump his guitar?”

“I wish,” Vince jerked his shoulder, annoyed, but then the pain in it flared up, making him wince. Izzy the surgeon frowned, and Vince belatedly remembered he wasn’t supposed to disclose his and Axl’s connection to anyone on the ship. Well, that one reply didn’t mean anything, right?

“You got him so angry and didn’t even use the chance to hump his guitar?” Axl continued, making Izzy snort. That was the first time Vince heard him make a sound since he dryly informed him about that same shoulder wound during his first visit to sick bay.

“You seem unhealthily fixated on it, should I tell Mick to lock it up at night?” Vince replied half-mindedly, eyeing the surgeon nervously. Stopping in the middle of a conversation now would seem stranger than continuing it. Izzy, however, observed the battle of wits with no sign of surprise. No sign of anything, really. It was hard to see his eyes at all underneath the long, greasy hair and in the dim light of the sick bay.

“Oh, so he doesn’t lock her up?” Axl grinned. “Pray tell, where does he keep her?”

“Whatever you’re thinking of, I wouldn’t recommend it. You try to cross the galley’s threshold at night, you’re getting an early breakfast. Of lead.”

“Really? Does he also shoot at you when you go out for a piss?”

Vince nodded. He might have exaggerated Mick’s reaction a bit, to keep any night eaters’ hopes low. Just a bit, though, because anyone breaking down the closed door at night was guaranteed a couple extra holes.

“Oh you poor thing, can’t even go take a leak?” Axl didn’t sound too pitiful, more amused, and that felt good.

“Oh, I can. You don’t want to know where, though.”

“Ew-w-w!” Even Izzy couldn’t hold back a cry of disgust. Vince took it as his little personal victory. He had already learned that the reaction to this type of humor was deceptive. If the pirates didn’t love the joke, they wouldn’t say anything at all, and that silence could kill faster than staying in the same room with a dozen pirates who had beans for dinner. “Yeah, I’ll think twice before eating anything from the galley now.”

“Think as much as you want, you’ll eat it anyway. May I?” Without waiting for an answer, Vince reached out for Axl’s unfinished mug of beer and finished it off in two gulps. Watching Axl’s jaw loosen in indignation was quite entertaining. And reassuring, because whatever Nikki had said, those two treated him rather decently so far, even when he obviously overstepped the boundaries.

“You recovered rather quickly,” another voice said from behind Vince’s back. Izzy. “Surprising.”

“Really?” Vince abruptly turned on his heels towards Izzy. His face gave no indication of whether the last comment was meant positively or negatively, but Vince had a feeling that if it was the latter, the surgeon wouldn’t initiate the talk at all. “Why?”

“Well,” one corner of Izzy’s mouth curved ever so slightly, “last time you were here, you were trembling like a leaf and couldn’t string two words together. I didn’t expect you’d last the night.”

Not a muscle had moved in the surgeon’s face, but he tilted his head to the left slightly… it might have been the dim light of the sick bay and the shadows of Izzy’s hair falling on his face, but the nothingness of his face had an ironic undertone now.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you were rather… distraught. You lost everything you had, including your vir… dignity. You don’t look the hardy type to me, and that would be the easiest way out.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Vince said in a strangled voice. “If I die, I die of this infection that Mick dragged me here for. Stop talking nonsense and deal with it instead.”

“Hey, drop that tone,” Axl demanded, his voice suddenly stern. “Order your servants around with it- oh right, you don’t have any. Nobody owes you anything anymore.”

“Ax, relax,” Izzy said lazily, rising from his chair. “Old habits slip through in everyone sometimes. You, for example, still can’t take a shit when there’s someone else on the poop deck, and captain still expects us to know what minuet is. Shirt off.” That last one was addressed to Vince, who hastily pulled his shirt over his head. Izzy grabbed a candle and leaned forward, examining the wound, the candle so close Vince could feel the heat with his skin. He sure hoped Izzy’s hand wouldn’t slip.

“Let’s see… Haven’t I fixed it before? Yeah, those are my stitches… holy shit. It takes an effort to fuck up my work this badly. What you been doing with them?”

“Not me,” Vince said gloomily.

“Ah.” No emotion on the pale face once again. It contrasted especially starkly with Axl’s grimace on the background. “Well, tell the captain that if he keeps that up, he might lose his favorite whipping boy in a couple of months at best. This one looks fixable, but if they add up it’s gonna get real bad.”

“If I tell him that, it will take much less than a couple months.” Vince much preferred when they discussed his night pissing accommodations.

“C’mon, it’s not in his interest. It’s not like you can find pretty captives on every ship you raid. It was three years between you and Axl. Pretty boys don’t usually go seafaring – for obvious reasons.”

“But Axl said-“ Vince turned to the redhead, then caught himself. Izzy seemed aware, but to what extent?

“Yeah, he got luckier than you. Doesn’t mean that wasn’t one of the reasons,” Izzy interrupted him. Ah, so he was fully aware. Interesting that Axl didn’t consider it worthwhile to tell him about their little club. “Ax, get off the bunk. I’m gonna have to stitch him anew. Here, lie down.”

He pressed on Vince’s shoulder, pushing him to lie onto his back, then opened a cabinet and extracted a bottle of water out of it and a surgeon’s kit.

“Hold this.” He handed Vince the water. As Vince discovered three seconds later, it was actually vodka. A shitty painkiller, but better than nothing.

“Hey!” Izzy caught Vince red-handed sipping out of the bottle. “You parasite! That’s for medical purposes. Give that to me.”

“I’m self-medicating!” Vince protested, reluctantly handing back the bottle. The only upside of vodka was that it didn’t take much of it to get piss drunk, though, so he wasn’t too upset about the loss.

“For external use!”

“Why? If you want to clean the wound with it, why not just use water? And I could find a better use for this heavenly beverage.”

“Are you telling me how to do my job? Maybe you’ll patch yourself up too then and save everyone the trouble?” Izzy gave Vince a blank stare that impressed him more than any frown Axl could master. “No? Then don’t act all smart here. Stretch out the arm.”

He got down onto his knees next to the bunk and leaned close to the wound, carefully stretching the skin a little to get a better look at it. Then he cut the thread with small scissors and abruptly pulled it out.

“Ouch!”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Izzy rolled his eyes. “At least, not more than you already are.”

Vince wouldn’t have swallowed the insult so meekly if the surgeon wasn’t just about the only person capable of fixing his wound. Without the thread the torn edges of the wound widened, exposing black, clotted blood inside. Vince winced.

“Could be worse,” Izzy waved him off. “It just started to inflame. I don’t see any pus there so far.” Then he pulled out a patch of fabric and the aforementioned vodka bottle and, before Vince managed to realise what was happening, poured vodka all over it.

A second passed, and then Vince threw his head back with a howl as the liquid burned exposed flesh and the skin around it. Izzy promptly pressed the fabric to the wound, pushing Vince back onto the bunk, and held him down as he cursed and hissed. Then he began cleaning out the dried blood with the cloth, and Vince discovered he knew even more curse words than he thought. Thankfully, he did the job quickly enough for Vince to only cycle through his collection of curses three times.

“This should be a torture technique!” he protested once he was again capable of coherent speech. “Wouldn’t water do the job just as well?”

“No.” Izzy threw the bloody cloth on the floor. “Over my years of practice I discovered that the wounds cleaned with vodka or other highly alcoholic beverages have much lower chance of inflaming. And you need that chance. I can’t really chop off a shoulder in case there’s a gangrene.”

Vince, realizing this was a real possibility, went quiet. Izzy, meanwhile, grabbed a needle, threaded it and then dipped it into the flame of the candle. For a second Vince believed the thread would catch fire, but Izzy knew what he was doing. After a couple minutes of this he removed it, tried to touch it with his fingers, cursed under his breath and blew onto the blunt tip. When it presumably cooled enough, he grabbed the needle and lowered himself onto a stool next to the bed.

“Now hold still. You fidget too much, I’ll have to ask Axl to pin you down.”

“You don’t want that,” Axl, who until now had been observing the scene with an interest one would express to a circus performance, confirmed from the back.

“Aren’t you going to wait until the needle cools down?” Vince asked warily.

“No. It will hurt anyway.” With that, Izzy began to stitch.

The stab wound was small and only took him a few minutes to stitch up, but to Vince they were hours. He gripped the edge of the bed so tightly his fingers went numb, and bit his lips so hard he drew blood. But, for the first time on the Shout, the pain was inflicted without a purpose to hurt, and so he kept silent, save for an occasional pained gasp.

“All done.” Izzy rose from his stool and wiped his bloody fingers and the needle with a towel. “And you didn’t have to be all tough and manly about it. Crying actually helps relieve the pain.”

“Yeah, so you get more excuses to call me a pussy?” Vince huffed, sitting up on the bunk and putting his feet onto the floor. His bloodied knees poked out of his pants, drawing a disproportionate amount of attention.

“Whoa, man,” Axl whistled in amazement, “you seen his knees? To fucking shreds! The blowjob must have been insane.”

Izzy raised his eyebrows. “Huh. The captain sure doesn’t fuck around. You might want to get these cleaned and bandaged, though.”

“I might, if you two stop talking bollocks,” Vince said through gritted teeth.

“That’s only in your interest,” Izzy shrugged, wetting a cloth with vodka and handing it to him. “These can get infected too.”

“I- ouch!- know.” Vince dabbed the cloth onto one knee, then another. He didn’t even have to take off his pants for that, which was convenient.

“Any other injuries I should know about?”

“None that I recall,” Vince said curtly.

“Man, if that’s just his knees, imagine what the captain is doing to his ass,” Axl said from behind Izzy’s back. “Maybe he’s just too shy to ask you about it.”

“If you don’t shut up, I will do something much worse to your ass,” Vince promised.

“Oh-oh, so scary.” Axl threw his hands up in pretended surrender, but had to cut the act short to dodge from the candle holder Vince hurled at him. He promptly picked it up to throw it back, but Izzy was quicker.

“Stop that right now!” He snatched the candle holder from Axl’s hand. “I won’t tolerate a mess in my workplace!” For the first time Vince heard an actual emotion in his voice – anger. “Rose, get the hell out!”

“Hey! He started that!” Axl protested.

“I don’t care. He needs my services, and you’re here just to gawk. Get out or I’ll make you.” The surgeon was thinner and lighter than Axl, but Vince didn’t doubt for a second that he could easily do that. Axl seemed to be of the same opinion, because he got up and disappeared behind the door, muttering indignantly under his breath.

“You done?” Izzy turned back to Vince like nothing happened and crouched next to the bunk to look at his knees. “Well, you certainly didn’t try your hardest. Gimme.”

He quickly and relentlessly wiped up the rest of the clotted blood off Vince’s knees and bandaged them.

“Try not to kneel much in the next few days. Even if the captain wants you to. Tell him I said so.”

“I will make sure to pass your recommendations on to him,” Vince promised grimly. “After which he, in turn, will make sure to break every single one of them. Thanks for the help. Drop by the galley when you can. I don’t have much influence over Mick, but I can coax an extra mug of beer out of him for you.”

“You sure know your strengths.” Izzy smiled with corners of his mouth. “I’ll consider it. Now off you go.”

Well, out of all of “get the fuck out of here” variations this one was rather polite. Vince, not wishing to test Izzy’s patience any longer, left the sick bay and almost bumped into Axl, who was waiting patiently by the door.

“You could have told me that Izzy knows about us before I had to find it out by trial and error!” Vince poked him in the chest accusingly.

“Well, it didn’t end in error after all, right?” Axl waved his hand carelessly. “Besides, I wanted to see how you’d hold up in the presence of another person. I gotta say, I thought you had better manners.”

“Learning from you all,” Vince grumbled. “Anyone else aware you haven’t told me about?”

“Nope. Izzy’s the only one on this ship I can trust.” Axl sighed.

“Three years, and you’ve only made one friend? You’re not a social type, aren’t you?”

“I’ll look at you in three years and see how you’re faring,” Axl scowled. “If you’re still alive, that is. The captain sure is hot-headed, but within reason. You must be a terrible pain in the ass to end up so beaten.”

“I’m not-“ Vince began, but realized anything he said would be taken as proof of that. A pain in the ass, a bother, an annoyance. None of the pirates would ever see past this description, would never believe it wasn’t his fault. They believed their precious captain would never do that on his own volition, and together with general disregard of the “blue bloods” it was enough for them to shift the blame completely onto Vince’s shoulders.

He gave Axl a deadly glare and stormed down the corridor to the galley.

[-catelynstark]

Your kisses are charity

So now I’m well and truly aboard the House of the Dragon train and Hyper fixation has taken hold, I’ve decided to start writing a little again. This is a short and very quick fic I’ve written as I wanted to get something out there but am working on some longer bits and head canons. 

Summary: Reader insert fic. Reader is married to Daemon, Daemon likes to fuck from behind so can pretend it is Rhaenyra he’s sleeping with. 

A/N - Yes the title of this short drabble/fic is a song by Culture Club. 

Warnings: Smut, blood, references to Uncle/Niece incest. It’s a fic where Daemon is pining over Rhaenyra so that’s a given. A little angst from reader pov who is in love with Daemon. If you’re not comfortable with the themes or you’re under 18 please just move along and don’t read. 

18+ ONLY - Minors DNI 

It isn’t kind, but you crave it anyway the way that those who know their end is near crave the darkness.

The act is mostly devoid of love and still you allow it. Still, you miss his touch when he’s gone. You allow it because it is your duty – this is the lie you tell yourself to make it easier to sleep at night.

Daemon doesn’t mean to be cruel you know this to be true. But it doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

He isn’t a man who gives up easily for he enjoys the game, the hunt, the chase… He’s always the wolf with you as his sacrificial lamb, but Gods he is easy to fall for and the sword he wields to penetrate your flesh so irresistible you can only slide readily onto it.

Tonight, was no different as he fucked you from behind, your hands fisting at the bed sheets and holding them sweat stained in bunches.

“Say it,” he commanded through gritted teeth.

Pride cuts deep and stubbornness was often a force you both fought over. But during this precise battle, Daemon had won. You knew if you did as he asked he would treat you kindly in the end. There was the chance of an ounce of the love and affection you wished he had for you, rather than his all too often sneering contempt after sex.

Against your wishes you spoke the one word that you knew caused Daemon to come undone. It was the one word that gave you power over him even though it’s use coming from your lips was a lie, “Uncle…” you spoke softly but clear so that the word punctured the sickly-sweet air.

You hear him chuckle at the word, encouraged his pace increased along with the pressure of his grip on your hips leaving you with no doubt that there will be bruises in the morning.

His kisses come from behind, so you are rarely offered the privilege of getting to look into his eyes while you get off. This is the price you pay, you got to marry the man you were enamoured with, but you knew he’d never really be yours.

“Yes…my sweet girl, beautiful girl how I’ve waited to have you for my own.”

His grip tightened even more before he released one hand erratically before slapping your right butt cheek, the moan is exactly what he wants from you. Every noise you make is nectar to his carnal drive.

He pulls you up onto your knees so that as you lean back you’re flush to his chest. A hand, rough and still gloved gleaming with blood trails it’s way across your chest. He grabs one of your breasts, pinching a nipple and leaving traces of his kills on your skin.

The blood shouldn’t turn you on, but it does just as you know it gets him going. Daemon Targaryen fucks, but after battle is when he fucks hardest. You can smell it on him, the lives he’s taken the raw stench of copper that will get into the bed sheets and curtains. The smell feels like home now for it reminds you of him and that you aren’t always alone. Sometimes the man you love does pay you visit, sometimes…just occasionally he stays the night.

Daemon places a hand at your throat, he knows how you enjoy this so he gives it to you as a gift. You don’t think on how he wishes it was his nieces throat in his vice grip, fingers digging in where he placed that pretty necklace.

Damnit you want him to mark you so that all of court know you are his and despite the rumours you do share a bed together. Despite the fact you aren’t who he wanted to marry, there is some connection between you that exists beyond duty and the friendship you have thankfully formed outside of the bedroom.

“Say it again.” He breaths hot and heavy in your ear, his thrusts have slowed and you know what this is. You feel him go a little soft inside you and can hear the frustration in his voice as he speaks. You tighten around him, feeling yourself growing closer to orgasm you cannot lose him now, cannot let him down.

“My silver haired girl,” and now Daemon sounds almost sad and pitiful. A man full of regret and want that cannot be satisfied.

“Uncle…fuck me.” You pause, feeling him smile into the small of your back, “Break me, uncle, break my pretty little cunt.”

It isn’t long after the filth spills from your mouth that he reaches orgasm, his final thrusts are erratic, they’re long, fast and oh so deep as he pushes you back forwards into all fours.

Then the worst of it comes when he reaches climax, it’s then he says her name, “Rhaenyra” and every time you hope it will be the one time, he doesn’t the one time when fate will allow you to have this and for him to speak your name. But the time never comes.

You long to tell him and speak of how you feel, explain that this madness he feels due to his love for her is the same madness you too experience with your love for him. How every time he fucks you knowing he’s pretending he is with her is like a knife to the heart.

One day you will tell him. One day. But not today.

Tonight, he stays by your side, after pulling out he collapses on you and you lay side by side in bed, his fingers gently tracing your arm. Lazily he strokes your thighs and makes your knees fall apart for him again as he touches you softly. His thick fingers, gloves now off, slide between your slick folds. Fingers scissoring deep as his thumb rubs circles round your hardened clit. This is your drug, much as her name is his, your drug is him and the charity he shows you.

He kisses you on the lips just once as you reach climax. He remains pressed against you as your hips buck and you squeeze around his fingers, only breaking the kiss as your heart starts to slow.

You sleep together in the bloodied sheets and in the morning Daemon will be gone. You don’t know when you’ll next see him in your bedroom.

This is the price you agreed to, the price to pay for love.

[miekasa]

do you have any cute (or h-word) bf headcanons for the Aot boys mie?

Of course I do, I have an ever-expanding list of headcanons for all of them, from how they react to you sitting in the backseat when they pick you up, down to whether or not they would rip your bandages off after your get a shot (spoiler: Eren, Porco, and Levi fucking would)

EREN sfw

He really likes holding hands, though it’s more of a calming habit for him. Holding hands keeps him grounded, and acts as an anchor for his anxiety; so he’ll grab and/or fidget with yours periodically.

He’ll steal your skincare if he’s over at your place, but honestly he just starts… copying it lmfao. Like, he’ll take notice of your face wash when he’s over he’s like “Oh, this is nice” and then a week later, he buys a bottle for himself. Then he buys your toner, and your moisturizer, and you stay over at his place and gotta do a double take bc he’s got damn near the same of everything at this point.

He doesn’t know if he believes that classical music actually helps him to concentrate, but he does know that he’s grown to like it, so it’s become his studying music of choice. He’s got favorite composers and everything.

He’d be upset if you didn’t steal his hoodies. That’s what they’re there for. He’ll make you steal them if he has to.

He hates standing in line. For anything. If he likes a restaurant that gets super busy at lunch, he’ll order ahead for pickup (and he feels special skipping the line). At amusement parks, he pays for the fast passes. If it’s shopping, then he’d rather just do it online.

On that note, he sucks at returning things that don’t fit/he doesn’t like when he shops online, so he honestly just keeps them, or gives them to his friends—it’s much easier than going through the hassle of printing a return label, according to him.

nsfw

He likes the idea of recording you guys during sex, but he’s honestly a little too nervous to do it—nervous about being recorded himself, and about it potentially getting out somewhere.

Likes it when you look him in the eyes when you cum. In fact, he somewhat demands it.

Similarly, he’s always watching you during sex. Mostly your face, for indications of how he’s making you feel and when you’re close to your orgasm (which is why he’s got a thing for you looking at him).

He used to hate masturbating, until he tried masturbating to the idea of you, and now he fucking loves that. He takes his time with it too—if he’s gonna jack off, he’s gonna make a moment of it: sit on his bed, turn the lights off, make sure he’s all alone and can go for as long as he wants.

Threesomes are fine with him, and he doesn’t even have to be the sole one in charge, depending on who’s joining you.

ARMIN sfw

He air-dries the majority of his clothes because he doesn’t want his sweaters and knitwear to shrink. Also, he likes the smell of his fabric softener permeating the room while the clothes dry.

On a similar note, he’s got sensitive skin—not to the point where a shirt less than 75% cotton irritates him; but he is conscious of fabrics and products he uses. Because of this, he takes extra care with his laundry, his pillowcases and bedsheets are satin as are the majority of his pajama shirts, and he never ever walks around without house slippers or he’ll irritate the bottom of his feet.

He’s scared of bugs, but he doesn’t like to kill them either. Honestly, he just kinda hopes spiders and stuff will crawl away without him intervening 😭😭

He likes board games, and has a thing for The Game of Life. He cannot play chess, even though most people would guess that he could, and he’s begun to practice by playing online versions against computers to learn.

He knows everyone’s gossip because everyone comes to him to gossip. And if he’s the therapist friend, then you’re the person who receives the summary of all the tea from him at the end of the week. And man can this boy throw a bitch fest when he’s in the right mood.

nsfw

He’s got a bit of an oral fixation, so he really likes having your mouth occupied; with his fingers, with your panties, with his dick—he’s not really picky.

Likes sex with the lights on. Claims it’s because he wants to “see all of you” (it’s really because he’s nervous he’ll fuck something up if he can’t see properly 😭😭)

He really likes making out. Like, a lot. Though it’s not something that happens often—so he builds up a lot of frustrating thinking about it, and it all comes crashing down, and ends up with you guys damn near dry humping each other on the couch for two hours.

That’s something that applies to him generally, too—he tends to let himself get very frustrated and worked up, whether he means to or not. He also thinks about sex quite frequently, and it only fuels his frustration; so when he snaps, he snaps hard.

He’d let you choke him back if you asked. Just ask nicely.

JEAN sfw

Loves studying in cafés and adores when you study with him; peeps up at you periodically when you sit across from him. He always pays for your drink, but sometimes you guys share, and he likes making a game out of reaching for the cup at the same time as you.

He’s very chivalrous, but he hates when you call him out for it, or make any kind of deal of it. He knows it’s chivalry, but he also knows it’s the bare minimum, plus he’s easily embarrassed—especially in public.

Loves having his hair played with, absolutely adores it. If you’re just holding his face, or resting your hand on his cheek, he’ll move himself further into your touch to maneuver your palm closer to his hair.

He really really really likes back hugs—giving and receiving them. If he’s standing behind you, he’ll most likely reach for a hug at some point (sometimes he won’t let go and you’ve gotta waddle with him on you). His ears get red when you give him a back hug but he always uses a hand to rest over your arms to tell you that he doesn’t want you to let go.

He can play the piano, but he doesn’t tell a soul about it. The only reason you found out it through his mom. He’s got stage fright, so he gave up on performing, but he’s really talented, and can almost play any song by ear.

nsfw

He loves the feeling of your hands on him, particularly if you’ve got long nails. Please scrape your nails against his back, or even just dig them into his biceps while he’s fucking you, it’ll drive him insane.

Along with liking having his hair played with, he adores having it pulled on—the attention and desperation in your actions goes straight to his ego and his dick.

One of his biggest fantasies is getting a lap dance from you. He’d never ever fucking say it out loud or dream of asking for it, but the idea of you stripping in front of him, down to lingerie he’d picked out for you, and teasing him until he can’t take it anymore and jumps you is something he thinks about… far more often than he should.

If you’re wearing his clothes (especially one of his t-shirts to bed, or around his apartment), he’s gonna fuck you in it. Jean has a lot of self control, but that’s one thing that’ll make him snap in an instant. And if you wear his shirt or hoodie out, he’s fucking you when you get home, it’s as simple as that.

CONNIE sfw

He studies with children’s shows playing the background. He doesn’t remember how he discovered that his method works for him, all he knows is that something about Paw Patrol makes for excellent background noise for writing his research papers.

He’s quite touchy with PDA, but if you guys are in a crowd then forget about it—because Connie might forget about you. He’s definitely left you at the grocery store before.

He eats cereal for breakfast every morning, and he’s kind of got a collection of them in his kitchen. He claims there are upscale cereals that he doesn’t just let anybody eat or even touch; so, if he offers you a midnight snack consisting of a bowl of his favorite (and very rare) cereal, then be honored.

He almost always pays with cash, but he hates change. If he gets back coins, he either tells the cashier to keep them, puts them in a tip jar if there’s one in sight, or just pours them into your coat pocket. He understands that its money, but he’ll be damned if he’s just got a sack full of nickels clanging around in his bag.

nsfw

He claims he doesn’t have a thing for exhibitionism, but with the way he’s down to fuck damn near anywhere, he might be a bold faced liar. Changing rooms, music festivals, airport bathrooms, the little corner of the multilevel parking lot that he’s oh-so-certain is in the blindspot of the security cameras... there are so few things off-limits with him.

Car sex on his bucket list… just not in his car lmfao (because trust and believe that’s something that already happens pretty regularly). Maybe his real kink is vandalism and destruction of property.

He is not above begging you to sit on his face. He will get on his knees and pant like a fucking dog for you to do it, he’s so serious. He’ll do it laying down, he’ll do it with you standing up/against a wall, he’ll do it on the couch. Break his neck please he’s fucking asking for it.

He doesn’t mind sharing and he definitely doesn’t mind watching. Honestly, he’d egg you on to kiss someone else at a party, or go as far as to seduce you into seducing someone else just so he can watch it go down.

PORCO sfw

He sends you iMessage games but only the ones he’s good at because he doesn’t like to lose. But also, if he is losing, he doesn’t want you to be supportive about it and tell him “it’s okay uwu” lmfao he wants to either cream you, or have you kick his ass; competition is the name of the game, don’t be soft on him.

He’s a morning person, and he likes going on runs or even just early-morning walks when the weather is nice. He will wake you up occasionally to join him—and if you’re a homebody, you will be joining him. He won’t be responsible for watching you decompose on the couch.

Very picky about his pizza. It’s not a calorie or grease or health thing—he just really fucking likes pizza, and he won’t excuse a bad slice.

Always pulls you closer to him in a crowd or when a group of people are walking by. He doesn’t have to, but he likes to. Tease him about it and he’ll push you right back tho, probably into a shrub if there’s one near by.

nsfw

He’s such a “No, no—answer the call” kind of mf; a sadist, if you will. He lives for torturing and embarrassing you, and that applies to sex, too.

Loves the way his hands look on you, particularly splaying his hand over your stomach when he’s fucking you. Likes the heat of your body against his, when he positions himself just right to feel the outline of his dick against you, and squeezing the sides of your tummy when he gets lost in it.

Loves blowjobs, and loves to cum on you or over your face. His favorite thing tho is pulling away just before he’s about to orgasm, and jacking himself off with your tongue sticking out, ready to swallow.

Okay with threesomes, too; but he wouldn’t like to do much to or with the third person. It’s okay if they touch you—maybe even fuck you, depending on who it is—but he’s not there to get them off.

LEVI

sfw

When he cooks dinner, he always makes sure to make enough for you to have leftovers to take with you for lunch the following day. Especially if it’s a dish you’ve been wanting or try, or specifically asked him to cook.

He’s got a specific tote bag he brings with him to the grocery store/farmer’s market, and separate one for when he’s running other light errands.

He hates soda, not even just because it’s not the healthiest thing to drink—he just doesn’t like the feel of carbonated drinks; the only exception being when they’re mixed with liquor, but even then, it’s not his preference.

After a while, he just starts lying and says you’re married at places where it benefits you both, or to curb a longer conversation about the status of your relationship to people who are inquiring. He thinks it’s fucking weird that marriage is what shuts people up, but if it works, it works; less people prying in your guys’ business.

He likes giving you forehead kisses, and if you do it back, he’ll learn that he doesn’t mind receiving them either.

He’s such a sucker for you rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand when you guys hold hands. He might not act like he notices, but he always does; and somewhat craves little touches like that the longer you guys are together.

nsfw

He would never admit it to anyone, but birthday sex is up there for his favorite kind of sex. He never cared much about his birthday… until he realized he could get that as a gift. He knows it’s not different, but he likes it, nonetheless; one the few times he doesn’t mind having all the attention on him.

King of aftercare, though some of his methods usually lead to another round—in which he teases you for cancelling out his work, when you know he was just as willing and eager.

He likes edging himself and overstimulating you; and with his self-control, that makes for a pretty dangerous combination.

He’s strong and he knows how to use it to his advantage: maneuvering you with a single arm, holding both your wrists above your head with one hand, pushing your head down into the sheets when he’s fucking you from behind.

Sex is one of the few times Levi doesn’t mind making a mess—and in fact, he likes it messy; watching you drip onto the sheets, making you spit on his dick and fucking your face until you drool. He always goes on about how sloppy you are, how you can’t keep anything clean, but he fucking loves it.

[strangelysamantha]

cheerleader ❀

rafe cameron x plus!reader.

warnings: swearing, flirting, slight angst in the beginning (barely)

words: 2,365.

summary: rafe was intrigued by you, he wanted to get to know you. he thought that task would be easy, but your distaste for him was apparent. despite the overwhelming amount of setbacks, he knew he would get you to crack.

request? no :)

a/n: please like and comment if you enjoy! thank you, ilysm <3

my masterlist

part two

——————————————————————————

most things rafe wanted, he easily got. it was a known fact. his parents were financially stable so they could afford to throw money down the drain for useless items that wouldn’t be used more than once. his popularity and name allowed him to get away with most things. except you. you seemed to not care about his wealth or his looks. you didn’t even care to give him the time of day. he took this as a challenge. he was destined to get you to like him if it was the last thing he did.

the first time he talked to you was during school. he thought his charm and popularity would make you swoon. instead, it was quite the opposite. he approached you at your locker, his smile bright. “hey. i’m rafe.” he extended his hand out to you. “hello, rafe.” you shake his hand back, before retreating your hand to your side. you stare at him in confusion. “uhm am i in the way of your locker?” you question, he shakes his head. “oh no, actually. i just wanted to introduce myself to you.” you nod your head. “well rafe, it was nice to meet you, i guess. but i’m running late for class.” you shut your locker, speeding off to class.

rafe stayed by your locker in awe. you really thought rafe was just waiting to get to his locker? it’s halfway through the school year, if his locker was by yours, you would have known by now. he embarrassingly walked away, heading to his first class. that awkward moment was lingering in his head, stuck on replay. your facial expression that showcased confusion stayed still in his mind. by third hour he was over it, not as embarrassed. he shrugged it off, excited to try again.

rafe actually didn’t know that much about you. he saw you in the halls occasionally. his interest in you peaked when he saw that you talked to topper a lot. since you were heavily associated with topper, he believed that it would be easy to befriend you. it’s clear to him now that isn’t the case. he can’t help but feel surprised at your lack of knowledge for him. everyone knows of rafe, and you should especially know because of how well you know topper.

regardless, rafe knew what he had to do. he needed to see topper, and investigate him. rafe pulled his phone out, texting topper to meet him.

topper met rafe in the boy’s bathroom before fourth period. they scoped the bathroom, ensuring to themselves that they could openly talk since they were alone. rafe didn’t hesitate, he immediately bombarded topper with questions about you. “what’s with the sudden interest?” topper asks, confused.

“i don’t know, i keep seeing her in the hallway and she stares at me.” topper nods, “well she does good academically, i know her because her family is friends with my family, she’s on the cheerleading team, i don’t know man. what info are you wanting?” the cheerleading team. rafe smiled to himself, you are a cheerleader. “that’s good enough, i just needed some info so i could know if i want to meet her or not.” topper laughed, “alright man. i gotta go.” rafe nodded, “see you later.” topper fist bumped rafe before walking out the bathroom.

you were a cheerleader? he had no clue. it dawned on him, if he had no idea of who you were, why would you know who he was? he shook his head at the thought, instead heading to class.

on the other side of the school sat you, fidgeting with your pencil as you struggled to keep up with the current notes. the interaction you had with rafe was confusing you. why did he suddenly want to meet you? it didn’t make sense. the whole class period you tried to wrap your brain around his actions, trying to figure out what his intention was, but you fell short.

at lunch time you sat at a table, you usually sat with friends but they were absent. it didn’t help they were absent the one day someone popular randomly takes an interest in you. you sit on the chair, pulling out your math homework. if you knocked it out at lunch, you had a high chance of not having homework. you start the first problem, but immediately halt when your family friend, topper, taps on your shoulder. “hi tops.” you smile softly at him, setting your pencil down and turning your attention to him. he smiles at you, “hey.”

you pick up a goldfish, plopping it into your mouth. “how have you been?” you question topper. he shrugs, “same old same old. family is still upset with me, per usual.” you nod, soaking up what he said. “dang, that sucks. it’s so annoying how people hold grudges. they don’t know how to forgive and forget.” you shrug, smiling up at him. he returns the smile, “i know right.” you place your homework back in your bag, assuming you wouldn’t be able to finish it during lunch.

“what did you even do?” you ask him. he smiles, “uh i accidentally pissed a pogue off so they got revenge by sinking my new boat.” your eyes widened, “what! holy shit you must have fucked up bad.” he frowns, “i didn’t really want to do it, you know how tricky it is with our reputation and who we have to associate with.” you laugh, “oh i know all too well of what that’s like.” topper rolls his eyes, assuming you’re talking about him.

“hey! i’m not too bad.” you laugh, “it wasn’t about you. you aren’t bad at all.” you look up, seeing rafe take his backpack off. you glance at topper to see he is confused as well. “hey rafe, what’s up?” topper questions rafe, who had just sat down at our table. “nothing much man, saw you over here and decided to join.” you laugh sarcastically, “inviting yourself to our private party?” you question, slightly joking. rafe felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy when you grouped yourself and topper together.

“i’m just kidding rafe… kind of.” you grin, topper joining in by chuckling with you. rafe awkwardly laughs along. he pulls himself together, thinking of things to say. “are you going to the football game tomorrow?” rafe waits for your response. you smile slightly, “yeah, but i’m a cheerleader so i’ll be on field.” he nods, “oh, that’s cool.” you nod awkwardly. “yeah.” he smiles subconsciously, excited to see you in a uniform. his smile disintegrates when topper confronts him. “what are you smiling for bro?” rafe stared at him, unamused. “nothing.” topper scoffs, “alright then.”

you steal looks between rafe and topper, still confused. you don’t ask any questions, you just continue eating your food. the bell rings, indicating that lunch is over. you gather up your trash, standing up. you notice rafes eyes lingering over your body. his eyes fixating between your thick thighs, and hips. you feel self conscious under his stare, so you quickly stand up and walk to the trash can. rafe follows after you, quick on his feet. he comes up to your side, much to your dismay.

“will i see you at the game tomorrow?” you turn your head to the side, “are you going to the game?” you return. he nods, “yeah.” you smile, “then you’ll probably see me.” he grins, “okay, cool.” he quickly turns around, leaving you by yourself. you were confused still, but hey, maybe having rafe as a friend would be good.

you got through the day quickly, heading immediately home. you work on homework, chores, and finally get ready for bed. before bed you prepare your uniform. you set it out, along with a jacket so you weren’t on full display at school. you wake up the next morning, putting on your uniform, along with a bow in your hair. you head to school, slightly nervous for your possible interaction with rafe.

when you arrive at school, you don’t see rafe. you only saw topper, who was eagerly heading in your direction. he smiled, standing still in front of you. “hey, good morning!” you smile, “hi tops.” the two of you talk for a bit, him walking you to class. “can i pick you up before the game?” topper asks. “sure, it has to be a little earlier than the fans. i have warm ups and stuff i have to do before the game.” he grins, “okay! just text me tonight when you want me to pick you up.” you put your hands in your jacket pocket. “okay, thanks topper!”

he walks away, and you walk into your first hour class. you go through your classes as usual, rafe not showing up. you couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or relieved, but either way it didn’t matter, you had a game you had to prepare for. you do your make up, and touch up your hair. you chug water, and began stretching. you text topper, saying he could pick you up now, if he still wanted to drive you. his response was quick and enthusiastic.

topper pulls up to your house, his music loud, and a large smile plastered on his face. “game day!!” you laugh along, repeating his words. “game day!” you open his door, hopping inside. “let’s go!” you playfully roll your eyes at his eagerness, “to the school!” topper smirks, stepping on the gas, and speeding out your driveway.

the two of you sing along to the songs on the radio, before it abruptly ends due to you two arriving at the school. he decides to stay in his car, planning on joining right when the official game starts. you skip down the field, joining your teammates. you stretch with them, before you practice the chants and dance numbers.

at six thirty, they start allowing people in. you immediately see topper hunched over the fence, him waving frantically at you. you wave back, jogging over to him. “you ready?” he asks, you bite your lip, “i guess.” he laughs at your nerves, excited for you. you glance over and see rafe. he hadn’t seen you yet. your breath gets caught in your throat, slightly scared and self conscious to see him.

topper gives you reassuring words, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice rafe had found you. rafe slowly makes his way towards topper, keeping his cool. rafe stares at you in your cheerleading uniform. his breath gets heavy, he stares, watching you talk to topper. jealously fills his chest, of course topper was here first. rafe quickly approached the two of you, eager to break the conversation up.

“hi rafe.” you smile softly, looking up at him. he smiles, “hey. good luck today.” you fiddle with your fingers, “thank you.” rafe stays silent. you hear the coaches whistle. “i got to go, i’ll talk to you when i can!” you quickly turn around, jogging back to the cheerleading circle.

rafe watches as you jog away, hes mesmerized by how well the uniform fit. he knew you would look good, but damn. he looks over at topper, who makes eye contact with him. “what’s up rafe?” topper stares at rafe, waiting for an explanation. “she is so hot.” topper scoffs, “bro, already whipped?” rafe rolls his eyes, but grins. “for her, yeah. i’d willingly be whipped.” the two boys sit on the bench, topper watching the game, and rafe watching you.

after sitting in silence, rafe speaks up. “do you think she likes me?” topper quickly glances at rafe, trying to see if he was joking or if he was serious. when topper saw he was serious, he genuinely contemplated it. “id say maybe, i mean she doesn’t shrivel up in disgust when you are around. that’s a pretty good sign.” rafe shook his head, “that’s true. that is a good sign.”

rafe admired you, you getting his full attention. on break you rush to the fence, excited to see rafe and topper. “hey!” you look up at them, “you are doing great!” topper reached down, highfiving you. “thanks!” you look over at rafe, something took you over because he actually looked hot. you bit you lip slightly, you were going to say something, but rafe beat you to it. “you look good.” rafe smirked slightly, causing heat to rise to your face. “thank you, rafe.”

you return to the group again, your heart racing. the idea of rafe made your breath heavy. you continue to chant, and preform. you occasionally looked up rafe, his eyes always focused on you. you had a low chance of being able to go to the fence again, so you focused entirely on perfecting the choreography. the crowd was cheering loudly, your hometown winning the game.

at the final quarter, your hometown won by one point. your team jumps up and down, ecstatic. you preform a final show, before you break apart. you chug water. you rush in line with the other cheerleaders, going in a straight line to high-five the football players. you smile brightly at them, telling them congrats for winning the game. most of them returned a smile, and thanked you.

after the bleachers started to empty, you decided to meet up with topper, and possibly rafe. you look around for topper but he was gone. you turn around, accidentally bumping into rafe. “oh i’m sorry.” he stares at you, “hey, by the way topper left, said he was going on a date with a girl from the cheer team.” you frown, “oh. he was my ride.” rafe smiles, “you can ride me- i mean ride with me.” you laugh lightly at his switch up, “okay. i’ll ride you.” your heart is racing, the after game adrenaline flowing through your veins, which was causing you to be bold. he smirks at you, “okay, i’d enjoy that.” you mimic his smirk, following him to his car.

he turns around, “are you sure?” you nod, “i’m sure, are you?” he is shocked by your question, “so fucking sure.”

part two will be steamy <3

[eremiie]

Hi! I love your writing! Could you maybe do something for Eren where the reader is good friends with Jean and they hang out a lot, which leads to a heated argument with Eren, who ends up admitting his insecurities about losing her and it gets all fluffy and cute from there? Thank you💜🥰

futile competition;

❥ eren x reader | 3k words | fluff

❥ in which eren gets a little envious & reader has to reassure him

❥ hi! thank you sooo much<3, i hope i did this request justice aksjskak, enjoy :)

"jean, how did you even sprain your ankle in the first place?" you were sat idle on the wooden bleacher with jean next to you, the two of you conversing freely instead of jean being out practicing with the rest of the football team because of his sprained limb.

"i landed wrong during practice a couple days ago. when i went to the doctor they told me to sit out for two weeks."

"two weeks? so you're gonna miss next weeks game?"

"yeah but your boyfriend and reiner are two of the best players, they'll be fine without me for a game."

you shrugged your shoulders looking towards the field, looking for eren. during games you'd be able to spot him quite easily as he always adorned the large number five on his back, but of course like majority of the team he was shirtless, the only reason you could spot him being the way his bun was on the verge of falling out his hair and cascading over his shoulders.

"you're like the weakest link on the team, they're doing much better without you." you joked, causing jean to roll his eyes and shove you over in the slightest. "jean, i will kick you in the leg that's hurt, stop." your giggling made him break out into a smile, him putting his hands up in mock surrender.

jean and you were quite good friends, occasionally hanging out in and out of school, you having met him through your closest friends sasha and connie. the only reason that you two were hanging out during his practice was because you told eren you'd wait for him afterwards so you could spend this friday with him to his request.

"jaeger, focus!" the coach exasperated, flailing his arms outwards at eren's fumble. eren cursed under his breath, and wiped the sweat off of his brow, looking away from you and jean before picking himself up off the ground. "go run a lap and stop letting your girlfriend distract you. everyone else go get water then locker rooms!"

you chuckled at eren being disciplined, watching him make his way out the field to the track to run his lap, jean laughing beside you. "he's such a kiss ass, he's just trying to impress you." jean shook his head as he spoke.

"i don't know why, we're already dating."

jean nodded his head in agreement, grabbing his crutches and pulling himself up. "do you need help?" you questioned standing up abruptly to help him steady himself, a subconscious reaction if you must, as it was just in your nature to be helping.

"nah, nah, i'm good, i'm not disabled or anything, it's just a sprained ankle." jean shrugged you off, and it's true, he was of course fine for the most part, but he also didn't want eren getting angry at a simple gesture from you, as he tended to do quite often. "let's just go back to the gym."

୨୧

eren exited the empty locker rooms, clear irritation spread across his face. his lack of concentration during practice, and jean's stupid face flirting with you was fogging his mind.

"eren!" you called out to your boyfriend, him turning his head after nodding a small goodbye to his coach. you gave jean a small hug before he started waddling away on his one foot and you starting to make your way towards the brunette, eren struggling to suppress an eye roll. "hi baby," your arms wrapped around his waist and he hesitantly reciprocated, letting his circle your shoulders.

"hey." his tone grumbly and dry, but you didn't let your mind wander too much on it.

"i see practice wasn't the best today. was it because of me?" a mischievous grin graced your face as you and eren began to exit the gym, heading towards his car.

yeah, something like that.

"no, it was fine, i just slipped up a couple times." your thumb brushed over eren's hand a couple times before he pulled back to pull his keys out of his backpack that was hung over his shoulder. "get in the car," and then him unlocking it with a press of a button, his presence leaving your side as he went over to the drivers side of the car. you didn't like the way he so casually brushed you off, as eren was usually excited to see you after practice. he would occasionally shower you in kisses, and wipe his sweat all over you and have you shuddering in disgust, but the aloof personality taking place was never present to you, so of course you couldn't help but think it was strange.

you slid into the passengers seat with your own bag sat in between your feet on the floor, and initially decided not to converse with the boy for the rest of the car ride, leaning your head against the window and occasionally glancing at eren who you didn't even see look your way once. seriously, what was his problem? if you knew he was going to act like this while you were at his house the rest of the evening you'd would've went home faster than he could blink.

"______, c'mon." eren murmured before he shut the door to the drivers side, walking towards his front door leaving you still attempting to collect your belongings so you could follow him. you were so stuck in thought that you didn't even realize the two of you had made it to eren's house.

"_____, hi! it's been so long since eren has brought you home, how are you?" mrs. jaeger's (who many times has insisted you called her carla) cheery tone flooded your ears as you entered the household, eren shutting the door behind you and barely even uttering a 'hi.' to his mother or mikasa. despite this you couldn't help but smile at carla, the lady was so sweet and kind and you genuinely couldn't figure where eren got his temper, or stubbornness from.

"hi mrs. jaeger-"

"please, just call me carla." her figure danced her way towards you and her nimble fingers turned you around facing the stairs so she could shed your backpack off for you, and only then did you realize eren had disappeared from sight, leaving behind only the sound of creaky stair steps.

you sighed, and of course carla put two and two together, but not before mikasa who was sat on the kitchen stool facing the stairs as well, in the middle of helping eren's mom with kitchen work. "what's wrong with eren?" she brushed aside her ebony hair and made her way over to the stairs, carla placing a hand on her shoulder to halt her movement.

"mikasa honey, just leave him alone for now, he gets like that sometimes." carla gave you a sorry smile already knowing her sons antics. "i'm sure _____ will get through to him if that's what he needs, right?" mikasa's eyes flickered to you, an unreadable, almost blank expression on her face before she nodded and you let out a small, "right," her walking back over to her position at the stool.

"do you want any snacks, or anything? i know it's been a long day at school and all,"

"it's fine mrs. jaeger, i'm not hungry."

"alright, will you be staying for dinner, i could make your favorite?"

"i'm not sure yet," as many times as your answer would be yes you weren't lying, with eren's strange demeanor you weren't sure how long you could stay in the household even with carla catering to you, her joyous aura wasn't enough.

"okay well let me know, i'll let you go now," she leaned into your ear, her black strands tickling your face, "let me know if anything."

soon enough you were following in eren's steps on your way to his room. you slowly pushed the oak door open seeing eren wasn't in his room and assumed he went to take a shower. you had no problem sitting and waiting as it gave you a second to conjure your thoughts as well, you taking a spot on his bed.

it wasn't long before he appeared back though, him opening and closing his door, eyes flashing to you for only a second. he threw the towel around his neck that was stopping his damp hair from dripping onto his abdomen onto his desk chair and slid on only a pair of sweatpants before crawling on his bed. "scoot over," and you did, making space so he could lay next to you, the smell of his body wash evident on his skin.

the slight tension was unnerving as you played with your fingers where they sat in between your crossed legs, eren paying you little to no mind. "what's your problem?" you couldn't help but ask, as many times as you played the details of the day back in your head you couldn't find a bump in the road, anything that would make him act so distant.

"my problem? i don't have one."

you struggled to not roll your eyes, instead raising a brow. "seriously? you didn't talk to me in the car, you're barely talking to me now, didn't you want me to come and spend today with you?"

"yeah, but i'm sure you rather be spending today with jean, right?"

oh.

you pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at the boy who's eyes were finally fixated on you. your arms crossed and you bit back an insult, since one was definitely a part of the options you were weighing in your brain. "excuse me?"

"you heard me," he sat up, his muscles flexing underneath his skin as he propped himself up on the bed. "you and him have been so comfortable lately. i'm pretty sure you hang out with him more than me anyways." he huffed, a fire blazing behind his turquoise eyes (which not to mention you always found mesmerizing, even through his anger.)

you grimaced, eren was clearly blinded by his frustration. he seemed to forget how you came over almost every weekend, not to mention a few times throughout the week as well, how you spent majority of lunches with him and how the two of you were a literal couple. it wasn't your fault you and jean had more than one class together, and seemingly got along. he was good company, you couldn't deny that, and you knew him before you even knew eren.

"eren i spend so much time with you, what the hell are you talking about? is that what's bothering you?"

"it doesn't bother me," and of course he was lying straight to your face. "i could care less. do what you want with horseface."

okay now he was being dramatic.

you stifled a laugh at the stupidity that escaped his mouth, how could he make such a vague assumption? "you could care less? so why are you acting all pouty and not talking to me? if you didn't care we'd be all good right now, stop being all mad for no reason."

"i have a reason to be mad,"

"so you admit that you're mad?"

"i mean-"

"and if you're mad then you obviously care?"

"can you let me talk, damnit? you always do that, just let me talk."

"then talk, eren, it's gonna be nonsense anyways. why can't you just trust me? i've been friends with jean before we even started dating, if i wanted him then we would've been a couple before me and you."

"that doesn't stop him from flirting with you and being all touchy and shit, i don't like that,"

"it doesn't matter what you like or not, it matters what's true, and whats not true is that he flirts with me, he doesn't, and he's not touchy either, you're literally being delusional."

"i'm delusional?" this time eren rolled his eyes, his voice raising in the slightest and he was now sitting straight up, giving you a small shove in demonstration of what jean did earlier. "when he shoved you like that he wasn't flirting with you? and when you two were laughing and shit he wasn't trying to flirt with you?"

"eren don't touch me," you pushed his hand away once it made contact with you, a crease in your eyebrow evident from your rising anger as well. "we can't laugh now? like what the fuck sense does that make to you? you're literally just jealous."

"jealous of what? of kirstein?" disbelief was evident in his tone.

“who else? nobody just acts like that for no reason, you’re jealous, eren.” you began to stand up ready to just leave, crawling over eren’s body to make your way towards the door. you couldn’t stand when eren couldn’t admit to his fault, i mean; it was his fault right? he was stubborn, and it was irritating.

but eren on the other hand couldn’t let you leave, he didn’t have time for his mom to scold him for upsetting you, or for mikasa to bombard him with aimless questions, better yet, for jean to find out the two of you were fighting, or worse, fighting over him.

before your hand could reach his doorknob his hand reached your wrist, eren pulling you backwards towards him in the gentlest manner he could muster, you turning towards him your expression still vexed. “eren, just let go of me, i get it.” but his grip remained, him using his other hand to turn your frame towards him by your waist.

"i’m not jealous, i just feel like i shouldn’t be having to compete with another guy for my own girlfriend!" he sputtered abruptly, and the hand on your waist clenched at your t-shirt, while the grip on your wrists tightened. you were caught somewhat off guard looking up at eren, curiosity brewing at his sudden outburst.

“what?”

“i just... i don’t want to lose you to some idiot,” he could no longer meet your eyes, his facade dropping and a new side of him he hadn’t shown being unveiled to you.

“eren..” your free hand rested on his shoulder and you slowly walked him back towards his bed until the back of his knees hit it and caused him to plop down on the covers, “baby, you’re not gonna lose me... you couldn’t lose me over something like that.”

eren’s gaze was still shy to meet yours, but his other hand made its way to your waist as well, pulling you down on top of him until you were straddling his lap, him pulling you close so his arms wrapped around you. “i know, but...” he struggled to get the rest of his words out, not even sure how to convey them to you regardless of how understanding you’d be with him.

“eren, look at me,” you grabbed his face between your palms, smoothing out his loose brown locks so you could get a clear sight of him, training your eyes on his. you loved the way blue swam across his green eyes, and the way his bottom lip jutted out slightly as if he was constantly pouting. he was so gorgeous to you, even through his anger. “i’m yours, i’m all yours, and you’re mine. nobody, not even jean can get between me and you, i love you, i date you. jean and i are just friends, and you don’t need to let him get in your head like that.”

eren pouted his bottom lip before leaning his head against your chest, you raking your fingers through his hair until the hair tie loosened around it. he relished in the feeling of your warm skin against his and your hands attempting to place another messy bun in his strands of damp hair. “i just feel like i’m not doing enough for you sometimes... like he could give you something that i’m not.”

“eren you are enough for me, like i said, i’m dating you, not anyone else, if you weren’t doing enough for me i wouldn’t be with you. i love everything about you baby.”

“you sure?”

“yes, why wouldn’t i be sure? even with how stubborn you are, and how angry you can get, and how jealous,” you lifted his head from your chest, pressing your lips to his forehead with a grin. “you can get, there are so many good aspects about you that i love and i won’t leave you because. you know... just don’t hurt me.”

eren couldn’t help but let a smile grace his own face as well, hands drifting up your back until they reached the back of your head, pulling you down to connect your lips to his fervently. you loved the way his lips felt on yours, his slightly chapped but so perfect when paired with your own. his attempt to deepen the kiss was futile as you pulled back with a giggle, eren shaking his head and laying back pulling you on top of him some more, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as he pecked a kiss to your hair.

“so i’m not gonna lose you?”

“no baby.” another peck to his chest.

“you love me? and my anger issues, which i don’t have?”

a roll of your eyes and another laugh let out from you as you kicked his leg from under yours causing him to laugh as well, subconsciously squeezing your body tighter on top of his. “i love you, and your anger issues which you do have.”

eren pinched your sides, smirking from above you. “i love you too, babe.”

a quick knock at the door made both you and eren turn your heads, but the door was open before eren could even utter a “come in,” carla’s figure with a worried expression on her face that quickly turned to surprise when she noticed the two of you cuddling. “oh! i’m so sorry, i heard the two of you arguing earlier and i thought she had left when i was upstairs, i-“

“mrs. jaeger, it’s perfectly fine.” you smiled picking yourself up off of eren awkwardly who sat up as well.

“mom! you could’ve waited after knocking!” eren groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“you guys are so cute,” her hand covered her mouth as she squealed, smiling sweetly at her son and you. “are you staying for dinner, _____, it’s almost ready, i’m having mikasa set the plates now so i want to know.”

there was no harm in staying a little longer. “sure, i can stay.”

“great! okay, i’ll leave the two of you alone now.” soon after, eren’s door was shut and the remnants of carla’s voice wandered as she walked down the hall, something resembling an “oh, they’re so adorable!” and you and eren couldn’t help but laugh.

[burnedbyshoto]

house sitting & concupiscence

— In which Endeavor asks Shouto for a favor, and Shouto decides to take his payment by fucking you on his bed. —

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, 18+ smut, dom!shouto, masturbation, toys (spreader bar, bondage, vibrator, collar, leash, gag, & fuck machine), master kink, spanking, temperature play, marking, pain, choking, torture punishment, overstimulation, voyeurism, slapping, oral (giving), hair pulling (receiving), semi-brat taming, anal (receiving), breeding kink

word count: 18,631

a/n: i know its long, but,,, please read LMAO. this took me a full ass week to write. im exhausted, im buzzing because idk how this went LMAOOOO, let me know what you think! please carefully read the warning, I will not be addressing anything about anal in my askbox (unless youre roasting me, which is understandable because lmao)

message to join tag list :)

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“Why are we going to your dad’s house?”

Tonight was supposed to be your date night with Shouto, and given that for the past two months, the two of you had been busy every day and night adjusting to being working adults, the two of you had been excited to go out. Next week would make two years, but it seemed the two of you would only be able to celebrate it during the dead of night. So, with a kind smile and a gentle kiss, you convinced Shouto that the two of you could celebrate the week prior. After all, it didn’t matter that it wasn’t quite two years; you both loved each other plenty enough to overlook the actual date.

Like for any celebration, you found yourself sitting in front of your vanity mirror as you applied your makeup. Your hair was done up in the most elegant style you could muster on your own, and you wore a simple yet gorgeous little black dress. Your head tilted in the mirror as you looked at your reflection. Your legs were shapely and smooth from the increased physical work you were doing, and the heels you paired with the outfit hung from your fingers.

You thought you looked hot, to say the least. What you didn’t expect was for Shouto to step into your shared room with his nostrils flared and eyes cold. Your eyes widened as you turned toward him, but the anger in his face disappeared immediately as he took you in.

His eyebrow quirked; a natural smile pressed into his face as his hands shoved into the pocket of his slacks.

“Don’t you look beautiful,” Shouto comments as he strolls up next to you. The steps were so casual, it was as if the two of you were strangers flirting in a bar, and not lovers two years into a serious relationship. “Who got you this outfit?”

Biting your lip, you chuckled, your arms wrapping around his neck, and you relaxed as he locked his around your waist. Your fingers rose to brush his short hair, the undercut was new, but it was a look you very much enjoyed on him.

Rising up onto your toes, you smile, seeing the way he leans towards you until your ruby painted lips brush against his earlobe.

“Your brother,” you tease, laughing loudly as he moves away, mock disgust and jealousy on his face.

“My brother? I’ll teach you to accept such pretty things from people who aren’t me,” Shouto warns as his fingers slip under the hem of the dress, eliciting a shout from you. He doesn’t seem to be deterred as his fingers hike the skirt of the dress further up until your cheeks turn red, and your protests are nothing but stutters.

“T-The reservations, Shoucchan,” you manage to get out as his lips press against your jugular vein.

“What about them?” Shouto mumbles against your skin as he backs you towards the bed.

“They’re s-soon,” you gasp as his teeth skim your skin, and his hands massage slowly against your ass. “We can’t miss it.”

Two months of hardly seeing each other also meant two months of not having sex or any sort of physical contact, and your actions exposed your need quickly. Your heels dropped with a loud clang, and you let Shouto do as he pleased.

To your dismay, however, the clatter of your heels on the floor caused Shouto’s ministrations to cease. Your eyes blinked as you focused back on him, your chest hammering and lust scorching your skin as you tried to concentrate on your boyfriend.

“Shouto?”

His eyes were once more consumed with the irritation and annoyance that had plagued him before you two interacting. Groaning loudly, you did not miss the way his eyes rolled before he focused back onto you.

“…we have to cancel the reservation.”

So, there you sit in the car, still dressed up with Shouto to your right driving, his hands clenching so tight around the wheel that his knuckles are white.

You sigh and tug his arm towards you. The way he attempts to jerk his arm away doesn’t escape you, but you still clutch his arm and lace your fingers with his. You place a soft kiss to the back of his hand and smile when you see him relax. It’s a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“Are you going to answer my question, or are you going to leave me in the dark?” You ask again, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb.

Shouto sighs and looks over at you. His face is still set with annoyance, but his eyes brighten when he looks at you, and his lips quirk into the smallest of smiles.

“You’re annoying,” he says, and you scoff in protest. He smiles broader and brings your hand to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to it.

Shifting in the leather seat to face him a bit better, you stretch towards him, your eyes wide with curiosity. “Answer my question, brat!”

Shouto sits there for a bit, gathering his emotions before he sighs, annoyed once again. “He asked Fuyumi-nee to take care of his house for tonight.”

Your eyebrows scrunch. You know that Fuyumi has a vital interview tomorrow for her job, and knowing the hero’s life, she would have to stay there late into the night. “Doesn’t she have the—?”

“Yeah, so she said no,” Shouto sighs, his hand in yours tightening. “Natsuo also has a lot of exams, and he and Endeavor aren’t on good terms still, so… that’s why he couldn’t take it. So, Endeavor called me and pulled a ‘you owe me a favor’ card from our second year. Didn’t fucking care that I had plans.”

“Why does he need someone to take care of his house?” You ask, trying to keep Shouto from hyper-fixating onto Endeavors’ ignorance detail. “He lives there alone?”

“He’s paranoid about some low-class villains going to his door when no one is there since his address was exposed,” Shouto rolls his eyes as the two of you pull into the driveway of Endeavors Residence. “Some fucking number one hero he is.”

“And he wanted Fuyumi to watch the house?!” You gasp, your eyes widening. Shouto nods his head as he unbuckles his seatbelt, and he’s out of the door before you could finish asking your question. You sigh and unbuckle your belt, knowing how infuriated Shouto is.

Your brush your hair out of your face, and the car door opened. You looked up with a small grin as Shouto offered you a hand.

“If I’m being forced to spend our anniversary here, I’m going to do it correctly, as if everything was going according to plan.”

Giggling, you let Shouto help you out of the car, and you couldn’t help but bring your exasperated boyfriend in for a gentle kiss. The kiss lasts less than a few seconds, but as you pull away, the irritability on Shouto’s face is gone as he smiles.

“I love you,” he says, closing the car door behind you.

“I love you too.” You smile like a lovestruck idiot as he begins to lead you to the front door. “We should have brought our costumes; surprise a few lowlives with our signatures.”

“Are you suggesting we let them rob Endeavor?” Shouto asks as he unlocks the front door.

“I just might be!” You laugh as you step in and remove your shoes.

It was currently five in the evening, and thus your date night commenced.

After two hours, you found yourself curled up on Shouto’s lap. You busied yourself with shoving popcorn in his mouth as you two watched Avatar the Last Airbender. The two of you had been watching it together since Shouto finally confessed that he had no idea why he was always compared to Prince Zuko.

Months of watching a few episodes every occasional night when you two had time lead you two to the finale now.

“I see the comparison now,” Shouto admitted with a mouthful of popcorn, and you hushed him again.

“Zuko may die!” You cried as on the screen, Zuko faced off with Azula, “He can lose, and you finally getting the comparison to the hottest man in the world is not a good excuse to distract me!”

“We can use fire, a scar, and a horrible father,” Shouto continues talking despite your attempts to quiet him as fire and lightning roared on the screen. “I was never the bad guy, was I?”

“You were a complete prick in the beginning, like Zuko,” you point out as you still focus entirely onto the T.V., “I mean, you did threaten to kill someone when we were fifteen. Talk about edgy! Plus, you didn’t want friends until Deku destroyed half of his body for you!”

“You’re an asshole,” Shouto huffs as he pushes you off of him, and you groan as you watch as he stands up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You call after him as you sit up onto your knees, you faced him as he walked out with his cellphone raised for you to see that he was getting a call from Endeavor.

Your mouth drops, and you nod as Shouto walks outside to talk with his dad. You settle back down onto the couch and grab the remote, pausing the show and sinking into the sofa. Your fingers brush against your dress as you wait for Shouto to come back.

It felt like an eternity before Shouto returned; the front door slamming behind him, causing you to wince. Shouto stormed over, his eyes blazing with fury, and he clenched a case in his hand as he glared in your direction. It would have been unsettling had you not known whom his anger was directed at. He stops a few strides away from you, clearly not in the mood to finish up the Avatar series.

“What happened, baby?” You ask, standing up. A soft scoff escapes his lips as he shakes his head.

“He thought I was here alone,” Shouto explains, his head low. “He makes me come take care of his house, knowing that I had plans tonight, then he expected me to be here alone?!”

Your eyes widen as a chill runs down your spine. Endeavor was not a people person, that was a given, and there was no saying whether or not he liked you being Shouto’s girlfriend, but for him to not like the idea of being here was a bit off-putting.

“Do you need me to leave?” you find yourself asking as you walked over to Shouto with short strides. You knew that their relationship, while it had vastly improved since three years ago, was still rocky. You wanted Shouto to be as comfortable around his dad as much as possible, even if it meant you stepping away when needed. “I can get—”

“No,” Shouto snaps, his nostrils flaring, a furious fire flashing in his eyes, and his lips curling into a wry smile. “You’re not leaving.”

“If Endeavor doesn’t want me—”

“Fuck what Endeavor wants,” Shouto growls as he lets you pull him into a soft embrace, but he’s tense and doesn’t melt into your touch like he usually does. “I want you, y/n, and he ruined our night. He doesn’t have the damn right to tell me what I can or can’t do when I’m happy.”

You nervously licked your lips as you stroked his back gently in hopes of derailing his palpable anger. There was just no use in having Shouto getting worked up about something that Endeavor wasn’t going to be able to change in the long run anyway.

“It’s okay,” you whisper as you pull away, your eyes trying to shine brightly as you press a gentle kiss to his mouth. “I won’t leave!”

There’s a harsh stream of air that escapes his nose, and he’s stiff against you, his lips unmoving, but he returned the kiss nonetheless.

“This is our night,” you whisper against his mouth as your lips press against his jawline and pepper slow kisses down his jaw. He seems to have an internal battle of remaining angry and caving to your touch. “You have a room here, it’s just us two, let’s have some fun! Come on, forget about Endeavor.”

As a hero, there were moments where you could feel impending danger or something on the horizon. Be it a sixth sense, or just fantastic gut feeling, but the moment those words left your mouth, they hit you in the gut. Pulling away, your eyes focus on Shouto, whose eyes are shut tight, and you watch as his jaw muscle flares before his eyes open.

Todoroki Shouto was no longer his younger self. While still prone to acting solely on his emotions, he was in control. The last time you had seen the pure rage in Shouto’s eyes was long before the two of you had been together, and something crawled down your spine as you attempted to speak, to understand what he was thinking about, and to stop whatever he was planning.

But then he let out a dark chuckle.

And you were too slow.

His mouth slams against yours, and your body goes back with the collision, but he doesn’t let you free. His kiss is hot, drowning, intoxicating, and full of burning energy that you didn’t realize he had in him. His free hand presses into your lower back, keeping you pressed against him as his mouth tries to get you to break. Your hands press against his shoulders in an attempt to slow him down, but it doesn’t seem to have the effect you were hoping for.

His hand leaves the bottom of your back to tangle into your hair, your resounding groan of both pain and pleasure resonates through you, and it clouds your judgment. Your hands — against your better sense — wrap around the back of his neck, drawing him in closer. His hot tongue swiped at your bottom lip immediately.

Not wanting to give in to his insistence, you purse your lips against his harsh kiss. He didn’t seem to agree with you. The hand that held the black case smacked against your ass, and you gasped at the stinging pain as the case rattled.

His tongue invades your mouth in an intense affair, and your mind spins at the way his tongue drops in temperature before warming up. It sends a pleasant and dull throb through your body, and you moan into his mouth. Were you really going to let Shouto fuck you in a house that wasn’t yours? The two of you had fucked in places that weren’t your house, but it was never a family home, much less his dad’s house, but his tongue curls to tease the roof of your mouth, and it sends an uncontrollable shudder down your spine.

Your cheeks glow with embarrassment, and your eyes are wide in shock. “Shouto’s really going for it,” you thought. His lips are scorching, but it’s his eyes that make your thighs tremble. His eyes are nearly glowing with lust and desire, there’s still that animosity in his eyes and a sense of arrogance that made you want nothing more than to retaliate.

“I hope you’re ready for what’s happening tonight,” Shouto smirks, and you pant trying to control your racing heart.

“You know I am,” you lie confidently, despite the tremor in your voice and the weakness in your knees.

His hand moves to your cheeks, and you feel a growing heat from his hand as he places yet another ardent kiss onto your slowly bruising lips. Shouto’s lips are magnetic against yours, continuously pulling you in, sucking you in until you were gasping for more. Then he would move to nibble on your senseless lips in your overwhelmed state.

Low and soft pants with intermixed gasps begin to leave your mouth as you try to calm down, this kiss was so unlike his typical embrace, but you fucking loved this dominant persona that he dons. Your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him nearer, eliminating the space between you so that nothing could dare to come between, but your hips have a mind of their own, and you feel yourself grinding your crotch against his.

A low and nearly angry hiss leaves his lips, and your breath hitches as his mouth leaves yours. In a fashion similar to yours earlier that day, his mouth presses multiple kisses against your jawline, but they’re sturdy, intense, and full of teeth. Your mouth drops as you let out a curled moan at the feeling of his teeth sinking into the skin below your jaw.

It wasn’t a typical love bite; this was marking. You could feel his intent to break your skin with the mark, and the heat between your legs flared as he took a step forward, and with that, you made a step back.

You’ve only been to this house a few times, and most of the time, you only come here for Fuyumi’s sake of keeping the family close. Awkward yet lively dinner conversations had led to Shouto showing you his childhood room that hadn’t been touched since he was fifteen. Sure, the two of you were nineteen, but a bedroom that hadn’t been touched in four years was something sinisterly haunting.

Shouto’s bedroom was the closest to the master bedroom — Endeavors room. That you knew because the grandest and most intricately beautiful door in this house belonged to Endeavors’ room.

Imagine the horror that sank in your when your lust hazed vision watched as Shouto’s childhood room passed you and your back hit a door.

“Shouto! This is—”

“I know,” Shouto growled against your burning neck. He had left enough bites on your neck to hurt, but the throbbing pain only added to the throbbing heat of your core. “You deserve to be fucked on a good bed, not my childhood one.”

“But Endeavor!” Pathetically you try to get him to move off you, but Shouto opens the door, and the two of you stumble in. “We can’t—!”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles as he pulls away from your marked neck, “he won’t know.”

Your eyes widened as he lets you go, and you hesitated in moving towards the enormous bed before you. This was too much, you couldn’t let Shouto fuck you on his dad’s bed! That would be so disrespectful! Blatant and honest disrespect! Even if Shouto was in a “fuck his dad” mood, you couldn’t let this happen.

Turning to face your boyfriend, the release of him on your body, allowing you to think logically, you were ready to stay firm in your decision.

“What are you doing?” Shouto asks as he walks to the bed, placing the black box onto the bed with a quirked eyebrow. “Get on the bed.”

“N-No,” you wheeze out. Wow, go confident you! “We can’t fuck on Endeavors bed! T-That’s going too far! I… I can’t do that!”

Shouto blinked slowly, once, twice, and then returned his attention back to the case as he released the clasps.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shouto says as he lays out a few things from the box, and a nervous shiver goes down your spine as you see what he brought.

A collar, leash, vibrator wand, ball gag, a spreader bar with bondage cuffs, so much lube, and a fucking machine.

Your jaw drops as he lays them out neatly, his eyes turning back towards you, and there’s a silent moment where the two of you simply stare at each other.

“That’s going too far,” you squeak as you pull at the hem of your dress, the nerves hit you as he shifts to look at you directly. “I can’t… if Endeavor found out, he’s going to kill us!”

“Endeavor isn’t going to find out,” Shouto’s upper lip curled into a snarl as his eyes flashed dangerously. “We’ll wash the sheets, whatever the hell makes you convinced he won’t find out. But right now? I fucking need you the way I was planning on having you.”

His words fall almost alluringly in your ears, and goosebumps flash across your skin; butterflies fly in your stomach as you moan at the thought of what his intentions were for tonight. You chewed nervously on your bottom lip as you thought it over, trying to figure out what exactly you needed to do because there was no getting out of this. You were beyond horny now, but it didn’t take much to see the danger in doing this.

But no, you couldn’t do this!

“Shouto, let’s — oh my god!”

Shouto, while you were lost in your thoughts, had begun to strip off his shirt. His toned and scarred torso ridiculously defined in the lighting of the room, and he stared at you dead-on as he ran a hand through his falling locks. Your breathing turns into a frenzy as he walks over to you, his hands slipping into the pockets of his slacks until he’s centimeters before you.

Your eyes struggle not to scour your boyfriend’s body like some hormonal fangirl, you recited the Pro Hero Guidebook in your head as you fought off the urge to just jump him. Were pheromones a thing for humans? If they were, he was definitely putting you under some spell that was making you succumb to his own lusts.

“I know what I want,” he whispers as his lips brush against your sore neck, and a voluptuous moan resounds loudly from you. Your breasts rise and fall quickly as your hands press against his warm skin, and your eyes flutter closed as his lips press heavier against your skin. “I know what I need. I need you more than life itself, and I only want you, y/n.”

Not daring to open your eyes in fear of having this gone too soon, you feel yourself nodding.

“Fuck me right then…”

A chuckle deep in his throat reverberated against you, and then you felt his lips back on you.

Hot, fast, dangerous.

You struggled to keep up as Shouto tossed you up, and your legs automatically went to wrap around his waist.

Hunger, desire, need.

That was the way Shouto kissed you right now, his lips downright eager, yet it wasn’t the right word to use. You could feel his hard-on pressing against your ass as you drew him in closer. Hands pressed against his neck, clawing at the bare skin as you wanted more from him — you craved more from him.

It was when you pressed your chest into him that caused a small yelp of protest to escape your lips. In your impassioned drunkness, Shouto had been holding your ass firmly in his grip. His fingers digging into your soft flesh under the hem of your dress until he seemed to be sick of it.

The sound of ripping fabric echoed in your ears as you pulled away from Shouto’s luring mouth. The dress fell loose around your body as you watched as he pulled the remains of your dress from between the two of you. You slammed your hands against his chest in protest as Shouto took the destroyed material and tossed it onto the floor.

“It was in the way,” Shouto chuckles as he ignores your protests as he brings you back in for another kiss. “I’ll buy you a new one, I’m the one who bought it after all.”

Your eyes twitch as his fingers trace the lingerie that remained secured on your body; the anger you had vanished quickly the moment he brushed his thumb over your clothed nipple. Yes, there were apparent problems with knowing everything about your partner’s body, as in times like this, your anger flew out the window as his thumb and forefinger pinched your nipple.

You reacted with a shrill mewl as your hips automatically ground against his, and your head slammed against his shoulder. You felt his cold fingers press the bra down, and your mind nearly went blank as his calloused fingers made contact with your sensitive nipples.

“S-Shouto,” you stammer as you feel your neck blushing as his teeth nip at your earlobe, tingling pleasure scorching your body as he does it a few more times. Low and sultry moans escape your mouth as the heightening bliss of this interaction was getting to you.

“Fuck,” Shouto chuckled as he began moving towards the bed, and you tremble as the friction between your crotches increase. The pressure of his clothed cock sends your mind spinning against your barely covered core. “You’re so gorgeous, love.”

Panting in agreement, your hips bucked weakly against his as the pleasure of him biting your earlobe, his fingers pinching, pulling, and rolling your nipple, and the way his hips met your grinding hips.

Low and pounding heat grew in your stomach, and you whimpered as his hand groped your breast.

But then it was gone, and your body was tossed against a soft bed.

The coolness and freshness of the sheets once more sent a memory of whose bed this was. And the consequences for your actions.

“Shouto!” You squeaked as Shouto climbed onto the bed, his hands holding the lube as his eyes glanced at you.

Lust, amazement, love, and confusion.

“What is it?”

“This is Endeavors bed,” you find yourself repeating, although you were past the point of caring. It just came back up like word vomit.

“Fuck what he says,” Shouto snaps as he drops the lube. His eyebrows were scrunched together in his annoyance and anger, and you could see the muscles flaring in his jaw. There’s a cold laugh that leaves Shouto’s mouth as he grabs the spreader, and you feel your heart stop. “I don’t like it when you’re saying other trash names when I’m about to fuck you, princess.”

Your eyes widen as Shouto is by your feet with the spreader, his head down, and his hair falling to cover his dark eyes.

“I think you need to prove to me that you deserve to let me fuck you.”

Before you could ask, before you could question his actions, Shouto tore your panties from your hips and held them in his fingers. His eyes widening as he sees the soaked thin fabric between his fingers.

You sat up straight, trying to grab for your panties, embarrassed by how wet you had been even though practically nothing had happened. But Shouto was faster and far stronger. With a heavy hand, he shoved your shoulder back, and you fell back onto the mattress, and as you collected yourself, something tight wrapped around your ankles.

“SHOUTO!”

On your ankles sat the spreader bar, the black steel shining dangerously at you as you stared up at your boyfriend, who placed your panties into his slack pockets.

“You’ll get those back if you behave,” Shouto hums as he sat down. “Now, if you want my cock, you better make yourself cum.”

“I’m not masturbating,” you snap embarrassed as you felt exposed. Your legs were wide open, your slick essence already coating your inner thighs and the smell of your sex filling your nose as you tried in repetitive failure to close your legs.

“Fine,” Shouto says coolly as he stands up from the bed. “Have fun letting Endeavor see you like this. Cunt wet and exposed like a filthy fucking whore.”

You’re stunned into silence as you watch as he walks towards the door, his eyes unamused yet challenging as he places a hand on the knob.

“But you would like that, huh? You’d let other men fuck what’s mine? Is this what you wanted all along?”

Shouto lets out a dry laugh as he dares you to not do anything, but the pure stupidity behind his words makes you angry. It boils in your stomach as you lay down, your eye contact not breaking as you pull down the other bra cup. Then your fingers trail from your collarbone down to your breasts, teasing your pert nipples.

Electrifying pleasure rolls through you as you play with your breasts. Each tug, pull and turn making your knees slam together in an attempt to get friction to your cunt.

“Come on,” Shouto smirks as he rests at the foot of the bed. His arms are crossed against his chest, and he’s drinking you in. “Put your fingers where you want me.”

“I’m not putting my fingers up my ass,” you grin, your bottom lip captured between your teeth as another building pleasure slams through your body.

Shouto doesn’t say anything, his eyes only getting darker as you bring your fleshy mounds to your mouth and take a playful bite.

Eyes were powerful, and Shouto had some of the most intense eyes you’d ever known. So the way he gorged your figure as your hand flattened against your skin while trailing down your navel to where you were desperate for attention set your skin on fire.

Your legs trembled as the nail of your middle finger teased the middle of your lower lips, and you felt like you were choking at the way he zeroed in on your teasing fingers.

“Give me a show.”

Groaning at the way his words clung to you, your fingers pressed against your throbbing clit as your eye contact was broken by your head tossing back. You were so turned on that this gentle pressure felt overwhelming as you cried his name.

Your other hand dropping your breast and pressed against your inner thigh, your other fingers moving from your clit to your cunt.

In went one finger, the initial tightness making you sigh as you pumped your finger with no intent in mind. Then went in another finger and another. Your inner walls clenching around your intruding fingers, making you gasp at the velvety warmth of it all. Eyes fluttering open, you move your wrist, and your fingers move fluidly within you.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” Shouto groans as he watches your movements like a hawk, his eyes burning themselves into your exposed cunt.

But it made you feel so good.

With a single heave, your pumping fingers increased in their speed and intensity. Growing so much, your walls squeezed against your moving fingers. Your fingers pounded into your wet core, the sounds of the entering and exiting appendages, making you whine as your free hand pressed against your clit. Your hips bucked up against your moving fingers in an attempt to further increase this intense desire.

Your fingers continued to dance against your needy clit as you shook.

Hot fire slammed to your toes as they curled in your overwhelming pleasure. Your eyes clenching closed as you rubbed hard and fast circles into your desperate clit. Your back arching off the bed multiple times, almost ending with you falling onto your side due to the imbalance caused by the restraint bar.

Faster and hard, faster, and harder.

The squelching of your soaked pussy and pistoning fingers were heavy in your ear as you shrieked. Your legs were spasming, kicking, and your hips thrusting as your end was nearing fast. Shouto’s name continued to be cried from your mouth as you curled your fingers in you, and your fingers pinched your clit, and then an idea slams through you.

Use Endeavor’s name.

And as your orgasm crashed through you, a pitched scream sounded in the room as it all clashed within you.

His name was used.

Your body trembling as you lay on the bed, your fingers still knuckle deep within you as you pant. Your slick essence coats your hands as you manage to sit up, out of breath, and staring at Shouto in a challenging way as you removed your fingers from within you.

There’s a scoff, a sound almost similar to a snarl, and you watch as Shouto shakes his head.

“Aren’t you being a fucking slut.”

Blinking slowly, you heard his pants hit the ground when the belt clacked against the wooden floors. Then you saw that he was by your legs, his cock erect and pressing onto his stomach, the head already beading. Pre-cum dripped from his tip, and you feel victorious at the way he was so turned on.

But it seemed that the dress wasn’t the only thing being destroyed today.

His left hand held onto the fabric of your bra, and you watched in heated horror as he reduced the lingerie to ash.

“Shouto?! What the fu— mmph?!”

Shouto shoved your cum slick fingers in your mouth, and you mewled at the taste of your sweet essence on your fingers.

“Suck it all off,” he practically hissed as he moved your wrists, emulating a blowjob as you groaned against your fingers. “You don’t deserve to be fucked like a princess, do you?”

Your protests against your fingers were ignored as he pressed you against the bed, and you choked as your fingernail stabbed the back of your throat. But it didn’t matter to Shouto, no, not at all.

“If you want to be saying Endeavor’s — fucking scum’s name in bed, I’ll treat you no better than a fucking whore.”

There was a moment of silence as he watched you gag against your own fingers, his weight keeping you locked onto the mattress. But then it was over, and his hand grabbed the bar between your ankles, and he yanked it up.

Your teeth lock around your fingers in your surprise, but he lets go of your wrist, your eyes lock on his as your knees rest beside your chest, and you blink in confusion as he glares down at you.

“Hold it,” he commands as your hands move to hold the bar. It’s cold against your fingers, and the areas that are coated with your saliva make the bar slippery and wet.

“W-Why?” You hoarsely ask, your throat thick from the continuous stabbing of your finger. Typically when the bar was used, Shouto always held it.

“I told you you were going to be fucked like a whore, right? That makes you easy. I don’t need to work hard for someone who does this daily. But that means you should be good at this, so see that clock? In ten minutes, if you cum more than three times, you’ll get punished.”

Your mouth opens to respond to him, but Shouto presses his hands against the bottom of your thighs and, with accurate precision, thrusts wholly into you.

Your grip on the bar almost weakens entirely as his cock fills you completely, your words of protest become gasping pleas as the tip of his cock presses against your cervix, and you feel dizzy, your fluttering walls adjusting. His cock was thick, and it was lengthy; your inner walls ached against him as you adjusted, but regardless of how tight it felt, you could sense your essence spilling from you as Shouto sighed.

He shifted, and in a matter of seconds, you watched as his hips snapped backward before thrusting back into you.

The stretch of your legs makes you feel as if you weren’t breathing correctly. Each breath was short and raspy as you clung to the metal bar as Shouto repetitively slams his cock into your cunt.

“Shit, such a pretty cunt you have,” he rasps as your walls spam against him with his wild thrusts. He moves his hands further up your legs so that they press against your knees, pushing you into the mattress, increasing the angle of which he drills down into you.

Pathetically, your hips attempt to rise up in meet him, to increase this brutal force he was using as you crave even more. It was too much.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping pussy created loud wet noises that you cried in embarrassment, but Shouto found it as an excuse to speed up. His rugged grunts are music to your ears as his cock hits your walls every time. The stretch he gives you was boggling, and you were progressively less cognitive aware as he drilled in harder. His slams were so hard that the sound of his thighs hitting your ass let out a continuous and loud slap.

His fingers gorge into your skin, and you cry his name like a hopeful prayer as he is fueled by your appraisal.

Your hands are weak against the bar, and it feels as if it’s slipping the moment he releases his right hand from your leg. You cry as the angle of penetration lessens, but his ramming continues at the same pace, and his fingers land on a puffy and sensitive bundle of nerves. The simple action set you enflame as you wailed his name, and Shouto bit your inner calf as his finger cooled dramatically against your clit.

The difference between your body that felt like it was on fire and the bitter ice of his fingers made your body spasm uncontrollably. The bar was being pulled in by your forearms as exploding pleasure slams through every vein in your body. But your thrashing and wailing do not stop Shouto, nor do they lessen the pace and the force he’s settled in as the bed begins to sway with every powerful thrust.

“I needa— holy shit, r-right there!”

“What? Do you need to come already?” Shouto mocks against your calve, and you whimper as he bites it again.

Your eyes can no longer stay open as the only noises leaving your mouth are whines and begs for more. You forcibly clench around him in an attempt to stir a reaction from him, but all he does is curse loudly as he continues his rutting force. The pounding is rhythmic. The feeling of Shouto’s cock entering and leaving you draws your eyes to the back of your head as you whimper his name, his thighs hitting your ass at bruising force, only adding to your pleasure. His finger getting colder by the second as it simmers against your burning clit. Your heart hammering in your ears as you heard Shouto snap at you.

“Cum.”

The orgasm that had been surging within you crashed through you in a fiery white heat as your jaw slacks in a silent scream. Your body convulses against your hold and his, but Shouto doesn’t stop, not even when your toes curl, not even when you sob.

“Shouto!”

He pulled out then, his pants heavy in your ear, and something ripped through you as the weirdest sensation floods through you. Your cunt throbs uncharacteristically harder as you softly sob Shouto’s name.

You had squirted.

It was all over the comforter; there was even some on Shouto’s lower abs that shone in a mixture of sweat and you.

Your head slams back into the mattress as you can feel your heartbeat in your cunt, your chest heaving at the experience you just had. You’ve never squirted before, and your body felt like it was short-circuiting as you remained on your back.

“Look at that,” Shouto mused as he unfastened the restraints on your ankles, and your thighs crashed together, an inevitable soreness throbbing within as you lay speechless. That had winded you. “For someone not wanting to make a scene on his bed, you just wet a whole portion to it. I don’t think you even care if he finds out I fucked you on his bed, y/n. A little whore like you, you probably want the entire neighborhood to know.”

“I don’t,” you gasp as you struggle to find your breath still, and Shouto hums as he turns you over onto your stomach.

You’re not sure if it was a forcible push or something gentle. All you know is that your body burned where he touched you, and your thighs ached as you settled on your stomach.

“How the fuck am I supposed to fuck you like that?” Shouto snaps at you, and your eyes widen as you shift your head to look at Shouto’s whose cock is still erect, and you realize in a dawning horror that you had come twice now, and he had not.

Then there was the challenge, he only had to make you come three more times to do whatever insidious things he had planned. Your fingers fisted in the sheets as you groaned loudly. His body heat radiated onto you, and you rub your thighs together at the thought of Shouto gripping your ass as he drilled into you from behind.

You needed to get him to do that, but to make sure you didn’t come.

“I don’t want to,” you stall, hoping that in moments like these, it would help in your favor.

“Let go of the sheets,” Shouto ignores you as he gives a pointed look at your hands that clutched the sheets.

“Nope.”

The heat he provided was suddenly gone, and your eyes widened as a closet door creaks open. You watch as Shouto stands by a closet, a hand on his hip as he studies the closet before him, and you let out a strangled noise as you can already taste what he’s getting out.

“Shouto, do not!”

“Don’t what?” Shouto asks as he pulls out four brightly colored ties that Endeavor owned. “They’ll get cleaned up and put away, I mean look at the mess you already made, this shouldn’t concern you.”

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you look at the stained sheets below you, and you sit on your knees as you cross your arms.

“Using Endeavors clothes as bondage is going too far!”

Shouto looked at you, his eyes annoyed, angry, and uncaring, then he shrugs. He takes a few strides, and he’s back on the bed.

“He should have thought of that before being a dick.”

There was no time to react as Shouto grabbed your wrists in his hand and tugged you towards him. Before you could attempt to pull back, to resist ruining more of Endeavors’ personal belongings, the tie is properly looped around your arms, and you’re locked in place.

“Now on your hands and knees like a good slut,” Shouto directs running a hand through his sweaty locks while rising to his knees. The tie is almost uncomfortable with how tight it is, and you remain stagnant, staring at your boyfriend, who was insistently becoming more of a dom than you had ever seen him as. But with your lack of action, his expression sours, and he grasps your cheeks in his hand. “Are you fucking deaf?

You gasp loudly when Shouto’s hand brings your face to the mattress, your back curved, arms pressed into your breasts.

“I thought whores had better form than this,” Shouto sneers while pressing a heavy hand against the center of your spine. You adjusted immediately under his force, your back arching with your pert ass in the air. “Much better.”

The mattress pressed against your chest in a suffocating way, your heart hammering as you realized what was to come.

“Shouto, please,” your voice pleads again; his hands roam your ass and hips, whispering nasty sweet things to you while the tip of his cock presses against your still wet cunt. “Don’t make a mess of me, not on Endeavors bed.”

There was a moment of silence while his hands disappeared from your skin. Licking your lips, you turned your head to see what exactly his expression was. But you were too late.

He slammed his right hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. The pain made your legs buckle, a hot pressure reigniting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on your opposite cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you yelped loudly when Shouto yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your troubled skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Who the fuck matters to you right now?” He hisses in your ear. “Is it Endeavor fucking you on this bed right now? No—” his hand comes down against your ass with every word, ignoring your growing sobs— “I’m the one fucking you. The only man’s name you should be uttering is mine. Do. You. Understand?”

The next spank that comes across your ass nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Shouto abused your ass.

“Answer me, whore.”

There was no stopping Shouto’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It delighted you.

“Y-Yes, sir!” You pant, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more.

“You like this, don’t you,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you here. Do you want me to leave you here? With no clothes, no way back home? Count the number of times I spank you, I want to hear you counting and thanking me every time.”

Slap.

“One. T-Thank you, sir.”

Your words were barely above a whisper, just enough for Shouto to hear you thank him as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a sneer as he let go of your hair, throwing your head into the mattress, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that, don’t make me ask again. From the top.”

The words were like honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“One! Thank you, s-sir!”

Your mind reeled as Shouto continued his conquest against your ass. You could barely remember the number you were on by the time he was done with you, the added sensation of his alternating heated and chilled hands increasing the desire in you to find you as you were now. Ass bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto your bond arms.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he observes as two of his fingers slide against your wet slit, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued petting you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips began to buck against his wandering hands, trying to get them to slip between the folds. “Such a greedy little slut.”

His chuckle is barely heard by you, for as he said that, he pressed the head of his cock into your cunt. A sharp whine slams from your throat as the emptiness of this action makes you crave more. You shift your ass back, the action full of temporary regret as soring pain flashes through your lower body. He did not hold back.

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Shouto chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Shouto slams into you at full force again, causing you to bite down hard against your saliva-coated and bound arms as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you focus on the nightstand and see the clock. It’s felt like an eternity, but only three minutes had passed since the bet was made. If you won, you’d move this fuck feast into his bedroom.

“Seven minutes,” you choke against your skin, not wanting to show how turned on you were.

The instant you were done chiding him, you regretted telling Shouto the amount of time he had left. The bed shifted by your knees, and you could only imagine what was happening as you could feel his cock moving out of you and slamming back into you.

The angle and power behind these thrusts were different than what you were used to from the standard doggy style. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, shrill moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you preened your head to look at Shouto.

Sure enough, Shouto was positioned on his feet, his knees bent as he dropped into your awaiting cunt with such savagery your eyes rolled back watching him. Sweat dripped down his neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“That feels so — fuck — do that!”

“Who—” slap— “Are—” slap— “You—” slap— “Addressing?!” Slap!

“Y-You, sir!” You scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second.

Shouto chuckles at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in a zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure had built up all over again.

His cock twitched within you, it knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length. Shouto curses loudly, pulling out of you while your cum drips from your folds. But a hot and sticky substance hits the curve of your ass while Shouto lets out a string of curses, and you moan knowing that he came on you.

“That was two,” Shouto reminds you as you groan into the sheets.

“That was two,” you mock hoarsely, but you’re unable to move, your body locked in the way he had fucked you.

“Look,” Shouto says, ignoring your disrespect, for you can hear the prideful smirk on his tone as he forces you onto your side. “You made another mess.”

“You’re cleaning up Endeavors bed when we’re done,” you whimper, making no attempt to sit up, your body screaming in pain when you lay still.

“You really can’t seem to get his name out of your fucking mouth, can you?” Shouto barks while he moves to sit against the headboard. “What do I have to do to get you to fucking forget him? Choke you until you pass out? Break that pretty little mind and pussy of yours?”

There is no time to argue, Shouto grabs your legs and drags you over to him, your sensitive ass burning against the cum soaked comforter until you were at his side. Your pained breaths still as Shouto glares down at you, his left hand undoing the saliva-coated tie around your wrists, leaving the fabric slightly burnt while he tosses it to the side. Your arms throb as blood rushes back through it.

But before you could relish the feeling of your arms back, Shouto has his chest pressed against your back, and his right hand angling his once again hardening cock upwards.

“Since I mean nothing to you, make yourself cum.”

With that, he dropped your aching pussy onto his dick.

The feeling of his cock wholly sheathed within you, mercilessly slamming against the wall of your cervix and staying pressed tightly there. The delirious sensation made your head crash back against his shoulder, and your legs kicked out in response. Loud and low moans reverberated from your lips while adjusting to him buried within you again.

Your mind reeled while you adjusted, and Shouto angled his knees up, his scorching and robust grip moving your legs outside of his, causing your hips to spread against him.

“I told you to move,” he snaps, his fingers twisting your sensitive nipple harshly, your resulting wail muffled by you burying your face into his neck. “I didn’t pay for you to sit there.”

Puffs of air escaped your mouth quickly, and your feet shakily pressed into the mattress. You needed to move for him. But you were too slow, and a sharp and icy cold slap hit your clit.

Your body impulsively arched forward, your body rising up from his cock before you collapsed back down. But the sensation of his cock hitting your cervix made you shudder.

“Faster.”

So you began to rise and fall against his length, his hot breathing fanning against your sweat-soaked skin made your body shudder against his. His fingers found a place on your hips to hold, and you moaned at his bruising grip.

Your thighs burned with every bounce of your body, your head lolling to the side, stammering Shouto’s name as your walls clenched and squeezed against his hard cock. You wanted more of him. You needed more of him. Choked out screams rung from your throat as your hand gripped onto his knees, your body trying to support the numb ache that was shooting through your body.

“Shouto,” you puff, his fingers digging into your flesh, making you gasp.

“Why don’t you follow fucking instructions,” Shouto gnashes his teeth, and his left-hand moves from your hip to your clit. A jolt of massive arousal shoots through your body, a warm presence pressing into you as he teases your clit, causing you to roll your hips against his. But it grows hot, hotter, and hotter. It’s too hot, and his movements are painful yet disgustingly pleasurable. Pained and animalistic sobs pouring from your mouth while he deliberately abuses your throat. “What are you supposed to call me?!”

“S-Sir!” You weep, slamming your hips back down against his in pathetic attempt to lose his hold against your puffy nerve. “I’m supposed to c-call you, sir!!”

“Then why haven’t you been?!” Before you could attempt to respond, Shouto’s right-hand leaves your hip and slams to your throat, choking the response from you. “I don’t want to hear your answer.”

His hand remains heavy and tight around your throat, his hold barely allowing oxygen to travel through to your lungs. Your vision fuzzed, and you could feel your heartbeat in your head, but your core shook with Shouto’s now reciprocating and rhythmic slams.

Choking, clit stimulation, his cock pounding into your cervix, his fingers hotter than coal, and Shouto chuckled into your skin. His thrusting hips were becoming more precise, angling into you in a way that made you audibly choke when you needed to gasp. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen to your body that was making you delirious, or perhaps it was the fact that he was slamming into you with the strength of rearranging your guts, but your hips began to swivel at an inhumane pace. Your cunt held a vice grip around his cock, yet it did nothing to slow Shouto down, but the growing heated pit in your lower belly was making your legs tremble against his. Still, you tried to keep up with his rough and cruel pace, and Shouto enjoyed knowing that detail.

“Such a fucking tramp, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” He sneers, his teeth biting down against the curve of your shoulder. “You enjoy being choked?”

Your head nods, “Y-Yes, sir!”

“Do you need to cum?” There was no reason for Shouto to ask that; the answer was obvious enough. “Good.”

If you thought Shouto was rough, as soon as that word rolled off his tongue, he only got worse.

His hand against your throat tightened, and black dots littered your vision; the coldness of his ice burned against your skin. His teeth sunk far into your skin, enough for you to feel your skin breaking as his tongue moving in cold and heated strokes to calm your now irritated skin. Then there were his nimble fingers running against your clit, and entering your cunt between your spastic walls and his hammering and throbbing cock. But your bouncing held no value anymore, Shouto’s hips snapped upwards fast enough and powerful enough to overcome and overwhelm you. The only thing you could tell was that along with the tip of his cock hitting your bruised walls, the sounds of your sopping wet pussy crashing against his forceful hips rang in your ears in a primal yet excited fashion.

Despite his hold on your neck, nothing was holding back the scream that left your mouth as you orgasmed.

White stars filled your vision as Shouto ripped his cock from you, and that same sensation of peeing bewildered you as he held your body up. You had squirted again, but your ragged and shallow breathing had only increased, and there was something warm and wet painted on your back.

“That was three,” Shouto whispers into your ear, his teeth tugging at your earlobe, and you shuddered. “I should get extra points for making you squirt.”

To that, all you could muster was an embarrassing moan as your dazed eyes focused on yet another wet stain on the bed. Three minutes left, that’s how much you had to endure to win.

Three more minutes.

Unfortunately for you, Shouto was well aware of this, so he wasted no time.

Once again, he shoved you to the side. Your body crumpling onto the mattress, aching and sharp pains flooding your body as you lay there. Your clit throbbed in time with your heartbeat, and your inner thighs were coated entirely with your cum — both new and old. Maybe your body would be incapable of cumming at this point now? You sure hoped so… or not.

“Up,” Shouto commanded but gave you no autonomy since he grabbed your hair by the roots and tugged you onto your knees. You whimper in your throat at the stabbing pain settling in your lower body, you were still recovering from him rearranging your guts. But you caught sight of the cum he had released onto your back pressed all over the covers, and your breathing stopped.

“Shou— ack!!”

A collar locked around your throat, and you wheezed loudly; you hadn’t managed to catch your breath still. Your body swayed forward into his hold as your head spun due to the lack of oxygen, but Shouto seized you his eyes wide and worried as he stared at you.

“Shit, baby, are you okay?”

You nodded your head, oxygen slowly spreading back into your body.

“Sorry,” you hoarse, pushing away, your face burning with embarrassment. “You just surprised me.”

Shouto seemed unconvinced as his hands held onto your cheeks, his fingers stroking your sweat plastered hair out of the way, tracing your bruised lips and against the marks and bites on your exposed skin. The delicate touches are long forgotten on your skin, your lips sighing while he sends warm pulses from his fingers to the aches of your joints.

“You sure?”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved Shouto away, “I’m fine! You just made me spread your cum on Endeavor’s bed!”

Just like that, your loving boyfriend died, and the man who had been fucking you this entire day was back. His hands locked back to where the collar was, and your eyes nearly boggled out of your sockets when he tightened it more until it burned to breathe. But you remained calmed as a black leash appeared from seemingly nowhere and attached to the collar.

“Since you liked being choked so much, I might as well give you what you want without straining me.”

Your eyes widened, your ability to talk back removed.

“Now, ride my cock again,” he grins with the slightest hint sadistic, and as you move to do as instructed, he yanks at the leash. Falling onto your hands, your eyes widen while you stare at Shouto, who merely raises a cocky brow at you. “You have two minutes to make yourself cum.”

“I’m not going to,” you strain, the choking of the collar and the simple manipulation of your body already making that all too familiar heat spread upon your loins.

“You don’t have a choice,” Shouto mocks, his hand moving to grasp the leash centimeters from the collar and yanks your face close to his. But the movement is sharp and rough, the collar strangling you. You scramble on your hands and knees to get closer, stopping when his lips ghost over yours. “And you won’t have one until you’re begging me to fuck you into a puddle, not until you’re nothing more than my cum slut, and until you no longer care about dirtying Endeavors bed.”

The words are fire on your skin, and bubbling lust grows in you again.

There’s nothing to say except give a doe-eyed nod, but Shouto appreciates this submission as his lips take yours. They’re hungry, possessive, and ardent, moving against your mouth with fervent intention. Your mind slips when you straddle him, your soaked core brushing against his tip, and Shouto guides you back down onto his cock.

Your abused pussy had been through a lot, and a loud hiss passes through your teeth as you sunk all the way on him. Your teeth biting onto Shouto’s lip to control the pain-filled pleasure that corroded your body at the moment. It still felt so crazed, the sensation of your heartbeat in your inner walls shifting and hugging Shouto’s still throbbing head,

But the slowness is gone when Shouto pulls away. His hands on the leash as he yanks the cord up and back down.

“Follow my actions, “ Shouto warns, and you weakly nod.

His hand moves the leash back and forward, and the soreness of your cunt bleeds into your actions as you imitate him. Your rolling hips are slow, your hands pressing against his shoulders as you roll your hips against him. There’s a dark mutter from Shouto’s mouth when you lock eyes with him, and his nostrils flare. His hand suddenly grabs onto your waist, making you freeze in your decent back down onto his cock, but he beats you too it, for his cock rams into your dripping cunt. A shriek ripping from your throat as he pounds into you. Your fingers digging into his shoulders to hold onto for support.

“SHOUTO!” You shriek as he ruthlessly slams into you. His hips coming up so fast your body bounces with every thrust. Your moans tumble out in chokes, your face turning red as oxygen fails to fill your lungs. The thrusting is intense, and your hands on his shoulder are more of a lifeline; the bed is quick to move with your movements, the considerable bed groaning under the harsh actions. Its squeaks and tremors are loud in your ear alongside his insistent pounding.

“What’s that, whore?” He growls, his hips hammering into you at mind fogging speed. The leash on the collar being yanked to pull you closer; your bare and sweat-slick skin pressed against his. “What’s my fucking name?!”

“Sir!” you shriek as your pussy throbs around his pounding cock. You’re unable to even twirl your hips in rhythm with him. You were stuck to the lap, only able to feel his cock entering you at toe-curling speeds. “Oh my god, FUCK, please— I —shit!”

Words failed you miserably as Shouto’s hot and sweet tongue drags against your collarbone, his teeth burying into your primed skin as your eyes roll back.

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm. One more minute.

“You take my cock so well,” Shouto grunts as he releases one hand from your waist and runs it down your navel to press against your clit. Your head throws back, your back arching further into his chest as you scream again. Your pussy clenching with no remorse around his cock. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Do you want to come now, slut?”

You can only shake your head, you didn’t want to cum; the pressure continues to build and build.

“I need to hear your words.”

“I don’t need to cum,” you sob out as your body trembles under his thrusting, you’re so close you see stars. “I don’t need to — sir, please, I can — oH SHIT!!!”

Shouto growls as his hand wraps around the leash, wrapping it around your bruised neck as he tightens the chokehold on you. You’re being strangled, and the air feels like its burning as it goes down your tightened passage, but your cunt throbs in excitement when he presses his mouth to your ear, “I don’t give a shit if you don’t need to cum, you’ll do it regardless.” Your mouth dropped open, your eyes crossing, and a loud whine emitted from you when his hand moved to pinch your nipple, and his mouth found a place on your sensitive nipple.

That’s all it takes, and you come hard around his dick, his name ripping through your abused body as he groans. His tongue lashes against your nipple, his teeth tugging at the pebbled skin all while he continues pummeling into you. Chasing after his own orgasm now.

You pant harshly, moving your hips against his own. Your pussy still twitching around his throbbing dick. You hear him expel a wavering sigh, and you can feel him come within you. The heated fluid fills you up, and he lets go of your sore breast; he collapses onto the bed with you landing on his chest.

“You lost,” he whispers after a moment of silence. Your breath picked up in a panic, you were fucked. “On your knees.”

You groan loudly when Shouto sits up, lifting you up with him, and you can feel the intermingled cum dripping out of you, falling onto your thighs. Your eyes flutter when Shouto kneels before you, his face victorious and poised as he undoes the collar against your throat. Although you took a full breath of air with every, inhale, your breathing is finicky as you’re terrified of what’s to come. You’re silent while watching Shouto make his way make to the no longer neat line of sex toys.

He grabs two things: the vibrator, spreader bar, and four of Endeavors’ ties.

Shouto rises to his feet as he walks back towards you, and while you hated doing this on Endeavors — now filthy — bed, your mouth opened.

“Close your mouth, whore,” Shouto chides, his arms above his head tying the colored fabric to the fan blades above the bed.

“What are you—?!”

“You care too much about making a mess for some selfish pig,” Shouto shrugs, he falls into a squat after securing the ties to the fan. There’s a dark and almost amused glint in his eyes when he stares at you. “Now, I’ll give you a reason to worry.”

Before you could protest, pull away, or scramble from the center of the bed, Shouto grabs your right hand and secures the tie around it.

“Shouto!” You panic when he succeeds in capturing both your wrists. Breathing sharply, you looked up at the flimsy blades that curved under the weight of your arms. If you moved to harshly, if you struggled against this punishment or collapsed too early, it would break. Oh, no… snapping your head behind you to where your boyfriend was relocking your ankles into the spreader bar. “Please, baby, I can’t do this!”

Shouto ignores you, and cold sweat runs through you at what’s to come, you wouldn’t be able to resist bringing your elbows down if the vibrator was pressed into your clit. How were you supposed to not wholly destroy Endeavors’ property?!

“S-Sir, think this through!” You begin to word vomit in your desperation while Shouto presses the vibrator against your right thigh, the smooth head holds against your clit, and he uses two more ties to secure it into place. “The bed is already a-a mess, I squirted! Twice! You came two times on the bed! Not to mention my saliva and the cum that’s dripping out of me! I can’t — we can’t break his fan!”

Shouto is unconcerned, his tongue tracing his teeth while mocking concern, “Then I guess you’ll have to work extra hard not to ruin more things in his room. Considering you care about that shit still.”

Your mouth opened to argue again, your body feeling like you needed to fight this because there was no way you were going to be able to last with your arms above your head, legs unable to come together, and a vibrator pulsating into your cunt. But as soon as you made your initial noise, Shouto turned on the vibrator to low.

The low buzz of the vibrator filled the room, and your mouth dropped in a silent scream. Your body was half numb already, having cum multiple times within the past hour was causing your body to convulse on occasion, but now with the vibrations being sent straight to your core, you felt on edge once again.

Trying to control your visible reaction, your hands gripped onto the cloth ties, your arms quivering as you try to keep from pulling down, and your hips thrusting subconsciously to the vibrations.

“S-Sir!” You sob as the slow and steady build in your belly was already growing. Your eyes locked on Shouto, who was a length away, his eyes gleaming in sadistic joy as his hand ran up and down his once again hardening cock. “P-Please, tie me to the bed! Not to Endeavor’s fan.”

The glint disappeared.

“You just won’t let me enjoy my fucking victory, will you?!”

You sucked in a harsh breath when you shifted your hips, the head of the vibrator brushing deliciously against your softly throbbing clit. You thrilled at the feeling of the vibrations on your clit, and your toes curled as your head fell forward. You needed to keep vigilante, you had to continue complaining so that Shouto would cave.

But you had completely forgotten about the ball gag.

“Open up.” Your head shakes no when Shouto holds the ball gag against your lips, there’s a warning noise. A dark growl emitted from his throat, and you feel your heart rate spike when his other hand roughly pinched in your cheeks. Your mouth opens against your will, and you splutter when his fingers shove into your mouth. You try to bite down on his fingers, but Shouto’s fingers turn ice cold making your mouth widen further, so then the gag was placed behind your teeth pressing into your tongue. You feel him lean against you, his lips by your ear as he whispers, “I don’t fucking remember asking.”

His hand lowers, and he amps up the vibration of the vibrator, and your body stiffens under the powerful waves. Being gagged was the worst, first drool always seeped past your lips with this particular gag on, and the uncomfortable pressure on your tongue sent your gag reflex flaring. Staring up at the ceiling, your noises were muffled at the source, staggering pleasure shooting through your veins as the medium vibrations made your long-abused cunt weep.

Your slick coated the head of the vibrator, and soaked you inner thighs, soaking the tie where it held contact with your skin. Your body spasmed as you sobbed in pleasure, your mind reeling and short-circuiting when your head dropped.

Focusing onto Shouto, your legs nearly gave out at the sight of your sweating and smirking boyfriend, his ears tinged with blush, and his fist stroking his huge cock. You wanted to have him slamming into you with the vibrator pressed into your clit, not this.

“Aren’t you having fun,” he pronounces slowly, his eyes — still dark with excitement and lust — dropped to your soaked thighs. “You look fucking delicious right now, princess.”

You clenched your core, the feeling of the vibrator only intensified, and you gagged when you tried to cry out. The feeling of your saliva pooling from your lips mortified you, your body twitching as Shouto only laughs again.

“I think we should go higher,” Shouto groans, his eyes momentarily closing as you assume a particularly gratifying shiver crawls down his spine. The muffled sounds of your disapproval only make his smirk more sinister when he abandons his own length and moves closer to you. Your eyes are wide, body attempting to shift away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

Air passed through your nose are heavy and sharp breaths, your chest hammering, and your puffy nerves throbbing while the vibrator continued powering into you.

“You’re so messy,” he drawls on his knees before you, his fingers touching the saliva coating your chin, and you sob in anticipation of what’s to come. He trails his fingers down your throat, the slickness of your saliva cold against your raw and bruised neck. “Maybe you don’t really care about fucking up scums bed, do you?”

You make a disapproving noise, your will holding on to a thread, and you vigorously shake your head. Shouto hums, his upper lip curling before his hand flattened and smacked your breast right on your nipple.

There was a loud crack when your arms pulled down, and you shrieked, your eyes trying to choose between focusing on Shouto and the fan blade you very much could have just broken. You whimper, your body twisting in an attempt to show submission, but Shouto isn’t done.

With an icy cold hand, he hits your aching and hot breast again and again and again. Your pained and pleasured wails muffled while you choke against the ball, and saliva pours from your mouth, your body trembling with excitement.

“Shut up,” he hisses, bringing his other hand to your face and striking you.

Your head slams to the side, the throbbing of your cunt intensifies with the burning of his handprint. Why did you like being slapped?! Saliva dribbles from your lips when you straighten back up. A now unignorable ache fills your arms from being in this tiresome position for a while now.

Everything felt like it was burning, sensations, and wantonness flooding your senses galore.  

“I forget you like this,” Shouto groans as his hands grope your breast. Pulling, kneading, gripping and pinching the soft and moldable flesh in his hands, Shouto grins at your whimpers and the soft groans of the fan above the two of you. “Break the fan, I dare you.”

Your eyes slam shut at those words, and they remained closed as his hot and cold hands trail down your torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your lips twitch, the involuntary action to bite down on your lip prohibited by the gag. He must have seen considering the teasing pinch to your ass.

It was then that you froze. He was flushed against you, and the feeling of his cock pressing into the bottom of your sternum. Shouto’s right hand snaked behind you, those fingers playing with your dripping sex, and his left hand skimmed down your right inner thigh, resting onto the switch that changed the vibrational power.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he speaks in a low tone, an arrogant tone to his voice, “I’ll make you cum again.”

There was no time to contemplate his actions, for the vibrator was turned onto the highest setting and pressed into your clit, and his fingers sunk into your sopping wet cunt.

Even with the ball gag, the shriek of being overstimulated was as loud. It was as if you didn’t have the gag on at all. Your arms lurched forward against your will, the fan creaking loudly as you fell onto Shouto. You trembled more than a leaf in a storm, his fingers pumping deliciously and savagely into you, leaving behind the squelching noise of your wet core. The buzzing of the vibrator clear and steady and his cock twitched between the two of your bodies.

Sobbing and drooling moans escaped the gag, and Shouto relished in his ability to manipulate your body like this. His teeth leaving nipping kisses against the broken skin he left minutes before.

But the feeling of his teeth against your aggravated skin, the sensation of the powerful vibrations against your clit, and how he was still so responsive to you was nothing against his pistoning fingers dragged against that particular spot in your walls. His fingers scraped and slammed against your g-spot, and you felt your vision give way as a powerful force crashed through you.

You had squirted again, only that it seemed to last forever this time. Your lower body throbbing in its wake.

Your head collapsed against his shoulder, and when your vision came back, it was hazy and swam in your eyes. Whether Shouto had noticed or not, he still was slamming his fingers within your cunt with such intensity that — alongside the still buzzing vibrator — pressure built again within you. Heat seeped through you, and tears fell from your eyes when you came again.

Everything felt lethargic when Shouto removed his knuckle deep fingers from your sopping cunt, his tongue lapping away any of your essence remaining on his fingers. With a long pause, he finally turned off the vibrator.

Your breathing was shallow, your head spinning while he removed the bondage from your wrists and ankles. Collapsing onto your face, you felt your slick running thick on your thighs, mixing with the sweat that soaked your skin too.

Good god, were you exhausted.

“You broke the fan,” Shouto murmured.

Shrieking against the gag, adrenaline shot through your veins as you looked up. The fan blade had visible cracks in it, and your jaw dropped further.

Oh, fuck!

“Still haven’t learned,” he sighs, shaking his head. “That’s okay, you’ve always been a stubborn bitch.”

You whimper in agreement, your leg shifting so that you could feel the wet puddle you had made this time around. However, there was no time to relax.

Shouto grabbed you by your armpits and dragged you to the edge of the bed. Choking, you stared at him startled. There was no use in asking what was happening; Shouto bent your knees and wrapped two ties around each leg. One holding your ankle and upper thigh together, and the other one near your knee.

“Good,” Shouto approved, walking back to the side of the bed where the toys lay. Though soreness struck your body, you rose to your elbows and watched Shouto grab the fuck machine before returning to the bedside. “Because you squirted.” He says with a coy smile, lining the dildo to your exposed pussy and thrusting it in.

Your body slammed back down against the bed at the slickness of the dildo. You were so used to Shouto’s cock that the dildo was foreign as it buried within you.

“Now,” he sighs as he turns on the machine. Immediately the fuck machine blows into your tight and slippery cunt, your eyes rolling backward at the mere sensation of the speed it was at, and a loud mewl leaves your throat. His fingers snuck behind your head, unfastening the gag, and is removed with a saliva string, and a sob croaked through your voice as your mouth was finally free. “Suck my dick.”

With your head past the edge of the mattress, and the height lining you near perfectly to Shouto’s cock, he slides his cock into your sore throat. But ever so eager, Shouto wastes no time starting his conquest.

You try to keep up with the momentum of the toy and his viciously thrusting hips, your hips snapping against the toy despite its insane speed. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you choke against his cock. Shouto chuckles, his hands kneading your breasts, his moans tight and low, it had been a while since the last time he came.

“Look at you, so desperate,” Shouto chuckles, his fingers tweaking your hard nipples. “So fucking needy.”

The words ignite a fire within you, and your legs tremble in unspoken glee. You wanted him to fuck you until you were nothing less than a mess. You needed him to give you his cock instead of this stupid fucking machine — wait…

Your eyes widened when you realized the extent to your thoughts.

Fuck Endeavor, you thought, a shiver rolling down your spine. Your boyfriend was giving you the best dick down of your life, and you were too preoccupied with foolish worry! Shouto promised he was going to be cleaned up. You wanted Shouto, you needed him. Maybe you were whipped.

Your arms shot out, gripping the back of Shouto’s thighs as you willed him closer. Your jaw widening; you let hot breaths of air expelled from your mouth. You could feel Shouto peering down on you, but rolling your hips against the machine that was making your stomach bulge with every slam of its rod, your tongue lashed against his swollen head. Shouto’s thighs clench when your mouth sucks against the head of his cock, your tongue pressing flat against the tip.

“Did someone finally fucking wake up?” Shouto grunts, his hips moving with more unrestraint into your mouth.

Making a pleasant sound, you hollowed your cheeks out and tasted the saltiness of his pre-cum. Delighting at the harsh curse, you guided him further in.

One of his hands is soon braced on the fuck machine between your legs, but the other is tangled in your hair, pulling it and twisting it as he wishes. He’s pulling hard enough to hurt, enough so that you can choke against him, the angle and the position on your back already increasing the likeliness of that happening.

Shouto’s grip on your hair tightens, and he realizes that you’re keeping up impeccably. His dance between aggression and concupiscence is too much for you to keep up with. You don’t have time to tease his length with your tongue; he steers his cock further down your throat. You don’t bother to hide how satisfied you are by his action as you relax your throat and hollow your cheeks against the length of his snapping cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hips bucking forward, he can’t stop himself from demanding more. You don’t mind; you open wider to take more of him in, and his cock thrusts further down your throat. He’s now panting, in his desperation, judging from the strangled sound he makes as you take him even deeper. “You take my cock so good, princess.”

He was doing this for you, despite everything that could happen to him after this night was done. Shouto loved you enough to tarnish his dad’s room with you. The thought makes you moan, and you wiggling trying to take him deep enough now that he must be able to feel the vibrations from your throat because that makes him hiss out another curse. He’s shaking with the effort of slamming his cock down your throat and holding the machine.

The raw, primal, and wet noises of his cock entering and leaving your throat are maniacal, added onto that is the dildo penetrating your sopping cunt again. The pressure is back, and it’s settled deep in your lower belly, and you want to cum more.

He’s underestimating you, however; you could take him in all power and length he could muster. You know that as you begin bobbing your head despite the backwardness of your position. Digging your fingernails into his ass, you silently letting him know that you’re okay, and he understands.

Shouto grunts, bending his knees as he begins to face fuck you with no remorse. It’s savage, uncontrolled, and brutal. Your choking noises music to both your ears; he doesn’t let up, only snapping his hips faster, harder, rougher. Your eyes begin to roll backward at the force, his balls slapping you in the face with every slam of energy.

But you like — you lust — the sensation of the raw and primitive fucking he was giving you, and you felt your hips rising off the bed when your walls begin to clamp against the insanely moving dildo. Yet, when you shifted higher, his hands slammed down against your hips, keeping you down, and you cry around his cock.

“Take my fucking cock like the slut you are,” he snarls, taking giant thrusts until his cock is completely buried in your throat, your nose pressed into his balls. Your tongue still revolves around the veins in his cock while you grip his ass. You choke against him, the noise music to his ears, while your legs spasm as your orgasm is hitting you.

“Y/n,” he manages to get out through gritted teeth. “Fuck, y/n. You—” He cuts himself off with another groan as the tip of his cock hits so far down your throat you feel your neck bulge.

There’s a brief moment of panic as you struggle to breathe. The force a but more than you expected, but you relax, getting yourself to calm back down. But then you inhale through your nose and force your throat to rest until you can take him all in, the oxygen burning as it made its way past his cock in your throat. Not long after that, Shouto lets out a long, loud groan when his seed shoots down your throat.

It burns, and to your horror, you find yourself unable to take the sheer force of his load and the fact that he just seemed to keep unloading within you. Uncontrollable panicked coughing and choking rattle your throat while Shouto is still balls deep in you. The second he removes his cock from your throat, you shoot up, your core throbbing, and your airway burning as cum drips out from your nose.

You continue hacking, the bitter taste of cum scorching your throat, and you continued to rub cum from your nose. It burned and hurt to breathe. Turning your head towards Shouto, who turned off the fucking machine, his eyes were locked on you already, a grin on his face while he ran a hand through his hair.

“That was hot,” Shouto rustles, running the flat of his thumb against your upper lip, smearing his cum against your skin.

“That fucking hurt!” You snap, throwing his hand off your face, a fire exploding under your skin because you were more embarrassed than anything. You enjoyed the feeling of his cum coming out of your nose, but you weren’t about to admit it!

“I don’t care,” Shouto perversely informs you, his hands taking you cheeks and twisting you towards him before his lips press against yours.

His lips are libidinous against yours, his mouth opening as he coaxed you to join him in this affair. His kiss was bruising, his teeth knocking against yours when hot and breathless puffs of air exchanged between your mouths. The heated pressure does nothing to ease the burning in your throat, only intensifying the pain while you dig your fingers into his back, leaving crescent marks and bloodied tears behind. The pain does not deter Shouto, not even a little bit. There’s an approval growl emitting from his throat and his tongue soon pressed against yours, and you resisted the sharp moan threatening to leave while his muscle danced with yours.

“Stop holding it in,” he grunts, “make everyone know that you’re being fucked.”

The next noise to escape your mouth is a loud mewl when Shouto sucks against your own tongue, his eyes ablaze while he stares down at you, victory and lust in his eyes.

“Where should I fuck you next?” He asks, his body pressing you down into the mattress, ignoring your pained hisses for your legs were still bound. His fingers dig into your breasts, pinching at the edges of your areola instead of your nipple. Your fingers dug deeper into his skin when you sob at the teasing. “How does that filthy little cunt of yours want to be ruined next?”

“In his chair!” you cry in gluttony, your body thrashing and reaming against his touch. “Fuck me in his chair, sir!”

“Look at that, maybe the slut can learn,” Shouto grins into your skin, the tracing movements salacious, and he stands. You’re weightless when Shouto scoops you from the bed, his hands supporting your tender ass. Mindlessly, your mouth nibbles against his throat, leaving purple hickies in your wake while he collects more items.

The taste of his salty sweat invades your senses, your tongue lapping, and circling against his skin while Shouto gave no attention towards your actions. He merely dumped you onto the cool leather of Endeavors desk chair, and you arched in pain.

“Now, now,” he ruthlessly grabbed the ties on your legs. He slides them off with such amoral strength your skin throbs in his wake. Your legs, finally free, slam to the ground, and you let out a fervid noise as you stare up at your boyfriend, whose stomach is taut and sheened with sweat. “I thought you liked pain.”

“You haven’t been giving me any,” you sneer, your tongue dragging against your bottom lip.

Rage fills his eyes, and he chuckles depravedly, “Okay, brat.”

Grabbing your hips, he drags you on the chair so that your ass barely remains on the cold leather. Shoving you down by your chest, the wind is knocked out of you, and you heave when he grabs onto your ankles. With a familiar tightness and the strain of having your knees under your shoulders, the spreader bar is placed behind the chairs back, keeping you trapped to the chair.

You’re folded in half, and his hand pressed onto your stomach before he began to tie your arms and thigh down. Two ties to secure your wrist into place, two ties to secure your thighs into place. The position — being placed into an ‘L’ shape — prohibited you from breathing correctly as your inflexibility flashed through your muscles.

“Oh my god,” you breathe while Shouto presses the back of the chair into the desk for additional support. Your wrists throbbed with the loss of blood circulation, and Shouto stood before you, his hand fisting himself.

“Hard to breathe?” He mocks, his cock now fully erect again.

“Make me stop breathing, pussy,” you challenge unwavering.

“God, I was hoping you’d say that,” he smirked, grabbing the top of the chair, and placing his feet by the side of the bed, he rammed himself into your cunt.

There was nothing for you to do except pathetically howl when he slammed into your cervix, your body tied so tight to the chair any other action was stopped.

“You’re so fucking tight like this,” Shouto hisses, but you could hardly tell the difference with the way he pummels his cock deep within you. Perfectly hitting the back of your wall every time.

His girth was stretching you out far more than you could seem to remember, his thrusts were urgent as they were voracious, slamming deep into you with every second, scrambling your mind with every shift. But, he didn’t gag you, and you weren’t one to give in.

“It’s because you n-never fuck me r-rIGHT!”

His left fingers slammed into your mouth, his fingers touching the back of your throat as you choked against him in your surprise. Tears watered in your eyes, and his fingers dug into your spongy muscle, making you gag even more laborious.

It already hurt to breathe, with the sensation of his cum still falling from your nose, the angle of which you were tied up, and his finger in your throat, you began to panic. Your eyes close, your throat relaxing immediately to let things be okay. But as soon as you regain your breath, you feel your core throb in how much you liked that. Tears flow down your cheeks, your eyes locked on Shouto, who’s scorching you with his sight.

“I thought you were going to tap out,” he taunts, and your tongue pushes up against his fingers, your throat humming lowly to control the insistent gag at the back of your throat. “You’re crying, and yet you’re still so defiant.”

You tilt your head up, alleviating the pressure of his fingers in your throat, and still looking like a brat.

But his cock brushes against your g-spot and your eyes nearly bug out in ecstasy for his right-hand wraps around your neck. His cock still slams into you with speed and power, the oxygen in your body being denied with his tight grip around your neck, his fingers beginning to thrust within your mouth emulating a cock, and the chair starts to squeak with every movement.

Your ass pathetically rises off the chair, a desperate attempt to move in time with his drilling cock. Both of you delirious under your overstimulation and refusal to stop until there was evidence for years that the two of you fucked in Endeavors’ room. His grip around your neck soon became bruising, where his fingertips were burned you, but you cared not. His cock was stretching you out in shameless thrill, the angle only increasing the pleasure buzzing through you. Your eyes cross over in your elation, and you splutter when his fingers leave your throat, moving to press cold and wet figure-eights onto your clit.

“Fucking take my cock,” he growls.

Your head nods, the heated pressure in your belly scorching. Your walls clamp down against his hammering cock, but it doesn’t slow him down, only encouraging him to increase his speed and strength until the chair creaked against your weight. The sopping noises of your meeting sex filled your ears, and you moaned loudly, your teeth biting down onto your lip.

It takes his cock brushing against your g-spot for your legs to slam forward, your arms nearly succeeding in destroying endeavors ties as you try sitting up as your orgasm slams through you.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” You scream hoarsely. Your scream only increases in great thrill when you feel the chair snap under the force of his fuck. But Shouto ignores it, his hips continuing to drill into you, his hand clamping tighter against your neck, cutting off your voice. Shouto isn’t done yet, after all.

His hands move to grip the exposed back of your thighs, his grip bruising your supple skin. He slams into you faster, his cock continuing unaffected by your convulsing walls. There are no other noises except your wet cunt meeting his cock, your shrieks of approval, and Shouto’s heavy breathing as he continues to drive into you. His body is giving you unreplicable sensations, and your body only making Shouto stammer and curse loudly.

His lips find yours, and there is nothing to say, the kiss is messy, more teeth than anything. Saliva passed between the two of you without care, as he chases his orgasm. His brutal pace continues, your name growled from your throat, until one last thrust and one final clamp from your cunt sends him over.

He pulls out as soon as he cums, his seed slipping down from your slit, tickling your tight ass and dripping onto the chair and the floor.

Your eyes are barely opened; you try to peer at Shouto, who is pressing his right hand to his forehead.

“You cheat,” you rasp, knowing that he had successfully cooled his body down.

He smiles at you wickedly, choosing to ignore you before walking back.

“Look at that,” Shouto whispers, bending down so that his face is level with your cunt and ass. “Can’t have anything not falling onto Endeavors things getting out of you…”

His finger pushes his cum back into your sore cunt, and you sharply breath when he pats your cunt.

“You want me to have your babies,” you tease, and he remains silent, dragging his fingers down the center of your pussy. His breathing teases your sensitive flesh, and you feel yourself clench when he pulls his fingers lower than where he usually goes. Soon, his fingers trace around your puckered asshole.

“S-Sir,” you pant, your chest rising as far up as you could in this position, and your eyes widened when he looked up at you.

“Have you ever wanted to try anal?”

Your mouth drops when the pad of his finger teases your other entrance, and your thighs shook while you remained silent.

His opposite hand struck your ass sharply, your body thrashing as it stung against your unprepared skin.

“Answer me.”

“Y-Yes!”

“Yes, what?!”

“I want your cock in my ass!”

Your boyfriend’s quirk did not involve speed; in fact, without his quirk, he was not that fast. Sure he was athletic and adequately trained, but in comparison to those on the Hero field, if you took away quirk usage, he was barely above average. But there were times that you believed he was incredibly fast, and this was one of those moments.

You found your face, chest, and knees buried back into the mattress, your back arched so much you swore you would need a spine replacement after this, and the ties and spreader bar were gone.

His fingers slide between your folds, lathering in your essence. A low groan left your lips at the feeling, and you quivered when Shouto’s hands spread your ass cheeks.

“B-Be gentle,” you whimper when he presses the pad of his forefinger against your pert hole. Your ass tightened instinctively, and Shouto huffed but pressed his finger in. A weird full pain shot through you when the tip of his finger entered your rectum, your ass squeezing against his finger, trying to deny him entrance.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, his other hand massaging your ass cheek, trying to calm your instincts to let him in.

Your fingers dig into the comforter, the still wet fabric from your multiple orgasms was cold under your heated fingers. But something cold splashed against your ass, and you shook, demanding to know what it was.

“Lube,” he answers, a smirk evident in his tone as his fingers leave your asshole. A soft groan exhales from your breath at him exiting your ass, and soon enough, his finger returns to your puckered tight hole. The feeling of his fingers pushing in you to his first knuckles sends your ass flying backward toward him, a desperate and idiotic way of getting him further in.

It was a weird feeling, almost reminiscent to the first time you had sex, only completely different. It made your head spin in a frenzied way and felt backward but in a way where you needed more.

“You like this,” he laughs, his lips pressing against your spine. Your head nods, you’re unable to speak as his fingers push into you and pull back out. It’s a slow and chilling movement that fills your asshole and makes you dizzy.

“Shit,” you breathe, your body rattling, your ass rolling against his fingers.

“Are you ready for my cock, whore?” He asks, and you whine in response. His hand grips your ass, and his finger curls within you. You loudly call out his name, feeling your body turning weak as you lay there, a slave to his manipulation. His manipulation of your ass sends warm liquid falling down your thighs, shining against your skin as his hand smacks your inner thigh, and he relishes in your high pitched squeal. “You finally cave to anal when I’m fucking you here. Is this what you wanted all along?”

Your eyes clamp shut as his fingers exit your ass, and you only manage a panting groan in response. There’s a soft ripping noise before a package hits your face.

Your eyes open to see a condom package sitting by your face, its empty, and you shift your head to stare at Shouto who’s unraveling the condom on his cock.

“You haven’t used those in a while,” you remark snidely, your eyes glowing with amusement as he locks onto you, his eyes rolling.

“I remember a certain someone begging for me to put it in her raw,” he smoothly states, lube in his hands now, and he applies a lot on the smooth condom. “Besides, you want my cock up your ass, you don’t get to play that card right now.”

“Yeah, well — oHMY GOD!”

Shouto, without warning, presses the head of his cock within your asshole. It stretches you out disgustingly, sharp pain throbbing in your ass and cunt as he settles within you. Despite his cock halfway buried within your ass, it’s your pussy that weeps. Your slick runs rampant down your inner thigh, falling onto the bed top. Shouto’s fingers dig into your waist, the both of you breathing heavy at this new feeling.

Slowly, his fingers move to your breast and your nipples, and with the smallest nod from you, he begins.

In and out, he moves, his hips moving faster than a manageable speed, and your eyes welled with tears at the constipated feeling in your asshole. His fingers tweak and pull at your clit and nipple, savagely teasing them, uncaring that your cries left drooling puddles on the bed. His thrusting movements became quicker, harder, and more solid until a familiar sensation of his balls slapping your skin burned your mind.

“More,” you beg against the sheets, drool coating your cheek, your body nothing more than his fuck toy. “Fuck my asshole harder.”

Shouto merely growls, the pinch on your clit, making your hips buck against his cock, and he began to barbarically slam into you. It was as if it was your pussy and not your ass he was drilling into.

Your body shifts with his every movement, your slick pouring from your cunt, and he let go of your nipple. In your crazed state, you sob at the loss of contact, but his hand strikes against your soaked cunt with a loud sound. The force alone nearly sends your eyes flying open, your vision blurring when his finger dive into your sex.

His fingers work at double the speed of which his hips slam into you. His fingers pushing the limits of your velvet walls; he curls his fingers against your walls, dragging them deliciously against your clenching heat. Then there was his cock, and at times the thin walls that separated his fingers and his cock brushed together, sending you into a new frenzy while you sobbed his name.

Begging for more, begging to come.

“You already need to come?!” He snaps, his hips not at all weak, and you moaned loudly, knowing that he was nowhere close. “Then come you, filthy bitch, I just started, and you need to come!”

“I-It feels so fucking good,” you garble, your jaw unable to move for its slack against the mattress, electrifying pleasure singing your nerves, and with a loud smack to your pussy, you come hard against his fingers, splashing against the bed top.

There’s no time wasted; Shouto pulls himself from your ass and shoves you onto your back again. There’s no fightback, no attitude, from you. Without being forced to, your legs are brought to your chest while Shouto discards the condom onto the bed.

“Aren’t you so fucking enthusiastic, getting all ready for me without asking,” Shouto grins, his hands grabbing your legs right below your ankle. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you right now?”

“Y-You’re going to fill me up with your cum,” you stammer for he pushes your legs slowly towards you, the stretch in your muscles overwhelming for your sore body. “You’re going to give me your babies.”

“What else?” He taunts, the top of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“B-Breed me like the bitch I am, sir!” Your cry, wanting nothing more than his cock to bury all nine inches in you.

“Come for me one more time, and I’ll make sure to fill you until you’re dripping with my semen for an entire week,” Shouto promises, and his hips slam within you.

Your knees are buried within the mattress by your head, your feet curling and pressing against each other.  Shouto lays on top of you, the penetration deep, and his hands gripping yours. The weight of having him on you is exhilarating, and for the first time this night, his lips press hungrily against yours while ball deep within you.

His cock slams against the wall of your cervix repetitively while his lips overwhelm you. Each slam into you is massive and powerful. Powerful enough to have you sobbing into his mouth while he kisses you, his hands clutching your smaller ones in his.

Again and again, he slams into you. His thrusts knocking the wind out of you until you release his hands and find yourself digging your fingers into his back, crying out his name desperately while his teeth find a home on your neck, sinking into flesh he had long ago broke. The powerful pounding of his cock makes you keen, your hips jerking up to meet his, but you’re useless against his downward thrusts.

“Impregnate me, sir,” you gasp, your eyes rolling back in pleasure, “breed me, please!”

“You’ll be full of my fucking kids in no time, your cute belly will be round with my kid,” he snaps, his cock throbbing within your pussy, and loud echoing slaps fill the room. Your nails claw at his back, marking him in multiple places with clean four red lines.

You couldn’t take the feeling of how his body moved perfectly within you, the strength and power behind his every move were almost too natural as if this was an everyday thing. You let out noises reasonably similar to a purr, grinding your cunt against his conquesting cock and laughing breathlessly at his low groan.

“You like this, whore?” Shouto nips at your throat, his thrusts making you shriek out his name as he buries you further into the bed, your nails digging into his flesh. “You like the way my cock fills your pussy the same way it did that pretty little ass?” You nod rapidly, your eyes closed, your mouth open, your pants tumbling from your mouth. Your sanity was lying on a string, his actions the reasons for your downfall.

His leverage was small, but every thrust seemed to have his cock being pulled out of you nearly completely. Before he drilled back into your pussy. The noises of your connecting wet sex left loud echo with your squelching pussy around his hot cock.

The muscles on his back seemed to flare dramatically, your screams turning silent due to your approval of this.

“You like the way I fuck your pussy? The way that I’ll fill you with my seed for days to come?” he growls into your ear, his hips inhumanly slamming into you.

“I need you to breed me,” you sob, the fire in your face as bright and hot as the one between your legs. His sweaty forehead pressed against yours, and his lips recapture yours.

Your mind goes blank when a mighty crash goes through you. But Shouto must not have felt the familiar spastic clamping of your inner walls as he continues pistoling his hips into you, hitting your cervix, and pushing it further up with every slam. You cry against his mouth, your hands shoving at his shoulders as the feeling of your orgasm was too strong to deny, and he slips out of you.

You squirt wildly, your juices going everywhere, wetting his groin area, and splashing against the bed.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he growls, and once again slams into you.

Your scream is silent, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his neck, and your toes curl. His hips are driving, persistent, and have a goal in mind. You can barely keep up with him, your long overstimulated body wanting to collapse at the seams, but he doesn’t stop.

The bed creaks loudly under you, headboard crashing into the wall, over and over again.

“Cum, sir,” you beg, your hips wildly thrashing against his. “Please, fill me with your seed!”

That’s all it takes, and a hot and heavy load shoots through you, and Shouto collapses onto you at the same time the bed falls. Neither one of you reacts as gravity shifts you both slightly downwards, but your mind is too full of Shouto to care. His body twitching while his cock remains hard within you, the feeling of his cum swimming in your cunt, making your head spin with euphoria.

Drowsiness hits you quickly, and Shouto’s body heat is quickly putting you to sleep.

He pulls out of you gently, and the feeling of his cock no longer in you makes you whimper, your nose burying into his neck as he flips the two of you over so that you’re laying on his chest. His hands send warm and cooling waves through your body, helping soothe the aches in your tired body.

Who knew Endeavor was the key to making Shouto lose control. Maybe you needed to get him to fuck you on this bed more often now.

You can feel the cum seeping from your cunt, and Shouto must have too, for he scooped it back in with his fingers, and you chuckled at the feeling of his warm fingers against your seizing cunt. This was nice, you loved this.

“I didn’t go too overboard, did I?” He asks, his voice small given that he saw the blood that trailed down your neck and the raised handprints on your ass.

“No,” you say, your hands running down his muscled sides. “Not at all, I really enjoyed this, sir.”

Your words are teasing, and the two of you chuckle as silence overtakes the two of you.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispers, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“I love you, too, Shouto,” you mumble, your eyes fluttering closed, sleep consuming you.

You don’t remember anything else, only that you woke up the next morning in your bed, your body is strewn with purple bruises, red hickies, and handprints on your body, wearing nothing but Shouto’s shirt and your panties.

“Good morning beautiful,” his voice greets you, and you sigh, soreness rampaging your body.

“Good morning, my love.”

Bonus!

Endeavor walked into his house at three in the morning, the strains of a late night at work had truly exhausted him.

Shouto, who he had asked to take care of his house for only two hours had stayed much later. His son had informed him that he left ten minutes before he arrived. It was too bad, Endeavor thought, he wasn’t able to get back on time to see his son and girlfriend. Tossing his case to the floor, Endeavor was ready for bed.

Trudging through his house, he was quick to realize how humid the house was when he neared his room. His eyebrows scrunched, his attention on alert as he threw open the door, the lights and fan turned on by mistake.

CRASH!

Endeavors’ eyes widened at the sight of the cum-stained bed, the ruined sheets, the slanted chair, and his bed being held together by ice. His eyes locked on the fan blade that fell from its place; it was cracked entirely in the middle. There was no denying that his room was wholly and disgustingly used, and for what?! His stupid kid didn’t ever need to stay!

“SHOUTOOOOOO!”

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Fixated

A/N: I can’t explain how I am feeling, so I am going to let fic do it instead. This is entirely written without edits, without a read through.  Overworked!Scott

Edit: Okay I did a read through. Remaining mistakes are mine

-----

Virgil is the first to notice. Maybe because he’s Virgil, and possibly because he’s the only one who can call Scott his immediate older brother, so there’s something in their closeness in age, having navigated childhood together almost as equals, that sets his Scott-sense apart from that of his younger siblings.

When Scott was thirteen and Virgil was eleven, Scott was in the eighth grade and had to write a research report on the Wright Brothers, the pioneers of modern aviation. And that was all well and good, because Scott was going to start training for his pilot’s license right when he turned sixteen. The report became not just a chronicle of the historical figures’ lives, but also of flight, of the first airplane itself and the prototypes before it, of physics, and aerodynamics. He researched in a way he never had before because it was a subject he was passionate about.

He obsessed.

Like John but different.

John absorbed the search for knowledge into the fiber of his being, his fingertips always itching to take a deeper dive through archives when he heard a word he didn’t know or a concept he couldn’t explain fully. Research was as much a part of John as music was for Virgil, or swimming was for Gordon. It was a companion he could always revisit later, and so like all of them with hobbies that mattered, John knew how to catalog  and save for a better time, and turn the itch aside when he needed to. He knew when to stop.

Scott didn’t. Scott defined the turn of phrase “down the rabbit hole.” Alice caught and enraptured by the not yet known or understood.

When he cared, he obsessed.  

That project got finished with an A+, but resulted in anxious shaking that didn’t alleviate until a few days after the grades came back. Scott had lost weight, skipped his extra curriculars, and Virgil hadn’t seen him for two whole weeks while he worked. The younger ones likely didn’t remember.

But Virgil did. And he knew the signs. Forgetting to eat, falling asleep at his computer or on his books, waking up earlier than normal to get a head start to whatever imaginary goals he created for himself that day.

So, the day Virgil notices, it’s because Scott missed lunch. Grandma had made hot wings, which was one of his favorites, so the smell of char in the air would’ve been enough to set his stomach rumbling. With Scott absent when he definitely shouldn’t be, Virgil decides to make him a plate, six hot wings with ranch on the side, and some celery.

He finds Scott at their father’s his work desk, his fingers flying over the keyboard, intently scanning the files behind the screen.

“Hey, I brought you lunch.”

No answer.

Virgil steps closer to the desk, sure that once Scott catches him in his periphery, he’d acknowledge his presence. But Scott doesn’t appear to have a periphery when he’s focused like that.

“Scott?” There’s a little room on the desk, so he nudges a few papers to the side and slides the plate down. “Scooter?” He looks tense. He can see knots forming, so he drops a hand on Scott’s shoulder, and –

“FU—”

Scott nearly jumps out of his skin, his hands fly up, catching the side of the plate which clatters, sending ranch and hot sauce all over the floor. Even MAX scurries away with a low beep at the sudden sound, and Virgil flinched in a sudden panic when the dish slipped through his fingers.

“Sorry, sorry! I just meant to help.” Virgil is already kneeling on the floor, trying to pick up what he can with his hands, knowing he needs a wet rag. Maybe a mop.

The little cup that held the ranch slid a ways. Gross.

“Ah. Thanks, Virg,” Scott says. And he means it, Virgil knows that. But he can also see the gears in Scott’s head still working, still thinking about whatever he had been focused on, not quite fully present. “Umm. Do you have this? I’m under a deadline.” He looks at his watch. “Ugh. A rough one. I’d help if I could.”

“No, I got this! Sorry, Scott.” He picks up the dirty hot wings, placing them on a plate for their compost pile. “Is there anything else I can get you instead? These were the last of them.”

But Scott doesn’t answer. He’s already back to his computer.

~*~

Gordon is next.

He may not have the same Scott-sense as Virgil, may not have picked up on it as quickly, but he and Scott both share early morning routines, meeting in the kitchen at 5:00, Scott dressed in a tank and his running shorts, Gordon in his swimsuit, a towel around his shoulders. Coffee is too heavy to start the day, but Scott usually would begin the brew for when they returned (and in case Virgil woke up) while Gordon filled their respective water bottles. Whoever finished first chose the energy boost of choice – sometimes just a snack bar, sometimes a shake. On weekends, it might be oatmeal or toast.

Out by the pool by 5:15. Stretching was important.

Scott began his run. Gordon began his laps. They went about their day. Rinse, repeat.

Occasionally a rescue might come in and affect their sleep cycle just a bit, but Scott and Gordon were both military. If they weren’t rising before the sun, it was too late and they lost half their day already.

So Gordon is next, because Scott doesn’t meet him in the kitchen. He’s not sure he knows how to make smoothies for one – hasn’t in a long time – so he proportions his ingredients for two, fills a second cup for Scott when he wakes, and sticks it in the refrigerator so it will stay cold.

He pushes himself during his exercise. He was long past chasing times, but he still raced himself. Seconds could save a life, and so he exercised for speed, for longevity sometimes. For survival.

It’s a longevity day, so he’s abandons speed for energy conservation, which makes it a long morning.

His muscles are tired and sore when he returns to the kitchen and opens the fridge for a drink to boost his electrolytes. He is not in the mood for coffee today, but sees the pot is half full, so someone is up. But it’s not Scott.

Because the smoothie is still in the fridge, untouched.

He tells himself he needs to check in on Scott once he finishes his research down at the dock today. He’s been tracking a pod of dolphins near Mateo and has been needing to collect the latest data captured by his little research vessel.

He’ll catch him later. Figure out what’s going on.

~*~

Then it’s Alan.

Alan admires Scott, has been practically raised by him since Dad disappeared. Scott is everything Alan wants to be… just the John version of him. Take Scott’s courage and bravery, John’s love of space, you get Alan. Eyes on the horizon, but looking beyond it into stratosphere, exosphere, the space between stars itself.

He’s a hell of a pilot. He knows that. He wouldn’t be the pilot of Thunderbird Three otherwise. But a part of him will always seek the approval of his older siblings. He wants to make Scott proud.

Scott hasn’t had the time for him lately. He’s been working on… oh he doesn’t know. They don’t tell him. Something for Tracy Industries.

His final quarter grades have come out, and he aced all his classes.  It had been a hard semester and juggling his courses between rescues had been tough. He’d needed to call on his brothers’ expertise a few times.

He knows Scott has his file somewhere in his email, but he likely hasn’t gotten to it yet because he hasn’t said anything to him. It’s been a few days. So Alan pulls up his grades on his datapad and strolls past the center of the lounge over to Scott.

The first time he says Scott’s name, he doesn’t answer.

Nor the second.

The thirdfourthfifth time, because that’s how he called for him, the name running together like that, Scott irritably gives him a low grumble of “What do you want, Alan?” He doesn’t glance up, and the smile falters from Alan’s face.

“Oh, I, uh—” This was silly. It’s not important, really. Scott will get to it eventually.  “My grades came through. When you get a chance.”

He grumbles in response. “I’ll look later,” he says. “I need to…”

But he trails off, back to his computer, and Alan still doesn’t know what project stole his brother away.

~*~

John’s the last.

He’s called to check in. He’s definitely connected, but....

Scott is slumped at his desk, and John’s calls are not working.

“Scott!”

No answer. The figure at the desk doesn’t budge. So John opens a channel to the rest of his brothers, his feet already sending him toward the space elevator as he calls out. “I can’t wake Scott!”

[capricorn-stark]

Othello Pt 2

pairing: jason todd x reader, reader is a psych major because i think the concept of psych majors in Gotham is funny lmao

warning: i wrote this at 1 am again, kinda long, swearing

a/n: i mention Dana Harlowe and Annie B’s diner, they’re both from RHATO’s final two issues lol. still dedicated to @tadpole-san even though she hate crimed me 

part 1

“I thought you said you wanted to get coffee,” you started when you noticed Jason veering away from where your regular coffee shop should’ve been, choosing to cut through the street and venture to a different path entirely. “Because you just-”

“Yeah, I know, I’m hungry,” he declared, slipping his hands into his pockets and tilting his head towards another row of stores illuminated with neon-lights and flickering street lamps. “This place has better stuff than overpriced coffee, promise.” You let out an exaggerated gasp of shock at that notion and he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. 

It was always strange to be walking around Gotham during the night, but with Jason by your side, it was far less worrying than it usually was. On your own, you couldn’t even imagine traveling around the dark streets littered with muggers, petty thieves, and the occasional evil clown prince or two - one minute, you’d be speed-walking down the streets, the next minute you could end up as the lucky winner of Scarecrow’s fear-gas testing special.

You actually knew someone who had been in that very situation. They were in Arkham now.

With Jason, it was almost ridiculous how much safer you felt. It didn’t take a whole lot of observational skills to notice how the men who usually leered at you and your friends when you passed shrank and slipped into the shadows when a man over 6 feet in height and built like a tank walked past them. Jason himself was in a good mood tonight, his shoulders relaxed and a slight smile playing at his lips while he told you about the local theatrical-adaptation of Othello that was currently under production near Gotham University. 

You were getting used to seeing him like this - not so moody, smiling, present - but you had also noticed the expressions he had when no one was looking, when he wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, when his gaze had a certain intensity to them that you hadn’t ever quite seen before. He didn’t really like talking about himself or his life, preferring to keep conversations centered around school or you. The few times you had tried asking about his family and work had all led to him clamming up and quickly dropping the subject, his body language rigid and completely closed-off, the crease by his brows deepening as his expression transformed into a scowl. It was the first time you realized that Jason Todd could actually be genuinely scary - and the first time you realized there was a much, much darker side of him that you weren’t sure if you wanted to see.

You knew it wasn’t your place to pry, and you had never brought it up since - but you couldn’t help but wonder just what had happened to make someone like him so angry. 

“...and I figured we could - did you just zone out on me?”

You snapped back into attention at his rather dramatic tone, flinching out of your character analysis to pay actual mind to the man in question himself. 

“No, I just-” 

“Yeah? What did I just say?” Jason challenged, grasping your arm to pull you away from the traffic lane you had nearly walked right into. His disbelieving expression made your face burn red - but much to your relief (and embarrassment), he was laughing. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t completely zoned out-” 

“After you literally walked into traffic? Yeah, I can tell,” he deadpanned, tugging you towards him right as the cars slowed to a halt, the pedestrian signal blinking above you. The sudden action and the sudden closeness made your face heat up - something he apparently noticed when his bright green eyes flickered across your features and caused a smirk to tug at his lips. Instead of the teasing you had braced yourself for, you watched as he tilted his head towards the diner across the street, letting go of your arm. “It’s right over there, c’mon.” 

He was already moving towards the crosswalk when you shook yourself out of your stupor, quickly moving to catch up with him and glancing up at the diner. The big glowing red letters on the sign beside it read “Annie B’s”. 

“They got good food,” he explained at your questioning look, leaning forwards to swing the door open for you. “I used to hang around here a lot when I was a kid.” 

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen this place before,” you commented, entering and hearing Jason close the door behind him, taking a quick glance around before you took a seat in one of the cherry-red and white leather booths. “Kinda wish I had.”

The entire diner had a vintage touch to it, from the luminescent pink and blue lights lining the ceilings to the multicolored tile floors, the cherry-red barstools, and even the jukebox in the corner cranking out old-timey tunes. There were only a few other people sitting at the bar and chilling in a booth a few down from your own, all too absorbed in their own worlds to pay much mind to the two of you. You could hear the sizzling of the food being made back in the kitchen, emitting a heavenly aroma that made your stomach growl not-so subtly. Jason laughed as he slid down across from you, sliding one delicate paper menu over as he scanned over the other. 

“Pretty cool, huh? And like I said, they got great food.” He nodded at your stomach and you rolled your eyes, eliciting another laugh from him. “Knock yourself out, ‘cus dinner’s on me.” Before you could open your mouth to object, the kitchen doors flew open and a woman stepped out holding a heaping tray of food. 

“One chicken fried steak with a side of mashed potatoes and rings,” she announced as she set down the trays in front of a man sitting a few booths down, already moving to refill his glass with a pitcher of water. “Enjoy your dinner, Phil.” 

“Thanks, Dana,” the man told her as he picked up his fork and gave her a crooked-toothed grin, already digging into his food. “Always do.” 

“I sure hope so,” the lady agreed, moving to walk back towards the kitchen before catching sight of them. She broke into a grin at the sight of Jason sending her a playful salute, changing course to head towards their booth instead. “Well, look who it is!” she exclaimed, securing her curly black hair out of her face with an orange-and-green bandana as she stopped in front of them. “Jason Todd decided to drop by for a little visit, did he? And he brought a friend.” 

The sight of her beaming at you was too contagious for you to not smile back up at her in return.

“Hi, Dana,” Jason grinned, nodding at you as she looked between the two of you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Dana Harlowe. Her dad runs this place.” 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Dana told you with another grin, leaning forwards to shake your hand in greeting. “When I decided to help out at the diner tonight, I wasn’t expecting a miracle. I definitely didn’t think this boy would ever walk in here with a date of all things-”

“Oh as if,” Jason scoffed loudly as the two of you laughed, face reddening beneath the bright colored lights. “Have you seen me? I was born a lady-killer.” He shot you a wink and you sent him another playful eye roll.

“Yeah, you sure killed me alright.” Dana burst out laughing again as Jason immediately let out a protest of betrayal at your words.

“I like you,” she decided when she finally managed to straighten, taking out her notepad and pen with another brilliant smile. “Did y’all decide what you wanted yet, or do you need another minute?” Jason glanced over at you and you nodded back up at her.

“Sure, I’m ready.” 

Dana headed back into the kitchen for your food after you ordered, leaving the two of you to sit in a comfortable, familiar silence, the sound of forks scraping against porcelain plates and vintage beats being the only disruptors. 

“I used to hear these songs on Gotham City Radio all the time,” Jason finally began after taking a sip of his water, fixating his gaze back on you as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the leather seat. “Growing up, I mean. I still do, sometimes.” 

“Classic jazz?” You grinned, taking a small sip of your own water in turn. “You? I didn’t get that vibe from you.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck with a slight shrug.

“At my old place, I had, uh, a butler. He wasn’t really a butler, honestly, he was more like a dad than anything. Or, like, a really cool grandpa. He had a whole rack of guns and shit he kept polished in this big cabinet thing-” You raised a brow, attempting to hide your amusement by taking another sip of water. You were a little surprised that he had actually started talking about his family at all - you weren’t about to ruin it, and boy, did you want to know more about the guy. “And he used to play that station all the time at home, GC Radio Classics. I guess I kinda missed hearing it.” 

“He does sound pretty cool,” you admitted with a smile, setting the glass back down. “Do you still visit him?” Jason hesitated a few moments before attempting a nonchalant shrug. You noticed the tightness in his body language again, the same sort of tightness you saw when he was closing up around you. 

“Not much anymore,” he finally said, letting his shoulders drop a little bit. “It’s been...a while. Just got some shit going on.” You watched him take another drink before you spoke again.

“If you ever want to talk about it with me - or talk about anything, really - you can, Jason.” It wasn’t just the products of your psych major showing through you - you meant your words, and the slight smile playing at his lips seemed to signal that he had understood that as well. 

“Don’t worry about it, seriously. But thanks.” You nodded, looking up again when the kitchen doors flew open once again, Dana heading out towards your table with another two trays heaped with mouth-watering food. 

“And here you go,” she smiled as she set your respective meals down before you, taking your glasses to refill them as well. “Enjoy your food, you two. Call me over if there’s anything else you need, yeah?” You both thanked Dana as she sashayed away again, letting the doors swing shut behind her once again after checking up on the rest of her customers. 

Neither of you wasted any time digging into the food as soon as it appeared, finishing most of it in mere minutes like the starving university students you were, breaking the silence with the occasional offer at trying something the other had gotten. The aroma had been no false-alarm - it tasted even better than you had anticipated, and that was certainly saying something. Savory fries, buttery biscuits, and smoky burgers were better than anything else you had in a while. 

“How did I not find this place sooner?” you sighed as you pressed a napkin to your lips, leaning back against your seat as you tried to process just how full you really felt. At this rate, you would have to roll your way out of the place. “I know you said it was gonna be good, but I didn’t expect it to be this good.”

“I told you,” Jason grinned as he finished up the last of his burger and fries, crumpling up his own napkins and setting them into the tray to throw away. “I know good food places! I grew up around these streets.”

“So did I!” you protested as he laughed and stood up to throw all the trash away, setting the trays back where they were supposed to go and pulling out his wallet just as Dana appeared by the kitchen’s window with two milkshakes. 

“You can count these on the house,” she told him as she slid them over, ignoring his protests and sending you a wink as you stood up from the booth as well. “Enjoy your night - and it was real nice meeting you, Y/N. Todd, I better be seeing you around more often.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he deadpanned, his smile warm as she waved them out anyways. “Thanks, Dana.” 

You called out a thanks to her as well, tightening your jacket around you as you left the warmth of the diner and felt the chill of Gotham’s dreary night hit you once more. Jason handed you your milkshake, bringing his own straw to his lips and taking a sip. 

“You guys seem close,” you noted with a smile as you took a sip yourself, relishing the cold, sweet taste of the shake in delight. Jason chuckled at that, shrugging as you walked along the illuminated sidewalks in no particular direction. 

“She’s like an annoying sister to me. I’ve known her since I was a puny kid.” You watched as the corners of his mouth curled into a slight smile as he took another sip. “Dana, her sister, and her dad were good to me growing up. They’re great people.”

That, you had been able to tell just from meeting the woman herself. 

“I liked meeting her. She was pretty cool.” He chuckled again and spared you another glance. “And thanks, by the way, for dinner tonight. It really was really good. And way better than just coffee.”

“I told you,” he grinned, flickering those brilliant green eyes across your face again. “I know where the good spots around Gotham are. We don’t have a lot of them, but when we do have them, they’re pretty damn good.” That elicited a laugh from you and Jason stopped beneath one of the streetlamps lining the sidewalk. 

“You did better than I expected, Todd.” He made a big show of popping his collar and scoffing at your comment.

“What, you expected me to not impress you? Do you think that low of me?” 

“That theatre minor of yours is really starting to make an entrance, you can put it away now-” 

“Hey!” You burst out laughing and he couldn’t help but join. You felt pretty sure that he looked the happiest right then and there than you had ever really seen him - whatever that might’ve meant. Pretty soon, your laughter was residing and he had taken a slight step forwards, a cheeky grin still plastered on his face. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

You looked back up at him with a nonchalant shrug despite fighting back another smile yourself. 

“Yeah, it was a pretty good night.” His gaze flickered towards your lips before settling back on your face. 

“Yeah?” The sounds of honking cars and the murmurs of people walking past all around you felt like they were being drowned out somehow when you felt him get a little bit closer. The smile tugged at the corner of your mouth again.

“Yeah.” Another moment passed before Jason finally closed the distance between you, meeting your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss for a man who looked like he could snap a baseball bat with his bare hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck after yet another moment, feeling him draw you even closer to him at the action. 

Literally and figuratively, it was a sweet kiss. The milkshake truly had done wonders. 

You were a little breathless when he finally pulled away, and you hoped the shitty streetlight would keep him from seeing just how red your face had gone. Jason was grinning at your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck.

“C’mon, that was better than pretty good.”

“Shut up,” you told him immediately, swatting his arm and moving to continue your walk again as he laughed and easily moved to catch up to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“It was! You gotta admit it, that was pretty great-”

“Shut up, Jason.” 

Just like that, once again, you had Othello of all things to thank for your night. Maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been such a terrible book after all. 

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 12 of 27: Healing

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 11 “CHOOSE ME INSTEAD” MASTERLIST

A/N: I’m sorry! I meant to post this yesterday!! But then I fell asleep early on the couch lol. So here it is! The chapter is a little slower buuuuut there will be more action in the next two chapters and Draco needs a break from what happened. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!!! <3

Words: 3.4k Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader, post war Warnings: some anxiety and mentions of suicide (but nothing too heavy, I promise! <3)

He’s just feeling a little down.

That’s what Blaise or Theo said when someone asked about Draco. When they wanted to know why he hadn’t left their room for three days now and when they wondered why he skipped meals again.

You know how it is.

Five words followed by a sigh and everyone understood. They all knew how it was. Most of them had probably gone through a similar episode at least once. When the Slytherins heard that sentence, they mostly nodded with a sympathetic look on their face and backed off. It effectively stopped them from asking any more questions. Well, most of them. Pansy and the Greengrass sisters were more than just worried about their friend and kept pressing on about what happened. However, to their frustration, Theo and Blaise didn’t budge.

After being discharged from the hospital, Draco went to his room. He changed into a pair of pajamas, laid down – and that was it. He slept a lot during the three days but didn’t seem to find any rest. He was being followed by wild dreams which caused him to wake up multiple times, sweaty and with a beating heart that almost jumped out of his chest. Theo got his sleeping medicine after the first day and it helped a little – at least during the night.

During the day, the nightmares came alive in a much more horrid way. He could barely recall the events in the bathroom, it was all a blur. Yet, he remembered the way he felt. Fear and pain and shame, all mixed together. You were there, holding him, turning pale at the sight of his mark and looking at it with disgust. There were tears rolling down your cheeks and he was left wondering if he had lost you.

You, the only good thing in his life at this moment.

Draco didn’t look at his wound once during the three days. He wore a bandage. It itched occasionally, reminding him of what he had tried to do. It didn’t work. Nothing would ever work. The mark would stay there until the day he died and probably even in his afterlife. It would be a constant reminder of his failure. Hate filled him when he thought of it.

“You have a visitor,” Theo said on the first night.

Draco sat up, thinking for some stupid reason that it was you. His heart started beating faster and he looked at Theo with panic in his eyes. “I can’t see her like this.”

Theo frowned and needed a second to understand. “Oh no,” he shook his head and smiled sadly. “It’s Astoria. She brought you dinner.”

Disappointment caused Draco to look down, his cheeks burning red. Of course. There was no reason you would want to see him. Not after you realized how weak he truly was.

Astoria walked inside, a bright smile on her face. She cheerfully started chattering and it irritated Draco. Later, Theo admitted to him that he instructed Astoria to not ask him anything about what happened. She tried to spark a conservation but Draco stayed quiet, his eyes fixated on the ceiling, only nodding occasionally. He didn’t listen to her and truly, he didn’t care what she had to say. She wasn’t the one he wanted to see.

The next day, Astoria talked a little less, sensing that Draco wouldn’t reply. She was right. By lunch on the second day, she simply put the plate on his nightstand and left the room again. Draco thanked Merlin for it.

“You have to get out of bed, man,” Blaise announced on the morning of the third day, just before he left for class.

“I’m not feeling great,” Draco answered and yawned.

“I know, Dray,” his friend sighed. “But this isn’t a solution. Have you changed your clothes once in the past days?”

“Or showered?”, Theo added as he came out of the bathroom.

He could answer both questions with a definite ‘no’. Draco crinkled his nose when he realized this. Even during the war, when he was at his lowest, he was always groomed and well-dressed. It’s important, his mother used to say. It keeps you from losing touch with the world around you.

“Go take a shower and then go to Madame Pomfrey to let her check out your wound,” Blaise decided when he didn’t get an answer from Draco. “And talk to Y/N.”

“No.”

“Yes, Draco. You have to talk to her.”

“You don’t understand.”

Blaise groaned. “I don’t understand a lot of things, apparently.”

“True,” Draco mumbled, not caring if his friend had heard him.

“Right,” Blaise scoffed. “Talk to her. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be.”

Then the door fell shut and Draco was alone again.

 ***

After much tossing and turning, followed by a lot of cursing – Draco admitted that Blaise was right. Sulking in bed and hiding from his problems wasn’t a permanent solution and this wasn’t the way a Malfoy should behave. He could only imagine what his mother would say to if she saw him like that.

His mother … she had written to him two times in the past days. The school had notified her, telling her about the incident. He hadn’t read the letters yet. They remained unopened on the small table and just looking at them filled him with guilt and sorrow. She worried about him, he was sure of that. She had always worried about him and it had only gotten worse in the last three years. There was nothing more important in Narzissas life than Dracos well-being. He knew that and it made him feel even more remorseful. Nonetheless, he decided that writing to her would be the first step to get out there.

After a long shower, a shave and a change of clothes, Draco hated Blaise a little less for getting him out of bed. He sat down on the table and started writing. It was a long letter, detailing not what he did to himself but rather how his friends and classmates took care of him. How attentive the teachers and Madame Pomfrey were – and that he would be fine. Eventually.

 ***

“It looks very good,” Madame Pomfrey stated after she had examined the almost completely healed up wound. Draco flinched every time she touched the mark, keeping his eyes locked on the black fabric of his pants.

“Rub this on your skin twice a day,” she continued and handed him a jar filled with a red ointment before she turned around to throw away the used bandage. Draco took it and stuffed it in his bag. When he was about to roll down his sleeve, he suddenly hesitated. He bit his lip, unsure whether to ask the healer the burning question on his mind.

“Madame Pomfrey?”

“Yes, dear,” she sat down behind her table.

Draco stared at the mark on his arm before raising his head to meet her gaze. Who else could he ask, after all? “Is there anything … anything I can do about this?”

Madame Pomfrey looked at the tattoo for a moment. Draco resisted the urge to cover it up. “You are not the first one to ask,” she finally said in a soft undertone. “All over the country, healers are being contacted with the same issue,” she sighed and folded her hands. “I’m afraid, however, there’s nothing we can do.”

Draco had expected that answer. He looked down to the ground, pressing his lips together tightly.

“I’m sorry,” Madame Pomfrey sympathized. “It’s black magic, so deep and evil … finding an antidote is almost impossible.”

He knew that as well. He even knew it back when they burned the mark onto his skin. “Right,” Draco cleared his throat and began to roll down his sleeve. “Well, then …”

“But,” the healer interrupted him. “We won’t stop trying. And I promise you, if I ever hear of something I’ll let you know.”

Draco nodded sadly. “Thank you, Madame Pomfrey.”

She leaned back against the chair, a serious expression on her face. “How are you then?”

Draco shrugged. She knew how he was. She saw his arm, didn’t she?

Another sigh from her side. Draco wondered if she was as uncomfortable as he was. “Mr. Malfoy”, she suddenly continued with a firm voice that made him look her in the eyes. “We have come to realize that a lot of students were left with deep wounds after the war.”

He snorted. “Well, that took you a while.”

Madame Pomfrey shot him a sharp look but continued calmly: “Wounds that cannot be treated with traditional medicine because they are not … physical.”

She paused briefly, giving him time to understand. Oh. “You mean we’re going crazy?”, he blurted out.

“No”, she shook her head. “You’re not going crazy. I do, however, believe that you are in need of psychological help.”

Draco scoffed.

“Do you disagree?”

Did he? He wasn’t certain. Psychological help – he wasn’t even sure what that truly meant. He only ever heard about it when his family made fun about muggles, laughing at their weakness. “You sound like one of those muggle healers.”

Madame Pomfrey seemed to have expected that answer. “It’s not a common practice in our world”, she agreed. “But I feel it would be worth a try for you to meet with a professional to … talk.”

Draco thought for a bit. “I can talk to you”, he finally said.

A smile played around the corners of her mouth. “I had to admit to myself that this is not my area of expertise,” she replied. “However, we have found someone already and can arrange a session for tomorrow.”

Draco blinked. That was fast.

“Mr. Malfoy, I believe it would help you get better and prevent … prevent such incidents or worse.”

“Or worse?”, Draco frowned, not understanding what she meant. What happened had been a desperate attempt but he didn’t intentionally try to harm himself. He simply wanted to get rid of the tattoo. Was it dumb? Yes. Did he try to … Draco swallowed. “Do you think I tried to kill myself?”

“No, but …”

“I don’t want to die,” he said loudly but with a steady voice. It was the truth and Draco needed her to understand.

She did. “I’m glad to hear that,” Madame Pomfrey finally said.

“Good,” he nodded and let out a deep breath.

“What do you want then?”

The question took him by surprise. It was a good one. He didn’t have an answer to it yet. All he wanted was the confusion to be gone and the pain to stop. At least a little.

Madame Pomfrey saw his inner conflict by the way his eyes darted across the room. She smiled at him. “I think she can help you figure it out.”

 ***

The next big task on his agenda for today was finding you. It was something that turned out to be much harder than he expected. You weren’t in the Great Hall or the library or the Quidditch field. There weren’t many options left and he treaded the idea of going up to your common room and wait for someone to ask there.

Instead, Draco wandered to the Black Lake, hoping to see you among the students who were involved in snowball fights or walked along the waterside. No luck. Draco groaned. So common room it was, after all. Just when he turned around to go back up to the castle, he spotted someone else though. A head of brown locks and a laugh that belonged to no one else but Granger. Next to her, the boyfriend of the year – Weasel.

Draco hesitated. Should he …? No. No, he shouldn’t. But then again, asking your friends was the easiest way to find out where you were. So he tried to overcome his pride and before he could think of someone else, he shouted: “Granger!”

Grangers head snapped in his direction, eyes widening when she realized who called her.

“Wait a second,” he shouted and jogged the short distance between them to catch up.

“Look who got raised from the dead,” the weasel mocked and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What the fuck do you want, Malfoy?!”

Draco didn’t even look at him. Weasley wasn’t worth it. Not today. “Have you seen Y/N?”, he directed his question at Granger.

“She’s probably hiding from you,” the red-haired Gryffindor snickered. “I know, I would.”

“Ronald, please,” Granger shot him a warning glance. Then she looked back at Draco. “No, I haven’t. She just said she wanted to be alone for a bit.”

Alone for a bit. Draco knew right away where you were.

 ***

Coming back to his dorm in the evening, Draco felt a lot better compared to this morning. He was relieved that talking to you went the way it did. He hadn’t lost you and that was all that counted for him in this moment.

Draco had stayed with you for a few more hours. You didn’t talk much and got back to reading your book. He had leaned against the couch with his eyes closed, listening to the cackling of fire and the turning of pages. After a while, you stretched out your legs, putting them on his lap. Draco had smiled. Nothing much had changed. You were there. He’d be okay.

When he got undressed and looked at his mark, he could still feel the way you had traced your fingers over his skin. A shiver ran down his spine. You had been so gentle and unafraid. How could you be like that?

For the first time since the Dark Lord burned the mark onto his skin, Draco raised his hand and … touched it. His heart rate was speeding up at the simple gesture that used to be so dangerous. Carefully, he let his fingers rest on the black color and then began to do the same thing you did; he traced over the outlines of it with his thumb. Draco was surprised by how it felt like … nothing. Like skin. It was just color underneath his skin, he realized. It might have been put there with dark magic but in the end it was nothing more than black color. His breath trembled when he breathed out.

He would be okay. Someday, maybe not today, but someday – he would be okay. It was a promise Draco made to himself.

 ***

The days before Christmas were spent with therapy sessions and classes. Draco wasn’t sure what to think of the therapist. Sure, she was nice and asked him a lot of questions but he still felt awkward. Growing up, talking about feelings was something that was frowned upon by his father. Even though his mother tried to encourage Draco at times to talk to her more, he kept the things that bothered him to himself. It was easier this way. So sitting in front of a stranger, telling her his deepest darkest fears was something he had yet to get used to.

Draco wasn’t the only one who talked to her. In a matter of days, she was fully booked and sat together with students from early in the morning to late in the evening. Even though the profession was met with suspicion, people still wanted to try it out. Draco wondered how long she would stay in the school.

Whenever he had a little free time, he met up with you, going on long walks in the snow or studying together in the library. The tension between the two of you had resolved a little and you were able to talk to him like before. He understood that he had put you in an overwhelming situation and the feelings of shame still hadn’t left yet, but you were there. You wanted to be around him. He couldn’t put in words how happy it made him.

The two of you walked through the streets of Hogsmeade today, looking at the Christmas decorations in the windows after stopping in the Three Broomsticks for a mug of butterbeer. It was the week before Christmas Eve. Draco had agreed to celebrate the holidays with your family. You would introduce him as your boyfriend and even though he knew, that you weren’t actually a couple – they didn’t. They assumed they’d meet their little daughter’s boyfriend for the first time and they damn well knew about his past. For good reason, Draco was nervous.

“We aren’t celebrating Christmas at home this year,” you said in this moment.

Draco frowned. “Why?”

“My mother decided it’d be a good idea to renovate the house in December”, you replied as if that explained everything.

“And?”, Draco asked.

You looked at him quickly. “She’s not done yet.”

“Why not? That’s a doable task when you use magic.”

“Ha,” you snorted and shook your head. “You don’t know my mother. She’s a perfectionist.”

Fantastic, Draco thought. A perfectionist would probably to be the first one to approve of their daughter dating someone like him. “So where are we celebrating then?”

“In a hotel in London, I think”, you gave a half shrug. When you saw Draco’s expression change, you quickly added: “You’re invited, so no need to ask for the costs.”

Draco didn’t look at you. He kept his gaze on the street in front of him, wishing that you didn’t notice the flush creeping across his cheeks. He swallowed and then cleared his throat. “I can’t accept that. It’s too much.”

“Don’t worry,” you said softly. “Please, Draco. They invited you. It’s fine.”

Draco would rather spend the holidays with his grandparents than accepting alms from your family. Before he could decline though, you continued: “Just buy them a bottle of wine and they’ll be happy.”

He gritted his teeth. His ego screamed at him to back away but then again – it was just as impolite to bail one weekend before. His mother would scold him until New Year’s Eve. “Alright,” he finally said. “You have to tell me what wine they drink so I can buy the right one.”

You glanced at Draco from the side, smirking. “Are you nervous?”

He frowned. “What, why?”

“You want to make a good impression, don’t you?” The smirk changed into a grin.

“Obviously,” he scoffed. “I don’t want to spend three days with people who hate me. I get enough of that at school.”

You chuckled. “Right.”

He couldn’t do anything against the small smile that appeared on his face. He looked at you and enjoyed feeling completely and utterly content for a few moments. You were beautiful the way you smiled, wrapped into your Gryffindor scarf and with sparkling eyes and lips that trembled from the cold wind. For a second, he wondered how stunning you’d look in green.  

“Do you ever think about the kiss?”

The words tumbled over his tongue before he could think about them. He scolded himself and bit on his cheek. Why would you? It’s not like … it’s not like it meant anything. It happened when he wasn’t himself and the things he said … Well, Draco would be lying if he claimed to not think about his words every night. They had been true – all of them. However, he was relieved you never mentioned them again. And the kiss? Yes, he thought about it too. Wondering if it had happened under different circumstances, how you would have reacted. Would you have pushed him away as well? Or would it have been like at the beginning of this school year when you met in the storage room? Not that it would matter. Draco didn’t (want to) understand why he even kept imagining it.

“No.”

The answer hit him as if he had sprinted against a brick well. He let out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding in. Oh. Obviously.

“It happened in a moment of … you weren’t thinking clearly.” You looked at him; a hint of uncertainty in your eyes. “Do you?”

“No.” He shook his head slowly. What did he expect? And why did it hurt him?

You cleared your throat, burying your hands deeper in the pockets of your coat. “Okay. Great.”

“Great.”

There was an awkward pause between the two of you as you walked down the streets. The air around you had changed abruptly and it was irritating. You kept looking at Draco, chewing in your lip.

 “Let’s go to Honeydukes,” you finally broke the silence. “I promised my father to bring him his favorite candy.”

***

A/N: I hope you liked it! I’d love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! <3

CHAPTER 13 Choose Me Instead Masterlist HP Masterlist

Tag List:  @writerdee1701, @youareinllve, @sjmahoney, @detroitobsessed, @takura-rin, @jadam268, @wynterwind, @mina672, @renaissance-confiance, @harpoon999, @doitforthevine67, @rinasrights, @flowerpowerpixie, @gold-flowing, @starkssnarks, @bookcornerkins, @harpersmariano, @markedsweetly, @iraniq, @pointlesscoconut, @hvrcruxes, @pillowjj, @idkatee, @jungjxxhyun,   @magicwithaknife, @graystherapy, @sophia-gwendolyn, @nxstalgicnxbxdy, @sunsetsofanemoia, @s4dthrills, @tommy-holland, @lordfxxker, @streetfighterrichie, @awaken-the-sirens, @destiels-assbutt13, @pockitparks, @just-addicted-to-bangtan, @cuddlykoala101, @zpandaqueen, @marvelpeters, @natsiboo, @jjjmaybank, @justmesadgirl, @books-and-tings, @slytherinprincedracom, @katiaw2, @saintkore, @nctnight, @lifestragedy, @obxmxybxnk, @spideydobik , @ladylizzieofdarbyshire, @aspiring-ginger, @dracomalfoyswifey, @jpow345, @realistic-breadstick, @h-annahayy, @abbs-is-tired, @alwaysbeanunknownfan, @niallsarmveinstho, @is-this-a-febreze-commercial, @acciowilltolive, @spideysmcu, @sexytholland, @faangirl101, @donttellany1iusetumbler, @mendesmuffinsss, @lilxnvm, @kill-the-teen-memories, @darkusangelus, @p0gue420, @itsbebeyyy, @hesaidimcrazy, @jenniweaslee, @hpxpjo, @brisbubble, @xomaymay, @shitnstuffillregret, @serialkillme, @angel-tears15, @panicattheeverywherekid, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @africana-k , @disgraceisonfire, @nobleking, @tashii-blr, @ddaeing, @randogirlo-fando-main, @sadgirlnumber92899, @captivateing, @bitchyegirl, @smiithys, @ninipoo1, @intheawks, @cherrylita, @nothanksnyla, @calpal-4ever, @dracosathenaeum, @belsandthings, @lifeasdreamgirl, @kiwi-sloan, @xdmx, @lexi-ravenclawdracomalfoy, @kvyenxay, @live-awkward, @babebenhardy, @bitchysweets-blog, @cravingmusic, @frau-moon, @ohissandhalasta, @noravirginia1994, @broken-but-beautiful-cassie, @lil-black-heart, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @vminenthusiastt, @dracos-slut, @ohbabycal, @saucysuazo, @fuzzzwald, @matsuno-nadeshiko, @amber-arsenault , @virtuallawyergardenbailiff, @loveableasshole, @thehippyprepster, @spideycures​, @echpr, @shiningstar-byulxx, @profoundmoneyprofessoralmond, @twinklebug2282, @bloodiedroses, @klthmef, @ostorianx​

If you want to be added to my tag list, let me know! <3

[ao719]

Full Disclosure: The Beginning

Full Disclosure: The Beginning (Part 13)

Characters belong to Pixelberry

Summary: A look back at Charlotte during the social season and engagement tour.

A/N: This is the last chapter for this little series (and it’s loaded - I’m so sorry. I just didn’t want to split it up into 2 parts). Thank you to @burnsoslow for prereading! And also @sirbeepsalot for prereading and taking your machete to it! And thank you for all of your wonderful comments, kind words, and love for Charlotte. I’m going to miss writing her story, but I’m sure some shenanigan filled one shots will occasionally pop up.

Catch Up Here

Tags: @leelee10898​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @zaffrenotes​ @cocomaxley​ @gardeningourmet​ @blackcoffee85​ @gibbles82​ @annekebbphotography​ @sweetest-marbear​ @indiacater​ @liamxs-world​ @classylady1234​ @texaskitten30​ @thequeenofcronuts​ @custaroonie​ @moneyfordiamonds​ @the-soot-sprite​ @ladyangel70​ @kate-mckenzie​ @emichelle​ @dcbbw​ @burnsoslow​ @bbrandy2002​ @sirbeepsalot​ @choiceslife​ @debramcg1106​ @gnatbrain​ @ofpixelsandscribbles​ @caroldxnvxrs​ @openheart12​ @rigatonireid​ @callmeellabella​ @superharriet​ @seriouslybadchoices​ @aestheticartsx​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @kingliam2019​ @indiana-jr​ @bascmve01​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @badchoicesposts​ @darley1101​ @blackcatkita​ @charlotteg234​ @alyssalauren​ @txemrn​ @neotericthemis​ @queenrileyrose​ @emkay512​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​

Charlotte watched the clouds blur by as the plane prepared to land. She was anxious about returning to where her and Liam’s story began … and where it could very well end.

Liam had told her a few nights ago that he learned from Bastien that Constantine was the one behind the scandal. The news left her trying to wrap her mind around why the former King sabotaged her and Liam’s happiness. Now that the court was arriving in New York, they didn’t have much time left to clear her name, but they had a plan: they would confront Constantine themselves.

****

Charlotte stood in her hotel room after getting ready for the welcoming luncheon at the hotel’s rooftop restaurant. She was on edge, knowing she and Liam would finally be confronting Constantine. She wanted answers as to why he did what he did, and she wanted him to clear her name.

A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. She opened it to reveal Liam on the other side; he quickly stepped inside, wrapped his arms around her, and leaned down to kiss her as the door latched shut behind him. “Hi,” he whispered against her lips as they parted.

Charlotte closed her eyes and smiled; being in his arms at that moment was the first time since leaving Paris she felt some sense of calm. “Hey.”

Liam looked at her, brushing his hand across her cheek. “Are you alright?”

“A little nervous,” she admitted.

“Me too. But it’s going to be alright. We’re going to do this together. And just think … all of this will be over afterward.” Liam smiled at the thought of clearing Charlotte’s name, ending his farce of an engagement, and being able to be with her, the woman he loved.  

“So, what’s the plan?”

“We’ll get to the luncheon; I’ll be sitting at the table with my father and Regina. I’ll ask him to speak privately. When we get up to step out of the room, you follow.” Charlotte nodded as she let out a breath; Liam cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “It’s going to be alright, love.”

****

The restaurant on the hotel roof was encased in windows, giving an uninterrupted view of New York City around them. Charlotte sat at her table with Maxwell, Bertrand, Olivia, and Drake, but her eyes were fixated on Liam and Constantine across the room. Liam kept glancing over, meeting her eyes, while he waited for the right time to pull his father aside.

“You okay, Brooks?”

“Huh?” Charlotte tore her eyes away from Liam.

“You seem distracted, Lady Charlotte,” Bertrand noted.

“Oh … I’m fine.” Charlotte and Liam hadn’t told the others Constantine was the one behind the scandal or of their plan to confront him. Liam thought it would be better to wait until they got some answers.

“How’s it feel to be back home?” Olivia asked.

“Honestly, it feels a bit weird. Don’t get me wrong, I missed the city, but my life feels so different now than it did when I left six months ago.”

“It feels like just yesterday when we met you in the bar,” Maxwell grinned, and Charlotte smiled at the memory.

“Remember when Liam first came into the bar while she was taking our order, and she hit the table and almost fell over?” Drake laughed. “And the menus went flying all over the place.”

“And then she fell behind the bar,” Maxwell chuckled.

Charlotte giggled. “I fell a lot that night.” Literally and figuratively, she thought.

“At least you haven’t changed that much, Brooks,” Drake laughed.

Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Liam and Constantine both rise from their seats. She glanced over, meeting Liam’s eyes; he gave her a subtle nod before heading for the doors that lead to the private outdoor terrace. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she stood.

“Where are you going?” Bertrand asked.

“To talk to Constantine.” Everyone’s brows furrowed. “I’ll explain later. Just … act normal.” Charlotte walked towards the terrace, careful not to draw any attention to herself. She slipped out of the door and could hear Liam and Constantine just around the corner, out of view from the others.

“So, what’s this urgent matter you needed to speak with me about, Liam? So urgent that you had to interrupt our meal.”

Liam could hear Charlotte behind him. “The matter is this.” He stepped aside, revealing her to his father.

“Lady Charlotte? What are you doing out here?”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “I’m here to make you face what you did to me.”

“I-” Constantine broke off, coughing. Liam instinctively took a step toward him, but he held out his hand; he coughed again before looking back to Charlotte. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? I beg to differ.”

“Liam, honestly, what is the meaning-” Constantine began to cough again, clutching his throat. He doubled forward, trying to take a breath before he suddenly collapsed to the ground.

“Father!” Liam shouted, both he and Charlotte dropping to his side.

Just then, Regina appeared outside. Her eyes widened when she saw her husband on the ground. “Liam! What happened?”

“He started coughing and then collapsed! Call an ambulance!” Constantine’s complexion paled; he continued to violently cough and gasp for air as Regina quickly pulled out her phone.

****

Liam and Charlotte stood in a private waiting room at New York-Presbyterian Hospital, listening to the doctor explain that Constantine was resting comfortably. “The coughing fit was due to the cancer. I wish I could say it would get better, but …” Liam nodded in understanding at his words. “We’re giving him some oxygen and fluids. You may go see him.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Liam shook the man’s hand before he stepped out of the room.

“I’ll let you go see him alone.”

“No. You’re coming with me, and we’re going to talk to him.”

“Liam, it can wait. Really.”

Liam shook his head. “No, it can’t. Because, as much as I don’t want to say this -- despite the horrible things he’s done -- who’s to say that we’ll get another chance? He’s dying, Charlotte. And I refuse to allow him to take the truth to his grave.”

Charlotte took a breath and nodded as she let it out. “If you’re sure …”

Charlotte and Liam walked down the hall and stopped outside of Constantine’s door; they shared a look before entering the room hand-in-hand. Constantine lay in bed and opened his eyes when he heard them come in. His eyes widened upon seeing Charlotte with Liam. “Father …”

Liam stared at him, feeling a wave of conflicting emotions. He was angry for what his father had done to him and more furious for what he had put Charlotte through. But despite that anger, there was a sadness he felt seeing his father that way. He was pale and connected to wires, IV tubes, and oxygen.

For the first time in Liam’s life, the former King -- someone he once admired, respected, and thought was untouchable -- looked weak. And in more ways than one.

“What is she doing here?” Constantine rasped.

“Your Majesty, I know this isn’t the best time, but we need to talk to you,” Charlotte answered as they approached the bed.

“We know what you did,” Liam added, looking down at him. “You set Charlotte up.”

“Liam …”

“You owe me an explanation,” Liam spat. “You knew how I felt about her … you knew, and yet you sabotaged her. Do you realize what almost happened to her that night?” Constantine struggled to take in a deep breath. “And you dragged others in to do your dirty work. Lady Penelope. Bastien.” Constantine continued to stare at them, and Liam shook his head in frustration. “You really have nothing to say for yourself?”

“I just want to know why,” Charlotte said. “What did I do to make you do this to me? To your own son?” Constantine’s breathing became slightly shallower, and he looked away from them, fixating his eyes on the ground. “You know, after everything I’ve been through because of you, the least you could do is answer me!”

Liam noticed his father’s hand waving as he stared at the ground; he followed his gaze to his and Charlotte’s feet. “Charlotte,” Liam pulled her back.

Charlotte glanced down; her eyes widened, and she cupped her hand over her mouth. She had been standing on his oxygen tubing, temporarily cutting off his air supply. She then snapped her gaze back to Constantine when she heard him inhale a relieved breath, and she tried to push the laugh that she could feel coming back down.  “Sorry!” she squeaked, then her expression turned. “Actually, you know what? No, I’m not! Ok … I am, but only a little bit sorry. Not like, fully sorry. I do need you breathing.” For now. Liam nudged her with his arm, and she cleared her throat. “You owe us answers.”

“Liam, now is not the time,” Constantine replied, his words dulled by the mask he was wearing.

Liam’s jaw tensed as his expression hardened. “We are not leaving until you give us an explanation for what you did.”

Constantine knew Liam wasn’t going to budge, and he let out a defeated breath. “Very well.” The former King shifted to sit up a bit more; he pulled the oxygen mask away from his face just enough so his words wouldn’t be muffled. “After I received the cancer diagnosis, and my health began to decline, I knew I would be unable to rule much longer.” Constantine glanced at Liam. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was place the burden of the crown on your shoulders so soon, Liam. But I didn’t have a choice. I wanted you to be prepared because these are difficult times for Cordonia. We’ve always had our share of enemies, but throughout my reign, I’ve seen them grow bolder. Once I realized I wasn’t going to be around much longer to help you face those threats, I had to secure Cordonia’s future.”

“By sending a man into my room? By having a photographer invade my privacy? And by letting the press tell lies about me while you sat by, knowing the truth the whole time?!”

“It was obvious from the night of the masquerade ball how Liam felt about you. I saw the way he looked at you. As the season progressed, those feelings for you did too. I knew given a choice, he would choose you to be his Queen.”

“Why would you sabotage that for me? Do you not want me to be happy?” Liam asked.

“Of course I want you to be happy, Liam, but this is bigger than just you and the feelings you have for some girl!” Constantine looked back at Charlotte. “I must admit, you impressed me. While your behavior and personality are rather … uncouth, you proved to be resilient and intelligent. And both Regina and I noticed how happy you made Liam … how he smiled and laughed more in your presence than he has in a very long time. But still … you couldn’t compete with Madeleine. She has been preparing to become Queen her entire life. You are an outsider. Yes, you could have learned … but inexperience is seen as weakness, and weakness, even in appearance -- especially in appearance -- is fatal. And you, Lady Charlotte, proved to be my son’s weakness. I’ve already lost so much to our kingdom’s enemies, and when I’m gone, there will be no one left to protect Liam from them.”

“Did you blackmail Olivia as well?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes. She is far too rash to be sitting on the throne, but I knew Liam would choose her over Madeleine, simply because of their friendship and her friendship with you as well. I had to eliminate her from the competition to ensure Madeleine was chosen.”

Charlotte shook her head in disgust. “My name and reputation have been ruined. You tried to tear me away from Liam and my friends … but that isn’t even the worst part. You would have forced your son to marry a woman he doesn’t love just because you think you get to decide what’s best for not only Cordonia but for him. And if we hadn’t uncovered the truth, Liam would have had to live with that for the rest of his life!”

“It was my duty as Cordonia’s King!”

“You have a duty as his father!” Charlotte snapped back.

“And you’re not King! Not anymore!” Liam added.

Constantine looked at him, surprised by the tone in his son’s voice. “Liam, please … I know I’ve hurt you, but this is the price of wearing the crown. I couldn’t afford to put your happiness, or Lady Charlotte’s, above our people’s future. And one day you will come to understand when you have to make similar sacrifices of your own and-”

Liam squared his shoulders and held up his hand, cutting his father off. “No.” Constantine’s brows raised in surprise. “You sit there and act as though you didn’t have a choice. But you decided what you were willing to do, what you were willing to sacrifice. What kind of King -- what kind of father -- you wanted to be. So here is mine. I love Charlotte. And had you not interfered that night, I would have asked her to marry me. I would be on this tour with her right now, actually enjoying myself. I may not have been able to stop you from hurting her, but I can still try to make this right. As King of Cordonia, I am placing Charlotte under my protection. I will help her right the wrongs that have been done to her by you. And I am commanding you, as your monarch, to help us in any way that you can.”

Constantine had never seen his son with a more fierce look in his eyes, nor had he heard him speak with such promise. He let out a breath, knowing he wasn’t going to change his mind but also that he wasn’t going to be able to help. “Very well.”

Charlotte eyed him suspiciously, not trusting how quickly he agreed. “How do I know that I can trust you after what you’ve already done to me?”

“My word is all I have to offer, Lady Charlotte. But unfortunately, I’m afraid I won’t be much help.”

“What does that mean?” Liam asked.

“I can’t come forward to clear Lady Charlotte’s name myself.”

“Why the fuck not?” Charlotte bit out, ignoring the taken aback expression on the former King’s face at her language.

“Admitting my involvement would shake the Cordonian people’s faith in their rulers. Past and present. So while you may not care what they think of me, be aware that they will question Liam, his motives, and how far he would be willing to go, as I have, to protect his throne. So unless you want that to happen …”

“Enough,” Liam growled, knowing his father was trying to intimidate Charlotte with his words.

“Is he right?” she asked, looking at Liam.

“Yes, it could happen, but I don’t care about that, Charlotte. I want your name cleared. I don’t care what happens to my reputation because of it.”

“And you’ve just driven my point home that she is your weakness,” Constantine said; Liam snapped his gaze over, glowering at him.

Charlotte shook her head, feeling frustrated. As much as she wanted her name cleared, she wouldn’t do it at Liam’s expense. “No … I can’t do that to you, Liam.”

“Charlotte-”

“One of us being ruined is enough. I won’t take you down with me. We have to find another way.”

“The only way is to find Lord Tariq. You need to get him to come forward and make a statement admitting that nothing happened that night. But even I don’t know his whereabouts. I encouraged him to leave in light of his … disgrace. I’ve had no contact with him since.”

“Fucking perfect,” Charlotte scoffed.

Liam took her hand in his. “We’ll figure it out.” Just then, the doctor knocked on the door, asking to come in to assess Constantine. “We’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in touch if I need anything.”

“Liam … I am sorry …”

“I don’t accept your apology.” With that, Liam turned and led Charlotte from the room. As they walked down the hall, Liam pulled her back into the private waiting room they were in before; he shut and locked the door behind him. “Are you alright?”

“Are you?”

“Don’t worry about me, Charlotte. I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m … I don’t know!” Charlotte threw her hands up in frustration. “I mean … what the hell are we supposed to do now? He’s saying he can’t come forward, and we have to find a man that hasn’t been seen in months!”

“I told you I didn’t care what would happen if my father came forward. Let him do it! Let him face what he did to you.”

“I care, Liam! I am not about to let you go down for what your father did to me. No. It’s not an option.”

“Then we find Tariq.”

“How?”

“I … honestly, I’m not sure.” Charlotte looked down, shaking her head; Liam stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look back at him. “But we’ll figure it out.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. “We will.” He whispered the promise against her lips before kissing her again.

*******

The following morning, Charlotte stepped out of the shower in her hotel room. She had the day free before she would need to attend the UN Gala that evening. She wanted to work on locating Tariq, but there wasn’t much they could do until they learned of his whereabouts. They had told Drake, Olivia, and Maxwell about their talk with Constantine, but even they were unsure how they were going to find Tariq.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Charlotte looked at her phone on the nightstand, seeing a voicemail alert from an unknown number. She hit play before bringing it to her ear.

“Lady Charlotte, it’s Countess Madeleine. I have an absolutely vital task I need for you to complete. I simply have no time to pick up mine and Liam’s wedding bands before our return to Cordonia. I must insist that you be the one to do it as a thanks to me for allowing you to remain present on this tour and in Liam’s life. I trust you will retrieve them and bring them to me later.”

Rage coursed through Charlotte’s veins as she pulled the phone away from her ear. “Who the fuck does she think she is?” She clenched her hand into a fist before hurling her phone across the room.

****

Charlotte took the elevator to the first floor, practically stomping through the lobby as she mumbled obscenities under her breath. “Whoa, where ya going, Brooks?” Drake asked, coming back from breakfast with Maxwell.

“Out!” she answered before pushing her way through the revolving door.

Drake followed, knowing that she was pissed off. He knew Liam wouldn’t want him to let her go off alone, at least not without figuring out what was bothering her. He quickly caught up to her on the sidewalk. “You going to tell me what’s wrong? And where you’re off to so heated?”

“Madeleine sent me on an errand to pick up her and Liam’s goddamn wedding bands,” she spat.

“Wait, what?” Drake asked incredulously. “You realize you could have told her no, right?”

“Yes, so she could cry to whoever will listen about how awful I am. Sure!” As much as Charlotte hated it, she found herself being much more cautious with so little time left to clear her name. She was on edge, picking and choosing her battles, not wanting to get worked up over trivial things when something much bigger was at stake.

“Alright, well, I’ll come with you. You won’t even have to look at the rings.”

“Fuck her and her stupid rings. They’re probably ugly and gaudy as hell, just like her face!”

****

Charlotte stood in the jewelry store with her arms folded across her chest as she waited impatiently for the jeweler to come back from the back where he was grabbing the rings. She just wanted to get them, bring them back to the hotel, and try and forget that she was ever asked to do this.

“Here you are, miss.” The jeweler returned, carrying two black velvet boxes. “Let’s take a look.”

“No need for that.” Charlotte would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit curious, but at the same time, she didn’t want to see the rings, one that Madeleine would wear, one that Liam would wear, tethering them together. Forever.

“I’m sure they look fine,” Drake said. “Just bag them up.” The jeweler offered a curious look before placing them in a bag and handing it to Drake. “Thanks.”

Drake guided Charlotte out of the jewelry store. “You ok?”

“Peachy.”

Charlotte’s eyes kept glancing down at the bag Drake was carrying. He noticed. “You’re a little curious as to how gaudy they look, aren’t you?”

“No!” Charlotte scoffed. “Ok … maybe a little.”

Drake reached in the bag, blindly pulling out one of the boxes. He handed it to Charlotte. “Let’s see.” Charlotte took the box and opened it; it was Liam’s. It was a thick, plain gold band. “Well, that’s kind of bland. It’s very Liam.” Drake reached inside the bag and pulled out the other box, handing it to Charlotte. “How’s hers look?”

Charlotte held Liam’s and opened the other box. She scrunched up her nose. It was a thinner gold band with diamonds spaced out around its entirety, but nothing about it was appealing. “I thought she would have better taste than this.”

“It looks like a vending machine ring,” Drake chuckled. His eyes widened with a smirk when Charlotte plucked it from its holding spot and slid the ring onto her finger. She held her hand out to get a better look at it. “Yeah, you could do better.”

“I’ll say. Well, knowing she’s going to walk around with this ugly thing on her finger makes me feel a little better.”

“She’s only going to walk around with it if she makes it down the aisle, Brooks. We’re not going to let that happen.”

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high, Drake.” She plucked Liam’s ring from the box and handed it to him. “Here.”

“Aw, are you proposing, Brooks? Sorry, you’re not my type.”

“I’m blonde.”

“Too clumsy, though.” He took the ring and put it on his finger. “This feels weird as hell.”

Drake immediately removed the ring and handed it back to her. Charlotte hooked it onto the end of her finger while she slid Madeleine’s off. Suddenly, Charlotte stepped in a dip in the sidewalk, twisting her ankle, and her body lurched forward onto the hard concrete.

Both rings flew out of her hands.

Charlotte’s eyes were wide, watching as the rings went airborne, feeling like it was happening in slow motion. They both landed with a bounce and rolled … right into a sewer drain.

“Ohhhhhh, noooo!” Charlotte gasped.

“Brooks! Are you alright?”

“Drake! The rings! They … FUCK!” Charlotte shouted as passersby glanced down at where she was still lying on the sidewalk. She scrambled to her feet and rushed to the sewer drain where the rings had disappeared. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Oh my God!”

“Honestly … serves her right for asking you to get them,” Drake said calmly as he crouched down next to her. “Just think … there’s going to be some blinged-out rats strutting around New York.” He heard a sniffle, and his head snapped over. “Are you crying?”

“This is terrible, Drake! She’s going to say I did this on purpose! And as hideous as her ring was, it probably cost a fortune because Madeleine is nothing if not materialistic!” she wailed. She bowed her head, covering her face with her hands.

“Brooks, calm down. The rings can be replaced. Liam lives in a literal palace. That ring was probably pocket change to him. And Madeleine can most definitely afford another ring. It was an accident.”

“I need to call Liam,” she cried as her breath hitched. She pulled out her phone and dialed Liam’s.

“Hello, love. I was just thinking about-”

“Liam! The rings -- in the drain! They flew -- and now the rats have them!” she cried.

“Rings? Rats? Charlotte, what the hell are you talking about?” Drake took the phone from Charlotte, explaining to Liam what had happened. “Wait … Madeleine asked Charlotte to go pick up the rings?”

“Yeah, I figured that would be the only thing you’d be upset about. But Brooks … well, she is here kneeling in front of a sewer drain crying, and we’re getting some pretty strange looks, even for NYC.”

“Just get her back to the hotel. I’ll deal with Madeleine.”

Drake hung up the phone and tossed it into the now empty bag he was holding onto. “Come on.” He pulled Charlotte to stand. “Stop crying, Brooks. He’s not mad.” He knew the rings weren’t the real reason she was crying. It was everything else that was happening since her and Liam’s conversation with Constantine. The rings were just what set off the waterworks. He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her away from the sewer drain, guiding her back towards the hotel. “You’d make a terrible ring-bearer.”

“Shut up,” she sniffled.

****

That evening, Liam stood on the balcony of his room, nursing a scotch while he waited to leave for the UN Gala. His mind went through the events of the day before. He had told Charlotte they would find Tariq, but he honestly wasn’t sure how. Tariq hadn’t been seen in three months, but he made a promise to her, and he had every intention of keeping it. He had two days and needed a plan.

Liam still wanted to let his father answer for what he had done, regardless of what it would do to him. But Charlotte was entirely against the idea. She said she wouldn’t allow him to sacrifice his reign and reputation, and that was the end of it.

Liam tossed back the rest of his drink before heading inside. Just as he grabbed his suit jacket, a knock came on his door. He walked over and opened it, narrowing his eyes at his visitor. “What the hell do you want?”

“Sir,” Bastien bowed. “May I?”

Liam hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let him in. “Whatever you’re here to say, say it, then get the hell out.” Liam turned to face Bastien; his eyes landed on his now-healing split lip, a reminder of what happened in Paris. “Well? What do you want?”

“Sir, I spoke with your father earlier after he called me to his room to reprimand me for telling you I was working for him. He told me about your conversation …”

“Ok? Is that all?”

“No. After what happened in Paris … I began to look for Tariq myself.”

Liam perked up at his words. “So you know where he is?”

“I’m still waiting on a few calls, but I wanted to come by and offer my assistance to you again. You don’t have to accept it, and regardless of what you decide, I will turn over anything I find, but … I just … it’s the least that I could do for both of you.”

Liam saw the guilt in his eyes, and he felt his anger begin to let up. “Look … I’ll accept your offer to help Charlotte clear her name. But it’s going to take some time for me to trust you again, Bastien. You’ll need to earn it, and it’s not going to be easy. Not after what you did.”

“I understand, sir.”

Liam eyed him for a moment before nodding. “What have you found?”

****

Charlotte stood in the ballroom at the UN Gala with Drake and Maxwell. Liam had messaged her just before she arrived to tell her he needed to speak with her about Tariq. The gala was almost over, and she had yet to talk to him. Madeleine -- when she wasn’t shooting Charlotte dirty looks for what she assumed was over the ring debacle -- had latched onto him and pulled him around the room all night to speak with different dignitaries and guests.

While standing at the bar to get a drink, Charlotte felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Liam, offering him a smile. “Hi.”

“Hello.” He was fighting himself not to wrap his arms around her. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to get away until now.”

“It’s okay. What did you need to tell me?”

“Not here.” Liam glanced around the room. “Now that I’m free, I had a thought of sneaking out, getting some fresh air. Would you like to join me?”

“Like you even have to ask,” Charlotte chuckled.

Liam smiled. “I’ll slip out the back entrance and meet you outside.” Charlotte nodded, and Liam turned, casually making his way through the crowd to the back door.

Charlotte followed, making sure not to draw suspicion to herself. She slipped into the stairwell and made her way down the steps. She came to another door at the bottom and pushed it open, stepping into a small alleyway at the side of the building. She yelped when a pair of arms wrapped around her. She turned in Liam’s arms, and he leaned down, capturing her lips in his as he backed her against the brick wall.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” Liam whispered; Charlotte chuckled and shook her head. “You’re breathtaking,” he said before kissing her again. Liam moved his lips to her neck, and Charlotte softly moaned, feeling his teeth and tongue trail along her skin.

“Are we going to talk? Because if not, I have some really amazing ideas of how we could waste time in this alley.”

Liam laughed against her neck. “Care to share with the class?”

“Well,” Charlotte began, “one of them involves you hiking the skirt of this gown up and taking me right here, against this wall.” Charlotte laughed as Liam let out a low growl; he found her lips again, kissing her deeply before he reluctantly drew back. “So what did you want to tell me?” she asked. He began to explain how Bastien stopped by his room earlier, offering to help find Tariq, and that he took him up on the said offer. “Did he tell you what he found?”

“He knows that Tariq arrived at the airport the morning after the jamboree and flew to the States. He was waiting for a call to find his trail from there.”

“Does he have family here?” Liam shook his head. “Well … at least it’s something, I guess. It’s better than nothing.”

Liam watched Charlotte glance down at their intertwined hands. “What is it, love?”

“We only have two days,” she whispered. “What if … what if we don’t-” Liam’s lips cut off Charlotte; he kissed her slow and deep, making her head fuzzy and her knees weak.

“Don’t say it,” he whispered against her lips. “We can’t think like that, okay?” Charlotte nodded. She was still thinking about it, though. How could she not? Sure, they had something to go on, but that was merely a crumb at the moment. How fast could Bastien find what they needed?

Suddenly, the door they had snuck out of burst open, causing Liam and Charlotte to jump apart. Maxwell, Drake, and Bastien came barreling out. “There you are!” Drake called out as the three of them rushed over.

“What’s going on?” Liam asked.

“He went to LA, sir,” Bastien answered. “I have an address to the apartment building he was staying at.”

“Get the-”

“The jet’s already being prepared, sir.”

Liam and Charlotte’s expressions flickered with hope as they looked at one another. “Well, come on, kiss goodbye. We got a flight to catch, Brooks,” Drake chuckled.

“We’re leaving now?”

“Red eye, baby!” Maxwell grinned. “It’s a six-hour flight. We need to get there and back before the shower tomorrow evening. I’ll grab you some clothes, and you can change on the plane.” Charlotte nodded and pulled her room key from her clutch, handing it to Maxwell. “Meet us out front in a few.”

The three of them rushed back inside, and Charlotte faced Liam. “That was fast.” Liam grinned and leaned down to kiss her again, feeling the excitement course through him. “This is really it? Do you think he’s still there, in LA?”

“I’m hoping so, love. But yes … I think this is it.” They smiled at one another before Liam kissed her once more. They stayed locked in that kiss for a few blissful moments before Liam drew back. “You should head out front.” He cupped her face in his hands and smiled. “I love you, Charlotte.”

“I love you too.”

*******

After the overnight flight on the royal jet, Charlotte, Maxwell, and Drake had landed in LA. They had left New York at midnight, arriving at LAX at 3 am. They stayed on the jet in an attempt to get some sleep while they waited for a decent hour to look for Tariq.

Charlotte couldn’t sleep, however. She was feeling a wave of emotions. She was anxious, nervous, excited, and scared all at the same time. This was her last chance to fix this. The court would be heading back to Cordonia tomorrow, and Liam would be making the final preparations for his wedding to Madeleine unless Charlotte showed up with Tariq in tow to clear her name. Everything was at stake.

Maxwell had woken Charlotte up at 8 am; the three of them changed and went to grab breakfast before heading to the address Bastien had given them, where he learned Tariq was staying. “Ready?” Drake asked as they got out of the car.

Charlotte looked up at the building and let out a breath. “Yeah.” They entered the building and went to the elevator. Once on the ninth floor, Charlotte stepped off the elevator with Drake and Maxwell following behind her. Her heart was racing as she quickly made her way down the hall, scanning the numbers on the outside of the doors until she stopped in front of one. “This is it …” Her heart was now pounding as she raised her hand and tapped her knuckles to the wood.

A few moments later, a man opened the door; it wasn’t Tariq. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“Uh, hello,” Charlotte smiled tentatively. “Is … is Tariq here?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Oh, sorry. I may have the wrong-”

“No, he was here. This is my apartment; he was subletting from me while I was in Europe.”

Charlotte could feel the hope slowly beginning to dwindle. “Do … do you know where he is, by chance?” she asked.

“I don’t, I’m sorry. I got back about three weeks ago, and he left. I haven’t seen him since. He didn’t even leave a forwarding address for his mail.”

That sliver of hope she had been clinging to like a lifeboat in a storm was gone at his words. “Oh … okay. Thank you …”

Drake and Maxwell shared a worried look. They could hear the defeat in Charlotte’s voice, and both wondered the same thing: Now what?

****

Back on the royal jet, Charlotte settled into her seat. She hadn’t spoken a word since they had left the apartment complex. If she opened her mouth to talk, she wasn’t going to get out more than a few words before the tears would start, and she was trying like hell to keep herself together.

Charlotte stared out the window as the jet rolled down the runway and lifted into the air. Everything seemed to be crashing down on her at that moment. This was her last chance to find Tariq before it was too late. She had failed. And now she had a tough decision to make. The mere thought of it made her heart feel as though it was being ripped apart. As her mind became jumbled, she could feel the lump forming in her throat; the clouds outside of her window became blurred by the tears that began to well in her eyes.

“How are you holding up, Brooks?” Drake asked as he sat next to her. Charlotte didn’t respond; she continued staring out the window with her knuckles pressed against her lips. Drake decided to try and make small talk, although he was sure it wasn’t going to help. “I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to worry. We’ll talk to Liam when we get back and figure out what our next steps are.” He watched her subtly shake her head, and he knew exactly what she was thinking: What’s the point? Drake sighed, wishing she would say something. “Charlotte …”

At the use of her first name from him for the first time since her first night in Cordonia, Charlotte slowly turned her head and looked at Drake; the sadness in her eyes was palpable. She covered her face with her hands, and Drake wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest as he heaved a sigh.

She completely broke down.

“Brooks,” Drake whispered, rubbing her arm. He glanced up when Maxwell approached, and they shared a look before Maxwell knelt down in front of Charlotte’s seat. They watched her cry, knowing there was nothing they could do to make this better or right for her at that moment.

****

Drake, Charlotte, and Maxwell arrived back in New York with just enough time to get back to the hotel to change and make it down to the wedding shower.

Charlotte entered her room, feeling completely drained. She stared at the dress hanging on the door that she was supposed to wear to the wedding shower, and she let out a slow breath. She decided at that moment that she wasn’t going. She just didn’t have it in her to attend.

It would only make things more difficult.

A few moments later, a knock came on her door, and she turned to open it; Drake and Maxwell stood on the other side, both dressed for the shower and adjusting their clothing. “You’re not dressed,” Maxwell said as he looked at her.

“I’m not going to go. I think … I think it would be for the best. I need to get some air … try to clear my head.”

“Are you sure?” Drake asked.

“Yes. I’m just going to go for a walk. If Liam asks … you can tell him I’ll be in Central Park …”

****

After calling an old friend to make some arrangements for herself, Charlotte had left the hotel and walked through the city before making her way down to Central Park. She stepped onto Gapstow Bridge and looked down at the water below, seeing in it the reflection of the city behind her. She wasn’t there 10 minutes before she heard her name being called; she glanced over to see Liam making his way towards her on the bridge.

“Hi,” she said quietly as he approached. Liam immediately wrapped his arms around her, and she sank into his warm embrace.

When Drake and Maxwell arrived at the shower, they went straight to Liam to tell him what had happened in L.A. Liam tried to hide the heartbreak in his eyes when they told him that Tariq wasn’t there and how upset Charlotte had been on the plane. When they told him she had gone to Central Park, he snuck out of the hotel within minutes. He didn’t care if anyone was looking for him. Charlotte needed him.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” Liam whispered against her hair before kissing the top of her head. They drew back, and he cupped her face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I just feel … defeated and drained.”

Liam sighed as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I know it’s disheartening.”

“I’m sorry … about not coming tonight, I just …” Charlotte trailed off as she let out a breath.

“I know. I understand …” He moved to the railing and leaned against it.

“I just feel so lost, and I’m not sure what else there is we can do. He vanished. No one knows where he is …”

“I know,” Liam sighed. “We leave early tomorrow morning. Once we get back to Cordonia, we’ll figure everything out.”

“Liam, I …”

Charlotte swore she felt her heart stop as she cast her gaze downward, fighting back the tears that were already threatening to form over what she was about to tell him. It was a decision she’d spent the last three months coming to: what she was going to do should they not clear her name. Knowing what Liam was going to have to do when he returned to Cordonia left her with no other choice but to figure out her next steps.

Liam looked over at her. “What is it, love?”

“I … Liam, I’m … I’m not going back.”

Liam’s heart started to race, and he could feel the color drain from his face as he stared at her with his brows knitted in confusion. “What?” Charlotte stared at him, finding this conversation even harder to have than she already knew it would be. “What do you mean you’re not going back?”

“I mean … I’m staying here … in New York. I’m not going back to Cordonia with you.”

Liam shook his head vehemently. “Charlotte, no.” In one long stride, he was standing in front of her again. He slid his thumb under her chin, tilting her face up to his. When she met his gaze, a tear trickled from the corner of her eye; Liam leaned down to kiss her cheek, catching the briny tear on his lips. “I’m going to figure this out,” he whispered. “I’m going to find him. I’m going to make him come forward, and we’re going to clear your name and be together.”

Charlotte shook her head, her lip trembling as she spoke. “Not in time. I can’t … I can’t watch you parade around with her anymore. And I can’t go back … and watch you marry her.”

“Please, Charlotte, please give me more time. I promise you, I’m going to find him.”

“I can’t go back on a promise that you might someday find him.”

“But we’ve come this far … I just … I just need a little more time! Please … give me more time.”

The pleading look in his eyes and voice was slowly breaking her. “I need you to try and understand, Liam … and not make this harder than it already is.”

“Charlotte … you can’t give up …” Liam’s voice trembled. “We can’t give up.”

“I don’t want to give up … and I feel weak for doing it, because I love you, Liam. I love you so much … and you’re not supposed to give up on the people you love,” she spoke; her voice broke and rose an octave with each word as she tried and failed to fight back her emotions. “But I think it’s clear now that you were only mine to love … never mine to keep. And as much as it’s going to break me … I have to walk away … I have to let you go, Liam …”

Liam let out a shuddered breath as he looked away from her, attempting to blink back the tears, but like her, he failed to keep himself together. They came anyway. He didn’t want her to stay there. He didn’t want to give up on clearing her name or on them being together. He didn’t want to let her go or for her to let him go. But he knew it would be selfish of him to ask any more of her. Charlotte had been through enough over the past six months; first the Social Season and then the hell of the Engagement Tour. It had been hard on him, and he knew that whatever he felt over everything that happened, her feelings were beyond that. He couldn’t ask her to return with him on a possibility. She needed -- she deserved -- absolute certainty. He couldn’t put her through any more heartache.

No, Liam didn’t want to let Charlotte go … but he loved her enough to do it because he knew that she deserved better than him. She deserved a chance at a happy future, even if that meant that he wasn’t a part of it.

“Please … please don’t think this is a reflection on you, Liam. It’s not. I know that you tried. We tried. I know that you never meant for any of this, and it’s not your fault. I know who’s to blame … and it’s not-”

Charlotte was cut off as Liam cupped her face in his hands and leaned down, capturing her lips. They both tasted the salt from their tears. And they both felt their own hearts shatter just a bit more, knowing this was goodbye.

They parted, and Liam rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as his breath hitched in his throat. “I’m so sorry that I failed you, Charlotte. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you … and that I couldn’t be the person you deserve …”

“Stop,” Charlotte cried. “You’re more than I deserve … and you didn’t fail me, Liam. I got to love you … and that means everything to me.”

Liam’s brows furrowed as he pressed his lips to hers once more. When he pulled back, he lifted his head and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment. Charlotte felt a tear fall from his cheek onto her own, and she squeezed her eyes shut as he wrapped his arms around her.

This was goodbye. And they weren’t just saying goodbye to each other; it was so much more than that. It was goodbye to the happiness and laughter they brought to one another. It was goodbye to their inside jokes and the ones they never got to make. It was goodbye to all of the what-ifs and plans they had made. They were turning this page, knowing they wouldn’t be in each other’s next chapter.

It fucking hurt.  

After a while, Charlotte opened her eyes, still in Liam’s arms, as her tears continued to fall. “I want you … to try and be happy, Liam … because you deserve that. You deserve to be happy.”

Liam subtly shook his head as he looked up at the night sky. How the hell was he supposed to be happy with anyone but her? He wouldn’t be. Not ever. “You deserve that too …” he whispered. “Where … where are you going to go? What are you going to do?”

“I made some arrangements for now. But you don’t need to worry about me … I’ll be okay.” Hopefully. Maybe, someday. Liam’s arms tightened around her. After a long, tearful embrace, Charlotte finally stepped back and wiped her cheeks. “I, uh … I should probably go.”

If she didn’t go now, she wasn’t going to be able to walk away from him. Charlotte swore she could feel her heart break in two as she looked at him; the pain, hurt, and longing in his eyes matched that of her own. She reached up and pulled Liam down, giving him one last powerful kiss, pouring everything she was feeling into it as his arms wrapped tightly around her. They slowly parted, and she stepped back, looking up at him.

It took her a moment to utter the words, knowing once she did, that was it. It was over. This was by far the hardest thing she ever had to do. And the worst part of it all was standing there, watching his heart break as he tried to hold onto the shattered pieces of hers.

Finally, she took a breath and held it as she forced herself to say the words. “Goodbye, Liam.”

Liam looked down, unable to look her in her eyes as he replied, “Goodbye, Charlotte.” He heard her turn and listened to her footsteps slowly fade away. He glanced up a moment later, chewing the inside of his cheek, feeling more tears fall as he watched her disappear.

They parted with nothing but the memories and the solace that maybe one day their paths might cross again.

*******

•Four Months Later•

Charlotte sat in the living room of her apartment, staring at the television; the movie If Only was playing on Netflix. She had a plethora of snacks next to her on the sofa and a container of ice cream in her lap as she scowled at the screen. Why do I even watch these? It is such a load of crap.

The sound of her phone ringing pulled her from her scathing thoughts. She reached over, seeing her friend Sonia’s name flashing across the screen; she hit the speaker button before turning her attention back to the television. “Yello?”

“Hey, loser! Me and some of the girls are going out. Wanna come?”

“Oh, see, I’d love to, but I can’t. I have a date with sweatpants, Netflix, and a container of Chunky Monkey.”

“That sounds absolutely pitiful.”

“It really is,” Charlotte let out a sigh.

Sonia could hear the television in the background. “Whatcha watching?”

“If Only.”

“A sappy romance movie in your state?”

“My state is just fine, thank you very fucking much. Oh, here comes this part …”

“I have to tell you this, and you need to hear it. I loved you since I met you, but I wouldn't allow myself to truly feel it until today. I was always thinking ahead, making decisions soaked with fear. Today, because of you … what I learned from you, every choice I made was different, and my life has completely changed … and I've learned that if you do that, then you're living your life fully … it doesn't matter if you have five minutes or 50 years. If not for today, if not for you, I would never have known love at all. So thank you for being the person who taught me to love … and to be loved.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Charlotte hollered, grabbing a handful of chocolate chip cookies and throwing them at the screen. She spooned a large portion of ice cream into her mouth as her eyes, stinging with tears, stayed locked on the movie.

Sonia chuckled, “And you say your state is fine ...”

“Hush.”

“You need to find an outlet for this pent-up anger and sadness. You know what you need? You need to get laid! It’s been months! Which is why you should come out with us tonight! We’ll find you a nice, suitable bachelor to take you home and just dick you down real good!”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to be dicked down, Sonia.”

“Okay, well … write it out then.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a writer! You write something, get everything you’re feeling out. Then you toss it away. Hopefully, those pent-up thoughts and feelings will go with it.”

“Write what, though?”

“Whatever your sad little broken heart desires. A book. An article. A letter to yourself … to him. Whatever you feel like having it be. It’s not like it will ever see the light of day. You’re supposed to throw it away with all those feelings when you’re finished.”

“Look at you being all therapeutic.”

“Well, take what you will from it. I did have four glasses of wine already,” Sonia chuckled. “Okay, I’m heading out. I’ll be at Kismet if you change your mind!”

Charlotte ended the call and stared back at the television. She scowled again. Watching a movie about fate, destiny, and what-ifs was probably not the best idea. She had plenty of what-ifs, should-haves, and could-have-beens of her own.

In the four months since deciding to stay in New York, Charlotte had gone through what she assumed were the typical stages of a bad breakup … if that’s what she could even call what happened between her and Liam. She went with it.

First, she was sad. Just fucking miserable all the goddamn time. She cried a lot. Her heart physically hurt, something she didn’t even know was possible. She felt constant regret. She questioned if she made the right choice to stay behind and not to fight harder. But it was too late now. What was done was done.

And she missed Liam.

To create a distraction for herself, determined not to be a walking blubbering mess the rest of her life, Charlotte re-enrolled in school. She didn’t need but a few credits to finish; one semester and she would be done. Once school started, her sheer heartache turned to gloom. She was the walking, human version of Eeyore. That ass. She was still sad, but the tears had stopped. Mostly.

And she still missed Liam.

With her graduation on the horizon, Charlotte started interning at the Herald. Her gloom then turned to this. Charlotte had turned into a slightly angry, bitter, and salty bitch who ate her feelings in the form of various sweets and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, generally paired with a few full-to-the-brim glasses of wine. She wasn’t angry with Liam, just the situation. She was absolutely angry with Constantine and Tariq, however, wishing them both very graphic and detailed harm inside her head.

And … she still missed Liam.

Charlotte let out a breath as her eyes settled on her laptop sitting on her coffee table; Sonia’s suggestion rang in her head. Write it out. She moved the half-eaten container of Chunky Monkey off her lap and grabbed the laptop, opening it up and going to a blank document.

The cursor blinked, taunting her for a good 30 minutes as she struggled to decide what to write. She had so much that she wanted to get out, thinking about everything that happened from the moment she stepped foot in Cordonia. She was the only one who came out of that experience damaged, even though she did absolutely nothing wrong. Her name and reputation were still tarnished. And the longer she let that sit with her over the months, the angrier she became. She had wanted to blow the lid off the whole story on more than one occasion, wanting to let everyone know who was really to blame, but thought better of it each time the idea arose. It wouldn’t help anyone. Not her. Not Liam. And it certainly wasn’t going to bring them back together.

Suddenly, that same idea struck her again. She could write that out. Her side. She could merely pretend to blow the lid off the story by writing her personal experience. She wasn’t sure it would release everything she was feeling, but it was worth a shot. She was just going to toss it when she was done anyway, just like Sonia said. 

It would never see the light of day. 

Charlotte’s fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before she finally began typing. After a few moments, she reached over and grabbed the carton of ice cream, scooping another spoonful into her mouth as she read over what she had already typed out:

A nobility social season refers to the traditional annual period when it is customary for members of a social elite society to hold balls, dinner parties, and charity events. The social season has always played a role in the political life of the countries that host such events. But the season also provides an opportunity for once of age women to be formally introduced and presented before the men of nobility. Take, as an example, the small country of Cordonia that lies in the Mediterranean.

I was fortunate enough to be asked to travel to Cordonia to compete for a Prince’s hand during his social season.

Or so I thought …

**********************

If you want to see Charlotte and Liam get their happy ending, you can read it in the original Full Disclosure story. 

[shoichee]

potential juicy part 3: when they meet akashi again at the winter cup, reader, who now "hates" him, disrespects him to his face + pretends she doesn't care. but after kuroko reveals the whole story the night before rakuzan game, she's forced to confront the truth + they go all out against him (and win ofc) so akashi, now back to being akashi, confesses to reader, ig reader finally tells him what happened? (did i just write a wholeass fic in your askbox i am so sorry) btw tysm for the part 1!!

LMAOO THE WHOLEASS FIC SENT ME HELPP you snapped off in your request i can only deliver justice.... did i just listened to some KNB openings on repeat to manifest myself to pretend I’m the characters so I can accurately write them?.......... n-no...... part 1 here and part 2 here ^^ AND part 4 here

Akashi x f!Reader (but 99% g/n)

Part 3 

[Teiko!manager Headcanons]

shortly after Rakuzan’s victory against Shuutoku, the Rakuzan starters were walking together in the hallway to their lockers when you were blocking the way, hogging up the vending machines in the middle of the hallway to buy your teammates refreshments and snacks and then shoving them into your small backpack

Hayama impatiently yells at you to scram and Mayuzumi gives his own condescending comment, and you immediately looked up to see the infamous team

you instantly freeze up when you see Akashi in the back of the group just wordlessly staring as usual, and you just stay at your spot completely still for a while

“... Girl! Are you even listening?! Are you dumb or deaf?”

“That’s no way to speak to a girl!”

“Ow! But Reo-nee…”

“Maybe she just needs to eat? She’s probably hungry.”

“Ugh, no one else is like you, you know!”

“Tch.”

Mayuzumi merely frowns before he casually looks behind to see a rather intense aura emanating from Akashi, which is quite rare considering that you were a nobody compared to him and you weren’t someone who threatened him in any way… unless that was actually the case? but he merely observes from the shadows

“Move. You’re in the way.”

you incredulously stand up straight from his words and point a finger at him:

“I-I… I can’t believe it! This is the first thing you say to me after all this time?! Everything that happened at Teiko… was… was all your fucking fault! I hope the final game becomes your own downfall, you fucking jerk! And I hope I never see you again after tomorrow night.”

by now, you were hyperventilating from shouting at him, and the teammates were stunned… and absolutely fearful, their gazes darting back to Akashi to see his chilling gaze at you, looking quite calm

“How laughable. You haven’t changed at all, (y/n). You can believe in Seirin’s basketball all you want, say all you want, but it’s all pointless. Rakuzan will achieve victory like it always has. Now step aside.”

you only gape your mouth as you furiously huff and aggressively grab your packed bag and run, but as you dash away, you slightly stumble from the dizziness you felt from the emotional stress

ngl, Reo and Nebuya kinda pitied you watching you run

when you were gone from his field of vision, Akashi merely tells them to move onto the lockers and acts like nothing ever happened

you’ve practically convinced yourself that you truly hated Akashi for hurting Kuroko and destroying teamplay at Teiko… but in truth, you were only using him as a scapegoat to get over your unrequited feelings for him // of course the deepest part of you knew that the adults were responsible, and you knew that Akashi fulfilled his role of captain to the very end (while you meanwhile still had lingering feelings of self-doubt in your work ethic all this time)

while you were extremely happy for the Seirin team for making it to Winter Cup finals, you were so ashamed to even have the fleeting thought that you wanted Seirin to lose in the semi-finals so you didn’t have to face Akashi again

the late evening before the game tomorrow, Kuroko was in the mostly empty stadium, mostly because he wanted to reminisce about the old times before he faces Rakuzan tomorrow

it was a very unfortunate coincidence that Akashi was also there to survey the court for a moment before the game tomorrow

both of them held a long moment of eye contact before Kuroko decides to call him out

“Akashi-kun.”

“Tetsuya.”

“Have you ever had fun playing with Rakuzan?”

“To think that I had a fleeting thought of you asking me a different question this time. I can never understand how you’re fixated on such a pitiful ideal.”

“... Then… have you always felt this way even since the beginning of Teiko?” Akashi merely narrows his eyes at Kuroko

“Get to the point.”

“I’ve just been… wondering, that’s all.”

“Then I will not dally here further just to have a reunion about the past.” Akashi turns around to leave and walks a few steps before Kuroko calls out to stop him in his tracks

“... I want to ask you about (y/n)-san.” He merely watches Akashi slightly turning his head around before continuing. “What do you think about her?”

“She was Teiko’s head manager. How else did you think my opinion was, Tetsuya? She, just like Daiki, just like everyone else, was an asset to achieving victory. I will not repeat myself again.”

“Akashi-kun, with your Emperor Eye, surely you would’ve noticed something was amiss with (y/n)-san for a while now.” Akashi turns completely around with an impassive gaze

“Broken plates can still function fine. It’s no different with Daiki.” Kuroko grows furious for your sake

“H-How… how can you say that? Do you know how much she’s overworked herself and collapsed throughout these past months for the sake of our team? Did you even know how much of our own 1st-string players were belittling her despite her continuing to give it her all? She cared for our team—she cared for you! She didn’t even want to let you know what was going on behind your back to not burden you any further—and for you to only chalk her up as a tool—”

Akashi is slightly taken back at the sudden info dump/confession from Kuroko, struggling to process the new information… but his face gives little away; Kuroko continues on:

“We’re going to win tomorrow. I swear that Seirin will win against Rakuzan.”

“... It will be intriguing to see you try.” Akashi turns to finally exit out, leaving Kuroko simmering in his thoughts alone (excluding a few janitors) for a few minutes before he exits the stadium himself

in seeing you again the next day, Kuroko immediately notices how antsy you got and even offered to give you the massages to get rid of your own stress knots AND YOU INSTANTLY FEEL WARM BECAUSE YOU TAUGHT HIM YOUR TECHNIQUES SO LONG AGO, AND HE STILL REMEMBERS

you confide in Kuroko as he works out the knots, confessing that you don’t want to be there at the final game but you didn’t want to be selfish and ditch the team, especially since everyone made you feel like you mattered to the team (and you told him about your incident with Akashi yesterday too)

Kuroko shares his own fears and unresolved feelings to you to show that you weren’t alone in feeling uneasy (although he doesn’t share the info that he met up with Akashi)

wholesome friendship moment #753358

the talk made you made up your resolve, and you tell him that you were going to be there at the front bench to support Seirin like you’ve always done, but you do make a request for him to make an excuse for you in case you chicken out and flee mid-game or something

Kuroko agrees and to make you feel better, he proposes for you to focus on him throughout the game so you don’t have to look at Akashi; he knows you still harbor feelings for the Rakuzan captain

while the Seirin starters were warming up, you opted to survey the building interior to find the best route around… just in case if you wanted to flee // you meet Kaijo’s team by coincidence, and Kasamatsu ushers the rest of the team forward to leave you and Kise alone

Kise affectionately ruffles your hair and wishes you and Seirin good luck but also notices how anxious you look; this idiot slaps your back to calm you down LOL

“(y/n)-cchi! What are you so nervous for?”

“Ow! What the hell?”

“O-Ow, ow! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hit that hard—can you please let go?!”

“It’s been a while since I shoulder-locked you, huh…”

“Well, I certainly don’t miss it! You’re so cruel!”

and you only give him an all-knowing look at his “cruel” comment, and Kise panics again at his usual poor word choice… but you merely laugh at his distress

unintentionally, Kise does end up being the one to help you clear up the bundles of nerves… he’s still really worried for you because he definitely can see how you’re still hung up on Akashi

at the same time, when Seirin was watching Rakuzan team members do perfect layups, getting nervous about the game, you were a nervous wreck in your own world at the bench, triple-checking everything and giving massages to Teppei to relieve his knee pain for the time being

throughout the game, Akashi does throw a casual glance at you here and there when no one’s really looking, and meanwhile, you’re incredibly fixated on Kuroko (doing what he told you so you wouldn’t be tempted to look at Akashi)

a lot of your attention was on Furihata anyways because you were focused on massaging particular areas to reduce the physical stress exerted on them during the game

part of Akashi wants to go all out and win this game not only to prove you and Kuroko wrong, but also to impress you, but that’s something his true self feels (who is dormant in his subconscious) rather than his current self… but it’s still there

the moment you broke was when the Akashi you knew and liked finally returned to the court, and you immediately excused yourself to the empty infirmary room to bawl your eyes out and put yourself together; you tell yourself that it’s just another tactic of Akashi and return to the game right when Seirin makes their game point

Oreshi gave 100% in battling against Seirin but occasional glances constantly were shot over to Seirin’s bench to look for you, but you were gone at the last part of the game until at the very end

after the team lineups and trophy distributions, you immediately run outside of the stadium for crisp night air, heaving in as much as you could to try to prevent your body from having any funny ideas of dying on the spot

“... (l/n)-san.”

from his voice, you knew it was Akashi, and you debated on running as fast as you can but the current state of your body didn’t make it a viable option; you opted to stand still quietly, your back still facing him

“(/n)-san,” Akashi softly says again, slowly walking up to you and stopping four meters behind you to give you reasonable space in the confrontation

“... I hate you, you know that? Didn’t I tell you that I didn’t want to see you again after this game?”

“Kuroko disclosed to me what happened.”

“He what?!” In your shock, you whirl around to face Akashi, only to be stunned to see his gentle eyes filled with guilt and worry

“... I want to give you my sincerest apology for everything I’ve done and for what I didn’t do for you. In seeing how the Generation of Miracles had their talents bloomed substantially at a rapid rate, I had believed chasing for absolute victory was the only way to hold us together. Teamwork was nigh impossible given that we had no equal rivals from the outside. Even if that was the only plausible option to take as captain, I still failed Teiko’s other members, including you. To think that I was foolish in letting go what was most important to me.”

he gives a deep bow, further shocking you of your wits

“I…” You pause before you frown. “What did Kuroko even tell you?”

Akashi tells you exactly what Kuroko said and you immediately deny it

“Th-That’s… I only worked hard to get better, so I wouldn’t get left behind. Our old teammates were a testament that I was lacking, and I tried hard to catch up to everyone. I only collapsed due to my own irresponsibility. No matter how much I tried, I could never reach up to everyone’s level, even until now.”

“That’s not the whole truth isn’t it, (l/n)-san?” You widen your eyes at his statement, worried about the insinuation of his words

Oreshi now was not the same Oreshi back in Teiko; he’s now much sharper when it comes to you; he senses that there was something else amiss

“Why didn’t you tell me about what happened back at Teiko? Did you feel that you couldn’t rely on me as a captain?” Akashi sounds hurt… really hurt

you, taken back, immediately were quick to answer:

“N-No! If anything, I… I didn’t want you to look at me in a lesser light if you ever found out that our members started losing faith in me, and I… I wanted to be dependable like everyone else on the team! And if I was reliable, you would be able to depend on me like you used to in the very beginning…”

“(l/n)-san,” Akashi mumbles with upturned brows. “You’ve always been viable to me and the team. Why do you go through such lengths?” Your tears burst forth uncontrollably before you choked out:

“Because I liked you! You were so accomplished and reputable…! I had always th-thought that deep down, i-if I kept improving myself, that you’d notice me in the way I saw you!” Both you and Akashi widened your eyes at what you just said

well shit, maybe now is a good time to run? but before you even had any other ideas, Akashi steps forward to gently clasp your wrist

“... How do you feel about me now?” You obviously hesitate and look down at your clasped wrist, tears still streaky on your face, and at your silence, Akashi continues. “If you truly despise me… I understand. I won’t bother you anymore after tonight… But please believe me (l/n)-san, when I say…”

he moves from your wrist to your hand, taking his other hand to bring up both your hands in a delicate clasp

“... that I’ve always been fond of you, ever since the beginning.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not, (l/n).” To prove his point, Akashi places a tentative ghost kiss on his hands holding yours, wary in trying not to overstep his boundaries in case you didn’t want your hands to be kissed by him; he leaves his lips there before he murmurs

“... How can I make it up to you?” You feel his soft breath reverberating through your own hands, and it felt so sincere

“Well… for starters, I want to know the Akashi outside of basketball…” He lets go of your hands and gives a small smile

“Then it would be more appropriate to call me Seijurō, don’t you think?”

“Ah… then… you can call me by my first name too.”

“(y/n)... please don’t hesitate to come to me when anything troubles you.”

“I’ll try.”

“And please don’t overwork yourself. It’s not good for you.”

“I’m not making promises.”

“I do hope that in time you’ll come to realize that you’re an extremely talented person… quite a force to be reckoned with too.”

“Was the second half an innuendo of some sorts?”

“You don’t meet someone everyday who wouldn’t hesitate to cuss out the Rakuzan captain while pointing at his face.”

“I…! I’m sorry! I spoke out of—” He puts a finger to your lips with a teasing smile before he grows serious

“I must also apologize for my cruel words…

… I hope that you would find it in yourself to forgive all of my own misdeeds.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble. “Maybe that will happen sooner than later because I do… like you.”

“It’s nice to hear a confirmation from you.”

“Stop acting like you got me figured out, Seijurō!”

“I wouldn’t dare, (y/n).”

bonus: imagine the shock from Seirin and Rakuzan to see you two DATING (when that eventually happens), like Hayama is losing his entire MIND over this it’s SO FUNNY LMAO // Kuroko and Kise are so smug and happy for you two it’s very wholesome

The… end?

UPDATE: sike, by the time you read this, there is a part 4 epilogue

[kikilefangirl]

Like No Other

Erik Lenhsherr x Reader

(Word count: 1516)

Usually, the General’s study was one of the quieter places during the day. It was the room that had the most amount of books in it. Books that you could read in peace after putting down the kids for a nap and sneaking away. A perfect hideout.

Today wasn’t one of those days. The hushed voices that came from the closed door made it so. You still, straining your ears to listen.

“Y/N!” The General’s wife had a shrill voice and a demand for attention.

“Well don’t just stand there, go on and get our guests some drinks. C’mon now, quick.” She tilted her head to the side, and drew her lips in a tight line.

You turned on your heel and said nothing. You balled your fists. White hot anger coursed through you.

Fear.

The woman let out a small yelp, her eyes fixated on a blank spot on the floor. After a few minutes you released your hold on her, and the General’s wife straightened up to her usual self. You tried not to laugh as you walked away.

                                                 ...

As slowly as possible, you poured four ice cold waters to combat the summer heat. The house was stuffy this time of year, and your skin felt sticky and warm.

You carried the tray up to the General’s study and knocked softly. There was a muffled come in.

Two men sat opposite the General, but they weren’t military by the looks of them. You passed out the first drink to the General; it was his house after all.

“—I’m prepared to help you look for as many subjects you think are here.” He declared.

Subjects? You kept your face blank, but your curiosity was too much to ignore. The General rarely took meetings at home and when he did they were with old friends like Martin or Bass.

The British one was next. You sat the drink in front of him and peered up at him from the corner of your eye.

“Em, thank you,” He said. You gave him a swift nod and moved on to his friend. Walking to the other side to give him his drink, you spied two and a half numbers tattooed on his forearm. He caught you staring and pulled his sleeve down.

As you took the tray and extra drink, you felt the man’s pain. It poured out of him and it nearly knocked you off your feet. The drink and the tray toppled to the ground and the liquid spread all over your dress.

“Y/N!” The General called out. It was only water, but you couldn’t tell him that. He had guests, important ones apparently.

“Sorry, sir.” You whispered. You cleaned up the mess as quickly as possible and the men resumed their conversation while you did. Occasionally you could feel someone burning a hole through your back. You grabbed hold to the carpet to steady your thoughts and emotions along with everyone else’s.

“Gentlemen, you have all my resources at your disposal.” The General told them.

You were done by then, and stood tall in the face of your mistake, closing the door behind you. Once you were out, you concentrated on the man with the tattoo.

Peace.

The power emanated from you and you directed it towards the man. That was your gift. It was something you always had; something your parents taught you to hide and stay safe.

A cry from the baby’s bedroom brought you back to the present. You rushed to the crib, and gently held him.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, baby.” You cooed.

You concentrated again.

Calm.

The baby’s cries fell silent as you rocked him back to sleep. He was just a little cranky and needed help going back to sleep.

Laying him down, you crept out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. It was your guaranteed sanctuary away from the General and his family. Or at least it was, because as soon as you entered you were met with startling blue eyes.

“Erik.” The man said. He had an accent, not American. He held his hand out for you to shake. You stared at it, then averted your gaze.

“White men don’t offer me handshakes. Or first names.”

You couldn’t help your bluntness. You needed to make it plain, for your sake. He—Erik, dropped his hand. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I saw what you did to that child. You did it to me, too.” He stated. He wasn’t upset or anywhere near it. Instead he had a look of fascination and awe. It was unnerving with how restrained he appeared to be. You stepped back.

“I didn’t do anything.” You explained. It was a lie, but a necessary one.

Erik wasn’t fazed.

“We’re similar.” You didn’t hold in your scoff. This white man was nothing like you and the audacity to compare his life to yours was laughable.

Then he did something as unbelievable as changing people’s emotions.

A clattering sound came from the drawers, the light fixture shook, and your necklace rose off your neck and into the air. You stood in shock as spoons, tongs, whisks among other things shot out of their respective places. They floated in the air in a flurry of metal, just by the wave of his hand. And just like that, they were returned to the drawers with a final clack.

Your mouth dropped open, and you couldn’t say a word.

“Someone with your gift doesn’t belong here.” He said after awhile.

“So if I didn’t have it, I deserve to serve drinks I can’t drink and take care of a baby who’ll have more rights than me?” You ground out.

You weren’t better than anyone else who looked like you and you weren’t going to be used by anyone. Erik balked at your suggestion, rolling sleeve up to his elbow. It was faded with age, but you could see all of the numbers he had previously tried to cover.

You were right about his accent and his pain.

“No. But what you have could offer you more opportunities as a mutant than if you were human. Trust me, I know.” Erik said softly.

Whatever horrors he’d experienced, you felt a multitude of emotions from him. You didn’t mean to. It was involuntary the way your powers reacted, sometimes.

Peace.

Erik visibly relaxed in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out.

He waved it off, but his gaze had even more of an intensity than before. It made you feel like he was examining your every move, trying to understand how you ticked.

“We can teach you how to control it if you came with us. There are others, too. It’s a school we’re starting.” He told you.

“I want to use the same bathroom.” You held your head up, jutting out your chin.

There was nothing tying you to this job or your hometown. But you wouldn’t leave one place, just to be demeaned in another.

Erik smiled at you.

“Of course,” He said.

You jumped up in the air, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You shot Erik a look of pure relief and nodded in agreement. Then he yelled out to his partner, Charles.

Ordinarily, you would have flinched at his loud voice, for fear of waking the baby, but today was your last day. You grabbed your coat and led Erik to the door. At the same time, the man called Charles and the General came downstairs.

“Y/N, Where are you going?” The General asked, slightly bewildered. You stiffened, but made yourself face your former boss.

“I quit, sir.” You stated. The General started going on and on about the reasons you needed to stay. You struck down each one. Erik flicked his eyes from you to Charles and back again. Charles nodded his head in understanding, then placed two fingers on his temple.

Hello, Y/N. My name is Professor Charles Xavier, I understand you have a gift.

You skirted back, stumbling into Erik, who steadied you.

“Do not be alarmed, Y/N.” Charles said out loud. So his voice in your head was really him. He was like you, too then.

“General thank you for your time, but we’ve found who we were looking for.” Erik chimed in.

Realization dawned on the General’s face and he paled. All of his fight was gone. He was genuinely afraid of you, and you took this time to do something you had been denied previously.

You stepped out through the front door and took a long breath. It was your first and last time on the front porch.

“I have to go get my things, it won’t take long.” You muttered.

Erik walked you over the car, and opened the door for you. As you stepped in, you held his gaze.

“If you give me a reason to regret this, I’ll give you a reason to regret me.” You clarified.

“Charles, we need to finish Cerebro as soon as possible. We almost missed a mutant like no other.”

[jeonqqin]

hyung line: they’re rough with you

request: nope

warning: (hooboy) smutsmutsmut, rough sex, dirty talk, degradation

word count: 2.5k

a/n: should i do the maknae line???

read maknae line here

©jeonqqin

Chan:

your boyfriend was always so sweet to you.

whether it was in public or behind closed doors.

he was so doting and treated you like royalty, especially during sex.

it was always about you and your pleasure.

but you knew he was holding back on something.

there would be moments where he’d clench his jaw to prevent himself from saying something, or when you could feel his muscles shake as he attempted to slow down his pace without losing complete control.

he wasn’t very good at hiding it.

so you were ready to give him the little push he needed.

“baby, i’m back! sorry for not telling you, but the guys wanted to go get dinner and my phone died—”

you were the one to tell them to take him out for dinner.

you needed time to get ready.

“in here, Channie.” you called from your bedroom.

he obliged, eager to see his beautiful girlfriend and cover you in kisses after a stressful day.

but he definitely wasn’t ready to walk into the trap you set for him.

his breath was knocked out of him at the sight of you on the plush bed on your knees.

and seeing your legs spread wide was such an inviting sight.

you looked so soft for him—

wearing a pair of milky white lingerie and your favorite fluffy socks that you always wore around the house.

Chan didn’t know where to look.

especially with that little white collar around your neck.

“baby, what’re you doing?”

you blushed at his question, suddenly a little unsure of your decision.

“trying to look pretty for you…”

he smiled with a small chuckle, taking the last few steps to stand in front of you. “you always look pretty for me.”

your chest swelled.

“now i want you to make me look messy.”

Chan’s eyes widened slightly at your tone.

you were pouting like a child and it really did something to him.

he didn’t even notice he was lifting his hand to touch the metal piece of the collar that was cold against your skin.

“want me to make you all messy, pretty baby?”

there was a purr to his voice that sent a chill down your spine.

finally.

“mhm, i want you so bad, Channie.”

he tisked as his long fingers danced across the soft skin of your throat.

“that won’t do,” he hummed, looping his finger under the thin leather of the collar. “pretty baby needs to be more polite when addressing me, don’t you?”

he suddenly tugged you closer with a surprising amount of force, your face parallel to his chest.

“yes.” you looked up at him with a barely held whimper. “sorry sir.”

he paused.

it would do.

“that’s my good girl.”

he didn’t waste time—he had been waiting for so long to let loose and not hold back.

though he didn’t want to overwhelm you with the full force of his dominance, he had still brought you to tears of ecstasy.

not to mention your newly discovered strength kink—

Chan’s hands gripped your waist, leaving red marks all over your skin as he pounded into you from behind.

you knew the pillow he had your face pressed into was being soaked with tears and drool, and you could honestly care less.

the only thing you could focus on was the tight grip around your hips and the feeling of Chan’s big cock ripping you apart.

he had thrown your pretty bra off to the side, but kept on your underwear so you could feel the lace dig into your skin as he moved it to the side.

with three quick strikes to your already abused ass, Chan released your hips in order to flip you into your back with very little effort.

the action pulled a whiny moan from your lips.

“d’you like being thrown around?” he groaned, stilling his thrusts for a moment to grab a fistful of your hair. “like it when i beat you up babygirl?”

you cried out as he pushed his cock back into you. “yessir—love it so much sir.”

his breaths were heavy in your ear as he occasionally bit at your neck to leave as many marks as he could.

so there were too many to cover up.

“gonna look so pretty—” he dipped his head down to leave some hickies across your chest. “all bruised up for me.”

another sharp slap came down onto your thigh, pulling a broken moan from you.

“please sir.”

“that’s it, so good.” Chan grunted into your mouth as he lifted back up to attack your lips.

your scalp ached with each long, hard thrust—Chan relishing in each little whimper that you released when he tugged harder and harder.

he couldn’t help but think you looked beautiful with all the little red bruises scattered along your neck and chest, and the wetness of your eyes drove him absolutely crazy.

“you wanna cum for me, baby? come on, time to make daddy’s cock all messy.”

Chan smirked as you cried out as your orgasm hit.

he absolutely couldn’t wait for next time.

Minho:

you had caught bits and pieces of Minho’s true intentions when the two of you made out and cuddled.

the occasional caress of your neck or hard squeeze of your ass.

and holy shit you’d have to be blind not to see the way his hips moved when he danced.

it was sinful—to put it lightly.

but since your relationship was so new, you hadn’t really had sex.

sure there was oral, but you still hadn’t gone all the way.

mostly due to Minho being a gentleman.

but fuck you wanted to do it.

you had been teased for long enough.

so one day when you found yourself in your boyfriend's lap, his hands holding tightly onto your waist, you decided to push on his buttons just a little.

intentionally, you rolled your hips into his, nipping on his lip.

“watch it babe.” he warned.

you snickered, only dragging your ass harder against him, suppressing a moan by biting down on your lip.

he was growing hard.

“why? what’s wrong?” you teased.

Minho groaned as he felt himself twitch in his jeans. “you’re asking for trouble, babe.”

“maybe i want trouble.”

and you honestly weren’t too surprised when he flipped you over onto the couch, nearly ripping your clothes off your body in the middle of the living room.

and the fact that he was fully clothed over you was enough to have you dripping.

but you had actually yelped in surprise when he pulled his cock out from his jeans and brought it down onto your wet pussy in a quick slap.

“you think you deserve this cock?”

he slapped your pussy once again with his dick.

you whined.

“not so mouthy now huh? what happened to that spark?” he smirked at your neediness, another whine leaving your lips.

“i swear to god, Minho.”

his eyebrows raised in fake surprise.

“oh?” he leaned back, taking a moment to run his hand over his hard dick. “what? gonna say something?”

fucking arrogant prick.

why did you love it so much?

“you might want to be a little sweeter to your boyfriend, baby.” he briefly ran the head of his cock against your hole, only to pull back and continue to stroke himself.

you whined, suddenly feeling boneless.

you resolve was gone.

“please, i want your cock so bad.”

he hummed, pumping his dick in his hand as he contemplated your plea’s.

it was torture.

“well, since you asked so nicely.”

and suddenly his dick was slamming into you with surprising accuracy.

you were hardly ready for it.

“ah, fuck. that’s right, you little brat. my dick can shut you right up.”

“shit, Minho—”

“didn’t i tell you—” he slammed into; hard and fast. “to shut up?”

you could’ve sworn you heard the couch slide against the floor.

but then his hand was clamping down on your throat, and you were grabbing onto his wrist on instinct.

surprisingly, he allowed it, only smirking as you whined and cried beneath him.

“this is what happens when you don’t listen. my little brat gets punished.”

he pounded hard into you as his grip tightened on your delicate throat.

it was heavenly.

and hearing his moans and grunts in response to your whines was so worth the bruises you would have in the morning.

you got louder as your high approached.

“you gonna cum? is my cock gonna get you off?”

you rasped against his hand. “y-yes—yes, please.”

“good, now wait until i say so.”

Changbin:

to say that your boyfriend had an oral fixation, would’ve been an understatement.

Changbin loved your lips.

he could spend hours just running his fingers across them at any time of the day.

but you didn’t exactly know the extent of his love for your lips until you had your mouth around him for the first time.

his fingers were threaded in your hair as he lightly guided you up and down on his cock, his head thrown back against the back of his office chair.

he seemed so stressed—getting ready for the comeback and all.

so you had walked into his office to help him de-stress.

how you ended up on your knees—you didn’t know.

“fuck, sweetheart,” Changbin groaned, running one hand through his hair. “your mouth is so good.”

you hummed around him eagerly, looking up at him through your lashes.

he only moaned louder, gripping your hair tighter.

“yes, so fucking wet and hot.”

Changbin wasn’t usually one for dirty talk, but there was no way he could help it with the way you sucked him so well.

his hips bucked up unintentionally as you took him deeper, his eyes squeezing shut and his cheeks heating in embarrassment.

he was acting like an amateur all because of your mouth.

he was quickly preparing to apologize, the words on the tip of his tongue—

but you took him again with no complaints.

the sight nearly had him cumming then and there.

“shit, that’s so—” but he was cut off by his own moan.

you lifted from his cock with a coy lick to the tip, bringing a groan from his lips.

you briefly ran your hands over his filled out biceps and broad shoulders with a smile.

his reactions had you thinking—

“do you want to fuck my mouth, Binnie?”

his heart nearly stopped.

“can i...?”

you licked your lips.

without a verbal response, you took his dick back into your mouth.

but this time you just let it rest on your tongue, looking up at him with wide, expecting eyes.

he was a little hesitant at first, slowly bucking up into your mouth.

but as you took him with more than enough excitement, he finally let go.

and he wasted no time in fisting your hair with both hands and fucking into your mouth.

he quickly decided that he loved to hear you gag on his cock.

“fuck, yes. such a good little mouth for me.” he panted as he held you down around his dick, listening to you choke, before pulling you off for a second to breathe.

the sight of you all fucked out with tears running down your cheeks and your lips covered in spit was downright deadly.

you felt him twitch against your tongue before he pushed you back down.

in all honestly, he was pushing your limits.

but in the best way.

every time he’d hit your throat you couldn’t help but feel yourself getting wetter and wetter.

it wasn’t something you expected to like, that was for sure.

but he fisted your hair even harder and bucked his hips uncontrollably—

he couldn’t for the life of him stop, even if he wanted to.

“fuck, sweetheart, i’m gonna cum.” he felt himself choke on his words.

you squeezed his thighs—a sign Changbin took as a good one.

“fuck, you’re gonna let me cum in that sweet mouth of yours then, huh?” he hummed, lowering one hand to brush the stray hair from your face. “that’s good. you’re so fucking good for me.”

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin was a true romantic at heart.

he loved you to no end and got needy whenever he was too far away from you.

which meant you were in for lots of cuddles when he came back from his tours.

and for the most part, it wouldn’t go past cuddling.

it would stay innocent.

but other times, he’d be a little more needy.

and he’d end up dry humping you in whatever position you were cuddling in, until the two of you came in your pants.

but that was usually the extent of it.

it was only when their tour had lasted longer than usual that you finally discovered the full extent of his need.

you promised him you’d stay up until he got home—but it was already past midnight and you were so tired.

and his flight was being pushed back another hour.

you really didn’t think you’d fall asleep on the couch.

it was a little uncomfortable, so you figured that would be enough to keep you awake.

but the weight of your eyelids had gotten to be too much.

so when Hyunjin entered your apartment to see you curled up on the couch with only a sweater—his sweater—and a pair of royal blue lace underwear,

he didn’t know whether to coo at how adorable you looked or rip the underwear from your body and devour you then and there.

he figured he could do both.

so, with a soft laugh, he scooped you up into his arms and carefully carried you into the bedroom.

unconsciously, you curled into him.

he bit his lip to hold in his coo’s.

he was still dirty from the travel, but he didn’t care—all he wanted was you.

he really missed you.

you didn’t even remember falling asleep.

and suddenly you were being forced awake by an approaching orgasm.

your eyes peaked open, tears already clouding your vision by the time you figured out what was happening.

Hyunjin was staring up at you from between your legs, his full lips wrapped sinfully around your clit.

you could feel him smirk against you as he noticed you looking.

he pulled away from you with a pop.

“look who’s awake.”

“H-Hyunjin, please—” you whined but you were cut off by him suddenly pushing two of his long fingers into you.

“awe,” he cooed as you moaned at the feeling of his fingers hitting all the right places inside of you. “dumb baby can’t talk because of her boyfriends fingers?”

you whimpered, feeling a tear finally drip down your cheek.

he looked sympathetic as you wiggled against his digits, pumping them slowly into you.

“slutty baby,” he bit into your thigh to pull a cry from your lips. “doesn’t know anything else. just here to be my little fuck toy, isn’t that right?”

you nodded without any coaxing from him, and to say he was very pleased would’ve been an understatement.

“wanna be your toy, Jinnie.”

you tugged on the soft fabric of his shirt, threading the material between your fingers.

his fingers sped up at your words, a low groan rising from his chest as he bit your thigh once again—even harder than the last.

desperation looked good on you.

“baby just wants her Hyunjinnie’s fat cock to fill her up until he cums. doesn’t matter how she feels, as long as she gets her Jinnie off, right?”

“yes please.”

he kissed the mark he left on your thigh before pulling his fingers from your core, relishing in the way you cried at the loss.

he shushed you, sliding his wet fingers against your mouth and smiling at the way it made your lips shine—

though he was taken a bit off guard as you took them into your mouth, licking your own juices from his fingers.

“baby’s more of a whore than i thought.” he hummed as he pushed his sweats down his legs and threw his shirt off to be dealt with in the morning.

your face heated at his words, a small whine leaving your throat.

he chuckled, lowering himself down to press a soft kiss against your slick coated lips.

“don’t worry, little slut.” he whispered against your mouth, slowly pushing his long cock into you. “i’m gonna fuck you dumb.”

[moony-artnstuff]

Kintsugi

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem!Reader

Note: This is my very first fanfic ever and I am really excited to post it here. I’ve been on tumblr for a while now and there are some really talented writers on here who with some I have become friends with and who have inspired me to write my own fanfiction (I will tag them below). I know this still needs a lot of work but I look forward to writing and improving at it here on tumblr!

Summary: The reader gets lost in Mirwood during one of her travels and is taken to the palace to meet king Thranduil. When Thranduil notices she has a big scar on her face, resembling his own, he feels drawn to her, and a friendship start to form. 

This was not how you expected your journey to go. When the people of Laketown warned you of the dangers of Mirkwood, they spoke of big spiders and misleading paths, which, in all honesty, should not be that big of a problem seeing you had dealt with orcs many a time and had come out fine. What you did not expect, however, was the fact that the forest seemed to literally try to get you of the path. You don’t know how long it has been since you entered the woods, but it felt like you had been going around in cirkels for days, and the further you walked the thicker the air seemed to become. It made you feel tired, and dizzy.

Crack.

A noise. Right above your head. And as you looked up you saw a spider the size of a horse crawling down from the trees and coming right at you, but right when you went to grab your sword three arrows where shot from behind you, hitting the eight-legged beast in the face. Before you could even blink a group of elves jumped out of the trees, killing the spider within seconds, and then turning to you, bows aimed at your throat. You carefully raised your hands, eyeing a silver-haired ellon who was approaching you.

‘‘Human’‘ he spoke.

‘‘Elf’‘ you answered. His eyes narrowed slightly, they were a beautiful shade of blue. Then he continued;

‘‘You are trespassing our lands, what business do you have here?’‘

‘‘I was only passing through,’‘ slowly you lowered your arms, ‘‘I mean no harm, I just need to get to the other side of the forest.’‘

‘‘Not before you meet with the king.’‘ Turning to the other guards, he ordered, ‘‘Take her weapons.’‘

You furrowed your brow. ‘’Take my-? Hey-!’’ you sputtered, as two guards grabbed your arms and took your sword and dagger.

They took you to the castle, and you couldn’t help but gasp when you entered the caves. Beautiful archways and pillars where carved into wood and stone, and when you looked up you saw that the ceiling was covered in gemstones, reflecting the light of the many torches on the walls. Legolas watched you from the corner of his eyes, and a small smile appeared on his face as he saw you look around in wonder, but it was quickly replace by a look of concern when he noticed the big scar on the right side of your face. Whatever had caused it had blinded you in your right eye, and by the looks of it it had hurt a lot. He wondered how you had gotten a scar like that, but he wasn’t about to ask.

Your eyes were still glued to the ceiling when you were suddenly brought to a halt. A few steps in front of you stood Legolas speaking elvish with someone sitting on a throne. That must be king Thranduil, you thought. You couldn’t understand a word from what they were saying, but you guessed it was about you. Then Legolas turned and left the throne room together with the two guards who were holding you, leaving you in an awkward silence with the king. You took this moment to study his features. He wore a silver and crimson robe, and on his head was a crown adorned with red leaves and berries. On his slender fingers he wore many rings, and his long, pale-blond hair cascaded down his shoulders. He had high cheekbones and a strong jaw, and his eyes were a beautiful icy-blue color. That’s when you realized you were staring at him, and that he too was looking at you, so you look away.

‘‘It is not often a human comes into my realm,’‘ you heard his deep, velvety voice say, and in a teasing tone he continued, ‘‘I’m suprised you haven’t been eaten by any spider yet. Tell me, exactly what business do you have here?’‘

You frowned at his comment. What, did he think you were weak because you were human?

‘‘I was only trying to pass through, your highness,’‘ you watched as he gracefully walked down the stairs, ‘‘I am but a simple traveler. All I tried to do was get to the other side of the forest.’‘ Thranduil only hummed in response. He was now standing in front of you, and his eyes were fixated on your face. You knew he was looking at your scar, and it made you feel uneasy.

‘‘Is there something to look at?’‘ you snapped. You didn’t mean for it to sound as angry as you it did, but you had had a long day and you weren’t in the mood to be stared at. You understood that a scar like your own would attract attention, but you wished the elvenking would at least be more subtle about it. Thranduil however didn’t seem fazed by your little outburst, and simply turned his gaze back to your eyes.

‘‘I apologize. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you come by such a scar?’‘ At this you raised your eyebrow. Why would he be interested?

‘‘When I was younger a pack of orcs attacked my village,’‘ you explained, ‘‘They had set the house on fire, and when I finally managed to escape, after already being burned, one appeared out of nowhere and swung his sword at me, cutting me in the face.’‘ A shiver crawled down your back. You didn’t exactly enjoy recalling this specific memory.

The elvenking simply nodded before he turned and walked back up the stairs to his throne. When he finally sat down he turned back to you and spoke;

‘‘I will send a maid to prepare a room for you. You can stay here for a few days to rest up and eat. After that you are free to leave whenever you please.’‘

That evening Thranduil sat in his room in his armchair, a glass of wine in his hand. He was recalling the events of that day and his thoughts drifted back to you. A human woman lost in his forest. Although rare, it was not uncommon. What was uncommon, however, was his hospitality to you. Of course, Thranduil would never wrongfully mistreat someone, but to give a trespasser a bath, a room and food? That was unheard of, so why did he offer it to you? Deep down he knew why. He felt drawn to you, drawn to your scar. The way it was so much like his own yet you carried it so differently, like it was barely a burden at all. Subconsciously he raised his hand to touch his cheek, where he would’ve felt burned flesh had he not concealed it with his magic. He wanted to know how you did it. How you managed to go through your day without crumbling under the stares and judgement of others. How you didn’t seem fazed when the wind caressed your skinless cheek, or when you felt numbness instead of the warmth of the sun. And he wondered, if you were able to see yourself in the mirror. Did you look away like he did, or couldn’t you care less for the way you looked? 

Putting down his now empty wine glass, Thranduil walked over to his bed, his mind still on you. You’d be here for at least a few more days, plenty enough time for him to find out more about you and your scar. Maybe you would tell him how you were so comfortable with it. And the maybe, just maybe, he too could find peace.

In the following days Thranduil and you spend a lot of time together. He showed you around the castle, lead you through the gardens, and occasionally had dinner with you. And the whole time he tried to find any sign of of discomfort caused by the mark on your face, but he found none. What he did notice was the twinkle in your eyes you had whenever you talked about your travels, or how you always wanted to sit underneath the magnolia tree in the royal gardens, and the way you would occasionally bite your lip when the two of you were reading. And the longer you stayed the more he found himself wanting to be around you just for the sake of your company. After a month he had forgotten all about wanting to know about your scar, and Thranduil saw you as a friends, maybe even more.

Right now he was walking through the gardens. He did not have to attend to any duties this afternoon, and he wanted to enjoy his free time. He hadn’t seen you a lot in the past few days, and he was just about to look for you when he heard you humming. Following the melody, he found you sitting cross-legged in the grass, a mirror in front of you and a small jar in your hand. It contained a golden liquid, with which you seemed to... paint your face?

‘‘Y/n?’‘

You turned your head at the sound of your name and your e/c orbs met ice-blue ones.

‘‘Thranduil! So good to see you. How are you doing this lovely afternoon?’‘

‘‘I am quite alright, thank you. What are you doing?’‘ he asked as he sat down next to you.

‘‘Make-up! What do you think?’‘ You pointed to your face, and Thranduil took the time to study it. You had used the gold as eye-liner and as a highlighter for your upper lip, which made it hard for him to look away. Along your jawline where your scar covered your face where small flowers drawn, and a bit about that were small stars covering your scar like freckles.

‘‘It’s beautiful.’‘ he said softly. And when you asked if you could paint on him too, he let you. You carefully applied the golden liquid onto his fair skin, holding two fingers underneath his chin to tilt his head sideways. Through half-lidded eyes Thranduil watched how your eyes followed the brush. It tickled, and he tried not to smile as you poked your tongue out and furrowed your brow in concentration.

You were beautiful. And with the way your h/c framed your face, and the sunlight made it seem as if your s/c glowed, Thranduil felt like he could look at you forever.

‘‘All done!’‘ you said, grabbing the mirror so he could see. You had made sure his eyes and cheekbones stood out, and you had painted all kinds of flowers to cover most of the left side of his face. Thranduil brought his hand up and carefully touched the delicate dranw lines.

‘‘It looks lovely. What is ii called?’‘

‘‘Kintsugi.’‘ you answered, and he raised his brow at you.

‘‘It’s the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold,’‘ you explained to him, ‘‘It’s build on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger more beautiful piece of art.’‘

‘‘Are you comparing me to broken pottery?’‘ Thranduil teased.

You chuckled. ‘’I wouldn’t dare, but I do think it works the same for people,’’ you stared into the mirror, a distant look in your eyes, ‘’Too often people let themselves be defined by their scars, and although it can sometimes be hard to face them, they do not make someone less.’’ You turned your gaze back to the ellon next to you, a knowing look in your eyes as you continued;

‘‘Scars do not define you, nor do they make you weak, if anything they show how strong you are. Just because somebody is ‘broken’ does not mean the cannon be heal again, nor does it mean they are less beautiful.’‘

You closed the small jar and handed it to Thranduil, who still seemed to be entranced by your words.

‘‘For you.’‘ you said.

‘‘What for?’‘ he asked, taking the jar from you.

‘‘In case you ever think your scars make you less than what you are.’‘

His eyes widened. How did you know? But you simply smiled, turning to look out over the garden, breathing in the summer air.

‘‘Say, I know i have already been in Greenwood far longer than we originally planned, but,’‘ and you leaned closer to the elvenking beside you, ‘‘I was wondering if I could stay a while longer? I do not wish to leave yet.’‘

‘‘Is that so?’‘ Thranduil mused, slowly taking your hand in his. ‘‘And what would be the reason for that?’‘

‘‘I met someone who has captured my heart.’‘

‘‘Truly,’‘ he whispered, his lips only a breath away from yours, ‘‘and who might this lucky ellon be?’‘

‘‘I think you already know.’‘ you said, before closing the distance between you. And as your lips met, Thranduil felt something shift inside him. He felt lighter, as if a burden had been shifted from his heart. And with you in his arms and his hin upon your head, he finally knew, he had found peace.

@ceinelee​ @tolkien-fantasy​ @daisy-picking-lady​ @ladylouoflothlorien​ @luna-xial​ @beautifultypewriter​ @writer-inwonderland​ @long-cosmos-overhead​ @fizzyxcustard​ @dabisburnedbutt @lotr-hobbit-imagines​ @lotrfics​ @the0maddest0hatter​ @asraime​ and so many more! You and your amazing work have inspired me to start writing on tumblr and I am so happy I get to call some of you my friend!