#I don’t need to keep being reminded of how he grunts everytime he moves or can’t see his own belt buckle

[dandydevildog]

Man, when the antagonist in a book is fat authors just really go all out in describing just how massive and gross they are huh.

[muffindaddystyles]

Soft dom harry makes subby reader upset subspace?

MEANIE ANGRY H :D BUCKLE UP FELLAS

Y/N's day is been shitty so far. It started with an ache in her lower abdomen from Harry’s morning stiffy bulging against her asscheeks fattening everytime he snuggled into her to hoard her warmth and blankies and to stuff his face in her neck with incoherent blabbering.

She wanted to wake him up with her hand, mouth, hole— anything around his cock and to please him and dull the burny feeling in her tummy -- but -- she had an important workshop at UNI that was must needed to be attended.

The time she managed to knock herself out of her needy and lusty headspace, she was getting late and whirling around the room and closest like a thunderstorm -- burying a snoring Harry under the heaps of clothes and littering the floor with her shoes collection, the kitchen got treated much more worst with maids being not around (she’s used to Harry waking up earlier than her and making her a full course brekkie) after making a laughable ruckus of cabinets all she stuffed her mouth with was a chocolate protein bar.

The stars were still not in her favour. She was grabbing onto her hair until far when she missed the bus (she usually don’t take buses, Harry makes sure the driver drop her off safe and secure) and it started raining leaving Y/N with nothing but a bare head to take all of it as she already left the bus shelter to stop a taxi.

If all of that wasn’t much of a tragedy and humiliating, Y/N slipped the moment she stepped out of the vehicle and on the slippery curbs of the building, she saw her life flashing right infront of her eyes as the papers tucked in her armpit fled everywhere and landed on the rainy mud sadistically along her. It gave her a serious hit in her ankle and completely yanked her hip, still being a stubborn-head she picked herself and went inside despite how many glares the cleaning staff threw her way for bringing the dirt with her feed all over the shiny floors.

She felt bad.

Stupidly bad.

Her workshop teachers were kind enough to accept her late arrival, but her designs for fall got rejected and they’d have been a huge milestone for her to get her dream internship.

Y/N felt awfully, teeny, pathetic and little while slumping into the corner of the bus and holding her breath to refrain from crying these little liquidy bitches out of her eyes.

Reaching back home she was met with pure chaos, bumping into petrified and agitated employs from Harry’s company scurrying out of their main foyer and she could persist but to ask what happened only to be informed in stammers that the staff messed up big and caused a loss of million dollars— making Harry terribly mad and fire people left and right.

It wasn’t a joke at all.

Because once, she steps inside, bag falling from her shoulder as she sighs in exhaustion feeling her muscles stiffening everywhere but one particular spot's hurting wrenchingly— her foggy mind couldn’t figure it out yet. She peeks into Harry’s home office to be met by a very annoyed, aggrieved, furious Harry pacing in his office all whilst with a phone against his ear shouting at someone who was destined to be humiliated today just like her and she pouts gingerly seeing his features skewered tightly into displeasure, the vein that curves along his temple prominent with blood pumping erratically in his body.

His head snaps up at the door’s creak and albeit his eyes softens a little, the kink of brows and the scowl on his lips is still there and he watches her paddle towards him carefully knowing anything at the moment would burst his chimneys out and she wants to be good for her daddy.

“Hi.” She speaks timidly, pout getting more rusty when the greetings not returned and instead he keeps all of his attention on the phone keeping a loose arm around her.

She grumbles, when he gestures down at her to give him a sec and untangles himself from her walking away and huffing and puffing into the phone.

How could he!

She feels so denied and rejected and kicked like it’s done to those affection starved lil puppies.

Her clingy tendencies flying high drunk and wooly. The needy beastie inside her wanting nothing more than take a bath where Harry could cream her back in her favourite berry bubbles, massaging her head and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, then lots and lots of cuddles, maybe he'll be generous enough and let her keep him snug inside her while they watch movie because she had such an awful day.

But, No! He's trying to escape free from her because she’s such a burden for him now.

Her eyes turns glassy, her shoulders slumping sadly and out of nowhere she’s feeling cold and barren as Harry’s voice becomes a wafting fume for her— an indication she has gone under too much.

“Daddy . . .” She stomps behind him, circling his footsteps like a whiny puppy and grapples at his dress shirt gasping sullenly when he swats her dainty hands away and glares down at her in dominance, his tone harsh as he blocks the receiver with his palm and mouths at her with a huff, “Stop being needy fo’ once. I’ve clearly some important issues to care for, Y/N.” Poor Y/N's deathly grip on his shirt loosens sorrowfully and her chin wobbles as she nodded still wanting to be good for him and if it wasn’t enough to give her the biggest heartbreak of the year— he even rolled his eyes at her too grumping under his breath about something how he turned her into a spoiled brat himself.

“Okie. . .” Her voice strangled and small. She shrinks into herself but wasn’t paid any heed from Harry and without another word she leaves him as to be it.

Having a huge breakdown in her room didn’t help at all. A painful headache hitting her like a train as she clumsily strips down, wearing one of his t-shirt heavily drenched in his scent he keeps for her under her pillow anytime she needs it and hides under the blankets with tears still running down her swollen cheeks— slipping into a light slumber from all of weariness and crying.

Once the smoke cleared from Harry’s mind and his capabilities of rational thinking coming back to him, he was reminded of how he denied his baby of his littlest of affection and tenderness when she clearly looked so glum and sad and upset.

He wanted to whip himself in head.

He’s such a twat that he let work come between them.

He curses himself. Making a sprint to his bedroom, knowing he’d find her none other than there and he was right puffing out a disheartened sigh when his eyes falls over his princess buried under all of these layers of blankets, he crawls up towards her carefully not to startle her awake.

Grunting at himself when he finds she’s been crying, he strokes a thumb up her blushy cheeks and her wet lashes, kissing her puffy eyelids and her little sad unhappy pout away.

He frowns. Feeling her feverish and flushed under his hand, “Hey puppy . . .” He thumbs down her throat getting a little fretful when she doesn’t stirs, however she’s such a squirmy little one and he moves the blankets away to let her body cool itself smiling proudly at his shirt swallowing her whole is when she snuggled herself more into her stuffie letting the shirt ride up her thighs and hips exposing a ghastly bruise of red and purples and he frowns not remembering it being there before.

Now. He feels shittier. Wanting to jump of the cliff for being a shitty sadist boyfriend to his only beloved.

“No!” Y/N whimpers loudly, squirming away from his touch as he examines her gently and it sent shockwaves to each of her tissues and lions causing her an undeniable pain.

“Puppy, shh, shh. ‘s just me, making sure if y'okay.” He scrambles closer to her towering her to cradle her face and kiss the tip of her nose—- his face falls drastically and his heart cracks miserly when Y/N pushes him away with a sorrowful mumble not even letting him wipe the drool away from the corner of her mouth as he usually does.

“’M okay . . .” She tries to knuckle the sleepiness away with shivery hands, “No you’re not —...” He’s cut off by her angry pout and her silly efforts to keep as much distance between them as possible, “I don’t need, Daddy . . ‘m big and I could take care of me self.” At her puny waver realization dawns upon Harry and his brows shoots up to his hairline feeling nauseous and terrible for not taking care of his babylove earlier.

He’d have never let her be away from him if he knew she was in her subspace.

“Y/N baby . . . I didn’t mean it, darling —--...” With gentleness he tries to approach her but she wraps her arms around her petite figure in a protective manner, haziness taking best of her and Harry’s chest suffocates into itself, being a dom it’s your responsibility to make your subby feel protected, loved and happy and he even failed at that.

He quickly cups both of her hot cheeks in his nippy palms when she hiccups sadly, a sob threatening to slip out, “Yes you did! You meant it. Said you spoiled me, I don’t want your money, promise! I just want you and y'shooed me away saying Y/N’s too needy . . .” Harry flinches at her words. He never even spared a thought to this negativity that she chooses to be with him for his money because he knows out of all the people she’s the only one who loves him out of the boundaries of status and money.

He realises how stabbing they'd have been to her when she was so sensitive and floaty wanting nothing more, just him.

How deep she has gone if she’s taking her own name in third person.

“’M sorry baby. So sorry. Swear on myself, didn’t mean to hurt my baby, knows tha’ work shouldn��t be an excuse t’ make y'feel unloved—- but those bastards got a tick outta me.” He rambles on frantically. Afraid she’ll think he’s lying and would finally make up her mind to leave him.

“You didn’t?” She asks with so much innocence Harry nearly cries out, “’Course I didn’t! How could I? You could never be needy, Bab. I love you so much and you’re my whole word, forgive me please?”

“You’re forgiven,” She let a small smile flutter up her features, a tinge of gleam in her previous dull eyes brightening the whole room and Harry immediately bunches her up in his lap.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks her, not sure if she still needs space from him and would rather be better without him but she bobs her head shyly and he chuckles softly before touching their lips together into a tender loving kiss and brushes their noses up and down murmuring sweetly coy to her.

“Now, could y'tell daddy how y'got this bruise baby? How did ya get hurt?” He coos, brushing her sweaty hair back and rubs her sweet gland behind her ear delicately, “Oh yeah . . . this, was raining and slipped.” She murmurs, hissing a gasp jolting away when Harry glides his fingers gently down her hip bone and fresh tears springs in her eyes as she buries herself in his chest, “Daddy hurts. . .” . “Oh babypie. Daddy’s g'na take care of his love.” He lays her down gently kissing her forehead when she whines for him to keep on holding her, “’M right here darling. G'na prep us a bath, make my baby alright.” Saying this he quickly disappears inside the washroom and next their room’s sursuring with marble tub filling with warm water, Harry throws in her favourite pink coloured bath bombs and rose essences and throws their towels in the warmer coming back with her as he left her to be, he has decided he’s gonna love on her whole night, “My baby’s the best, ain’t she? She’s my bestest girl.” He coos down at her sweetly and slides his forearms under her knees and back picking her up carefully and brings her to his chest securely.

She closes her eyes, biting down a whimper when Harry dips them in the water some it sloshing down the edges of bathtub and it envelopes them and gives a stingy feeling to her bruise before soothing it down.

He rubs her arms, and circles smoothing patterns on her tummy and kisses her a gallons as she melts in his embrace and he let’s her sink into him more, nibbling and sponging wet ticklish kisses on her neck making her purr and become a puddle of softness in his hold while she takes her time to mumble all the bad events that happened to her and he felt so guilty of not asking her how she’s and how her day went when she came to him, in need of some of his lovin.

“I love you so much, bab.” He suckles her earlobe, toying and plucking her bottom plush lip, “Was prick to me love —.. you deserve all my lovin,” He noses at her jaw, not forgetting it to mark it with his pecks and sloppy bites.

“’S okay daddy, y'had a bad day too.” He’s grateful to have her in his life. She cares about him, maybe more than he does for her and he feels himself lucky for it.

“You want me to help you relax?”

“Can I have you?” Her tone bashfully desperate and coy, Harry meanders their fingers together and kisses her knuckles softly.

Considering her wound still being sore and pulp, having sex would be painful for her and she might not grasp it in her hazy mind but Harry doesn’t want to hurt at all.

He plants a little noisy smooch to her shoulder when she nods, she mews and purrs when Harry glides his palm all the way down her body and cups her pussy digging his palm into her mound and coats his digits with her arousal dipping the pads of his fingers into her entrance, “All this wet f'me?” Palming her tits while whispering sweet nothings into her ear when she gasps and closes up on Harry scratching nails into his bended knees.

“Shh, shh puppy, jus' relax hmm? Feel yourself.” With sputtery inhales she does as he says, soon two of his fingers slips inside her and he strokes her pussy and pulls them out making her all whiny and pushes them back with a squelching noise, fucking her with it smiling and stopping when her thighs parts falls again his’s completely.

“Daddy!” She writhes and whines, trembly hands trying to bring Harry fingers back to her pulsating wetness, “You’re the cutest.” He smiles against her lips giving her cheeks several squishes and pats her head loving to see his adorable princess all flustery for him.

On her demands. He slicks his fingers back inside her and caresses the insides of her thighs while she pants and sinks onto his knuckles blabbering out daddydaddydaddy weepily.

“Cum fo’ me, puppy. Feels good? Yeah? My baby feels nice?” He rasps in her mouth, curving and petting the soft spot inside her pussy and sucks onto her upper lip when she moans and mewls loudly gushing all over his finger and he keeps on fucking her till she’s all sleepy and balmy against his chest.

Harry coaxes her tenderly, smoothing his hands all over her twitchy spots and patches sloppy kisses all over her face that makes her all giggly and shy—- the amount of endorphins spiking high in her system.

“Love you so much, daddy.” She mushes puckering her lips into his throat.

“Love you too, pup.”

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐀𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳: 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐱/𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 (𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝)

Warnings: NSFW content. Read at your own discretion.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Hongjoong was already frustrated. He was on a deadline to finish up a song and he was nowhere near even getting halfway. Eden had just recently scolded him and he felt extremely agitated and irritated at this point.

"Hey Joong? I brought you lunch so-"

"Just leave it on the table, I'll eat it later." He cut you off rather sharply, barely even sparing you a glance.

"I was actually thinking we could eat together." You were off put by his short temper.

"I don't have time Y/N." He huffed out, a hand running through his hair.

You were pissed at this point and were not about to take his crap anymore.

"Exactly! You don't have time for me anymore! I get your job demands a lot of your time, but to not even take a break and enjoy just 10 minutes without....these." You gestured to all the mess scattered around his desk.

Hurt about being reminded about his neglect of you yet angry at being scolded once more, Hongjoong slammed his hands on the table, swiftly pushing off the chair before going over to where you were standing and stared you down.

"All right. Fine. 10 minutes you say? I can work with that."

Without a warning, he pushed you onto the couch, making a quick work of your pants and stripping them off you. You let out a sharp cry when he began devouring your pussy, animalistic growls spilling out his lips as he slurped you up as if he'd been starved. When you tried pulling away, he landed a harsh slap on your clit, making your hips jolt up and a shriek come out.

"Shut up and take what I give you you needy desperate whore. You wanted 10 minutes? Let's see how many times I can make you cum in that time."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Hearing the front door slam, Seonghwa brace himself for yet another one of your moods after a long day at work. Wanting to help your day be less stressful, he had prepared you some of your favorites food.

"Y/N." He called out to you in a sing song tone.

Stomping over, you just looked at him with an eyebrow raised, total resting bitch face plastered on.

"I made your favorite." He happily told you, but you still didn't seem to bat an eyelash at him, you simply turned around and began walking out.

"Wait Y/N come on. Here at least try some. It'll help you with your stress-"

"Can't you take a damn hint Seonghwa?! I don't fucking want it!"

When he tried to approach you with a spoonful of food, you actually snapped and slapped it out of his hand, making it stain his perfectly polished floor. Seonghwa looked at it then looked back at you.

"You know Y/N I think I put up with your bratty attitude and bitchy behavior for too long."

You gasped sharply when he suddenly turned you around and slammed you up against the table, grabbing your arms so he could hold them behind your back.

"Maybe I've been a little too nice to you....making you baths, preparing you food, all in hopes of helping you release stress....but its clear a little bitch like you doesn't need that."

You squirmed under his grasp, trying to get free but with no use as his grip was tight on you. The sound of him unbuckling his belt made you stop moving entirely, and you shivered when pulled your skirt up before ripping your tights and pushing your underwear to the side.

"Clearly a bitch like you needs a good pounding, fuck that attitude right out of you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

You knew you were screwed the instant Yunho roughly pulled you off Mingi's lap and took you into his room, shutting the door right behind him before staring at you with fire burning through his eyes. You had never seen him so mad before.

No soon afterwards, you were currently on top of him, his hips bucking up at you at a relentless pace that had you screaming his name over and over again. His hands were practically digging into your skin, holding tightly onto you with such ferocity.

"Look at you, being so desperate for a good fuck that you'd actually try and whore yourself out to my best friend like a cheap bitch."

When one of his hands came up to grasp at your throat, you were shivering on top of him.

"Weren't you?! What! Is my cock not enough for you? My cock and these hands you love so much not satisfying you anymore? Hmm? Is that why you were all cuddled up to Mingi? Hoped he'd actually take pity and fuck you?"

You knew it wasn't your intention to make him jealous, but god if this is what jealousy did to him, you would totally do it again.

"Stupid slut. Mingi's not going to fuck you. You're just a dirty, filthy hole, he doesn't want you...."

Even after you came, you were still a crying mess as Yunho kept fucking up into you, not caring that you were beyond your limit, your inner thighs getting sore.

"But you're my little hole for me to fuck. Got it? And if I need to fuck you dumb to get it through that stupid useless brain of yours to understand that only I can make you feel this good, then so be it. I'll fuck you til you break, my little sex toy."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang was not very pleased by your behavior lately. You had been giving him the silent treatment and avoiding him for no good reason. Trying to coax what was wrong out of you, he came up behind you as you were washing dishes.

"How's my little princess? Did you have a good day?"

He was only met with you elbowing him in the rib and shoved him off you.

"Ok seriously Y/N? What did I even do? Stop being so childish and talk to me like a mature adult."

Hearing you scoff and seeing you roll your eyes at him made him furious and irritated with you. As you tried to walk past him, he grabbed your elbow and picked you up, setting you down on the kitchen counter as his eyes burned a hole through you.

"If you're going to keep acting like a brat, maybe I should just treat you like one then."

You don't know if you truly regret breaking Yeosang's patience. On the one hand, you were definitely not going to be walking straight for a week. On the other, you utterly enjoyed having your face pressed against the pillow, ass up as Yeosang was shoving his dick in and out of you, red handprints scattered across your butt cheeks and hands tied behind your back with one of his ties. Everytime you tried to hide your face in the pillow to muffle your screams, he'd yank your hair up.

"I said I wasn't having you ignore me anymore princess. Now come on, scream my name. I want this entire floor to hear your pathetic whimpers."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San looked at you with an unamused gaze.

"Repeat what you just said.....I dare you to."

He was pissed off, it was more than clear. But maybe that's what you wanted, wanted him to be as pissed as you were, even just a bit of what you were feeling. It's not that you meant to take out your jealousy on him, but seeing his co-host be extremely clingy towards him backstage and he never did anything about it made your blood boil.

"I said you're nothing more than a fucking horn dog. Probably let that skank suck your dick." You exclaimed in disgust.

The sudden slam of his hand against the wall behind you both scared and thrilled you. Looking at you with a hungry smirk, he opened the door behind you, trapping you inside a closet. In minutes, he was pressing you against the wall, his frantic grunts mixing with your whimpered cries. San would occasionally let out a sadistic laugh at how wrecked you look.

"You're right baby, I am indeed a horn dog. Absolutely love getting my dick wet and fuck a pussy all the time."

Hand reaching between your legs, he began to harshly pinch and rub at your clit, his other hand that was holding onto your hip keeping you from collapsing on the floor as your orgasm took over you.

"But get this straight: I only fuck this pussy right here. Ok? I fucking claimed this a long ass time ago and I'll fuck it whenever I want to."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Ending the call with your friend, you were coming out of the bedroom when you were suddenly shoved back inside by none other than your usually caring and sweet boyfriend, who looked angry as he closed the door behind him.

"Mingi? What-"

You couldn't finish your sentence as his large hands cupped your cheeks, his long body pushing you back until you landed on the bed. He was kissing you harshly, nothing like the usual tender and loving kisses he'd be known to give you. His hands clutched at your covered breasts, groping at them before he unexpectedly tore your shirt in the middle.

"Mingi! What has gotten into you?!" You exclaimed in shock at his sudden change in behavior.

"I heard you talking to your friend. Saying shit like I'm too soft and vanilla for you."

You moaned out when he began to suck along your neck, his hands cupping your bra and pulling it down enough to have your breasts spill out.

"Oh princess if only you knew I've just been holding back all this time."

With a taunting chuckle, he pulled of you. Undoing his zipper, he began to strip out of his jeans and briefs, letting his long cock spring free, precum leaking at the tip.

"I didn't want to be selfish and break you like I wanted too....... but if that's what you want well then, I'd be happy to oblige my little princess."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Neither of you knew how it started nor exactly how it escalated. One minute Wooyoung was being the annoying shit he was, with you playfully shoving him away and calling him names, and then the next you were both pushing each other rather abruptly. When you called him a particularly degrading insult, he retaliated likewise and now it seemed like a screaming match between you two.

"You know what? This is fucking stupid!" You hollered and turned away, making a bee line towards your room.

"I'm not done yet!" Wooyoung trailed after you.

"Well I am! Now excuse me, I'm going to go take a shower and hopefully cool off this rage." You stated firmly before slamming the bathroom door right in his face.

The refreshing water seemed to calm you down a little, so you just stood there under the shower head, just letting your body soak in the cold. You were so unaware of your surroundings that you failed to notice Wooyoung had entered the bathroom and didn't realize it until you felt his arms turn you around to face him. No explanation, he just began kissing you, his tongue taking control over your mouth while one hand hiked one of your legs over his waist.

"Still think I'm an annoying bastard?" He grunted fiercely as he thrusted up into you, not giving you time to react as he began pounding into you.

"Yes you are!" You hissed at him, hands swooping his wet hair and tugging at it rather hardly.

He just looked at you with a shit eating grin.

"Yet you still let me fuck you. "

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

You were frustrated and stressed out, so was Jongho. Even as you two did your own little things inside the apartment, even the smallest things either of you did made the other let out an annoyed huff. It all culminated when Jongho accidentally spilled his cup of juice on the floor, that little action had you both looking at each other with near contempt.

"I feel like punching something." Jongho confessed.

"Me too." You admitted.

"Wanna punch me?" He offered.

Smirking at him, you thought about something better.

"No.... I think I'd rather fuck you."

So now here you were, underneath your inhumanely strong boyfriend, his cock balls deep inside you, your legs thrown over his shoulders while his hands were already leaving bruises around your inner thighs from how hard he was squeezing at them. You two had already cum several times but you still kept going, pushing past your sensitivity as you both still had a lot of rage and energy to release.

In a particularly sharp angle of his hips, you were quivering under Jongho, for the first time you were actually squirting under him.

"Oh fuck!" Seeing you break down and make a mess all over him and yourself had him cumming soon after, his body collapsing on top of yours.

Both of you were beyond exhausted after all that. Your bodies were so sticky with sweat and your breathing had not yet returned to normal. Looking over at you, Jongho smiled sincerely for the first time in days.

"So.... now that we got that out of the way.... can we cuddle?"

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[cafedanslanuit]

levi with a super bratty reader that drives him insane, never listens, is constantly defying his commands... they get snowed into a camp together while on a scouting mission... which leads to some hatefucking mayb... 🤧 ps allie dont forget to take care of yourself babes iluvvvm

i adore your requests mwah pls also take care please we cant keep having these all nighters and then sleep all afternoon fkjdshfks

------

tw: female reader, dom themes, brat taming, impact play (with a belt), degradation, overstimulation

Never before Levi had been su infuriated by someone. Not even by Eren and his stubborness or Mikasa and her death glares. It had to be you and your eye rolls, the way you talked back whenever he gave you an order and sometimes even went behind his back. He has talked to Erwin about it and while he promised to talk with you, he asked him to consider your choices had saved the lives of many soldiers and that you were really talented.

Levi didn’t give a shit.

And now, besides being stuck in a snow storm and having to wait it out, he had found you had been neglecting your cleaning duties, leading him to pull you from your hair to the space destined to be his office for the time being.

“Why the fuck weren’t you cleaning, brat?” he spat, pushing you against the wall. Far for flinching, you looked at him menancingly.

“It’s already clean. Not my fault you’re a freak who obsessed over the small details. It doesn’t smell like piss anymore, it’s enough.”

“I don’t care about what you think, if I give an order you do it. That’s it,” he said.

“Oh, please, Levi,” you rolled your eyes. “Why are you so insufferable? Go get laid or something, seems like you need it.”

Before you could say anything else, he had his hand around your throat holding you against the wall.

“Whoa, it’s really been that long since you fucked, huh?” you chuckled. “Don’t worry, Captain,” you mocked him. “If it comes to it, I volunteer to suck your dick. You seem like someone who comes quick so it shouldn’t take a lot of my time.”

“Don’t you get tired of talking so much shit?” he hissed.

“I really don’t,” you smiled.

“If I wanted to fuck someone I wouldn’t fuck a spoiled brat who only knows how to bring problems to the corps.”

“Oh, that was rough,” you said, pretending to be upset. “Why are you being so mean to be, Captain, when I can be so good to you?”

You smirked as you pressed your thigh against his crotch, feeling him tense at your moves.

“Want to take your anger out?” you joked, licking your front teeth. “I bet it’s--”

Your sentence was cut short by Levi’s lips pressing against yours. Your body reacted immediately, drawn to the warmth and strenght in the man’s touch. His hand was still grabbing your hair, keeping you still as you shared a rough kiss. You rolled your body against his, his erection poking on your thigh. His tongue invaded your mouth and soon enough, you were tearing each other’s clothes letting them fall to the floor while your hands roamed around each other’s bodies, quiet moans and sighs escaping from both your mouths.

When you were just in your panties, Levi pulled you to the other side of the room, bending you over the desk. He put a hand over your head, leaning over until his lips were grazing your ear.

“I still need to teach you a lesson,” he muttered. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“What do you mean, less--”

A hard hit on your ass cuy your sentence short. Without having to look back, you could just tell what he had just hit you with. Of course he had chosen his belt. At least he wasn’t using the buckle.

“Lets see how much until you learn,” Levi said. You hated how you pressed your legs together in anticipation.

Another hit. You felt your skin burning but didn’t move as Levi continued with a third one. Even if you could feel yourself getting wet already, you were determined not to let him know how much you were enjoying this. You let him hit you more times and bit your lip, trying your best to conceal your moans.

You had lost count of all the impacts on your ass when you felt his fingers easily sliding across your folds.

“You may be silent, but you’re creaming like a whore,” you heard him say and felt your legs trembling for a second. “Oh, was it always like that? You like to be reminded what a dirty slut you are?” he asked in a mocking tone.

The next hit was much harder than the previous one, finally making you whimper.

“There it is,” Levi said, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. His left hand went back to your folds, two of his fingers sliding inside you and fucking you slowly. The belt collided against your ass again and you clenched around his fingers.

“Can’t believe how much you’re enjoying this,” he huffed, still fucking you with his fingers. "You're such a needy white."

Another hit, a moan and Levi's fingers curling inside you. It doesn't take long for him to find your sweet spot and once he does, he makes sure to run his fingers against it.

Your hips buck against his fingers, but everything he thinks you're doing it too much, you get hit with his belt again. The sole sound of it impacting your skin makes you quiver. You come hard around his fingers while you try to muffle your moans with your hand. Your legs are trembling when he pulls his fingers away and leaves the belt on the desk next to you. Just as you were about to stand up, you feel Levi's cock teasing your entrance.

"I— I'm too sensitive," you stutter.

"Well you do seem to be the type that comes too fast," he shot back, using your own words. "Just tell me to stop" he says. His tip is already stretching your entrance but doesn't move even an inch, waiting your response. You know you're sensitive but fuck if you don't want Levi's cock inside of you. You swallow.

"Fuck me," you sigh and Levi is immediately pushing inside you, stretching you open. You weren't expecting him to be so thick and now you can't do anything but moan as he fills you up.

Levi starts fucking you from behind, his hands grabbing youe hips so tight you know you're going to end with bruises. You listen to him grunt everytime he bottoms out, filling you up completely. His rhythm increases and you are already whimpering again, the closeness of your last orgasm making you want to come again.

Levi seems to notice it too.

"Touch yourself," he orders, but you don't make a move. He waits a couple of seconds before he’s spanking you hard, making you clench around his cock. "I said touch yourself."

Your hand travels to your clit and it only takes a few gently strokes for you to come around Levi. He curses under his breath as you squeeze him jus right, but never breaks his rhythm.

"Keep touching yourself," he commands and you whine.

"Please. Please, I already came two times, I—"

"I think three is enough for you to learn your lesson," he said, squeezing the plus on your ass, spreaing yourself further as he keeps fucking you. “I know you have it in you,” he smirks.

You grab the edge of the desk, looking for support as your mind . Every trace of defiance is gone by this moment, you feel like nothing but a mess of limbs that wants to be used by the same man you had been challenging these past few years.

It was over. You had lost.

“I said fucking touch yourself,” he reminds you, slapping your ass forcefully. You hate the way you start circling your clit again, overstimulation making the pain and pleasure mix together dangerously.

Levi slides out almost completely to ram into you again, making your eyes water. You let out a mix of moans mixed with incoherent curses, your legs shaking as you feel your third orgasm drawing near.

“Fuck, I can’t-- I can’t,” you pant.

“If you can be a fucking pain in the ass every day, you can do this,” Levi said, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushing your head further on the desk.

It takes Levi slapping your ass again to reach your high. It’s almost as hard as the first one and you whimper as he fucks into you more rapidly. He comes inside you with a hiss, his cock twitching as he releases his load. The moment he pulls away, you feel both your releases dripping down your inner thighs.

There’s silence for the next few moment while you try to regain your breath. Your limbs feel too heavy when you try to stand up, legs wobbly as you walk to the nearest chair and take a seat. You let your head fall, your hands on your knees as you try to form coherent thoughts.

Suddenly, you feel someone yanking your hair, making you look up. You notice Levi has already dressed himself again, the only clue of your previous activity in the way his hair looks a little more messier than usual.

"Hope you learnt your lesson, brat," he whispers before letting go of your hair and walking out of the room.

[ginnyweasleymybeloved]

summer breezes / george weasley

hi crew :) idk why i wrote this but i was in a george mood so here we go ;)

summary: george acts like he hates you, he doesn’t really hate you. you act like you hate him, but you don’t really hate him. chaos ensues.

slight neville x reader for a second

word count: 6.9k

warnings: swearing, george being mean, lil angsty, fluffy at the end, reader’s house is not specified <3, mentions of food, kissing

let me know what you think ;)

“And what do you expect me to do? By the time I’d even realised I was falling I’d already landed face first on the proverbial concrete,” you groaned out in exasperation, while your best friend looked at you with so much distaste that anyone would’ve thought you’d murdered his family pet.

He shook his head, a scowl as clear as day splashed across his lips as he reprimanded you for your heart’s foolishness, “Of all people…” he scoffed in disgust, “Honestly, Y/n.”

“You know, you shouting at me isn’t going to fix anything,” he rolled his eyes at your statement and racked his eyes over your disheveled state. You’d obviously been battling with yourself over your—unfortunate—crush for some time. As your best friend, Ron Weasley knew he’d have to soften up on you eventually, but honestly, it was your own fault for falling for one of his disastrous siblings.

You were currently sprawled out on Harry’s bed, across from the red-headed boy you’d known since you were in nappies, your arms hanging off the edges of Harry’s four-poster. Neither you or Ron had a clue where Harry, or Hermione, had disappeared off to today. Harry was probably on the quidditch pitch practicing while Hermione haunted the library, you supposed as you listened to Ron’s rantings, wishing they’d been there to mediate.

“—of all of my siblings too! You couldn’t have picked, oh I don’t know, Charlie? Or Fred even? Merlin, even Ginny! But no! You just had to go and bloody fall for the only Weasley who actively cannot stand you.” You only caught that portion of his rave, having gotten lost in the idea of being coddled sympathetically by Harry or Hermione. You adore Ron, really, he’s your loyalist and longest friend, but Merlin was he a total drama queen.

“Charlie is five years older than me, Fred is my wingman and honestly, I snogged him on a dare last summer and I wasn’t that impressed and in case you’ve forgotten, Ronald, Ginny is dating Harry,” you lectured, ignoring how he rolled his eyes as you continued, “Also I’m well aware that he hates me. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

His composure cracked after hearing your depressed mumble, and with a sigh he moved from his spot on his own bed and made the short trip over to Harry’s. Ron gently pulled you into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress and sat himself down next to you. He let out a heavy sigh, still slightly shaking his head—he couldn’t seem to stop—, then he dropped a heavy arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side, finally offering you the comfort you’d been seeking out in the first place.

“S’alright, Y/n. Maybe he’ll get hit in the head with a bludger and forget he’s hated you since he was four.” Ron encouraged, very weakly.

You released a sigh of your own at that, “I feel like I’m betraying myself here. Like I’m letting that stupid git win.” Ron couldn’t stop the laugh he let out at your grumble.

“I’ll be honest, I thought he’d be the first to crack. You can be quite scary when you get going.” Ron divulged, shuddering at the memories of when he’d been on the receiving end of your rath.

Your family and the Weasley family had been extremely close since before you or Ron were even born, which meant you’d grown up alongside all of the Weasley children. Of course, because of your ages you and Ron had been attached at the hip as infants and remained that way even now, late into your fifth year of Hogwarts. Most of the Weasley children simply adored you, as you did them. However, there was one boy who, for whatever reason, hated you to your very core and as far as you could remember; he always had.

He is none other than the younger of the two twins; George Weasley. Despite the fact that Fred was actually quite fond of you, his twin refused to warm up to you in any way, shape or form. No, the tall and annoyingly attractive boy had made it his life’s mission not to get along with you, but instead, wage a war on you that spanned for the entirety of your childhood and adolescence.

“When did things change? When did it stop being a challenge? When did it start affecting me like this? I used to take his insults like a champ! I used to get him back worse!” You wondered out loud, letting your head flop onto Ron’s broad shoulder as he let out a puff of air through his nose.

“You still take it like a champ, numpty,” he chastised you gently, recoiling ever so slightly when you lurched forward in complete defeat. Your hands shot up to cover your face as you rested your forehead against your knees.

“No! I don’t,” you murmured dejectly, lifting your face from your hands to make eye contact with Ron. “Do you remember the other night in the Great Hall? When Neville told me he thought my hair looked pretty? And George, out of bloody nowhere, comes over and says and I quote, ‘I wouldn’t waste your time on this one, Longbottom. You’d have a better time kissing that toad of yours.’ Do you remember that?” Ron raised an eyebrow and nodded in confusion, your voice seemed to be steadily rising in octaves as you recalled the events of the other night. He had to admit, it had been an unusually unnecessary comment on George’s part, but the youngest Weasley boy wasn’t really sure where you were going with it.

“Well do you remember how I had said, ‘how’s that girlfriend of yours, Georgie? Figured out a way to make her stop being invisible yet?’ and then remember I rushed off? Do you wanna know where I rushed off to?” You pressed, watching intently as Ron nodded his head, unsure if he even wanted to know. “I went to the bathroom and I cried! I cried, Ron! Over something George bloody Weasley said to me!”

His eyes widened at that. Never once had George ever managed to properly upset you.

“And over something as small as that? I’ve heard him say a lot worse to your face.” Ron said in disbelief and you nodded, expression mimicking his as if you couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Right? And it’s like everytime he says something mean to me now my stomach drops and it actually hurts,” Ron regarded you softly, his eyes sad while he rubbed your back as you buried your face in your hands yet again, “Do you know what’s worse though?”

Ron opened his mouth to hazard a guess but no sound escaped as he drew nothing but blanks.

“I actually care what he thinks of me now. As if I actually value his idiotic opinions of me.”

It was at that moment that Harry entered the room sporting muddy quidditch gear and a confused expression, “May I ask why we’re having a heart to heart on my bed?”

Ron shrugged, continuing to rub soothing circles into your back as he told Harry mournfully, “Y/n likes George.”

“Merlin.” Harry whispered, as horrified to learn of your crush as Ron had been. “But, Y/n, he hates you! I mean he really hates you-“ the chosen one was cut off by a pillow making contact with his face. Ron had chucked it at him the second he felt your form begin to shake beneath his touch.

“Bloody hell, Harry! You’ve gone and upset her even more!” He whispered harshly. Harry quickly set his broom down and plopped himself down beside you, leaving you trapped between himself and Ron. The green-eyed boy rested his cheek against your lightly shaking back and managed to snake his arms around your torso.

“Sorry. Shouldn’t have said that.” He told you genuinely. “Should we go and find Hermione?”

You only shook your head. Embarrassment quickly overtook you as you realised your were crying in front of your two best friends over George fucking Weasley.

“No. No, I’m okay. It’s fine,” you sat up and hastily wiped your tears away.

“It’s okay to be upset, Y/n,” Harry spoke softly, squeezing your middle in a short hug, getting mud from his quidditch practice all over you.

With a resolute shake of your head you stood up and faced the boys, who each looked at you with pity filled eyes, then you spoke as steadily as you could, “I’m not upset. He hasn’t upset me,” you weren’t fooling anyone, really. Your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks and nose were red and your voice was slightly hoarse when you spoke. The boys entertained you anyway, nodding in agreement.

“I’m telling you this as his brother and your best mate; you can do better.” Ron told you honestly, he wasn’t lying either, you were the type of girl who could get any boy she wanted without lifting a finger. Well, not any boy—obviously— but that wasn’t anything to do with you. Ron had his suspicions in regards to why his brother acted like such a knob towards you, however he’d been thrown off his scent recently when the older ginger stopped being mean to you teasingly in favour of being just plain mean.

You gave Ron the best smile you could muster at his words, “You are absolutely right, Ronald.”

Harry snorted before making his way over to Ron’s trunk, he rifled through it for a few seconds before pulling out one of Ron’s jumpers. He casually tossed, what you recognised to be Ron’s Christmas jumper from Molly, over to you with a grin, “Put that on. I got muck all over you.”

You had plenty of your own Christmas jumpers made by Molly Weasley but they were all the way over in your own dorm. Besides, you liked stealing the ones made for the boys as they were usually far too big for you which made them extremely comfortable to wear.

So you happily pulled the maroon jumper over your head, the wool effectively covering your dirtied t-shirt.

“Oh yes, by all means, you two just work away.” Ron grunted sarcastically. In all honesty, he didn’t care if you stole every piece of fabric he owned, if it made you feel better, he couldn’t care less.

“Right,” you said, making your way to the door of the dorm room, “I think I’ll go for a walk before the sunsets, calm myself down a bit.”

The boys nodded, “See you at dinner?” Ron asked and you gave him a smile and a small nod of confirmation before you set off out of the Gryffindor common room.

Thankfully, you didn’t run into George on your way out. You walked peacefully through the gardens and behind the greenhouses, it was around five in the evening and the sun was beginning to stoop low behind the tree line. The days were beginning to take on a chill as October approached quickly, you’d gone out without grabbing a jacket and you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to feel the cold nipping at your skin despite Ron’s jumper. Pulling the sleeves further down your wrists you carried on, trudging forward through the fallen leaves of the garden, you weren’t ready to go back inside yet. Going back to the castle meant you’d have to look your problem in the face, literally. You settled on the fact that you’d rather endure the physical cold rather than the emotional coldness you were sure to receive from George at dinner.

When you’d reached the back of the third greenhouse you could faintly hear someone humming to themselves and a soft smile found your lips when you saw who it was. Neville sat on a chair in the greenhouse, right by a plant that you hadn’t a clue what it was called, seemingly humming the little tune for the plant in question. Despite his undeniable clumsiness, there was something about Neville Longbottom that soothed you greatly. He has a good soul and his heart is usually in the right place, even if his head is sometimes screwed on slightly loose.

Gently, trying not to startle him you knocked on the closed door of the greenhouse before you opened it and walked in, “Hi, Neville. Mind if I join you?”

Neville blushed slightly but nodded his head, “Course! There’s a spare chair just there,” he pointed nervously to the chair. Once you settled yourself beside him, he let himself relax slightly.

“What sort of plant is this?” You asked him curiously. You really liked plants but you weren’t the best at keeping them alive, Neville though, seemed to be something of a green thumb.

He beamed at your question and quickly began to explain everything about the plant before you. You didn’t absorb a lot of it but listening to Neville speak so freely, something he rarely got to do amidst the other Gryffindor boys, filled you with a sense of serenity. Between his voice and the light wind that blew against the glass building, you’d completely forgotten about your red-headed problem.

“—sorry, I’m probably boring you. My nan says I have a tendency to ramble.” He cut himself off, cheeks heating up as he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

With a small giggle you only shook your head at the brown haired boy, “You’re not boring me at all! I quite like listening to you speak,” you admitted although you felt a bit silly after saying it out loud. Neville seemed to grow even more flustered after the words left your lips.

His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were teasing him, but all he saw was your kind eyes and comforting smile. Not exactly sure about what to say to you, Neville made an observation, “You’re cold.”

You gave him a nonchalant shrug, “I’m okay.”

Completely unsatisfied with your answer, Neville shook his head in protest and shrugged off his jacket. He was used to spending a lot of time in the garden so he was usually sporting far more layers than necessary, just in case. “Here, wear this. You’ll catch a cold otherwise,” he fretted and you didn’t have the heart to turn his offer down, you didn’t want to turn it down either, you were absolutely freezing. Gratefully you accepted the jacket and wasted no time in pulling it on.

“Thank you, Neville,” he looked you over for a moment, you could tell he was debating with himself on whether or not to speak, after a long few seconds of his eyes running over you he spoke.

“You look nice- I, uh, the jacket. You look nice in the jacket- I mean, the jacket looks nice on you-“ another giggle left your lips and effectively put the boy’s fumbled ramble to an end.

“Again, thank you, Neville. You are unbelievably kind.” You told him sincerely, quite enjoying the blush that adorned his cheeks.

“We should probably head back to the castle for dinner now. It’s gotten dark,” Neville said, standing up after giving his plant a loving pat.

The walk back to the castle with Neville was nice. The pair of you chatted idly about school subjects and house drama, but you had to admit, you weren’t paying a huge amount of attention to the conversation.

“Thanks again for lending me your jacket,” you said sweetly, shrugging the jacket off as you reached the main hall of the castle.

Neville, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of bashfulness, took the jacket back gently, a rosy blush painting his features, “It was no problem, really.”

Neville had always been incredibly kindhearted, sometimes to his own detriment. He treated people with respect and never turned anyone away if they needed help with anything at all. He is sweet, honest, loyal and, whether you liked him or not, he is indisputably adorable. And you found yourself thinking about how entirely better your life would be if your heart had chosen Neville to have a romantic fondness towards.

After separating from Neville, you made your way towards the Great Hall. On your way you bumped into Fred Weasley, who surprisingly, wasn’t accompanied by his twin. He greeted you with a wide smile and, as he always did, he ruffled your hair.

“So! I have a proposition for you,” the look on his face as he spoke was nothing short of wicked, a pit of nerves began to form in your stomach with the way his eyes were lit up excitedly.

“What are you proposing?” You encouraged exhaustedly. Whatever it was would probably end with you running from Filch.

Fred lopped his long arm around your shoulder, effectively pulling you along with him as he walked in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. Any chance of you getting fed this evening had gone out the window the second Fred clapped eyes on you, you’d made your peace with it. “I’m glad you asked, princess- “ at the sound of the pet name you let out a guttural groan.

“Freddie, please, I’m not in the mood to help you make some poor girl jealous just so you can get a snog,” you whined weakly only for the boy to ruffle your hair and tug you closer to his side.

“Let me finish! As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he paused to glare at you jokingly and you smiled apologetically, “I have a plan to make George stop acting like a prat.”

A disbelieving scoff left your lips, “Yeah that’s likely,” Fred laughed and pinched your cheek lightly before carrying on.

“Angelina told me that she heard you crying in the girls toilets the other night,” he informed you. Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, you didn’t think anyone was in there with you and you also couldn’t piece together what your moment of weakness had to do with Fred’s master plan. “And before you start, I know it’s because of George.”

“That’s ridiculous, Fred.” You lied, unconvincingly.

Fred laughed again, it was a gentle laugh that let you know he hadn’t come here to tease you but to help you, “I know it’s ridiculous and that’s exactly why I know you’ve been so down in the dumps the last few days.”

“Besides,” he started again when you remained silent, “Why else would Ron be giving his brother the silent treatment?”

“What does any of this have to do with your plan?” You asked, eyes sad and heart heavy for the second time that day. You’d only just managed to get the whole thing out of your mind, and yet, here it was again.

“Well I happen to know why George acts the way he does,” you met him with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“Because he hates me, I know.” Fred’s lips grew into a wicked grin and he shook his head, coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

“That’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t hate you,” he lowered his lips to hover right by your ear before he whispered quietly, “He loves you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the boy away, fixing him with a hard stare, “Come on, Fred. That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking!” He exclaimed desperately, “We were in potions making amortentia, yeah? And Slughorn called George up to tell the class what he smelled and do you know what he said?” Fred retold madly, knowing full well that this was possibly the only opening he’d get to make the two of you realise your own feelings. Fred was well aware that you developed a crush on George, he picked up on it the second you began looking crestfallen when hit with a snide remark from his twin. He knew long before now that George had loving feelings towards you too, but their recent potions class was the only hard evidence he had to support his theory.

You shrugged helplessly in response, and Fred grabbed your shoulders and looked down at you urgently, “He said it smelled of cloudberries, daisies and-this is a direct quote-‘summer breezes’,” you stared at him numbly, not exactly sure what to say as the description did match the perfume you’d been wearing regularly since you were thirteen.

“That’s you, Y/n!” Fred confirmed and you pulled your lips between your teeth before shaking your head in complete denial.

“Lots of girls wear that perfume-“ Fred cut you off, ruthlessly.

“Name one.” You racked your brain but you genuinely couldn’t name another person who wore the same perfume as you. “You can’t, can you? Because it’s your smell!”

“Ok fine! So it’s my smell, what exactly do you expect me to do with this information?” Fred rolled his eyes in exhaustion at you.

“Blimey, you’re as daft as he is sometimes, do you know that?” Fred ran his hands down his face in exasperation before looking at you softly, “I except you to come with me so we can drive him mental for a bit and if he gets nasty I’ll embarrass him because I’m an incredible brother.”

You let him lead you towards Gryffindor Tower all while complaining about how you were starving only for Fred to hush you each time you let out a hungered whine, “We can raid the kitchen later on, love,” he promised and you sighed in defeat, “That’s the spirit.”

When the pair of you entered the Gryffindor common room, George was already there, probably waiting for Fred to return it. He sat one one of the sofas that faced the fire, completely relaxed and you hated the fact that you thought he looked amazingly ethereal with the way the flames from the fire lit his skin in an orange glow.

He hadn’t noticed you yet and Fred took notice of this. The older twin subtly slid his hand into yours and intertwined your fingers with his before turning his head and shooting you a mischievous wink. Fred Weasley was a nightmare, but when he was on your side, he never failed to make you smile.

Accepting that whatever Fred was about to drag you into would result in nothing but chaos you took a deep breath and followed Fred over to the sofa.

“What is she doing here?” George practically seethed, despite the intensity of his glare, you didn’t miss the nervous look he shot in Fred’s direction. What you had missed, though, was how harshly he’d clenched his jaw upon noticing your intertwined hands.

You decided that tonight you’d play the game slightly differently, if what Fred was saying was true, it would make things all the more entertaining. So, instead of your usual menacing glare and ego-shattering insult you met George with an innocent smile, “Was just hanging out with Freddie, thought I’d come say hello,” you said, sitting in the middle of the two twins.

George stared at you suspiciously, “Hello. That all?”

“Hi. No, actually, I think I’ll sit with you for a while. If that’s okay?” Fred was smirking from his spot beside you as he watched George’s face contort.

“You’ve never wanted to sit with me before.” He told you, squinting his eyes and trying to decipher what you were up to. He couldn’t lie to himself, he definitely wouldn’t mind you staying so close to him for a while, however he’d also sooner die then let you think you had the upper hand.

His and your composure cracked simultaneously at your next sentence, your truthful and somewhat vulnerable mumble of, “Well, you’ve never given me a chance to.” He knew you were right so he didn’t say anymore, opting to shift his gaze to the roaring fire, trying his best not to let his mind linger on the fact that you were wearing his brother’s jumper. His nose perked up at the scent that drifted from your spot, unusually close to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d fancied you for a long time, but, there was also no denying that he’d done a perfect job of making you hate him. Yet, as much as he wanted to just cut the crap, tell you that he thinks you’re the most insufferably beautiful girl he’d ever seen and kiss you and never ever stop, his pride would never allow him to cave. Especially not when you challenged him so effortlessly.

“So how come you were headed to dinner so late anyway?” Fred piqued up, growing tired of the lack of hostility between yourself and his twin.

“Oh. I was sort of worked up earlier so I decided to go for a walk ‘round the greenhouses. I bumped into Neville and I suppose I just lost track of time,” you explained halfheartedly.

Fred let yet another smirk overtake his face, “Longbottom, eh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and you let out a short giggle while shaking your head, sure, it would’ve been a good topic to tease George with, however, Neville was simply too sweet to be used as a pawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s very sweet. But he’s just a friend,” George looked almost satisfied with that answer, his usual scowl making an appearance once again.

“He could do better.” It was a barefaced lie. Neville couldn’t do better than you. In fact, George was of the firm belief that nobody could do better than you.

“Of course he could, he’s quite the charmer,” you spoke wistfully, finally giving Fred the show he’d been hoping for, as you egged George on.

George pretended to think for a moment, “I’m sure he is. Personally I think you’d be more suited to Filch, although, I’ve heard his standards are quite high.”

You took the boy by surprise when you laughed, the airy giggle left your mouth had such a profound effect on George that he almost wished he’d kept his mouth shut. His heart was leaping and there were butterflies beginning to form in his stomach, he physically had to will himself not to stare at you in awe when your eyes turned to meet his. The glow of the fire only aided in showing him how gorgeous those stupid eyes of yours are. “Mmm, yeah I suppose I should lower my expectations,” you paused briefly and mimicked George’s earlier motion of pretending to mull over your options. Your next action had Fred practically howling with laughter.

“You’re available, aren’t you Georgie?” You’d asked in a mock sultry tone, leaning towards him and lightly brushing your hand down his arm. Loving the way he choked on air you got up from the sofa, not before shooting him a wink, and sauntered towards the portrait hole, “I’ll be in the kitchens. See ya later, sexy.” You directed the last part at George, who looked as though he’d been frozen in time as Fred’s laughter grew in volume.

Upon entering the kitchen, the house elves had fussed around you, handing you food at any given opportunity. You had finished eating a while ago, you were currently nursing a hot cup of tea while chatting away to one of the house elves, only to be interrupted by someone else entering the kitchen.

He set his sights on you and quickly moved to the seat across from you, a look of urgency on his face that reminded you of Fred, “Whatever he told you. It’s not true,” you raised an eyebrow, sipping your tea uncaringly.

“Mind elaborating?” You asked tiredly.

“Fred.”

“Thank you, George, very clear and helpful,” you grumbled sarcastically and the boy let out a huff.

“You were acting different. You know something. What did he tell you?” George demanded through gritted teeth and you only deflated against your chair. It always boggled your mind how everyone described George as the nicer of the twins.

Not answering, you decided to start asking your own questions, “Can I ask you something?”

“Seems like you’re going to no matter what I say,” he sighed out as an elf pottered up to him and handed him a cup full of hot tea. He took it gently and thanked the elf with such sincerity that you wished you hadn’t seen the exchange, simply because it stung to know he’d never treat you with that level of sincerity.

“Why do you hate me so much?” He sat frozen for a second. Your tone of voice took him by surprise. It was needy bordering on desperate, nothing like he’d ever heard you speak before, not to him anyway.

George took a sip of his tea and shrugged as if the question was a stupid one, “I don’t.” A cold, humourless laugh came from you in response, the kind of laugh that made his stomach drop.

“Bollox. I’m being serious, George. Tell me what it is about me that makes me so insufferable to you!” You exclaimed, heart rate increasing and tone raising in octaves as you felt yourself growing more upset by his reserved expression.

George let out a heavy sigh, the jig was about to be up. You were upset and merlin was he tired of pretending that he didn’t want you in every way, shape and form.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” There was no trace of hesitance or uncertainty in your voice, at this point you didn’t care what the answer was you just had to know.

“Fine,” he said all too casually and you knew by his tone that he, as per usual, wasn’t taking you seriously. “I don’t hate you. The only insufferable thing about you is how annoyingly gorgeous-“ you cut him off right then, with a scoff of pure disbelief.

Shaking your head rapidly, you stood from your chair and all but stormed out of the kitchen. His footsteps began to echoed behind you a few corridors later, he would’ve caught up to you sooner had your response to his would be confession not left him completely immobile. He called your name but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Tears stung your eyes and you absolutely refused to let him know that he’d managed to bring you to the point of tears. Not that it was the first time.

“Bloody hell, Y/n! Hold on would you?” He called, finally getting close enough to reach out and grab your wrist. He spun you around to face him and quickly placed his hands on your upper arms to stop you from doing another runner. When he took you in he swore he’d never hate himself more than he did the moment he looked at you to see your eyes filled with tears, small drops escaping and carving a trail down your cheeks while you sniffed miserably.

“What?” You snapped, hostility the only thing you felt like offering the ginger in the moment. His brown eyes bored into yours with so much intensity but they held something you didn’t recognise. They looked sad, almost.

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” He stated honestly but you furrowed your eyebrows, your eyes set in a glare.

“Then what were you doing?” You croaked, letting your tears fall freely as the damage was already done. The sinking of your stomach and the tightening of your chest didn’t do a thing to ease your mind as George’s hands squeezed your arms.

He licked his lips quickly, he felt they’d become unbearably dry, and then slowly, he let his hands trail down your arms and took your smaller hands into his own. He hoped you were feeling the same electricity he was when he touched you.

“I’ve been a prick to you. You didn’t deserve it and I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere, but you second guessed him. For all you knew it was just some elaborate prank, Fred was probably in on it too.

When your gaze didn’t soften, he continued to speak, “So I understand why you wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that I don’t hate you. But I just-“ he cut himself off with a heavy sigh.

“You just what?” You squeaked when his eyes spent a moment too long observing your lips. You hardly had time to register the feeling of his hands leaving yours before they were cupping your cheeks instead. “What’re you doing?” You wondered, completely dazed by the way he stared at you. His warm hands holding your face causing your stomach to jolt in an entirely different sensation than before. As much as you wanted to push him away and tell him to shove his apology, you couldn’t help but take him in. His lips were parted ever so slightly and his cheeks were flushed, probably from chasing you through the castle, his hair was disheveled and merlin he looked like he wanted to kiss you.

Your question floated in the air, completely unanswered. Next thing you knew his lips were on yours. He kissed you as if you were oxygen and he’d just been drowning and you couldn’t help but move your lips harmonically against his too. Your hands clutched his wrists as he continued to cradle your cheeks. In all honesty you weren’t sure at what point he’d backed you against the wall, or at what point his tongue had entered your mouth or when exactly his hands had migrated to your hips, yours now tangled in his hair. His body was pressed flush against yours and the small groans he’d let out when you tugged at his hair or ran your tongue against his made you realise that you couldn’t care less if this was one big prank or joke. It was happening and that’s all you cared about.

Even as he reluctantly pulled away, he chased your lips with several shorter kisses before separating entirely. He rested his forehead against yours, his guard completely down now as he admired your swollen lips and heaving chest. The feeling of your fingers in his hair made it nearly impossible for him to keep his lips detached from yours, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that.”

Your eyes searched his face for any sign that he was lying, when you found none you finally let yourself smile. A similar smile formed on George’s face, “I meant what I said earlier. I really do think you’re annoyingly gorgeous,” the boy silently praised himself when you let out a cute giggle.

“You’re quite cute too. When you’re not running that massive mouth of yours,” you teased although you weren’t really joking, to your surprise George let out a bellowing laugh before placing a fluttering kiss against your lips.

When he pulled away again he looked around the hallway, as if he only now realised where he was. Luckily nobody was wandering the halls since curfew was fast approaching and the unwelcoming cold that occupied the hallways left little reason for students or staff to be out and about. George slid his hand into yours again, this time intertwining your fingers with his. He gave you a hopeful glance and asked, “Do you wanna go somewhere?”

You nodded your head and let him tug you into one of the abandoned astronomy classrooms on the upper floor of the castle, Filch rarely ever patrolled up there which is why George decided on it. As well as that, since the classroom, which had been out of use for a good few years, had been used for astronomy the ceiling was bewitched to reflect the night sky.

George hadn’t come to this particular class in a while but thinking on his feet he remembered the cupboard at the back of the classroom used to hold blankets, he remembered when the classroom had been in use during his first year, students would be all but freezing during the winter, so they’d stocked the classroom with blankets to be brought out during the colder months.

He made his way over to the cupboard and grinned happily when his hand landed on a rather large woollen blanket. The material was scratchy but it would do for what he needed it for. He grabbed one more blanket from the dusty press before he made his way back over to you.

George suppressed a chuckle as he watched you, your face completely turned up, watching the stars on the ceiling with awe in your eyes. He busied himself with laying the wool blanket out on the bare floor, the room was devoid of tables and chairs so he didn’t have to worry about finding a space. Once he was finished, he plopped down on the blanket and expectantly patted the empty space beside him, “Come on then, sit down,” he urged and you finally tore your eyes away from the charmed ceiling.

A small laugh left your lips when you settled yourself down beside him, he wasted no time in covering the pair of you in the second blanket. With an exaggerated sigh he laid back and waited for you to do the same, he turned on his side to face you when you did. In contrast to earlier, George had an air of nervousness about him as he deftly took your hand and began playing with your fingers, not meeting your eyes. “Just out of curiosity,” he began quietly, making eye contact with you now, “What exactly did Fred tell you?”

His question forced a somewhat smug smirk to crawl onto your lips and you couldn’t help but take the opportunity to tease him. You leaned up on your elbows and twisted slightly so you could look down at him, trying not to waste too much time admiring the view, you answered him, “Oh, nothing really. Your lovely twin just happened to mention that you had a very eventful potions class the other day…” you trailed off, biting back a smile as he groaned.

“Mhm and what was it that he said you smelled from the amortentia?” You poked his cheek and he closed his eyes, a tiny smile growing on his face despite his blushing cheeks. “Cloudberries…oh! And daisies, now, what was the other thing? Let me think-“ you pretended to ponder before George cut you off by pulling you down on him and pressing his lips to yours in a kiss much softer than any of the others.

“Summer breezes,” he whispered against your lips before connecting them again, “It smelled like you,” and with that his hand snaked to the nape of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours, pouring all of his feelings into it, hoping it was enough. In all honesty, now that he’d felt what it was like to love you, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to go back to pretending to hate you.

Once he pulled away you were completely breathless, however, George seemed to have more to say. “I don’t want us to go back to the way we were,” absentmindedly you brushed his hair out of his eyes, stroking the red strands soothingly as he continued to confide in you, his voice, face and body completely vulnerable to you. Something about him trusting you with his feelings reassured you that his intentions were pure and banished any notion you possessed of the whole thing being a joke, “I didn’t like it, acting like that but you were always so unbothered that I felt like I had keep one upping you,” he confessed.

“You always gave me this feeling in my stomach whenever you’d come over to the Burrow with your parents when we were little and I didn’t understand it. I just thought that it must’ve meant I didn’t like you…” George seemed to get lost in his own mind as he gazed at you regretfully, his fingers trailed the length of your spine sofly, “By the time I realised, we were both older and I suppose I just thought you couldn’t feel the same ‘cause I made you hate me,” you hummed in acknowledgment, your fingers still working his hair, keeping it out of his eyes that looked at you so intently that you could’ve drowned in them and died happy.

“But then the other night after dinner Angie slapped me upside the head and talked my ear off about how out of order I’d been—obviously I agree with her! You weren’t even talking to me but Neville was complimenting you and I don’t know… just got possessive,” he muttered the last part, losing some confidence but regained it upon seeing the little smile on your lips. “Then Ron looked about ready to push me off the astronomy tower when I saw him this evening. Blimey, I knew it had to have something to do with you since Harry was snippy too.” You had to laugh at the exhausted look on his face when he recalled your two best friends.

Mockingly, you gave him a stern look and clicked your tongue, “Well, perhaps if you weren’t so mean to me all of this could’ve been avoided,” George groaned once again, feeling guilty he pulled you even closer and buried his face in your neck.

“M’sorry,” you carded your fingers through his hair, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Your lips against his head caused him to lift his face from the crook of your neck, “Forgive me?” He asked, a cute pout on his lips.

“I’ll think about it,” you teased, giggling at the offended look on his face. George let out a dissatisfied sigh, he pushed a strand of hair behind your ear before giving you a toothy smile.

“Don’t worry, love. I plan on making it up to you.”

[unstoppableforcce]

dirty, pretty, beautiful

— “goddamn… I love to watch you work”

pairing: billy russo x f! street fighter! reader

masterlist | 5.2k | ko-fi

warnings: [18+], fighting, blood, blood kink (?), semi-public sex (? it’s a bar bathroom), slight choking, just overall violence (?) but enthusiastically consensual, all smut is from Billy’s POV

a/n: so maybe, I ignored every other WIP I have to write for billy russo. and yeah, this is 9000% inspired by the scene in 1x12 where billy is clearly turned on watching frank kill a man. but i really like the way this came out so I don’t even care

The warehouse had a stink to it. Musty, heady, metallic… Metallic like the remains of a handful of change against his palm. Metallic like waft of hot rain off the highest train tracks. Metallic like the taste of blood, coating his teeth, smothering his tongue until it was all he imagined he would ever taste again.

Fresh blood had a sweeter smell, a saltier smell even, but as more time passed, as the heat of the daily sunlight poured in through the windows left unboarded, as the frigid, damp night settled within the empty body of the building, the smell grew rancid. A ripe fruit passing it’s best by date, left to sit for far too long. A living liquor left to die, to rot, to stink. It was a smell he was far too familiar with, a smell that laced more of his memories than he cared to ever voice. A smell that, on his worst days, he found himself missing.

With hands heavy like weights, stuffed into his pockets to keep him anchored as the smell flooded his head, he managed his way forward towards the hum of the crowd. Hustlers worked the crowd, kids barely old enough to enlist waving hands full of crumpled bills and corralling bet after bet.

“We’ve got three fights! Three fights left until the main event!” One called.

“Place your bets and place them fast!” The next one chanted, over and over again, louder and louder each time a new wad of cash was pushed into his hands.

“This is a night you won’t want to miss.”

Clearly, the crowd agreed.

The itch of his sweater brought a new heat as he moved deeper into the crowd circled around the main cage, a cold sweat gathering at the back of his neck where the collar of his leather jacket met his skin. He knew better than to wear one of his suits to an event like this, but he still found himself missing the fond feel of the expensive fabric, the protective layer it granted him, the height it added to his already intimidating form. A few sideways stares told him he still stood out plenty on his own, but something about being dressed down struck a chord with him he didn’t like.

It was wearing a different skin, a more vulnerable skin, one that left him desperate in a way he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Billy Russo was a powerful man, but he hadn’t always been. It didn’t matter how many years it had been, he spent far too long walking on the edge, toeing a line. The group home, the bullies, the stares that followed his pretty fucking face wherever he went… one wrong move, one bad decision, and he could’ve ended up here under much different circumstances.

It could have been him in the ring, fighting for his next meal, fighting for his life.

His hand scratched at his beard as he shouldered further into the crowd for a better view, doing his best to ignore the brutal stench of violence and the unclean men surrounding him. It didn’t matter what feeling bubbled in his chest, nor what aching memories echoed in the back of his head, he was here for a reason. Recruiting discharged soldiers could only sustain their workforce for so long if special forces remnants and women remained hard to come by. When rumors started to grow, flowering up from the filthy underbelly of the city, a fighter to end all fights, he knew he had to get his offer on the table before anyone else could.

Anvil needed operatives. He had a job to do. The stench of blood and the avalanche of feelings that came with it, that was just… well, he could handle it. With or without his suit and tie.

“... El Tigre and the Mountain!”

The crowd roared for the first fight of the night.

There was a particular bias for the Mountain, which, upon laying eyes on him, made enough sense. He didn’t get the name out of irony, he towered over his opponent by a good foot, and no amount of speed on the smaller man’s part was going to make a difference. The fight lasted, violent hit after violent hit, but within a few minutes, the Mountain prevailed as expected.

Then another fight, just as brutal. Then another.

Watching men beat the shit out of each other, however, was nothing new. If he wanted unthinking violence and filthy brutality, he knew where he could get it a lot cheaper, he was here for overlooked skill, an underestimated killer. He was here for—

“The crowned royalty of chaos, the duchess of destruction, the princess of pain… the one and only…” his voice echoed across the warehouse, rumbling as the crowd grew uncontrollable. “The Queen of Combat!”

If the crowd had allowed enough space between where their rowdy bodies pressed against one another, Billy thought some of them might get on their knees and submit to you right there and then. Hell, the second he laid eyes on you, the thought even crossed his mind.

And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t linger.

The warehouse shook with unflinching loyalty, his ears defeaned by the corresponding cheers. Shoulders hit into his, shoved from behind, pushed by the guy in front of him, some of the crowd climbing up on the cage just to gain a mere inch closer to you. And yet, you made your way into the cage without sparing a glance to a single one of the aggressive animals clawing at the fencing, unphased by the noise, unflinching. Your chin lifted just above the noise and your graceful stature carried you the rest of the way in. Regal was an understatement, but, watching you as closely as everyone else, he wasn’t sure he even had the vocabulary to find a word that worked better.

Blood stained your hoodie, bruises scaled the ridges of your knuckles, and yet, he was sure that one word from you could summon an army out of the screaming crowd surrounding you. One word from you and Billy… well, the things he’d do for you.

His eyes locked on your knuckles, watching closely as you wrapped the brutalized skin away, then moved to your body as you tossed the old hoodie away. Scars and marks lined your torso—bruises left over from a fight a mere few days ago judging by the healing, scars from fights so long ago they were nearly faded, burns, cuts, slices, bumps… your skin was a war zone.

And he knew war zones. Shifting his weight from one foot to another, a hot pressure in his jeans apparent, he was sure he could lose himself in a war zone like that.

If the man who entered behind you was your opponent, it was clear there wasn’t more than a handful of souls in the whole arena who cared. There wasn’t a single clap out of beat, not one change in the roar of support aimed at you and you alone. He was bigger, sure, but if energy was anything to go by, he could be Paul fucking Bunyan and it wouldn’t have even come close to matching your unwavering support.

“Fighters, get ready.”

Your opponent took a few jumps, slapping his arms like he was Michael Phelps. You took one step forward, rolled your shoulders and leveled your stare.

There was no doubt in his mind who he considered a threat, who he considered a future asset.

“Tap out or knock out.” The kid stood between them reminded, and when neither of their deadly stares shifted, he nodded his head once, blew his whistle, and got the fuck out of the way as fast as possible.

But you… you waited.

Your opponent jumped at you, feigning left then right but not putting much strength either way, hoping for a flinch. A flinch he didn’t get. You didn’t even blink.

You just waited.

And when he opened up his left side in frustration after a series of perfectly blocked hits, you turned it on. He couldn’t even get his hands up fast enough.

It wasn’t like he was some nobody they pulled out of the gutter to have you fight tonight, he was clearly a skilled fighter of his own, it just didn’t matter in comparison. You were quick, controlled, deliberate. Two punches for every one of his. Perfectly placed to have him grunting and groaning while his landed with nothing more than a hiss or blink.

If he thought his sweater was suffocating him before, god, he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He could feel the hum of his heart, and the sudden staccato everytime your fist connected with a crack. He could feel his pulse beating through every inch of his body, from his temples to his toes and every throbbing inch in between. Another hit, he could see the blood coating the wraps across your knuckles. Another hit, he could see the crimson staining your teeth.

He wanted a taste���no, he needed one.

A hit to the ribs had your opponent crinkling, a jab to the face had him spinning. A kick to the knee buckled him over, a knee to the chin sent his teeth up into his brain. As blood splattered up your bare thigh, your opponent collapsed to the concrete.

Knock out.

Even if he wasn’t truly out, he knew better than to move, his eyes already swelling shut, his unscarred skin bruised and bloodied.

The crowd went wild, but Billy couldn’t hear. He watched you swipe your wrapped hand against your chin, wiping away the blood from your lips, and he swore his mind short-circuited as his blood rerouted elsewhere. You were fucking gorgeous, you were delicious, you were his new religion, you were… Royalty.

A Queen.

Fuck, he was hard.

With your hand lifted in victory, the crowd reached a volume Billy hadn’t even thought possible, and when you ripped your hand away and moved back for your discarded sweats, the crowd again tried to swarm you. To touch you, to feel your power, to feel you up. He just watched. He’d catch you when you came back out, showered, with cash in your hand. In his experience, people were much more open to recruitment when they weren’t being verbally and sexually harassed by hoards of disgusting men with filthy leering stares.

It took about an hour, stood outside in the back alley where the late night wind beat him up with freezing gust after freezing gust, but when you came out, you were alone. That alone made it worth it.

Shouldering open the heavy metal door dressed in fresh sweats hanging loose off your hot muscles, you made it a whole two steps before you caught sight of where he lingered in your peripheral and nearly jumped out of your skin. “Staking out this door is a good way to get the shit beat out of you, you know.”

The cool bite in your tone hit even harder than the wind, but neither did anything to cool him down. In fact, his smirk only grew as you raised your chin in a stubborn challenge.

“Don’t worry, I come in peace.” He defended, lifting his hands where they held in his jacket pockets for the warmest show of surrender he could muster.

“Not interested.”

He took a careful step forward, eyes holding your piercing stare. “You haven’t even heard my offer.”

“Don’t have to.” The bag hanging over your shoulder shifted as the wind whipped by once more, and you quickly moved it down your arm as the weight found one of your more grueling injuries stretching the length of your collarbone. If he hadn’t been looking so closely, maybe you could have hidden your shrug, but he saw it all, he wanted to see it all, even as you argued back. “Whatever it is, I don’t need it in my life.”

Your feet found two more steps away before he pulled you back with his sly smile and slimier argument. “Just one drink.”

It’s not frustration that stops you this time, it’s curiosity, one brow raised as your arms cross over your chest. “Are you serious?”

For the first time, he doesn’t have an answer. For the first time, that perfect exterior cracks, his brow furrowing and his mouth left open. “What—“

“I mean…” your laugh shook him out of it, the sound something rough and throaty. “Seriously? I thought for sure you were here to recruit me for something, with this whole pretty boy soldier off-duty look you’ve got going on but no… you want to get a drink? Seriously? You waited out here for an hour in the cold because you want to fuck me?”

He cleared his throat as his stare and smirk absconded, was it really that obvious? Did he really even care if it was?

Business Billy, he reminded himself chastely.

Cutting the distance between the two of you in half, he extended his hand for a shake he knew he’d never get once his mouth opened. “Billy Russo,” he introduced.

Your smirk fell in the same second

“That Anvil guy?”

His hand pulled back and his disposition shifted to the only defense it knew, a cocky smirk and casual shrug. “My reputation precedes me, huh?”

“You take good people who get out and you toss them right back in.” The cold bite had vacated your tone entirely, and what replaced it, the heat of your righteous indignation, reignited the fire he felt when you were fighting. A match strike. A sharp cut against a stick of flint.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten it before, but coming from you… well, he just couldn’t turn his cheek to it. “I help those who can’t get back on their feet—“

“You help them get back to the hell that messed them up in the first place, you mean. How charitable.” The sarcasm was a slap to the face, and still, he couldn’t find it in himself to take a step back.

“At least I take care of my people, I pay better, I—“

Your scoff echoed around the empty alley, bouncing off the dumpsters and brick walls, reverberating in his ears until it was all he could hear. “Yeah? And just how much is a life worth to you?”

His jaw clenched. “More than the government, sweetheart.”

“That’s not really saying much, is it?”

He let loose a sigh, a breath of tension he didn’t even know he was holding as his shoulder twitched and his stare found anything to look at that wasn’t you. What was he supposed to say? What argument could he voice back? You had a point. Hell, he could see a younger version of himself making the same argument back when things first got bad over there, back when he first thought about getting out.

The sentiment was respectable, and your stubborn tenacity was nothing to scoff at, but this wasn’t about heart.

Some people just don’t make it out. Some people can’t. Why was he so wrong for offering them a path back, what was so immoral about offering the opportunity for them to profit off of what they were previously exploited for? If he didn’t do it, then someone else would. And at least… at least he cared. At least he knew what it felt like to come back home and not have a home waiting for you, to have blood on your hands so violently red that you can’t go back into the real world without people noticing.

Your knuckles, scarred and scabbing, told him that you knew too. You found your way back to the fighting, just like the ones he recruited to work for him. Were you really so different?

And still, a part of him knew that voicing that question, in that way, was a good way to get beat up.

His eyes found yours again as his hands lifted and fell back down to his sides, defeated. “You’re right, but it’s just the way things are. Not all of us come home and end up underground fighting royalty.”

Your head shook as you muffled your rough laughter. “It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”

“Nothing ever is.”

Now it was your stare that redirected, eyes dropping to your feet before you let them scale their way back up the rocky terrain of his dressed down form. Worn boots, dark jeans, tight sweater, leather jacket, and that face. That pretty face. Exhaustion buried in the bags beneath his eyes, frustration laced in the furrow of his brow, a familiarity in the darkness of his eyes, a void of everything you remembered, skilled violence and inescapable grief, a void so familiar, a void you could lose yourself in.

It was late. It was cold. And you were alone. You were always alone.

You had made worse choices.

Sucking your bottom lip in tight between the bite of your teeth and slowly letting it out, you cocked your head to the side and began working on the last of your stubborn defenses. “If I say yes to the drink, is it just going to be more of this recruitment talk?”

His head twisted into a similar quirk, his smirk slowly gaining back its traction on his lips as he took you in with a similar once over. He inched one hesitant step forward, and when you didn’t shy away from the renewed heat of his attention, he took another. “Well I mean… I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

“On how much talking we do.”

—

It had been a while since he last had bathroom sex.

His boots stuck to the filthy linoleum floor, making every shift of his footing an extra effort. The shitty fluorescent light overhead flickered in and out with an infuriating lack of rhythm, blinding one second and pathetically inadequate to see you beneath him the next. But as his fingers gripped tighter around the flesh of your thighs, pushing you down into the cool porcelain of the sink he had you sat on, he had to admit that you were right. For everything it was, at least the sink was clean.

“So…” The burn was exactly what he remembered it to be, the cheap liquor clawing at his throat as he forced the shot down, chasing it with a quick swig of the even cheaper beer you had ordered for him. “This is your bar of choice?”

There had been six shots, three for each of you to start with, but you smirked around your final shot and he couldn’t even think ahead to his second. “Is that judgement I hear?”

He could feel his shoulder tick as he corrected with a slow drawl, “curiosity.”

“There are worse bars.”

“There are better ones too—“ His hand caught yours as you reached for one of his two remaining shots, his fingers wrapping carefully around yours. “Do you mind?”

You tried to pull back but his grip didn’t budge.

“You didn’t seem interested,” you fought, following his eyes as they dipped down to your busted lips. Again, you tried your hand. Again, he refused to let go.

“I’m plenty interested.”

You could feel his grip loosen, but this time, you let him hold it there. If anything, you leaned into it. Reaching with your other hand, you brought your bottle to your mouth and wasted no time licking up the remnants of your sip left behind across your bottom lip. Again, his stare followed, his nose scrunching as something deep in his chest began to burn. Again, you leaned into it, close enough for his cologne to overtake any of the thousand other smells swirling around the packed bar.

“Actually,” setting your beer back down, your unoccupied hand found the inseam of his jeans, his legs perched open on his stool with you sat between them. “I like this bar because the bathrooms are the cleanest.”

Picking up his next shot, he couldn't help the twist of his brow nor the uptick of his heart rate as your fingers teased higher. “The bathrooms?”

“Yeah…” your casual tone betrayed the tension pulled taut between the two of you. Every point of contact had him burning. Your hand in his, a candle flame he couldn’t stop drifting his hand over even as it burned. Your hand inching on his thigh, a creeping flame following a line of detcord towards explosion. Your stare, a rumbling volcanic heat mere seconds away from erupting. The rowdy crowd surrounding the two of you was nothing, the stuttering breath fleeing your chest all he could hear.

He leaned in, his brow still furrowed in confusion.

You leaned closer, pulling your hand from his thigh to take his last shot for him. “You ever been fucked over a filthy sink, Marine?”

He prided himself on his composure, in battle and in bed, but fuck, with two fingers inside you feeling you clench around him and his head buried deep in the crook of your neck inhaling the harsh stench of industrial soap trying it’s best to cover the smell of blood, he could feel himself skirting dangerously close to an edge he wasn’t ready to fall off of yet. His dick wasn’t even out of his pants and still, when he thrust a third finger into you and saw your brutalized knuckles wrapped around his bicep, nails digging through the thick fabric of his sweater, his name falling wrecked from your lips, he very nearly lost it.

“Russo— Fuck—”

“You like that?” He challenged breathlessly back, biting down hard on your battle bruised shoulder to keep it together as you grew closer and closer to the same edge. The light flickered and his stare shifted back up towards your face. A Queen brought to a trembling mess, teeth piercing the already torn center of your beaten lip. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” The whine that accompanied your words betrayed the cut of them and his smirk only grew.

His lips scaled the scarred terrain of your shoulders, climbing up the bruised battlefield of your neck, nipping at every inch you offered him with your head thrown back against the steamed up mirror. “Shut me up.”

Your chuckle intercepted your heaving breath, the hot pants hitting his skin and flushing his cheek. “Yeah?” You challenged, your words ghosting over his lips as he drew ever closer. The cut of your nails dug into his arm pulled back, your grip settling comfortably around his throat instead as you inhaled his violent groan. “Make me cum.”

He fought against your vice-like grip as you squeezed tighter and tighter, stealing a singular kiss from your lips. “Yes, Ma’am.”

These were his cheapest jeans anyways.

Dropping slowly to his knees, his neck pulled from your grasp and his mouth found your ready and weeping heat. With one lick, your thighs closed around his ears, one suck of your clit between his lips and one of your calloused hands found his hair while the other gripped tight to the sink for any hope of stability.

“Billy—”

His fingers had worked you too close to the edge already, it didn’t take long before his fingers, still deep inside you, found the right spot and the burning pressure of his mouth on your clit had you soaring. The beating pump of your blood filled your head, the thumping echo all you could hear as your vision began flickering in time with the ancient fluorescent over head. You could feel him moaning into you, your stubborn grip holding tight to his previously pristine head of hair, dragging you closer as your screams no doubt echoed around the small bathroom.

Maybe the music and the boisterous crowd outside in the bar would be loud enough to cover the sounds. Maybe not. He couldn’t care less.

All he cared about as he fought his way back to his feet was the lazy pull of your hand in his hair. All he could ever imagine caring about for the remainder of his lifetime was the effortless drag of your tongue over his chin and lips, collecting the remains of your orgasm before sucking him in for the longest kiss of the night. Loose. Languid. Luxurious.

“Was that up to your standards, your highness…” he murmured with a smirk along the side of your mouth, his hands scraping down to your thighs, dragging himself closer.

Your grip found itself again in his hair, tugging tight. “Take your pants off.”

“Ask nicely.”

He felt the warmth of your scoff against his cheek, but you agreed in the only way you knew how, your hand not buried in his hair dropping to the bulge in his jeans. “Please…” your lips pressed once to his chin, then to his neck, soothing the crescent mark your own nails had left. One kiss, then another, and before he could reach his hand to his own belt to comply, you bit into the mark and deepened the color. “Take your fucking pants off.”

His lips twisted into a snarl, but he had his belt off and his pants open in record time.

The condom in his wallet was only supposed to be a backup, but he had never been more grateful for his disgustingly hopeful thinking than he was to find it exactly where he had remembered it being wedged between the folds of leather. And as you pulled him out of his boxerbriefs and rolled it on with a few lazy pumps, your satisfied smirk told him you were equally grateful.

Still, your fought. “It’s not expired, is it?”

“God, I hate you.” He swore back, but his heart left halfway through the words, his chest deflating, a nearly whimpering moan leaving his lips as he pushed into your soaking folds. “I fucking—“

Your hips rolled as he seated himself fully within you and again, his breathing stuttered. If he thought he was close before, this was just embarrassing.

He remembered the ruthless violence of your fight, the blood running from your nose and staining your teeth, the strong pull between your shoulders as you landed hit after hit. He gripped tight to one of your thighs with one hand and flattened his other palm to the mirror behind your head as his pace picked up. He remembered the echoing crack as you landed your final blows, the utter brutality that oozed from you as you moved from one hit to the next. He dragged your hips closer, he pulled you flush against his chest, muffling your cries into his sweater.

He remembered your knuckles and every groan they elicited. He kissed your jaw, unable to stop himself from thinking of how many you had broken.

The rough drag of him inside of you was taunting, the feel of him so full yet your climax still dancing out of reach. It was too much and too good all at once. Too little and too overwhelming in the same breath.

“Billy—“ your broken sob tore through his chest with a heat he didn’t even recognize, a burn so heavenly he swore a sunburst sliced through him. “Fuck— Russo, yes—“

Every muscle in your body tightened around him, squeezing him, clawing at him, destroying his composure. He tried to draw it out, he tried to fight back from the edge, but your moans turned to music and his head emptied out. “I—“

“Come on,” you cooed, your words slurring as you forced his lips back to yours. He was melting, the heat was too much, searing his insides, charring his heart and fuck… he was melting into you. “That’s it.”

His nose scrunched, his teeth baring, a guttural snarl escaping his fiery chest as he powered himself even further into you. Again and again and again and— “Shit…”

You whimpered as his hips stuttered, you whined as he fell still.

“Shit…” he repeated, trying one last languid thrust as he found his way back down from his blinding high. “That was… fuck…”

“Yeah,” you muster just enough breath for a chuckle. “Yeah it was.”

He barely had enough time to catch his breath before you were pushing him back on unsteady legs, he barely managed to catch himself on the neighboring stall before you hopped down of the sink. He wanted to laugh at your sudden urgency, make some kind of joke, or pull you close and disregard it entirely, but he still couldn’t breathe. His hair fell in his face, his sweater rucked up around his waist and his dick barely soft—

He was a mess. A wrecked mess without the words to stop you. You already had your pants back on by the time he had the condom tied off in the trash, you were fixing yourself in the mirror before he even found a hold on his belt.

“You know, I know some bars with nicer bathrooms.” He finally fought, catching your attention as he fed the tongue of his belt back through. “Better beer too—“

A battering knock sounded on the door, making both of you jump. “Can you two hurry it the fuck up! Some of us have to pee!”

Neither of you two could hold yourselves back from laughing at that, breathless or not, even Billy felt a subtle heat rise to his cheeks. Not for getting caught—no, surely that was inevitable in a place this packed—but because he really didn’t care, because he wanted nothing more than to do it again.

You had to feel the same, that had to be as good for you as it was for him, god it was better than good. If you wanted him on his knees, he would beg. If you wanted to wreck his shit, he’d say ‘yes, please’—

You pressed a firm hand to his chest, forcing him back to the stall wall. Your lips hovered over his, so close, he could taste your breath. “This won’t happen again, pretty boy.”

His head quirked with a glare, your hand keeping him in place as he fought towards your lips. “No?”

“No.” Your lips grazed his as they formed around the word but it wasn’t enough.

“That’s a maybe then?”

“No, it’s not.” He could feel your pulse, the beat of your chest pounding against his as you keep him just close enough and still too far away. He could feel the lie as you made it.

His smirk only grew as his lips touched yours. “Well, if we’re not having sex, you should just come work for me.”

You hand slammed him back but he just laughed.

“Not fucking likely, Russo.”

He surged against your grip for one last kiss before you pulled back. “Well,” he sighed, slumping back against the wall and finally accepting his defeat. “I know where to find you, at least.”

Even your stubborn tenacity couldn’t hide your smirk as you unlocked the door. “Maybe so.”

That wasn’t a no.

[introloves]

Could u write something filthy about sugar daddy!issei with a gf that has bigger thighs something about spoiling her to death with everything cos it turns him on and it ends in nasty sex cos some other women tried to hit on him and he kinda wanted to show his gf off snowndis ♡♡

this made me incredibly horny for issei, i luv him, also this got rly long 😩😩 ;

public gropping + issei throws you around a little + bratty! reader + f! reader + soft dom! issei + spanking + creampie + forced orgasms + jealousy + sugar daddy! issei + he calls reader puppy nd pups <3

— word count ; approx 1.4k

it made your blood boil. seeing someone lean up on issei like that had you seething.

it was irrational, he had thrown this party for you, to celebrate you, and now here this person was trying to take that spotlight away from you.

the only calming factor in all of this was the fact that he had leaned back, putting space between their bodies, he scanned the bunches of people in search of you, it made you smile.

he was yours, you were the one adorned in the golden necklace with his name in cursive, not them and not anyone else.

he made his way to you, eyes watching your form. he loved the way the dress he had bought you looked, those thighs of yours looked killer, he wanted nothing more than to take them in his hands and give them a squeeze. but that could wait until everyone invited left.

“you enjoying yourself puppy?”

you shrugged, still feeling the nasty sting of jealousy.

mattsun sighed, he had hoped you hadn’t seen that. he could give you the whole world, but if you were upset he’d go above and beyond that to make you happy.

was it enabling it? yeah, but he’d be a big liar if he didn’t like looking for your approval. he just wanted to spoil you with everything he had, nothing was out of reach for you with him.

“no don’t be like that. cmon, you know i can’t do anything if people throw themselves at me.” he said, pulling you by your hips to meet his own, his hand roaming your ass freely. as if you weren’t standing in the middle of your living room, surrounded by friends.

“yes you can.” you snapped at him, but it didn’t have any bite, you sounded more whiny than anything, but it surely got your point across.

“oh?” he inquired, eyebrows raising, this was a real dangerous game you were playing with him, issei wasn’t above fucking you infront of all your friends.

but your eyes challenged him, asking him, begging him to do something.

you wanted him to let everyone know that he was yours and you were his.

and who was he to deny you of what you wanted.

issei picked you up, his hands finally finding purchase on your thighs, his fingers indenting the fat that was there.

you squeaked out a noise of surprise, immediatly wrapping your arms around his neck for support.

“i’m going to fuck you real good.” he purred, loud and clear, everyone watching now shifting in uncomfortable energy.

you don’t know who moved first, mastukawa or everyone else.

but you made sure to keep eyes on the one who had leaned into him, satisfied with the mortified and bitter look on their face.

he took you to your shared room, making sure to place you down with care.

you sighed in contentment, arms open to receive your boyfriend.

he molded himself to you, hands catching your thighs to hitch you higher onto the bed.

no matter what it seemed like they always found purchase there, he simply refused to let them go unattended for long.

“you wearing those garters i bought for you?” issei questioned, and you giggled.

“see for yourself.”

and he did, he took the hem of your dress and pulled.

the poor straps that held it up stood no chance, and with some more tugging he had slipped it off of you.

there was a noise of appreciation rumbling deep in his chest when he saw that you were in fact wearing the garters he had brought you. they fit snuggly, digging into your thighs, it made them look plush and good enough to eat.

“fuck, your thighs look so good puppy.” he hissed, he was hard in seconds.

with no warning, he flipped you around, splaying you on your tummy, he propped you up on your knees, and with yet another tug the underwear that was strapped to them came off completely.

“i’m going to keep these on, cause you look damn good in them. but everything else goes.”

with a shaky voice, you simply answered with an, “okay.”

the sound of his belt unbuckling and the shifting of the bed had you shaking, just waiting for him to sink his cock into you.

it excited you how well you knew he was going to fuck you.

“you don’t need me to prep you right? this little cunts always so ready for me.”

you nodded enthusiastically, clutching the bedsheets as he pressed his head into your folds, gathering what he could of your arousal to coat it.

when he finally sunk into you, he began with merciless thrusts. he wanted you to scream out his name, he wanted anyone who had stayed to hear you shake the walls with your wails.

and you did, the way his hips bounced you further up the bed was testament to how hard he was going.

there was no mercy for you tonight, it was fine that you wanted to be greedy, he didn’t mind the possessive attitude you had over him, he was just going to remind you that he was the one who would always fuck your cunt.

“your pussys mine.” he grunted against your cries,

“you can have whatever you want, i’ll buy you whatever you want. but this little cunt is mine.”

his words had you quiet now, you were mumbling out compliant little noises, letting him know that you agreed, that whatever he said was true.

with the way you were sucking him back in everytime he pulled out it let him know how much his words affected you.

he knew you liked being marked as his, the cute little gold chain he had brought you was enough to know that as truth.

seeing you at the precipice of an orgasm, he brought his hand to your back and pushed down, finding leverage to swing his hips harder.

you grunted with the pressure, if he pressed just a little bit more he would be in total control of you, from your orgasm to your breathing.

“i’m going to give you ten seconds to cum, pups, or else you’re not getting any all night.”

you practically sobbed at his words, shutting your eyes tight you just tightened up, it wasn’t hard for you to cum, at this point you were glad he gave you the extra push.

with tremors wracking your body, you gushed down onto him, it soaked you, the bed and his thighs.

you clamping down on him made it hard to move, it was a hot vice grip, it choked him up feeling you go this rigid. the room spun, he didn’t know how else to hold off on his own orgasm, your body felt like it was built for him.

“god! issei please cum inside me please.” you wailed, his arms came down to trap you into the bed even more, he came down to kiss your shoulders, letting you know that, like always, you were going to get what you wanted.

issei lifted himself up, grabbing the chain that he could see adorning your neck, pulling it to pull you as well.

he did it without thinking, it was a constant reminder of how you were his, and in the moment of heat he wanted to brand it onto your skin.

hissing with the pain, you complied, torso lifting up to meet his own.

he still held on to it, pulling it taught against your throat, it dug into you slightly.

“tell me you’re mine.” issei grunted.

“i’m yours.” you echoed, he tugged more. not satisfied with it.

“louder.”

“fuck! i’m yours issei! i belong to you! only you!”

and that was enough.

the poor chain snapped under the pressure, he let it fall to the bed, moving instead to hold on to your hips.

with how sensitive you were, you could feel the way he throbbed inside you, the warmth of his cum following soon enough. it made you tremble, you could do nothing more than squeeze your eyes at the feeling.

there was so much of it, it seeped out with every rocking of him, it was sticky and nasty against the tender skin of your thighs, but the heaviness of it felt good inside you.

“you happy now puppy?” mastukawa questioned, not daring to remove himself from you just yet.

“you broke my necklace.” you whined, pouting.

he chuckled,

“i’ll just buy you another.”

[smoochkooks]

—hymne a l’amour (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, fluff, tiny bits of angst

⟶ word count: 5.5k

⟶ summary: it’s valentine’s day and your boyfriend decides to surprise you in more ways than one. and when you’re dating park jimin, cocky, smart and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of absolutely nothing.

⟶ warnings: dom!jimin, sub!reader, big dick!jimin, sir kink, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, ass slapping, dirty talk, use of degrading names, unprotected sex, mentions of jimin having a daddy kink, jimin being disgustingly sweet boyfriend, oc having at least 2 (two) mental breakdowns, cringy valentine’s day presents

this is eldorado valentine’s day special but it can be read as a standalone. enjoy! xx

Spending Valentine's Day in the city of Paris is like walking through the streets of Beijing and smelling the strong essence of soy sauce and chicken every time you take a breath.

Overwhelming.

(Or at least that's what you think is a good comparison, since you've never stood your foot in Beijing before.)

Paris seems to be on another level when it comes to celebrating Valentine's Day. It's because that's the city of love, someone may say, but no, my friend, it's not just that. French grammar isn't the only stupid thing about said country. Citizens are even weirder, in more ways than one. It's the Eiffel Tower and the smell of garlic that disguises it all when you first visit France.  

A week before February 14th, restaurants, cafees and grocery shops are all covered from head to toe in red hearts, chubby cupids, big teddy bears, various kinds of roses and, at the top of that – everywhere you focus your eyes on, you spot those huge inscriptions where words ‘love’ and ‘I love you’ are spelled in hundred different types of swirly fonts.

It's all too kitschy for your liking but tourists and locals don’t actually mind it even a bit. Once a year Paris turns into a set of the most cliché rom-com and no matter how irksome it might feel, you just have to survive this festival of boofonery.

You've always despised Valentine's Day with every fiber of your being (mostly because you hadn’t had anyone you could actually spend this day with) but your judgement took a sharp three-sixty turn when certain blond, charismatic man entered your life. Now, while you’re happily taken, a romantic dinner and a bouquet of red roses don’t sound that bad.  

But when you're dating someone like Park Jimin, a smart-ass, cocky and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of abosultely nothing.  

It's a little past ten, you’re laying in your king-size bed, a day before the actual Valentine's Day. Jimin informed you he was going to be late for dinner because of some extra paperwork he had to do in the office, so you patiently wait for him. Wrapped like a fancy Christmas gift in a new pair of flimsy, lacy lingerie you recently bought in Victoria’s Secret, all hidden underneath Jimin's baggy t-shirt (the combination of casual and slutty never fails to drive him crazy). The set is cute, in a baby pink colour. The last time you pulled a move like this, Jimin went hard, literally and lyrically.

Let's just say that Park Jimin (and his dick) likes high-quality underwear.

Dating Jimin has taught you a few things, one of them being that his sex drive is insatiable, so you always need to be prepared. That’s why you're now laying here, on your bed, freshly shaved and smelling of coconut, your precious pussy ready to be worshipped by Jimin's mouth.  

When you hear the familiar jingle of keys and the door to your apartment swings open, you squeal in excitement, grabbing your phone from the nightstand to scroll through it mindlessly so you don’t come across a girl whose only purpose in life is to get dicked down by her boyfriend.

(Which, right now, is your only purpose.)

“Babe, I’m home!”

You hear Jimin pulling off his shoes and coat, so you shout back, “I’m in the bedroom!”

He seemed to be in a good mood in the morning and if nothing's changed, you're positive about getting some action tonight. A well-deserved orgasm after work it's all you crave. You squeeze your thighs, and wait.

“God, I’m so fucking exhausted.” Jimin announces upon entering the room and as soon as those words leave his mouth, he collapses face down onto the bed. His lifeless corpse smells like sweat mixed with his usual cologne and you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

And that’s on getting railed by your boyfriend tonight.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs after a moment, voice laced with tiredness. He grunts and lifts himself up to place a chaste kiss on your lips. He tastes like bitter coffee and it makes you cringe, but you kiss him back nonetheless. He pulls off too fast for your liking and nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck instead. He cuddles into your side, mumbling something about you feeling warm.

In your head, you count. When was the last time you two had sex? Right, last Tuesday. Oh boy, what a night it was. Your ass still hurts a little while sitting on a chair, a byproduct of your boyfriend's palm landing smack after smack on your cheeks. Lesson learned: never smile too broadly to the waiter who blatantly flirsts with you. You're sure the whole appartment complex heard that night who makes you feel that good  

(As if they don’t already know.)

See? Park Jimin is unpredictable.

“How was work?’’ you decide to ask instead, clearing your thoughts from the inappropriate images of Jimin’s bare body pressed to yours as he fucked you that night. You thread your fingers through his blond locks just the way he likes, massaging his scalp.

He sighs, his words muffled when he speaks. “This new employee can’t do shit. I had to prepare everything before tomorrow's expedition by myself,” he says. “I have to tell Namjoon to fire his ass.”  

You falter your movements for a second. Right, the expedition. You completely forgot about it. Jimin's going to be out of town for the whole day, digging in the soil in some French village the name of you cannot pronounce.

It looks like your fancy lingerie has to wait for her big premiere a little longer.  

“What time are you planning to be back home?” you ask.

“Dunno. Probably late.” Jimin exhales loudly, his breath tickling your neck. His hand travels to your nude thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. You fight back a moan that threatens to spill from you mouth. You really need to get laid soon. “We set off at 6am.” he adds, tracing circles on your bare skin. Your smile drops.

So the plans for morning sex on Valentine's Day stay where they belong. In your dreams.  

“You're so soft. And you smell like coconuts. I could stay like this forever.” Jimin mumbles, circling your waist with his arms and pulling you even closer to him.  

You sigh, basking in this situation just for a while, stroking Jimin's hair and listening to his steady breathing until he eventually falls asleep. Still fully clothed, still with his hand on your thigh. Carefully, so you don’t wake him up, you get up from the bed to take off your underwear. You do feel a little disappointed, but it's okay.  

When you settle yourself on the bed next to Jimin again, your back facing him, a strong arm pulls you flush to his body. You hear him sighing with relief, and it makes you smile to yourself.  

Lights off, everything can wait for tomorrow.

In the morning, just like expected, you wake up alone. There's no sight of Jimin, his side of the bed empty and cold. For your dismay, there’s no bouquet of red roses waiting for you in the kitchen, no box of chocolates or a small, cheesy note with your name written on it. Not even a short “Happy Valentine's Day, baby!” text on your phone. Absolutely nothing.  

You tells yourself it’s fine. Maybe Jimin didn’t have enough time, maybe he was too occupied with expedition to prepare something special, maybe the big surprise is yet to come. However, you can’t quite shake off the feeling that something do seem odd and it makes you anxious. Leaving without a single text is not Jimin's style. Not when it's your first Valentine's Day spend together.

You probably shouldn’t worry that much. It's not a big deal, after all you hate those types of annual holidays and Jimin knows it. Yet something about the whole situation makes you uncontrollably uneasy. You have never been like this, vulnerable and sheepish. You hate Park Jimin for turning you into such a softie.

Walking through the streets of Paris makes you feel nauseous. You look at all the happy couples sucking each others’ faces for everyone to see and fight an urge to gag. Someone shouts “Love is in the air!” and you almost throw up. Everytime you see someone holding heart-shaped balloons or flowers, you whip your head in other direction. It's nothing, you keep reminding yourself. A stupid holiday that doesn’t mean anything at all.

But the actual nail to the coffin happens to be the atmosphere in Eldorado headquarters. It drives you absolutely crazy.

It's 12am and still no word from Jimin. You checked: this bastard was online one hour ago, so he just doesn’t want to talk to you. Fine, mister. If this is how you wanna play, try sucking your dick by yourself, beacuse I’m not getting near it anytime soon, you think to yourself, filled with rage.

Yeri wiggles her pretty eyebrows at you and asks about your plans for tonight. You fake a giggle, saying that Jimin will probably surprise you with something when he gets back from his expedition. The words taste bitter on your tongue, especially when the high hopes you had simply melted away this morning. Your friend then starts babbling about the restaurant she's going to with Jungkook after work and you listen to her rant with forced smile on your face the whole time.

Meanwhile, a few meters away from you Hoseok is giggling like a teenager, typing something on his phone, without a doubt (sex)texting his girlfriend. She's out of town and you’re more than sure Hoseok hasn't gone to bathroom ten minutes ago just to take a piss. Even Namjoon is in a pleasant mood today, humming some old ABBA hits under his breath. Yesterday he couldn’t shut up about his date with a girl who’s also his new neighbour. He met her when she came by to give him homemade croissants. Ironically, that sounds a lot like some kdrama lovestory to you, and Namjoon hates kdramas.

During lunch time, you scroll through your Instagram and almost slam your phone on the wall. There's a new photo uploaded on Kim Seokjin's account.  

kimseokjin92: Celebrating Valentine's Day on Maldives w @minsuga #couplegoals #boyfriends #valentinesday #loveislove

They are on fucking Maldives. Fucking Maldives! You grit your teeth. It's fine. Completely fine.

But the absolute peek, the moment when you almost break down into tears and curl yourself into a ball of misery, comes in the person of Jeon Jungkook. He enters the office with a bouquet of the most beautiful red roses you have ever seen, a huge grin plastered on his stupid face.

Your heart clenches in your chest. Park Jimin could never.  

Jungkook hands Yeri the flowers and she laughs, slapping his chest when he starts declaiming Romeo's monologue from the Shakespeare’s tragedy. He then kisses his girlfriend deeply and lovingly, making her cheeks flush in crimson. Hoseok coos at them, Namjoon following him. You swear you saw Jungkook's tongue in the process of said heavy make out session.  

(Jealously is an awful emotion, you've decided a long time ago.)

An hour later, the bouquet stands proudly on Yeri’s desk and you stare at it with melancholy. You briefly avert your gaze to Jimin's desk and the memories flash before your eyes. The same desk he had you bent over, skirt bunched around your waist and cock drilling into your pussy, when you both stayed together at work after hours not so long ago.  

You mentally slap yourself. Get your shit together, woman. It's not like he broke up with you. It's just some stupid holiday. It's nothing.

“Something's wrong?’’ Yeri asks you with genuine concern written on her face.  

You swallow, forcing yourself to smile. “No, everything's fine. Just a headache.”  

She eyes you suspiciously. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” you say. Even though your friend doesn’t look convinced, she eventually stops bothering you.

It's all good. My boyfriend forgot about our first Valentine's Day together but everything's alright. No worries, you want to say instead.  

Later that day, when you exit the elevator and walk straight to your apartment, a strange smell of something burning fills your nostrils. Is that food? A real fire? No, that's definitely some meat that stayed too long in the oven.

The closer you are, the smell becomes stronger, like it’s actually coming from your apartment. You furrow your eyebrows.

“What the fuck.” you mutter to yourself.  

When you open the door, your jaw falls slack, eyes wide like saucers.

Never, in your entire life, had you thought  you would see Park Jimin, your own dearest boyfriend, popping out from the kitchen with his hair disheveled, sweat coating his forehead, wearing a black suit underneath the most ridiculous apron you have ever seen: pink with a big-ass ‘mr good lookin is cookin' written in the middle.  

(Can someone remind you why are you dating him? Oh, thank God he isn’t naked underneath.)

He looks completely lost when he spots you, waving awkwardly in your direction. It's probably the first time he touched something in the kitchen that isn’t coffee machine. He’s so flustered that you almost forget he nearly turned your apartment into ashes.

“Hi, babe.” he says sheepishly.

It takes all the willpower you hold not to spit a lung watching your boyfriend who absolutely hates cooking, trying to look unimpressed by the smell of burnt food. He does a pretty poor job though, an apron not helping in the situation.

“Happy Valentine's Day!’’ he exclaims perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, approaching you and planting a kiss on your cheek. And after that, you burst into hysterical laughter.  

(Seriously, you almost lose your own breath three times.)

Jimin looks terrified but most importantly – put out. You’re probably hurting his enormous, almost the size of Russia pride right now. (Not your fault Jimin has the biggest praise kink on the planet.)  

“Why are you laughing? Is it because of the chicken? Fine, I can’t cook for shit but I tried, okay? I didn’t have enough time and it was the middle of the night in Korea so I couldn’t just facetime my mum for advice and-”

You interrupt his rambling with a searing kiss, effectively shutting him up. He falters for a moment but quickly catches up, pulling you closer to him, placing his hands on your waist and deepening the kiss.  

But then, when his about to trail kisses down your throat, you hit his arm.

“What was that for?!” Jimin yelps, looking at you with astonishment.

“I thought you fucking forgot about the Valentine’s Day!” you yell, slapping his chest. “Why didn't you tell me about this?!”

“Because the definition of surprise says you can’t reveal it sooner?” he reponds in a mocking tone.

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble and pull him in for another kiss. You could feel him smiling into it, cheekily biting onto your lower lip. He places a loving peck on your forehead and brushes the strands of your hair behind your ears. There's so much affection in his eyes you could melt into a puddle right here and there.

“I’m sorry. Jungkook told me you looked upset the whole day.” he whispers.

“I wasn't!” you protest.

“He told me you almost cried when he gave Yeri a bouquet of red roses.”  

This stupid brat.

You look up at Jimin. “Fine. I was mad. And sad. Everyone was having the time of their lives and here I was, on a verge of mental breakdown because my idiot of a boyfriend supposedly forgot about the Valentine's Day.” you say, crossing your arms over chest with a pout.  

Jimin rolls his eyes and takes your hand, leading you to the living room, where a bottle of (your absolute favourite) wine is standing on the table, along with candles and, yes, red roses. It's too cheesy and straight from the cringy rom-coms but you don't mind, because it's Jimin and he poured his heart into this and it's all that matters.

When he approaches you again, he isn’t wearing that stupid apron and you blush at how perfect he looks, almost painfully handsome. His hair needs a cut so it’s pushed back from his forehead. God reincarnated in the form of a smart, cocky archeologist who happens to be your boyfriend.

You're, well, in your black jeans and baby blue sweater and you probably stink, but Jimin assures you with his loving touches he doesn’t mind, never will. He always does that, looking at you with those sparkling eyes which say you're the most beautiful thing in the world for him.

And it doesn't matter how many times you scold him throughout the day, how many banters you have over silly things, because at the end of the day, in each others’ embraces, it feels like home for the both of you.

“Since the chicken chickened out,” Jimin says nonchalantly, filling your glasses with red wine. “We can always get drunk and watch some old romantic movies.”

You smirk. “You cried the last time when we watched ‘When Harry met Sally’.”  

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Don't test my patience, sweetheart or you won't get the presents.” he warns.

You raise your eyebrows. You hope one of them comes in the form of his dick. Suddenly, you’re reminded of your lingerie set, so you make a mental note to wear it after the shower. “Can I see those presents now?” you ask, looking at Jimin with pleading eyes. It's exactly three seconds till he softens.  

“Fine.” he mutters and heads to the bedroom.

When he comes back, he’s not alone. Literally not alone, because he's caring the most hilarious Valentine’s present you could ever think of. A giant, white teddy bear, almost in the size of him, heart-shaped balloons attached to his right paw.

“This is,” Jimin whips his head to read the name on the bear's chest. “Ted.”  

You blink. “You bought me a teddy bear named Ted?”  

Jimin opens his mouth to say some witty comment but he stops when he hears you sob. “Baby, sweetheart, what's wrong?” He kneels in front of you, the bear long forgotten on the floor. You burst into tears and Jimin tries to calm you down, rubbing soothing circles on your thighs.

Once you eventually stop crying and regain your normal breathing, you wipe your tear-strained cheeks and look down at your very much worried boyfriend. “You are an idiot, Park Jimin. A fucking idiot. That teddy bear is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen and I should humiliate you for giving me that but...” You take a deep breath. “But I can’t. Because I fucking love you, dumbass.”

The corners of Jimin lips lift in amusement but you’re clearly not done with your little speech, so he waits until you finish. “You organized the most cliché date ever. You read all the Grey's books. You can’t cook for shit and this stupid apron you wore? God have mercy,” You visibly cringe. “You declaim Greek philosophers when you shower. Fuck, you persuaded me to do teacher-student roleplay and I kept calling you daddy during the whole thing because you asked me to. You are everything I despise but at the same time I love you so much,” you say, tears once again welling in your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m telling you this now, even though I've realised this a long time ago.”

Jimin’s silent, so unlike him, declaring his emotions with a huge grin this time. He stands up and picks your body into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both to your bedroom. He places you gingerly onto the mattress, hovering over your figure.

(Your fancy lingerie can wait for another occasion.)

“I love you too, ___.” he says, staring into your eyes. “You’re making me the happiest man in this world.”  

You roll your eyes, however there’s no use for that because your cheeks are already tainted red. “Oh, stop being such a sap.”  

He smirks. “You love when I’m like this.”  

“That is, in fact, not true.”  

You’re lying and he knows it, but he always lets you banter with him like this anyway.  

“Then what do you want me to be today?” he asks, his hands travel down to your zipper, then pull down your jeans. “Sweet? Loving?” He helps you take off your sweater and you’re left with nothing on beside your underwear. “Or do you want me to be rough? Push you around and fuck you stupid?” You gulp, your attitude successfully shut down. “Come on, use your words.”  

Somehow, you manage to gain your composure. “Want you to take off your clothes first.”  

Jimin chuckles, lowly and with a promise of more to come if you’re patient and behaving well, according to his commands. “You’re not the one to give orders here, baby.” he retorts. Then, he’s gripping your knees, pulling your legs apart and putting your pussy on full display for him.  

There’s already a dark, wet patch forming on your grey panties and he tsks disapprovingly. “You’re wet and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want it that much, huh?”  

You nod. “Please, touch me.”  

“Try again.”  

So he’s in that mood today. You’ve explored a fair share of kinks with Jimin so far and what you know for sure is that he always takes the leading role in bed. He likes to dominate, be the one in charge, railing you into the mattress until you’re crying out so loud your neighbours are banging on your walls.  

You slip into your role naturally, your usual confident behaviour gone and replaced with timidity. He relishes in seeing you like this, helpless and vulnerable, a stark contrast to how you act on daily basis.  

Jimin pins you with his dark stare and you give in. ‘”Yes, sir.”  

“Good girl.”  

He rewards you with a feather-like touch of his fingers on your pussy. He finds your clit with ease, rubbing it with practiced strokes until more juices drip down from your hole, wetting your panties embarrassingly fast. Your legs shake with want for more, to feel him sink his digits knuckle-deep into your cunt and finger you like he did that one time in a bathroom on your flight to Japan.  

He doesn’t seem the slightest bothered with your state, ignoring your pleading eyes and wanton moans. He hasn’t even taken off your underwear yet and you’re already on the verge of an orgasm.  

Jimin knows your body inside and out, probably better than you do, so it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that he can sense when you’re about to climax. He withdraws his hand from your center seconds before your release. You can’t help but huff with annoyance.

“Something's wrong, babygirl?” he asks, saccharine-sweet and annoyingly innocent.  

Your retort dies on your tongue the moment he decides to unbutton his white dress shirt. You’re too distracted with delicious lines of his sculpted chest to complain about your denied pleasure anymore. Your hands itch to touch him but you stay immobile, devouring him with your eyes instead.  

Jimin notices you're staring and smirks. “Like what you see?”  

You nod. “Yes, sir.”  

He then stands up from the bed and motions for you to come closer. You oblige without an ounce of confusion, crawling until you’re sitting on your heels in front of him. It’s a rather humiliating position but you can’t help but feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins when he cups your chin and tilts your head up.  

“Take off my pants.”  

You rush to obey, unbuckling his belt with shaky hands because you know what’s coming next once his pants are pulled down. He’s already hard, the prominent bulge of his cock straining in his briefs.  

“Now my underwear.”  

You nearly moan out loud when his cock slaps his abdomen, mouth salivating to take him in deep but you don’t dare touch him without a directed instruction. He makes sure your eyes are on him and starts stroking himself, spreading the precum all over his length, hissing when his thumb rubs the sensitive head of his cock.  

Jimin groans, low and throaty, and you whimper quietly in response. “What, baby? You want my cock that much?” he asks, his left palm cupping your cheek. You whisper a meek “Please” and he chuckles. “Come on then. Show me what that slutty mouth of yours can do. Open up.”  

Your lips part on command and you nearly moan when he guides his cock into your mouth. You’ve sucked Jimin's dick enough times to know what he likes, what brings him to the edge quicker than hitting the back of your throat. You lick the tip of his cock, eyes darting to check his reaction and, just as you expected, his features twist in pleasure.  

You relish in a minute or two of the control you have over him before he grows bored with your teasing and decides to fuck your mouth instead. But for now, you make sure to have him suffer a little for that stunt he pulled earlier when he didn’t make you come.  

You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks for extra stimulation. Your hands reach to fondle his balls and you smirk around his cock when you hear a groan leave Jimin's mouth. “Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek. You lean into his touch, moaning at the praise. “My pretty slut.”  

The first hit on the back of your throat makes you gag because fuck, is he big. The only thing bigger than Jimin's ego seems to be his dick, apparently. When he threads fis fingers through your hair you know what’s about to come; jaw relaxed, saliva dripping down from the corners of your mouth, you’re ready to be ruined.  

He withdraws, giving you exactly five seconds to breathe and then pushes forcefully inside. Your mind is filled with mental images of him giving your pussy the same treatment later. You would whimper at the thought, if your mouth wasn’t stuffed full of dick. Instead, you give your best, swallowing every inch of him obediently.  

“That’s it,” he rasps, clamping one hand on the back of your neck for better leverage. “You’re doing so good, baby.” When he nudges the back of your throat again, you feel him throb. He pulls away from the warmth of your mouth seconds later, panting heavily. He falls back onto the bed and pats his thighs. “Come here.”  

You scoot closer to him and crawl onto his lap. He smiles at you from below, pulling you in for a kiss. The hands he previously gripped your waist with now travel upwards, unhooking your bra. Your hips unconsciously move, pussy gliding along the flexed muscles of his thigh.  

Jimin notices your desperate attempt at getting some friction on your most sensitive parts and helps you rock your hips. He moves your panties to the side and you moan, felling the delicious pressure on your bare center. He’s watching with amusement as you’re falling apart on his thigh, thumb reaching to rub your clit. You cry out, climaxing so hard you’re almost seeing stars behind your closed eyelids.

He keeps helping you ride out your high until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation. “Did you like it?” he then asks, urging you to look at him. “You were so desperate to come, sweetheart. Fucking yourself on my thigh like a bitch in heat,” You whine instead of responding, earning a harsh smack on your ass. “Use your words.”  

Another slap lands on your cheek and you mewl. “Yes, I loved it, sir.”  

He chuckles, maneuvering your body so you’re now positioned over his cock. He gives your ass a firm squeeze and you whimper, arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs despite orgasming just minutes ago. “Ride me, baby.” he says.  

You hurry to obey, guiding his cock inside you. It's a tight fit but your wetness makes it smoother to push him deeper. “So big,” you mumble, bottoming out. You know damn well Jimin likes to be praised and if the smirk that stretches on his lips is anything to go by, he enjoys what you just said. “That feels so good, sir.” You start moving your hips languidly.  

“Yeah?” Jimin quips, hands gripping your waist so tightly it almost makes the skin bruise. “Then show me what a good girl you are for me. Fuck, look at you. You’re so hot.” His palms cup your breasts, thumbs stroking your nipples.  

You keen at the praise and quicken your pace. Your thighs start to burn but you ignore that, bouncing on your boyfriend’s dick like there’s no tomorrow. The room is filled with lewd noises, skin slapping on skin. Jimin looks down, staring at his cock coated in your juices as it disappears inside your hole. He curses at the sight.  

Your legs start to shake, huffs leaving your lips. “Sir–please,” you whine, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.  

“What do you need, babygirl?” he asks, pinching your nipples. You squeal, your pace losing its previous rhythm.  

“I’m so close.” you stammer. “Please–touch me.”  

“Where you do you want me to touch you, baby?” He ignores your whimpers, the way your pussy keeps squeezing his cock in a vice grip. “Here?” He touches your tits again and you shake your head violently. “Or here–” His fingers find your clit and you cry out loudly. You feel so full, his cock hits your cervix every time you drop down onto him.

“Yes, yes,” you chant, mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut. You probably look right now like a professional porn star but you couldn’t care less, not when you’re so close to the climax. “Sir–fuckfuckfuck, please!”

“There you go,” Jimin coos, circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. “Come for me, baby.”  

You’re gushing around his dick, arousal leaking out of your hole and coating his thighs with your release. Your upper body gives out and you collapse onto Jimin, your cunt pulsing from the intense pleasure you’ve just experienced.  

“Oh god,” you mumble. “I just saw the answer to the whole universe.”  

You feel Jimin's chest shaking with laughter and when you look up, you find him grinning at you. “That good?”  

“That good.” you confirm, sighing tiredly.  

“Are you okay?” You hear him asking. No matter how much he likes to push you around and fuck until you’re seeing stars, he always makes sure if you’re feeling comfortable to continue.  

You spare him a nod. “You know I can handle it,” you say, lifting yourself up. “I’m a tough girl, right?” Despite the oversensitivity, you start rocking your hips again. “M-made for you.”

Jimin smirks. “Yeah, made for me,” he confirms and slaps your ass. Your pussy flatters around his cock. “Not like this,” he mutters and turns you onto your back with one, swift motion. “Much better.”  

You pout. “You didn’t like it when I was riding your cock, sir?” You’re bluffing, but a girl can her fun too.  

He clicks his tongue, guiding his cock through your folds again. “Oh, baby, I was enjoying it very much,” he says, picking up his speed. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer. “But now I want it harder.”  

He fucks you just like he likes the most; fast and rough, unforgiving. He leans down for a messy kiss that’s all teeth tongue and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees his saliva dripping down your chin.  

(He decides right here and there that he might wanna explore his newfound fantasy soon.)

Soon you’re feeling the coil in your stomach tightening for the second time, embarrassingly quickly so. You moan, cunt squeezing around his dick. “Again?” Jimin asks, voice laced with both mirth and disbelief. Tears well in your eyes and you give him a nod. “Such a fucking slut.” he spits, slithering himself into you even faster than before.

Your third and final orgasm is so powerful and sudden, it nearly makes you black out. Jimin curses, fucking you through it. “Kiss me,” you whimper deliriously and he obliges, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. “I love you.” you whisper into his lips and that’s what sends him over the edge.

“I love you, I love you–fuck.” he groans and spills himself inside, coating your pussy with his seed.

He collapses next you, chest heaving with every exhale. Your legs feel like jelly and you know you’ll have trouble walking tomorrow. Just when you’re about to tell Jimin to call in sick and spend the whole day in bed instead, he suddenly sits up.

“Wait, I forgot I have another present for us.” he says, rushing to pick something up from underneath the bed.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Jimin, I swear to God, if you bought us matching t-shirts–”

He grins like a child, showing you two white pillows, the most basic ones you could ever think of, with ‘his side’ and ‘her side' written on them. It's cringy and ridiculous and you fight an urge to punch him, but you don't.  

Because it's Jimin and you will never complain about it.

Because you love him. And that's all that matters.

[softmothprince]

i rewatched angels of death with friends the other day so i blame that

also this is, like, five pages. 2,659 words. so it’s a long ride. enjoy <3

-----------------------------

Her eyes twitch as she keeps from them from rolling, face blank as she stares at the smug bastard in front of her. For the past… whatever time, he’s been standing in front of her and babbling about some kind of bullshit she totally wasn’t paying attention to. She just wanted to take the stuff she bought and go home, where her psycho waits.

While it would be so easy to just shut him down and walk out, everytime she tries to back out of the conversation he just keeps bringing up more questions and random shit. It’s when he tries to pull off what he thinks as a sly move that she finally was done with that and everything to do with this.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his hand move, realizing what he wanted to try and do when it slid closer to hers. In one swift move, she pulls her hand from the counter and shoves them into her shorts pockets, giving the guy a disgruntled look. Her shopping bag dangles from one wrist, crinkling as it taps against her thigh.

“Even though this was so ‘fun’, I got better things to do than this.” She says, turning on her heel to walk away- only to be stopped when she sees a familiar man waiting across the street.

While hidden by the shadows, she can easily recognize the bandages on his hands and peeking out of his hoodie. She heaves a sigh, rubbing the back of her neck, before exiting the store. She ties the bag closed and lets it hang from her fingers, jogging across the street and towards the waiting man.

“Hey, I thought you-!” She’s cut off when he abruptly stands up straight and jerks towards her.

A strong hand grabs her arm and easily swings her into the alley, tugging her a good few feet away and around a corner before letting go. She stares at his back silently, watching his shoulders slowly move with his breathing, then opens her mouth to say- His palm suddenly slams into the bricks, startling her into jumping back and yelping.

He moved so fast she didn’t see him turn around and become so… close. She looks up at him, eyes widening at the wide grin he wore. While similar to his usual grin, something about it was more… heated. His other hand is loosely holding his scythe (she hadn’t seen it when she first spotted him- he must’ve had it in the alley), mostly resting it on his shoulder with the stained blade reflecting the light.

The wall is hard, cold and unforgiving on her back, but she ignores it in favour of the hand suddenly grabbing around her throat. She gasps, sucking in air quickly in case he decided to tighten his grip and choke her.

“Come on, little bitch. Who’s your daddy?” He growls into her ear, scraping the shell with his teeth and nips at it. His eyes narrow at her silence, making him lean in enough that their noses touch. “I said- who’s. Your. Daddy?”

“Can’t seem to- ugh, to recall anyone.” She gasps, mouth dropping open when he squeezes her neck tighter. “Agh- Isaac-”

“Aww, poor little bitch doesn’t remember. It seems like I’ll have to… remind you.”

With one final squeeze, he feels her fluttering pulse for a moment longer before letting it trail off of her completely. He makes sure to keep eye contact, only letting his gaze travel away when he sees her face turn a dark shade of red. As he turns away to take the familiar walk home, she opens her mouth again.

“You’re being ridiculous, Isaac. You know I belong to you and only you!”

Again, he moves so fast she has to take a step back and somehow presses more into the wall. He doesn’t grab or even touch her, only his breath hitting her face as their noses nearly bump together.

“HE TRIED TO TOUCH YOU!”

Her jaw clenches, bottom lip getting caught by her teeth as she holds back another snarky response. He squeezes the handle of his scythe, using it as an anchor of sorts. To keep him from taking his little bratty bitch right then and there in the alley. As much as he wants to stake his claim, he needs to wait.

With a loud huff through his nose, he spins on his heel and snags the bag she had dropped with two fingers. His shoes scuff against the gravel and stone, kicking them across the path.

“Now let’s go.”

~skip~

It surprises her that they even reached the living room before he pounced. His scythe and the shopping bag is discarded onto the floor as he reaches out and grabs the nape of her neck, dragging her the rest of the way to their room. She nearly trips a few times, but Isaac just jerks her up and pushes her along.

He doesn't even bother to shut the door before he is suddenly ripping and tearing at her clothes. The material of her t-shirt easily rips apart, exposing her skin to his greedy eyes. He wastes no time in running his hands over her breasts and hips, taking care of her shorts next. 

She squeaks and tries to wiggle away while yelling: “Isaac! You can't just-”

“Too bad, you should’ve thought of that before being such a brat.” He grunts, letting the fabric drop onto the floor and going to her panties and bra. “I have no patience for this shit anymore so shut up while I do this.”

“Listen-”

“Like you did with that bastard?”

Her jaw almost clicks with how fast she snaps it closed. When she is finally stripped of all forms of fabric, he sits down and yanks her over his lap.

"Hands under your head."

She swallows, moving her hands from where she was gripping the blankets and crosses them to lay her head on her arms. Without warning, he lands one quick slap onto her ass, gripping the flesh and grins with a cackle when she yelps.

“Now, my little bratty bitch, I’m going to spank you and you are going to count each and every one of them. You misscount? I’ll start over. Give me lip? I start over. You do anything I don’t think is good girl behavior, I start over.” He tilts her head back by grabbing her hair and pulling, leaning over to stare into her glazed over eyes.

“Do you understand my rules?”

“...yes.”

A loud slap, followed by him tugging her hair tighter into his fist.

“Yes. What? Address me properly.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hums, rubbing his hand over the red skin. His finger occasionally pressed onto a dark bruise scattered here and there, remembering when he made those little hickies two days prior. Then, a loud smack echoes around them, being drowned out by her yelp.

"Count."

"O-one."

Smack. 

"Two."

Smack. 

"Thr-ree~"

Her ears ring from the sound of her own voice and the loud slapping of Isaac's palm on her bare ass. She made the mistake of shifting over his lap after counting to ten, resulting in him growling and telling her to start over. There would be no sitting later, she can already tell.

Slap. 

"Tw-twen-twenty…" She gasps, nails digging into her palms.

She waits for another one, but is both relieved and slightly upset that he rolls her off his lap and onto the bed. The cool sheets feel strange on her stinging flesh, but she ignores it as her legs are shoved apart to show her soaked cunt. The inside of her thighs were slick and sticky.

"That really turned you on? What a slut." He scoffs, yet a wide smirk spreads across his face when she whines. "You like being called a slut, huh little bitch? My little slut is more like it."

He trails his fingers up her leg and skirts over her hip bone, pressing his palm against her stomach to hold her down when his other hand toys with her pussy. His fingers slip inside with just a small push, obscene sounds ringing in her ears as he moves them.

“I-Isaac…”

“This cunt is mine, you got that? I caused this mess between your thighs and it’s gonna stay that way.” He purrs, leaning down to cover her nipple with his mouth and strokes his tongue in time with his fingers.

He switches to her other breast as his thumb pushes and rubs her clit, growling in satisfaction when she cries out and bucks her hips up.

“Who do you belong to?” He asks, looking up at her with half-lidded eyes.

She swallows and gasps, before closing her mouth with a bratty grin appearing. Though it quickly vanishes when he roughly scrapes his fingers inside her pussy, aggressively rubbing her g-spot.

“I said: Who. Do. You. Belong. To?”

“Yo-you! Please, pl-EASE~!”

His thumb disappears from her clit and he pulls his fingers out, cutting off any stimulation. He digs his nails into her hips, holding them in place while she spasms and growls at him in frustration. 

“Not good enough, princess. Up.”

He grabs her wrist and tugs her up, making her straddle his hips while he leans back onto the mattress himself. His clothed dick rubs her pussy and clit, the material of his jeans sending jolts up her nerves, before he shoves her to sit on his thighs.

“Go on, my little bitch. Take out my dick.” He purrs, rubbing and squeezing her thighs. Maybe if she was a good girl, he’ll make her sit on his face and suffocate him with those thighs~

She whines, going to grind against his leg- only to be stopped when he lands a slap onto her still stinging ass.

“What did I say? Do it before I leave you to squirm.”

She knows he wouldn’t. They both know he wants to jump her and never stop. So, with a small pout, she unloops his belt and tosses it to the floor, popping the button of his jeans and tugs them and his underwear down his thighs until she can pull his dick out. It’s an angry red, drooling precum down the shaft, bobbing when she gently touches it.

As she goes to try and stroke it, he grabs her wrist with a narrow glare. It’s a silent threat, but she picks it up easily and nods with another pout. Her knees sink into the bed as she rises up on them, moving to angle his cock head with her hole. Swallowing the saliva threatening to drool out, she slowly lowers down.

His cock pushes through with little to no difficulty, rubbing all the right places. Before reaching the hilt, she stops and pulls her head out from his shoulder, looking into his eyes with a slightly uncomfortable look.

“Isaac it- I can’t-”

“Come on, you can take it.” He grumbles, digging his fingers into her hip and forces her the rest of the way down. The sudden rough thrust almost makes her cum, but his strength keeps her from moving. “You cum right now, I will put you over my knee again.” Isaac’s teeth abuse the shell of her ear, nibbling enough that teeth marks appear.

He bites the crook of her neck next, before tangling his fingers into her hair to pull her backwards. This allows him to lean down and nibble around her breasts, moaning into the valley between them.

“Fuck, I love your tits. I love how they look with my teeth and marks all over them~”

“With how often you bite me, they never look diffe-RENT!”

She chokes on her words when he suddenly lifts her up and drops her back down, slamming his cock deep inside her.

“What was that, little bitch? Got something to say? Go on, say it.” He mumbles against her chest, picking her up again and letting her fall back down.

Her mouth drops open, the only sounds pouring out being moans and curses. He is easily reminded why his favorite sound is her choking out his name.

“That- ugh, that the best you go-got?” She pants, squealing when he suddenly grabs her throat again.

He falls back flat onto the bed, pulling her with him and forcing the angle of his cock to change. And if the loud sob she let out tells him anything, he found that little spot of nerves.

“You may be on top, but-” He jerks her down more, brushing their lips together with a manic grin. “I still own you. Your heart, mind, body- everything is mine.”

She can hear her response in her head, but all that comes out of her mouth is a loud sob followed by begging. Isaac turns his head away, choosing to focus on the skin of her neck that isn’t covered by his hand. He sucks and nips at the supple flesh, traveling down to her collarbone and shoulder.

His teeth sink into her shoulder, making her throw her head back with a loud sob. The hands around her neck and hip are so tight she can feel the bruises already, yet the sting from his bite overpowers them. 

“Mineminemineminemi-MINE!” His voice cracks when he cums, hips faltering for only a moment before going back to the brutal pace. “Take it- take my cum. Take all of it. I’m gonna stuff you so there is no denying who you belong to. You’ll be dripping for days.”

The deep groans rumbling from his chest occasionally hitch into a higher tone, before dropping back down. Once satisfied, he slows his thrusts until he finally just presses their hips together, sitting still. They both shake and breathe heavily, fingers unclenching from bruised and bleeding skin, rubbing the spots silently.

With a soft, slightly higher groan, he pulls out and briefly sits up to look between her legs. Her pussy is swollen and red, drooling a mix of their cum onto the bed. He lets out a satisfied sigh, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it as he looks around the room.

When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, Isaac stands from the bed and leaves his girl trembling and still riding her high. She hums and curls her fingers into the blankets, letting the soft material ground her. The mattress dips again, alerting her of his presence.

His fingers gently tap her thigh, warning her before he presses a wet cloth to the sensitive flesh. Small sighs pour out from her lips, her head rolling around when the cloth pushes against her clit. She barely registers him moving her around, feeling him slip a shirt over her head and a pair of panties up her legs.

The warmth of his body disappears and she feels the bed move as he gets up again, before it sinks beside her and a soft blanket is tugged over her body. The feeling of Isaac touching her cheek makes her eyes flutter open, finding said man (now in his lounging clothes) laying next to her silently.

His eyes look over her face, taking in the sweat and red flush. Without a word, he leans in and presses his forehead against hers, trailing his hand from her face to gently stroking her pulse with his thumb. He could easily choke her like this, see the light disappear from her eyes as she struggles-

He tilts his head, laying his lips softly over hers and huffs in amusement when she mumbles incoherently. Her fingers curl loosely around his wrist, holding it in place around her throat. A silent form of trust. He snorts, moving to grab her hand and lifts it to his lips to press a kiss to it, before curling his arms around her.

“Brat.” He whispers, hiding his face into her hair.

She smiles, nuzzling into his collarbone.

“I’m your brat. Don’t forget it.”

[sequinsmile-x]

Day-to-Day

Chapter 4: Aaron

Words: 5k

Warnings: None 

Read over on ao3, or below the cut.

Please let me know what you think <3

December 2009

He’d convinced her to go. Aaron had seen her hesitation as she stood at the front door of their temporary apartment, the twitch in her fingers when Amelia almost immediately reached out for her after Aaron took her. The way she bit her lip when Theo asked her, again, if she really had to go out.

She did have to go, despite how much she would deny it. He knew she needed some time with her friends, and Penelope and JJ had practically begged for a girls night. The 6 months Emily had been gone long and drawn out for all of them. She talked them down to dinner, not wanting to spend too long away from her family that had been so delicately stitched back together. Getting a table at any restaurant so close to Christmas had been difficult, but being the daughter of an ambassador had its advantages, and for once Emily hadn’t been hesitant to use them.

Aaron had sent her on her way with a kiss to her cheek and an assurance that they would be ok without her for a couple of hours.

He was now slightly regretting that decision, but he would never tell her. Their children were feral. Jack was in a mood. His teenage angst was out in full swing this evening, the anger he had experienced shortly after Haley’s death coming back to the forefront in the fallout of the situation with Foyet. He was hiding out in his room, playing a video game and ignoring his father.

Theo was asking where Emily was every few minutes and when she’d be back. He tried to placate his son with his favourite tv show and pizza, and it wouldn’t do. Theo was sitting in the living room, sideways on an armchair as he watched the front door intently. Aaron knew he was going to have to have a conversation with Emily soon about the attachment issues, but it was not the time yet, knowing his wife wouldn’t take it well either. That part of her loved that their son constantly sought her out.

Amelia was cranky. She still didn’t fully trust him, but things were better than they had been when she first shied away from him a few weeks ago. He knows that Emily nursed her before she puts her to bed, that it’s a treasured part of his wifes daily routine, so in the hope that a snack will help he grabs a small yoghurt from the fridge and places her in her high chair.

He feeds her, and although just under half of it ends up on her face, she does calm down a little whilst she is eating. He cleans her up, but she starts fussing again almost immediately.

As soon as Emily walks into the apartment he breathes a sigh of relief. Theo jumps out of the chair and to his mothers side, immediately hugging her.

“Mommy, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” She kneels down to hug him properly, kissing the side of his head. She pulls back to look at him, thumb worrying over the now mostly healed cut on his forehead that he had acquired during Aaron’s final showdown with Foyet. She looks over and sees Amelia crying in Aaron’s arms. “It’s late, why don’t you go to bed and I’ll come say goodnight in a bit?”

Theo nods, hugging her again before bounding off, throwing a goodnight aimed at his father as he runs down the hallway.

“You were right.” She says, happiness pouring off of her as she removes her coat and shoes at the door. “I really did need that. Pen kept trying to convince me to drink wine even though I told her I’m still nursing.” She says with a laugh in her voice, she turns to him and the smile slides off her face as she takes in the sight of him, and he realises how stressed he must look.

Ameila tries to turn in his arms at the sound of her mother’s voice and starts to cry harder as she reaches out for Emily. Aaron transfers her with little fanfare, knowing that whatever was wrong with the little girl was something only his wife could fix.

“What's this all about, baby?” Emily says as she holds her daughter tightly, her lips pressed to her forehead as she rocks her. “Has she been like this since I left?” She asks as she looks up at her husband.

“The past hour.” Aaron says, watching as Emily gently bounces Amelia in her arms as she attempts to settle the 11 month old. “I’ve been struggling to calm her down.”

The sympathy on his wifes face makes frustration flood his veins, another reminder of something Foyet had taken from him. His relationship with his daughter was still fragile, the way she was still unsure around him a punch to the gut every time she frantically reached out for her mother. Emily looks at the high chair and frowns when she spots the yoghurt pot still sitting on the tray.

“Did she eat that?” Emily asks, her hand rubbing delicate circles on Amelia’s back.

Aaron looks over before turning back to his wife. “Yeah, she was cranky. They all were. I thought a snack would help tide her over until you got home.”

Emily hesitates. It’s fast, almost undetectable, but he catches it.

“Aaron.” Her voice is soft, gentle in a way that was usually only used on the children when she wanted them to know they weren’t in trouble. “She’s lactose intolerant.”

The memory hits him suddenly. Emily curled up next to him in the hotel room they had stayed in when they were first reunited, filling him in on anything and everything to do with the kids. He remembers her telling him that the doctors had got to the bottom of Amelia’s bad stomach, and that she was dairy free herself because she was still nursing her. She’d lamented missing chocolate and cheese, and joked it was her biggest sacrifice as a mother so far.

“I’m sorry.” He stutters, not sounding like himself as it dawned on him. “I’m sorry.” He repeats as he runs his hand through his hair.

“Aaron, baby, it’s ok.” She says, her hand on his arm. She has Amelia on her hip, one arm securing their grumpy baby to her. “It happens. I should have reminded you before I went out.”

“I should know what my daughter can and cannot eat without being reminded.” He seethes, his anger aimed at himself. He tears his arm from under her hand and takes a couple steps back. He watches as she tries to placate him further, useless reassurances on the tip of her tongue. “I’m going out.”

“Honey-”

“I need some air.” He grabs his keys from the side table and leaves the apartment before she can argue any further, the door closing a little too harshly behind him.

Emily sighs and closes her eyes. Amelia buries her head further into her mothers neck, whining as she did so.

“Oh, sweet girl. I know you feel icky.” She kisses the side of her daughter's head and rubs her back. “Let's go see what your brothers are up to.” She kisses her head again and walks through the apartment in search of her sons. ________________

She feeds and settles Amelia before reading with Theo for a bit, smiling as her son drifts off to sleep against her side. She quietly slips out of his room, well practised at the quick and silent exit, and gently closes his bedroom door. Jack gives her a small wave and a grunt when she pops her head into his room, his grumpiness obvious the second she lays eyes on him.

Emily washes her face, blowing out a breath as she takes in the sight of herself in the bathroom mirror. Any joy, any relief she felt after spending an evening with her friends had wilted as quickly as it had bloomed in her chest. The lightness that JJ’s laugh, and Penelope’s overly personal questions about Emily and Aaron’s reunion, had brought was torn away by the devastation in her husband's eyes just before he left the apartment.

Everytime they made progress, every step away from what Foyet had done to Aaron, to their family, it felt like they were thrown right back into it. Emily was exhausted. She missed the version of them that had existed before she had come home to find her husband missing and his blood staining their hardwood floor.

She wondered if they’d ever get the old them back, or if they would slowly build something better. Emily was hopeful that the move to the new house would help, that it would give them new foundations. Somehow even stronger than the ones they had before.

She’s finishing up getting ready for bed, pulling her pyjama shirt over her head, when she hears the front door open, and her husband’s familiar steps throughout the apartment. She hears their bedroom door open and close quickly. She takes a deep breath before she walks out of the ensuite and she sees him sat on the end of the bed, his head in his hands. She sits next to him, purposely keeping her hands to herself despite how much she wants to touch him, to assure him everything was ok. A slight clench in his jaw is the only indicator he has even registered that she's there. She waits him out, knowing he needs to process this himself before he’ll speak to her.

“I should have remembered.” He finally says, removing his head from his hands but not looking at her.

“Aaron-”

“Don’t.” He interrupts, finally looking at her. There are unshed tears in his eyes that make her heart ache. Thoughts about how she could find a way to bring George Foyet back to life just so she could kill him herself burning through her.

“Don’t what?”

“Tell me that it’s ok. Because it isn’t.” He shakes his head at himself. “I gave our little girl…” His voice falters and he clears his throat. “I gave her something that’s made her sick.”

“And so did I.” She reasons, and she grabs his hand. “For the first almost 5 months of her life she was getting it through my breast milk. You did it once. Give yourself a break.”

“I should have remembered.” He says, repeating himself.

“Baby.” She says, moving her hands to grasp his cheeks. “Please stop this. She’s going to be ok. She is ok. She’s fast asleep next door.” She leans her forehead against his, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. “We’re all ok.”

He starts to cry, sobs escaping him that he hadn’t set free since their ordeal had ended. Emily had been waiting for it as he processed everything at his own pace. She pulls him towards her, his head resting on her chest as she wraps her arms tightly around him, one hand in his hair as she presses fierce kisses to the top of his head.

“I’m right here.” She kisses the top of his head again, unsurprised when she can feel her own tears on her face. “You’re ok. I’m here.”

She comforts him like she does their children. With tender words and soft touches, the whispering of nonsense against his hair as he slowly calms. The grip he has on the back of her shirt loosens ever so slightly.

Aaron sniffs as he pulls back, a shaky smile on his face as she wipes his tears away with her thumbs.

“I’m sorry.” He apologies, his voice cracked and torn open by the months of repressed emotion he had let out against her skin.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Emily says tenderly. “I’m your wife. This is what I’m here for.”

Amelia’s cry through the baby monitor visibly undoes some of the work she had done in calming him down, some tension returning to his shoulders. Emily kisses his cheek before she stands up.

“You get ready for bed, I’ll go see what's up with her.” She says just before leaving the room, crossing the hallway into the small bedroom serving as Amelia’s temporary nursery. Most of the baby's things are boxed up ready for the move to the new house. Emily smiles as she approaches the crib, Amelia already standing with her arms reaching out for her. “What’s wrong, sweet girl?”

She picks up her daughter, settling her on her hip as she kisses the side of her head. Amelia almost immediately settles, her crying quietening down as she presses her face into her mother’s neck.

“You just wanted to cuddle, huh?” Emily says, pacing the small room. “I think your dad could do with a cuddle too.”

Emily walks back into their bedroom to find it empty, but the tap running in the ensuite calms any nerves that he had left again. She settles into bed and lays Amelia on her chest, the baby snuggling down, her fingers grasping at her mother’s shirt.

When Aaron leaves the ensuite he falters slightly at the sight in front of him. Emily catches it, the small hesitation before he climbs into bed. Amelia is already half asleep, the discomfort she had been in when Aaron last saw her gone, and Emily watches the tension leave him as he sees with his own eyes that the baby is ok.

“See, she’s fine.” Emily says, smiling at him as he lays down next to them.

He kisses the top of Amelia’s head, which makes her open her eyes. She reaches out for him and he carefully takes her to settle her against his own chest. Emily smiles as she moves to be closer to them, her head resting on Aaron’s chest next to their daughter. He presses a kiss to the top of his wifes head.

“My girls.”

“Yeah.” She replies. “Your girls.” ________________

April 2021

Aaron sighs in frustration as his phone rings, distracting him from his lesson plans. Emily often teased him for his interpretation of retirement, the profiling classes he taught at the academy taking up a fair amount of his time. He turns from his computer to pick up his cell phone, frowning when he sees a number he doesn’t recognise as he answers.

“An inmate at the Federal Correctional Institution in Otisville, New York is calling you, to accept the charges please press one.” An automated voice says through the phone.

The name of the prison makes him freeze, there is only one person he knew who was in prison in New York. He presses one and puts the phone back to his ear, waiting for the call to connect.

“Aaron?” He hears down the phone, the voice on the other end of the tinny line was unsure, nerves easily showing through.

“Sean?” ________________

The rest of the day goes by in a blur and the next thing he is truly aware of is the front door opening, Amelia and Theo bursting in, both of them animatedly talking about their days.

“Hi Dad.” Theo says as he passes through the kitchen where Aaron is sitting, grabbing a snack and leaving the room almost immediately. “I’ve got loads of homework, back in a bit.”

“Hi Theo.” He says, a small smile on his face as his ever studious 18 year old is already out of the room, his mind clearly on whatever work he was assigned that day.

“Dad, do we have any antacids?” Amelia asks as she joins him in the kitchen, grimacing as she walks in with her arms wrapped around her stomach.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” He asks, frowning, pulling her into a quick hug she only protests slightly as she walks past.

“Yeah, just a bad stomach.”

Before he can ask any more questions the front door opens again, and Emily’s voice soon follows.

“Hi.”

“We’re in the kitchen, Em.”

She joins them, a wide smile on her face as she kisses his cheek.

“Everything ok?”

“Everything is fine.” Amelia answers far too quickly.

“Mills has a stomach ache.” Aaron says, and he can’t help but smirk at the way she narrows her eyes at him.

“Traitor.”

“Amelia.” Emily says, her hand gently grasping her daughter's chin to tilt her head, sighing when she sees the hives on her neck. “You had the cheese fries for lunch again didn’t you?”

The 12 year old sighs, knowing lying to her mother, to either of her parents, is pointless. “Yes.”

“Baby, you’re lactose intolerant.” Emily chastises as she tucks some of Amelia’s hair behind her ear.

“Mom, it's cheese fries. Totally worth it.”

Emily sighs, knowing that the slight grimace on her daughter's face is nothing to do with her rebuke, but the discomfort she knows she is in.

“There is some Pepto in the medicine cabinet in our bathroom. Go take some and go lie down.”

Amelia smiles gratefully and starts to make her way out of the room before she turns back. “I’m not going to find anything gross in there am I?”

“Amelia.”

“What?” She says, throwing her hands up. “I’ve caught you guys making out way too many times not to check. I’ve been burned before.”

Emily raises an eyebrow at her. “Go. Now.”

“I’m going.” Amelia says as she leaves the room, something a bit too close to a curse word muttered under her breath.

“That girl will be the death of me.” Emily says as she turns to Aaron, his silence throughout her exchange with their daughter, the lack of quips about how similar they were, now only striking her as odd as she takes in the look on his face. His gaze fixed in the distance, not focused on anything in particular. She frowns and takes a step closer to him, placing her hand over his on the counter. “Honey, are you ok?”

He looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Sean called me.”

Emily doesn’t cover her shock, her hand tightening over his. It had been years since they had heard from Sean. The supposed truce the brothers had come to in New York, when a rare family vacation had turned into a case, had fallen apart as soon as Sean was formally sentenced. Aaron had tried reaching out at the beginning, attempting to visit his brother, but it had always been radio silence on the other side.

Over time he stopped trying, his attempts at calling Sean getting further apart. His requests to go see him stopped. To anyone else it would look like Aaron had accepted it, that he simply was no longer going to be a part of his brother's life. Emily knew better than that.

“What?”

“He called from prison. He wants me to go see him.”

“Oh.” She replies, taking a second before she joins him at the kitchen island, linking their fingers together properly as she settles next to him on one of the stalls. “Are you ok?”

“I think so.” He answers, looking at her, uncertainty all over his face despite his answer. “No.”

Emily places her spare hand on his thigh. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to see him.”

She nods, squeezing his leg in comfort. “Then we’ll go.” She smiles when he turns to look at her, his brows furrowed.

“You don’t have to come with me, it’s fine. I know work is busy.”

“Aaron.” She replies firmly, leaving no room for argument as she moves her hand from his leg to cup his cheek. “I’m coming with you.”

“What about the kids?”

“We’ll be gone one night. Theo is sensible enough to look after Amelia, and Jack lives 20 minutes away if they need him.” She pulls him towards her for a kiss. “Stop arguing with me, it never gets you anywhere.”

His lips twitch, a brief smile taking over. “You think I would have learnt that by now.” _______________

It takes a couple of weeks for them to get things lined up, so that the quick trip to New York wouldn’t disrupt their day-to-day lives too drastically.

Amelia was unimpressed when they told her that Theo was in charge, rolling her eyes at the thought that she needed babysitting, but when they come to leave her attitude fades when she sees how stressed her father was, how on edge he seems as he checks they have everything before they set off on their drive.

She doesn’t remember her Uncle Sean, she had only met him once when she was 3, and she knew enough from what her brothers and parents had told her about that trip to New York to know why she had never seen him again. Another seemingly life changing moment they went through as a family that she had no memory of, relying on hearsay from her brothers and the toned down version she knew her parents told her.

“Please behave for your brother, Amelia.” Emily says as she hugs her daughter.

“I always behave.” She replies, rolling her eyes when she sees her mother raise her eyebrow. “Ok fine, I’ll be good.”

Aaron hugs her next, and Amelia doesn’t miss how he holds her a little tighter than usual. She hugs him back, smiling when he kisses her forehead as they pull apart.

She feels bad for her dad, knowing how much he values his family tells her how much it would hurt him to not be in touch with his brother. Amelia considers how it would feel to not be speaking to Jack or Theo, and despite how much they both annoy her frequently the idea makes her heart clench.

“Call if you need anything, ok?” Aaron says and Amelia nods before pulling him back into a hug.

“I love you, Daddy.” She says, using the moniker she dropped a couple years ago and it makes her chest fill with happiness when he smiles into the top of her head.

“Love you too, Amelia.” ________________

The drive is long, and quiet, and by the time they pull up to the prison Emily is grateful to see it. Aaron had insisted on driving and she’d let him, knowing it would ultimately be worse for him to not be occupied on the trip here. She was planning on taking over when they left for their drive back to the city, but she hadn’t mentioned it yet, knowing that he would already try and argue that point.

They get through security and are shown to the visiting room. They take a seat next to each other and Emily turns to him, trying to read her husband’s face.

“Are you ok?”

He chuckles. “Ask me later.”

A buzzer sounds and a door opens, prisoners walking out and greeting their family and friends. Towards the back is Sean. Emily thinks of the first time she met him. He wasn’t much older than Amelia was now, and already damaged by the things he had been exposed to in his young life. She remembers how he had been nervous around her, a crush on her that he barely concealed.

“Aaron, Emily.” He says as he makes it to the table. Aaron stands and hugs him, and then Emily does the same.

“Sean, how are you?” Aaron asks as they sit down.

“As good as I can be considering I’ve been here nearly 10 years.” He says, his eyes fixed on his brother. He looks at them both. “You guys have hardly changed. How are the kids?”

“I have a picture.” Aaron says, pulling out his wallet and removing the photo of his family that he keeps in there. It was taken on Emily and Theo’s birthday the year before, her 50th and his 18th, all five of them and Sara together and smiling. It was one of his favourites. He slides it across the table to let his brother look at it.

“Wow, they look grown up.”

“It’s been a long time.” Aaron says, the conversation stilted. The awkwardness cloying, making the air around the table feel thick.

“Jack is 28 now, and married. That’s his wife, Sara, in the picture with us” Emily says, trying to break the tension. “Theo is 18 and Amelia is 12.”

Aaron is staring at his brother, profiling him as he listens to Emily talk about the kids. He watches as she explains that Jack is a resident at Georgetown, and that Theo was going to Cornell in the fall. He watches as his brother listens to her stories about Amelia, their wild thing of a daughter who kept them both on their toes. He recognises his brother's expression, it’s one he perfected when they were young, a way to get what he wanted from their mother. It clicks in his head, and he wonders why he didn’t think of it sooner.

“What do you want Sean?” He asks, interrupting the conversation between his wife and brother.

“Aaron-” Emily begins to say, uncertainty in her voice.

“He wants something. That's why he asked me to come here.” He looks back at his brother, and Sean chuckles slightly.

“You don’t miss anything do you? I’m up for parole soon.” Sean explains. “My lawyer said it would be good to have someone upstanding talk at my hearing, and I don’t know anyone more upstanding than you.”

“You want me to talk at your parole hearing? That’s why you got in touch?”

Emily feels how tense her husband gets next to her, the disappointment he clearly feels at Sean only getting in touch because he needed something palpable. She grabs his hand under the table, providing the best support she can in the moment. He lightly squeezes her hand in a silent thank you.

“Yeah. I told my lawyer what you do for a living and he said it was perfect.” Sean says, missing the way his brother sighs, the brief closing of his eyes as he tries to cover his disappointment. “So will you?”

“Of course.” Aaron replies, clearing his throat as he does. “Get your lawyer to send me the details.” He turns to Emily. “Excuse me for a second.”

He gets up and walks towards the bathroom. Emily turns her attention back to her brother-in-law.

“Are you kidding me, Sean?” She says, exasperated.

“What?” Sean asks, his face screwed up in confusion.

“It’s been 9 years.” She explains. “9 years and you reach out because you want something.”

“It’s thanks to him that I’m in here in the first place.”

“You know that’s not true, Sean.” Emily implores, and she stares at him until he relents and nods. “He’ll do it for you because he’s your brother and he loves you. But when you get out you will work on your relationship with him. I won’t let you use him for this and then disappear from our lives again.”

“Are you...threatening me, Emily?” He asks, an eyebrow raised at her in a way that reminded her of Aaron.

“Very much so.” She says seriously, before she smiles. “I’d also like you to get to know my kids better.”

“I’d like that too.” ________________

When they get to their hotel in the city he barely looks around the suite they have for the night before he goes into the bathroom. Emily sighs as she puts her bag down and goes to the mini bar, grabbing a drink for each of them.

She feels his arms wrap around her from behind, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“Did I ever tell you that you’re my favourite wife?”

‘I’m your only wife.” She chuckles, turning to give him his drink.

“That works out well then.” He leans down and kisses her. “Thank you for today.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” She cups his neck, and strokes her thumb over his jawline. “My place has always been by your side.” Emily kisses him quickly. “Lets go sit down.”

She leads him over to the couch in the room, leaning against him as they get comfortable. They sit in silence for a while, having their drinks whilst his fingers trail up and down her arm.

“I let him down.” Aaron says eventually, making Emily turn to look at him, a curious look on her face. “Sean. I’ve been letting him down since we were kids.”

“Honey, you know that's not true.”

“It is. I left when he was young, I left him in that house with the ghost of our father and our shell of a mother.” He says bitterly, throwing back the rest of his drink.

Emily stares at him for a second before she takes his glass out of hand and places it with hers on the table next to the couch. She settles herself over his lap, straddling him in a way that makes him raise an eyebrow and place his hands on her hips. She cups his face in both her hands.

“Listen to me, Aaron. You are not to blame for any of this. You were a kid yourself, Theo’s age, and you wanted to start your own life. You are not responsible for your parents and what they did or didn’t do. Or for the decisions that Sean has made that has led him to where he is.” She looks directly into his eyes, looking for some understanding or agreement. “Ok?”

“Ok.” He nods his agreement, and she can tell he isn’t completely convinced, but it’s enough to placate her for now.

She still wants to cheer him up, so she changes tactics, moving her hands so she’s cupping the back of his head instead before she leans down to kiss him. She presses herself closer to him, signalling her intent, she smiles against his lips when he pulls her closer, his grip on her hips tightening.

“Let's go to bed.” She says, slightly breathless as she pulls away.

“I like the way you think, Mrs Hotchner.”

[kaijime]

hanamaki + matsukawa + iwaizumi | jealous punishment

cw. fem reader, spanking, humiliation, jealous sex, biting, little bit of degrading, cockwarming

a/n. this got requested through my dms (i take requests through dms and ask box, though I prefer if I get them through my ask box) also can I just say ✨Iwaizumi✨Hajime ✨(27)✨athletic✨trainer✨

hanamaki takahiro

Doesn’t get jealous too often, so when he does, your able to tell right away.

Yes you’ve been talking to this old friend, catching up after a long time of no see, but when you see Hiro’s unamused face, you know you’re in for a rough night.

He remains calm and forces a smile on his face as he greets the stranger, but he won’t let your unnecessary laughter go unnoticed.

When you get home he takes you on his lap and bends you over, watching your pretty ass on display for him, practically begging him to mark it with his handprints.

The worst thing about it isn’t the fact that he makes you count everytime he slaps your cute cheeks, its his words.

He has a way with them, he convinces you that you’ve only brought this onto yourself, that its your own fault you’re in this position.

Completely humiliates you, but would never leave you without an orgasm.

He wouldn’t be able to cum without seeing your beautiful face when you come undone.

“Why did you stop counting?” His hand came down to accentuate that last word, making you squirm on his lap, silently wishing he would spank you once again.

“I-it’s too much... I-“

“Do I have to remind you again, you brought this onto yourself” you shook your head, trying to deny his words but it ended up looking like you were just trying to convince yourself.

“You’ve been acting like a whore, I saw the way he looked at you... like he wanted to devour you right then and there... but you know what?” He pulled your abused body off his lap, holding you hands back as he settled you to sit on his lap, forcing his cock into your unprepared hole and sheathing himself in a slick movement. “He could never devour you, he could never know how good it feels to be inside your tight cunny, you know why?”

You sob, your soft mewls filled the room along with his small grunts he let out everytime he lifted your hips, using you as his own little fuck doll. Then suddenly you feel his lips on your neck, biting harshly on your neck and forcing a scream out of you.

“I asked you a question, why are you being so rude?”

“W-why makki-!?” You moaned out, a warm feeling was building up in your lower stomach, you could feel it. A small string that could break any second. He brought a hand to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on the sensitive nub, the overwhelming pleasure felt too good to be true.

“Because this pussy is mine... all mine. Say it!”

“This p-pussy is yours makki! I-it’s all yours!” He glances down, taking a peek of the lovely sight in front of him. That subtle string of your wetness he got to see everytime his nice cock slipped out of you.

“Such an obidient little whore”

issei matsukawa

Honestly it’s really hard to tell if he’s jealous, he mostly keeps it to himself.

And you think to yourself ‘wow, he’s really ok with this guy literally flirting with me?’ Which of course, he isn’t.

Instead he waits for the right moment, at night when the foreplay has brought you up to the moment you’ve been waiting for.

You’re so ready to take him, to let him fuck you into next week.

So when you tell him he can move, and he doesn’t, you give him a confused look.

“Matsunn- please”

“Please what?” You pouted, he couldn’t see you since he’d turned you around with your ass in the air but he knew exactly what you wanted. He could practically hear it in your voice, but he wanted to hear you say it, beg for it. “Do you think you deserve it after letting that guy eye-fuck you”

“Wh-what?”

“Did you really think I didn’t notice him? How much you giggled at his nonsense?” You cursed yourself, you should’ve known better than that, look where it’s gotten you. You’re desperate for him to something, anything but he just leans his toned chest on your arched back.

“P-please just fuck me... I’m sorry” he wants to fuck you, he really does, but he needs you to learn your lesson. He wants you to learn that you if you want something, if you really cherish it, you should earn it. “Please... I said I was s-sorry... just fuck me already”

“I think I’m going to stay like this for a little longer” you let out a small moan, a whiny ‘no’. “If you keep whining like that I’m just going to stay still longer, so I better not hear you, understood?”

iwaizumi hajime

He’s the easiest one to get jealous out of all these men.

He’s very possesive of you, he would never share you with anybody else and is always watching over you.

So one day, he joins you in your usual morning coffee shop and notices you’re pretty chatty with the barista, he’s irritated, though not fully jealous yet.

The last string is broken when he notices the paper he slips along with your coffee, his cellphone number.

He just pulls you into the bathroom, not caring anyone who would see you going into the same one.

“Hajime! We sh- fuck! Hah... we shouldn’t be d-doing this here” he slides his cock in, starting with his rough thrusts into your tight cunt. He’d barely been able to hold himself back, gathering your dress up and pushing your lacy panties to the side before absolutely railing you on the edge of the bathroom sink.

“Yeah? Just couldn’t help but notice that guy... the one that gave you coffee, is he usually this flirty?” Up your mind was full so many thoughts, mostly about how good his cock was reaching the deepest parts of you, so you couldn’t be bothered to answer his jealous question. “Not gonna answer?”

“H-Hajime... oh- fuck... I’m gonna c-cum”

“Don’t you dare” hepis threatening voice was different, he would make you hold on for him, wait for him to be close as well so you could cum together but this time, it was so aggressive. His tone almost frightening but you did as told.

“Do you know what happens to girls who act like sluts?” Your spamming cunt driving him closer to cumming. “They get treated like sluts. So you’re not gonna get to cum”

“Wh-wha- no! Please-... I swear... I-I don’t even know his n-name Hajime, please! Wanna c-cum”

“I told you no, if you cum I’ll make you walk out of here with the mess you make” his harsh words brought tears to your eyes, you couldn’t get the pleasure you needed so much, it felt like you could get it if you just reached out but, that would only bring more punishments.

He bit down on your shoulder, holding back his groans as he painted your walls white with his seed. He gathered up a few of it dripping out of your hole and pushed it back inside, putting your panties where they belonged and gave you his hand to stand up. And so you walked up to the counter with embarrassed eyes, avoiding the barista’s eyes as much as you could while you gave him back the small paper.

taglist.

@kiyobbie

©️ kaijime | all content belongs to kaijime, do not modify or repost

[theymetinargentina]

All the Stars | H.S. Imagine

Comments and requests are always welcomed:)

Masterlist

Summary: domestic Harry, husband!Harry, all that jazz

Warnings: Smut

Word count: 1.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moonlight continued to cascade on his back. He had a concentrated look on his face as he tried to get the thing i begged for to work. “I can’t get this fuckin’ thing to work.” he scroffed.

“Harry you have to twist it,” I said while looking over the manual.

“I only do this for you my darlin’,” he peered back at me and gave me the cheekiest grin.

“I know you’re only saying that to get in my pants,” I rolled my eyes

“Absolutely not,” he sounded genuinely hurt, “Plus I wouldn’t even need to do that.” he grinned.

“Is that so?” I raised my eyebrow and chuckled.

“You’d come crawling on your knees for my baby.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, hurry and finish I want to see.” I stood up and walked to where Harry continued to work at the telescope.

He stepped back, “It looks like it should work,” yet he sounded unsure.

“Alright I trust you, now shoo.”

“Hey! I built the bloody thing, I would also like to see ‘all the stars’,” he teased with a grin. I merely scoffed at him and peered through the lens, letting out a small gasp.

“It looks beautiful Harry,” I exclaimed.

I moved to allow him a glimpse of the night sky.

“Fuckin’ hell, you can see everything,” he squited and hunched over the telescope while I hugged him from behind.

“We should get inside and get the table set for dinner.” I say into his back.

A few friends were coming over to celebrate a recent promotion I had gotten at work. Harry was estatic and insisted we have a celebration. Which meant we now had to finish cooking and get ready for guests. Something Harry wasn’t particularly fond of when having guest over.

“Just a minute, I wanna stay outside with you for a bit.” He hums. It was dark and there was a slight nip to the air but our warmth combined was enough for us.

He turned around and returned the hug. His warmth enveloping me whole. My check to his chest, I could hear and feel his heart beating. Even after all this years, through every argument, I can’t believe the amount of love I have for this man. Everything he does amazes me, the kindness and gentleness he has never stops surprising me. I truly don’t think he understands how big of a gift he is the world. How in awe we- his family, friends and even fans- constantly are of him. I don’t think he realizes how many people he has, and continues, to save. The fact that he does it all without asking anything in return for himself, somehow makes him so much admirable. ———————————————————— “I’ll take the plate, don’t worry about it,” I say as I grab his plate and take it to the sink. Not before he sneaks a slap to my ass.

When I turn to look at him, he has the cheekiest grin ever and giggles like a teenage boy.

I can’t help the smile that makes it’s way onto my face.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he grins, “especially not when you’re wearing a skirt that short.”

“Don’t slut shame me, you asshole,” I snap back playfully

“Baby I want you to dress slutty in front of me,” he hugs me from behind and slowly push’s his groin into my backside, “it makes my dick rock hard.”

I mhmm in acknowledgment. I decide to tease him back and slowly start to move my hips.

He groans and starts placing sloppy kisses along my neck, “babyyyy, if you keep doing that I’m gonna take you right here.”

“Do it,” I moan when he starts trailing his hand down my stomach.

Just when he’s about to reach the button of my jeans the door bell rings.

“Fuck,” he all but growls.

I laugh, “relax baby we’ll have time later.” I wink as I go to answer the door

“You absolute tease,” I hear him say.

—————————————-

We’re all three drinks in and it’s clear everyone’s starting to feel it. Harry is telling the story of the renovation we recently had done in the guest room, to which Jeff and Glenne listen to intently.

“Seriously, I’ll give you both the number to the company that did our flooring,” I say to them.

They turn their heads and smile at me, “That would be wonderful, thank you,” glenne says with a grateful smile.

Despite our time together, being around Harry’s friends never fails to make me nervous. I think a part of me is worried if they don’t like me, what Harry would do. Surely he’d pick his best friend and manager over a girl, right? My thoughts are interrupted when my close friend Mae asks Harry a question.

“Renovations in a new house, but no ring?” She has a playful tone and everyone laughs but Harry and I both look at each other slightly panicked.

It’s not that we didn’t want people to know that we had gotten married. But the constant questions and pestering became a drag to deal with. Which is why we choose to instead elope with only our familys knowledge. It was beyond lovely being able to experience the first few months of our marriage without the constant unwanted attention from everyone.

It was a secret between the two of us, something that made our love all the more special.

Harry takes a deep breath and looks over the Mae, “it’ll happen soon, don’t worry,” he grins.

“I’ve told you a thousand times Mae, we’ll go to a courthouse and that’s it,” I smile, knowing this is where we constantly lost everyone in our marriage plans.

Harry and I didn’t want the big wedding everyone dreams of. We were content with signing a paper and vowing to love each other.

“I love you both, but you kill me everytime you remind me,” Mae exclaims with a small smile.

Everyone begins chatting about weddings, in what I assume to be an attempt to change our minds.

After a few more drinks and a long discussion about what our next gathering will be focused on, our guests excuse themselves and leave one by one. ————————————— Up stairs, Harry and I began to get ready for bed. He managed to tuck himself into bed already while I wiped all my makeup off.

“I don’t know if I should keep letting my bread grow?” He wondered out loud.

“Yes!” I agreed a little too loudly, Harry’s facial hair was the source of most of our disagreements. While he preferred to stick to shaven or minimal stubble, I preferred his full grown beard.

He knowingly smirked, “I’ll keep it if it means I get to spend all day with my head between your thighs.”

“You won’t hear me complainin’ “ I mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you?” He jokingly leaned foward in an attempt to look at me.

I turned off the light and walked toward our bed. Before sit at the end of it.

While crawling, “ I said I won’t complain about you spending all day between my thighs.”

He grinned again, “is that so?”

“Yup.”

I reached my hand under the covers and began to palm him over his sweatpants. He started placing kisses along my neck and jawline. When I gave a rather hard squeeze he groaned and looked at me, “I’m gonna cum in my pants.”

“And we couldn’t possibly have that hmm?”

“Absolutely not, I want to cum in your tight cunt.”

I moaned at his words and pulled him to get out from under the covers. He pushed me onto my back and began grinding his hips on mine. I reached for the bottom of his shirt and lifted it off him. While he broke away I began to strip off my bottoms and top.

He let out a growl when he saw I wasn’t wearing a bra and immediately began sucking on the area around my nipples.

“Harry..” I moaned

“Tell me baby” he replied, “tell me what you want daddy to do?”

“I want daddy to fuck me.” I boldly said

It’s light a switch flipped in Harry and he practically tore off my lace thong.

I  pulled his underwear off and his erection sprung up immediately.

I almost drooled at the sight of his red tip dripping pre cum. I laid back down while slowly pumping him.

He threw his head back and gave the most angelic moan I have ever heard. The sight of Harry completely subbmissive to my hand was quite possibly the biggest turn on.

He wasted in no time and lined himself up, kissing me roughly and slowly easing in.

“Oh fuck...” I threw my head back in pleasure.

No matter how many times we had sex, Harry’s size never failed to surprise me.

“Shit baby you’re so tight,” he bit his lip and began thrusting roughly.

Our pants and skin slapping was the only noise  in the room. A noise that had become a regular occurrence.

“Harder Harry.....fuck..”

“Yeah baby? You like rough? Like it when daddy fucks you with his cock?” He smirked and picked up his pace. He trailed his hand up from my thighs and wrapped them around my throat lightly.

“Mmmm....” was all I managed to get out.

He pressed his body on top of mine and bottomed out making me moan out loudly. I raked my nails down his back, knowing the marks would be there tomorrow.

He placed a kiss below my ear sending a wave of pleasure throughout me.

“Wanna get on top and ride my cock darlin’ ?” He whispered.

I nodded feverishly and pushed him to lay on his back.

I straddled him and grabbed his length lining him up, slowly sinking down. We both dropped our heads and moaned at the feeling of him being balls deep in me.

“Fuck, baby you’re cunt feels so good.”

“Mmm you like it?” I asked

“I fuckin love it.” I began moving my hips back and forth and then bouncing up and down; trying to find a rhythm that would push us over the edge.

My thighs began to burn so I placed my chest on Harry’s and he took that as his signal to do his part. He began thrusting up into me at a merciless pace. ‘Oh fuck’ was the only words I could seemingly get out, while Harry resorted to merely grunting.

I could feel him twitching inside me and knew he was close.

I began kissing all along his jaw and whispered in his ear, “cum in me, Harry, cum in your cunt.” This was all he needed as he bottomed out and groaned loudly.

I felt his thick ropes of cum coat inside of me. This pushed me over the edge, making me twitch on top of Harry and cry out.

I felt him soften but neither of us made any move. Our breaths were slowly going back to normal.

Finally I slowly eased off of him, whimpering at the feeling of being empty.

“Fuck, y/n, what the hell was that?” He chuckled.

“It was thank you, for everything.” I smiled.

“I love you.” “I love you.”

[chimtaesty]

broken souls (pjm!hybrid au)

plot :Helping hybrids is your passion, as a local hybrid center calls you for help because of a abused and broken panther hybrid you pack your stuff and hurry to put him back together.

warnings: death, abuse | 4.9k words

a/n: hi there, it’s been a while huh? I’m finally back and better than ever. I released two stories lately which seemed like a fever dream so i won’t continue them but i hope you are ready to keep supporting my stuff :) I hope you like this story since i spent a lot of time and thoughts on it :)

masterlist

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Am i talking to Y/N?”

“Yes you are, who is this?” 

“Oh, i’m sorry for not introducing myself, my name is Helen Wallis and I'm the Head of the Hybrid Rehabilitation Center Crystal Snow. I’m calling because we take care of a very delicate case at the moment, the issue is that we don’t know how to take further care of this poor soul and I heard that you are an amazing psychologist student who even helped the Seong-girl out of her cruel thoughts. If you could maybe take your time to take a look at this broken boy we would all be really thankful.”

To be honest, this girl didn’t take a lot of work. She was spoiled and upset because a boy in her school rejected her. The only reason this became a big thing was because the parents are influential people. But you would love to help someone who needed your help so you didn’t have another choice.

“I would gladly take a look at him, if you could send me his file.”

“Oh yes, of course. Thank you a lot Y/N, your help means a lot”

You’ve looked at the same three sheets of paper for the last two hours and you can’t believe what’s printed on it. The sentences make you angry and give you the feeling of having to throw up. He was raised on a local farm which turned out to be an underground fighting ring. He had to take drugs. He was raped and had to watch his mum getting killed, the only person on this planet who he loved. He has lost someone just like you, you may be able to connect with him faster than with Seong Hye-Jin.

The speed of your heart beating decreases as you pack the papers back into your bag. The bus rumbles and your stop arrives faster as you expected it to. The building looks nice, it has  a big blue sign on top that says “Crystal Snow Rehabilitation Center”. It’s a short walk across the street to the entrance. As you walk towards the front desk a chubbier in white dressed older lady walks towards you. “You must be Y/N, it’s so nice to meet you. I called you earlier this week” you nod and shake her hand. “Yes, I tried to prepare myself as well as possible, but i’m not sure if he is going to welcome my help. I would say we just give it a try.”

The walk to Jimin’s room is long, there are a lot of doors, hallways and two elevators involved. Before Helen opens the door she turns around and clasps your hands in hers. “I need you to be careful. I couldn’t forgive myself if he hurt you. If something goes south please shout immediately, security is right outside this door. God may bless you” she whispers the last sentence as she turns the key and the door opens. You smile at Helen and take a step in. You never thought much about god or christianity, it’s all a hoax. Where was god when you needed him? 

“Please leave the door open until I say otherwise” you whisper towards Helen and she nods. As you take a look inside the tiny room you are reminded of your bedroom at your parents house. It was tiny but cozy, Jimin might feel the same.

There he is, laying on his bed facing the window. “Hi there, Jimin. My name is Y/N, I would like to talk to you. Is that fine with you?” He doesn’t say anything nor does he move. He’s not ignoring you though, he’s listening very well. “Should i leave the door open?” you ask silently and he doesn’t answer, he turns around to look at you. A thing catches your attention immediately, the big scar across his left eye.

He nods and you nod back not saying anything. “Can i sit myself down over there or should I stay here?” you ask again to tear his attention from the open door, this is no time to do something dumb. “Stay” he whispers and you comply, he wants to keep you at a distance. The spot you’re standing at is a great place to oversee everything you do. “Alright, i’ll just sit down right here” you smile, he doesn’t reply.

As you sit there on the floor he grows more comfortable. The door is open and there is no one who pushes him to speak. You lowered yourself to the ground where he is able to look down on you. “So, Jimin. We both know why I’m here. To be quite honest, these people here don’t really care about you. It sounds harsh but that’s the truth. The only thing they are interested in is rehabilitating you and getting you out of here. They want you to move on and live normally but let’s be real for a second, that’s impossible.” His head snaps upwards to look at you.

“Everyone tells you how great life is and how badly you need to move on. The problem is that after all life ever gave you, it’s hard for you to understand that optimism. Life is shit, isn’t it?” you chuckle and he nods. “I didn’t expect you to say that” his raspy voice fills the room.

You chuckle “What? That life’s shit? Well, it’s the truth.” he nods and suddenly his ears move from being stuck flat on his head to standing upwards, ready to listen to you. “You know, Jimin. I understand you. Life hasn’t been kind to me either. I might’ve not lived through something as terrific as you but it comes close. Do you want to hear it?” he nods but still keeps his head low. You know that sharing hurtful experiences can help you connect to each other. You knew almost everything about him. You know what those horrible people did to him and how he became who he is now but he knows nothing about you. He doesn’t know why you are willing to sit on his floor or why the hell the door was kept open

“I had to kill my father” That catches his attention. His eyebrows furrow as he stares at you.

“Two men broke into our house one night when I was thirteen. I didn’t know what was happening, I mean it was around three am and i was sleeping. My brother was dead when I arrived in the living room, they had almost decapitated him. My parents were restrained and sat up on our couch.” 

I have to breathe for a moment before I can continue. Right in that moment he locked his gaze with me for the first time. We share a quick glance.

“My mum was raped before they slit her throat and I couldn't do anything.I had to stab my dad 28 times. The only thing I remember was them telling me that everything’s my fault. I don’t know what I did nor do I know why my parents had to pay for it. But I moved on. I didn’t forget, not that I ever could forget this massacre but, I try to survive. Nothing can ever bring them back and I know that. I will never see them again and it hurts everytime i close my eyes because I see their lives leaving their bodies when I do but I try to move on. I try to live ” 

I wipe my tears and look at the floor as all the pictures come back. The blood, the bones being cracked and the lives being taken-”I’m sorry you had to go through that” he whispers and a small sniff leaves your body. “Thank you, Jimin.” you whisper back and for a moment there’s just silence. It’s comforting and scary at the same time. It’s almost as if he accepts you now, as if he knows what you feel.

“Do i have to tell you?” you shake your head with a small smile. You wouldn’t mind but every time you have to talk about it you literally relive what happened. You don’t want him to feel what you do now  “No, you don’t have to if you don’t want to” he nods and sighs, a big weight visually leaving his shoulders. “You can sit on the chair, the floor must be cold” you almost laugh. “I’ll gladly. Thank you, Jimin.” You sit down in front of him and he moves back slightly.

“Jimin” you whisper and his head snaps towards you “Yes?” he whispers back. His eyes softly gaze at yours “I need you to know that you’re not alone. What you had to go through is in no way forgettable and I know that you regret many things but you’re not alone. ” he just stares at you until his eyebrows furrow and his chest starts to move faster and faster. You triggered something, something bad.

“You’re lying” he whispers and his nostrils flare and his eyes stare at the floor. “You’re lying like everyone else.” He almost growls at you as you try to deny what he said. “I’m not, Jimin, listen to me!” you plead and you notice the shift. In front of you is no longer the quiet and understanding person he was two minutes ago . He shifted to what those people made him, a broken, hurt and traumatized boy who’s life is a living hell.

Now that they got him out of there he’s held captive in his mind. The horror he had to experience every day is now tormenting him inside his own head and no one seems to understand that.  His eyes grow dark and his body builds itself up and he flashes his teeth in a threatening way. He closes himself off. He’s gone, the soft understanding boy you were just talking to was somewhere crying in a corner of his mind scared of getting attached and being thrown away like garbage.

In a matter of seconds his hands find their way around your throat. He tightens his grip and you find it hard to breathe. Your pleads come out strangled as he lets out a low grunt. This situation reminds you of the night you killed your father. The men strangled you as well while you watched your mum being raped, the only difference here is that Jimin isn’t doing it out of pleasure, he’s terrified to the point where he’s alright with taking another person's life.

The two security men find their way into the room as your legs give in and you two fall to the floor, Jimin didn’t let go though. Your last attempt of staying alive needs to work so you clasp his face in between your hands. You stroke his cheek and give him a small smile. “It’s alright” His eyebrow twitches slightly and in a matter of seconds his grip around your throat loosens and your vision finds its way back to you. You cough violently after you push him behind yourself.

“Miss, please move. We need to move this farrell animal, he’s a threat” you shake your head as you move closer to Jimin “He’s not- cough -that’s why I-cough-I’m here. Pl-cough-Please move outside, thank you-cough.” They share a worried look but do as told and move to their spots outside. Your head hangs low as you try to steady your breathing.

Behind you, you can hear silent but repetitive sorry’s.

You turn around slightly, just to look at him. He now understood what he had done. You can’t blame him for what he did, he was terrified as you somehow triggered something in his brain with your reassurance. “Jimin” you breathe out and his rant of sorry’s stop. “Jimin,this isn’t your fault, okay? I’m not mad at you” You turn towards him and take his hand into yours.

“Do you hear me? I’m not mad at you” he doesn’t look at you as you talk to him. The atmosphere in his room is cold and uncomfortable. His demeanor changed, he feels sorry and you know that. He almost killed you and you’re not upset. It’s something that’s hard to understand, why would someone you hurt still like you? Simple, they are either unconditionally in love with you or know how you feel. They understand the things you went through, the pain you feel, they relate.

“How?” He whispers as his emotions get ahead of him. “I almost killed you, look at your throat” he sniffs and you can’t help but touch it. It’s sore and probably bright red but you don’t really care. “It’s fine” you answer him and he shakes his head “How can that be fine? You were nothing but nice to me and I struck you to the floor to strangle you. If that is fine to you, you’re dumb”

You nod your head “Maybe I am”. You stroke the hair out of your face and get up. “I’ll be leaving now-“It was nice meeting you Y/N, I’m sorry that I hurt you and I understand that you won’t come ba-“Oh, I’m coming back” his head snapped up to look at you. “What?” You chuckled slightly “You can’t get rid of me that easily, we are friends now, Jimin.” He just gives you a star struck expression as you’re almost outside of his room. “I’ll bring you some cake next time”

-

About a week later you again stand in front of the center. You thought a lot about how you could help Jimin and to be honest, you have no idea. The only thing that somehow connects you two is the trauma. There’s nothing that really connects you, you lived a great life until that night, you always had and always will have the privilege of being a human and not a hybrid. Jimin was born on a farm like an animal, raised like one and treated like one.

In your hands you hold the cake you promised him the last time. You open the door just to be greeted with Helen. She smiles at you and welcomes you with a warm handshake “Y/N, how nice to see. Jimin has been asking for you everyday. He told me what he has done and how you treated him. I’m glad that you didn’t run away, he really needs your help” you nod and smile at her “We had a great start actually, I’m positive that I’m able to help him.” she gives you a comforting smile before she answers you “He’s outside, by the pond” you nod and take your leave to the garden.

The garden is blooming beautifully, a lot of flowers and bushes decorate the garden in a welcoming and soft way. Other hybrids roam around the garden as well. Some play together, some stay alone just like Jimin. He’s sitting on a bench in front of the pond while he stares at the water. You clear your throat as you stand right behind him and he’s fast to turn around.

His face shifts to a soft smile as he sees you. “Y/N!” he exclaims happily. He puts his legs down and makes space for you. You thankfully take the spot next to him. The air is thick between you two and you can pinpoint exactly why. He still feels sorry for what he did and you don’t really know how to approach this matter.

“I brought you the cake I promised” you throw into the silence. He doesn’t look, he doesn’t move at all. “I thought you wouldn’t come again” he says sadly. Your head snaps towards his and your eyes lock. “Why would you think that? I told you i would come back” you give back. He shakes his head and finally glances at the cake “I thought you might’ve changed your mind.” you sigh and hit his shoulder lightly. “I would never break my promise, now try the cake” you give him a fork and let him taste it.

“I didn’t bake it though, I’m terrible in the kitchen” you chuckle and he smiles “That’s fine, it’s delicious” he silently eats the cake and thanks you another two times. “How’s your throat?” he asks quietly. You unconsciously touch your throat. “It’s fine, it’s a little bit red” he nods and shoves another fork of cake into his mouth. Just then you notice a red mark on his right hand. They didn’t hit him, did they?

“Jimin, you need to be completely honest with me right now” his eyes go wide as your face grows angry. “Did they hurt you for what you did to me?” he almost chokes on his cake as you ask him that. “Did they hit you?” you ask again and he hides his hand before he tries to explain himself. “It’s not like i didn’t deserve it.” he stammers. “They are not allowed to do that, Jimin. You should’ve told me right away, I will make sure something like that never happens ever again.” he shakes his head and takes your hand into his. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” You give him an angry look “It is not alright, no one should treat you like that” he smiles slightly and strokes the back of your hand.

“I’m fine” and for a moment you believe him. You forget the red mark on his hand and the scar across his eye. You forget what happened to you and what happened to him. You forget the handprints around your throat. The trees and flowers disappear as well as the pond which seems to drain into oblivion. Nothing else other than the beautiful boy in front of you seems to exist. The way his dark hair almost hides his beautiful eyes which are trying to reassure you. The way his bruised hand gently strokes yours and the way this feeling makes you want to cry. It makes your walls crumble.

“Y/N?” his voice tugs you out of your thoughts. His hand wipes a tear from your face “Why are you crying?” he asks quietly. You can’t talk, it’s like someone took your ability to speak.

“It’s alright, I sometimes cry as well.” He lets go of your hand and suddenly everything comes back. Everything is there again and it’s hard to comprehend. Why did it feel nice?

“I did horrible things, you know. You shouldn’t look at me like that” your eyebrows furrow. “Like what?” he looks up at the sky “Like you love me, my mum used to look at me like that” he gives back and you can’t move. “It’s a look that says that you would give me the universe and more if you could. It’s a look which says that you would love everything about me but you won’t, you can’t. I did things that not a single living creature should do. If you knew what i did, you wouldn’t speak to me ever again. You would look at me the same way as everyone else ever did! “ he almost shouted.

You are taken aback, what is he talking about. “Well, what did you do?” he whips around and stares at you in disbelief. “Did you just completely ignore what i said?” you shake your head and smile at him “Do you think I’m like everyone else? I stabbed my dad almost thirty times, how bad can it be?” his face grows angry and he pushes the cake to the side. “One time I was in the ring I had to kill my opponent. The bloodier it was the better, so I ripped his windpipe from his throat. Another time I broke someone's neck just to get fed. Do you even know what it feels to get praised for taking someone's life?”

Without thinking you get closer, your noses almost touched as you did. “Yes, I do know what it feels like to get praised for taking someone’s life. They praised me the whole night for killing my father and later made me bury his corpse while my raped mother had to watch all of it. After i complied with them they slit her throat and left me laying in my mother’s blood while i wanted to die. The last thing they said before leaving me was “That’s what good girls do”, so don’t tell me i don’t know what it feels like. I know how people look at someone who had to survive something like this, I know it damn well.”

For a few seconds you two just stare at each other with wide and teary eyes. The mood is tense. The only thing you can hear is Jimin’s heavy breathing and you trying to not breathe at all. A tear leaves his eye and all of a sudden his lips find their way onto yours. You can’t grasp what is happening, your lips move by themselves. Your hand finds its way onto his cheek and he grabs the back of your neck caressingly. Never has a kiss felt like this, like the whole earth could explode and you wouldn’t care as long as you were kissing him.

But the thought of you two getting caught struck your mind and you stopped.

“W-why, did you stop?” his voice was a faint whisper. He knows why but he still feels the need to ask. “It felt good,” he continues. “We can’t be seen, Jimin” his face falls and he shakes his head “I don’t care” he whispers as you get up. “But i do, if they get a whiff of what just happened i won’t be allowed to meet you anymore.” you gather your stuff as he suddenly grabs your hand to stop you “I want you to adopt me” he almost shouts. You halt in your actions while your eyes widen.

“I realised that there is no person other than you who really cares about me. There’s no one who understands what I’ve been through. Not a single person can relate to what my life has been like. When I’m with you it feels like the whole universe disappears and there’s only you, you pull me out of those cruel thoughts, you take the pain away Y/N. Please adopt me” you can’t move. That’s not how you expected this whole thing to go. Of course you like him, there’s a connection and even feelings you can’t name but, it’s wrong. The way he sees it is wrong.

He sees a saviour who might rescue him from the life he used to live. To be honest, you’re ready to be that, his saviour, but is it the right thing to do, or to be?  “Why aren’t you saying anything? Am i not good enough? Do you want me to change? I can-”No, Jimin. I-I don’t really know if that is how you really feel-”Of course that is what i really feel like, i need you Y/N” he shouts.

You step back with a small yelp escaping your mouth. His eyes soften “I’m sorry, i didn’t want to yell at you” All of sudden two men rush across the garden just to push you away from him “Stop! You’re hurting her” he shouts as you harshly fall on your butt. This is his mother’s death all over. He wasn’t able to get to her and now he’s being held back while they push you around. They grab Jimin and try to get him going but he’s too focused to get to you “Y/N!” he screams and you are fast to get up “Sir, please let go”you shout, much to your displeasure he just blows you off. They push him to the floor getting him ready to be sedated. Jimin doesn’t comply, the only thing he does is shout your name.

You throw yourself to the floor to look into his eyes. His eyes are wide and his face wet from crying “Please, Y/N don’t leave me. I can’t live without you, god please.” he pleads between broken cries. “Jimin, hey, listen to me. i’m right here! I won’t leave you” he cries and cries as he slowly drifts into a deep slumber “I need you” he whispers before he’s completely knocked out.

You once again look at the man in front of you. Is it wrong to love someone you just met? You are no psychiatrist, you have nothing to lose, do you? The only thing you desire more than helping him out of the dark space he’s in, is hold him in your arms. To wipe his tears and tell him that everything will be fine.

-

You thought a lot about him and his pleading about adoption. He would fit, no doubt. You two share one soul. The apartment you live in is hybrid friendly and there’s enough space. Yesterday you got a call from the center asking you to come in and meet Jimin again since his condition has worsened. He hasn’t eaten properly for almost a week, he doesn’t speak or move from his bed and refuses to look at anyone other than you. 

You once again stand in front of the center unsure why you are here. Are you here to end something that never happened or continue something that has potential? You don’t know. But deep down you already know the answer

Helen waits for you at the front desk. She eagerly drags you along the long way to Jimin’s room. You remember the corridors and the two elevators as if you’ve walked those corridors a million times just to get to him. She doesn’t speak since she told you everything on the phone, she just escorts you to his room.

The door opens with the jingle of the keys and your heart breaks as you look inside. He’s curled up on his bed holding the fork you brought with you last week. He looks at it as if it’s a picture, telling him a story.

“Jimin” you whisper. His head moves slightly, needing to reassure what he was hearing. “Jimin, it’s me” you say once again.

He puts himself up on his feet and looks at you. His face seems thinner and his face is puffy from crying. You don’t know how someone could hurt him, how someone could force him to do things he didn’t want to or how someone could kill the one person who loved him. How someone could take everything he had, he ever was. You can’t understand it. You would give him everything. You would give your life for him if you could.

“Y/N” he breathes out. His eyes close and a small smile forms on his face. “I thought I’ll never see you again,” he says. Your body moves on its own as you walk towards him. You almost throw yourself into his arms. “I thought you left me” he chokes out.

“I’ll stay by your side as long as you need me, I told you that before. Don’t you ever think that I’ll leave you” you whispered into his chest. The comforting smell of his sweater grazes your nose. His tail wrapping around your legs in a comforting manner.

“What makes you think that I’m worth your love?” he whispers back and you can’t help but hold him tighter as your eyebrows furrow. “I’ll love you because you can’t love yourself, that’s fine with me.” Tears form in your eyes as his soften.

He sighs and strokes your back “Then please never leave me” he mumbles and you nod your head. “You won’t ever have to be alone, Park Jimin” he smiles and strokes your back as you look at him. “I’ll never leave you. I thought about it and I think it’s the best to have you by my side, I would like to adopt you” you smile. His breath stops for a moment as you finish your sentence.

His legs give in and you both rush to the floor. The dark strands of hair fall into his face and his sobs fill the room and you hug him tight. “You’ll have a home, a place where no one can hurt you. A place for you and me” he nods and you smile back at him

“I never thought that I'd ever escape this. I thought I’ll have to live like this, locked away like a mad person. Alone with my thoughts and what happened to me. But the second you came into my room I knew. I knew that all of this is going to change. That I’ll escape” you nod at him. “The moment I read about what happened to you, I knew that I would do everything I could to save you. I’ll give you the peace you deserve, I’ll love you until death does us apart, Park Jimin”

a/n: i hope you liked it, stop by at my masterlist for more works of mine.

[everlarkficexchange]

Operation: BREAD (Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad)

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his common law wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeen’s daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem]

Rated: T for now, for language.

Author’s Note: So, I resigned myself that this prompt won’t be completed by the new dateline of May 10th, because believe it not, quarantining with the husband and children at home makes for a very busy day… everyday. I haven’t been able to write anything for days at a time, and everytime I come back, I reread what I’ve written so far, and find faults that need fixing and what I hoped to be a short story is turning into a long one shot because I’m incapable of keep things simple… and now I’m ranting about everything instead of thanking everyone— from the EFE administrators, to @567inpanem for the prompt, and y’all dear readers— and wishing all moms a happy Mother’s Day, even if you celebrate it on a different date in your country… and I a belated happy birthday to Katniss Everdeen and Also a happy Mother’s Day to her, because she deserves it… anywho…

Here’s is the very first part of this story, that can’t make up its mind on what it wants to be (it’s leaning into romcom territory right now), I’ll post all my submissions soonish (hopefully finished), and I apologize for any formatting defects since I’m posting from my cell phone, otherwise I’ll forget to post it at all.

Sorry this is messy! I love y’all! Stay healthy.

————

“Quiet, you morons!” Bannock… whispers?

Is that the right descriptor for the harsh, low sounds that comes from his mouth? I’m not quite sure, but I look at him sheepishly, since I was the one to trip on air this time around and nearly knock down a clothesline, poles and all.

“S-sorry…” I stutter drunkenly.

Rye shrugs, uncaring. Asshole!

Bannock glares at us with his bloodshot, angry blue eyes before turning around and creeping forward.

It’s a chilly night out, with no stars and just a sliver of moon casting minimal light over us, ideal to maraud and raid… if we lived any place else, that is.

If we were to find ourselves face to face with the flashlight of a Peacekeeper patrolling the streets, things could go anywhere from awkward to deadly, and I really hope we don’t have to find out how it’ll truly go. We’re wasted, outside our house after curfew, and facing our mother’s wrath would probably be as terrible as any punishment the peacekeepers would inflict on us.

The later option has me swallowing thickly.

I’m no coward by any stretch of the word… but I do enjoy being alive, so… yeah.

“Don’t mess around, no more!” Bannock chides.

As soon as Bann turns around, Rye mouths his words back, mockingly, and I wonder— not for the first time— how can my brothers be so immature? Bannock just turned 25, while Rye has the mind of a 13 year old trapped in the muscular body of a 24 year old man; leaving sweet, little me, the 21 year old baby sibling, to bring the rear.

Rye burps, mostly quietly, earning another warning glare from Bann. All things considered, I’m a little impressed at how stealthily we’ve been moving so far, being as enebriated as we are and all. But who knows? Maybe we really aren’t as slick as my alcohol soaked brain thinks we are, and I’m just too skunked to know any better.

“D’you think we’ll be back before father wakes to take care of the ovens?” Rye slurs a little, squinting his eyes at a cat trotting across the alley in front of him. A second later he’s frowning down at the cat, shushing it obnoxiously, as if it’s soft paws are the ones making the stopping sounds coming from his own boots.

Bannock shrugs, “Who cares!”

I’m about to raise my hand and respond that I do, I care, but Rye starts laughing like an idiot, already distracted by something else. We turn to catch him picking up a stick and throwing it at the poor, unsuspecting cat. As soon as the stick hits it’s side, the animal loses its balance, making it fall into a trash can, with a terrified cry.

It’s awful. And loud.

“Knock it off!” Bannock growls as quietly as he can. “You’re gonna wake up the whole town, asshole!”

The cat meows indignantly, climbing out of the trash. He jumps to the other side and it’s gone in the next moment.

I sigh, rubbing one hand over my face. “Guys, I think we should go back. I don’t think Father will approve of this.”

“Shut up, Peeta!”

“Yeah! Shut it, runt!”

I grunt in aggravation under my breath. “I’m serious. We shouldn’t be out here… at all!” I insist.

“Why did you come then?” Bann hisses.

“You dragged me out with you, jackass!” I counter, pointedly. Plus, I’m the least drunk out of the three of us, and I figured I should keep an eye on them two, make sure they don’t get hurt in this idiotic quest… but I don’t say that out aloud. “I still don’t understand why, are we stumbling across town in the middle of the night, risking getting caught outside after curfew.”

“You know why, Peeta! We’ve gone over it to death,” snaps Bann, twisting his whole body to face me and almost walking into a potted plant sitting by somebody’s back door. “Father doesn’t know how to take care of himself, let alone how to defend his honor!”

“Our hands have been forced, runt. We need to pick up the slack, that’s why!”

I roll my eyes at my brothers.

It’s true though. For the last 26 years, our father has been both the butt of every joke said in the streets of district 12, and the victim of a tragic cautionary tale, people somehow feel the sadistic inclination to bring up to us, Mellark boys, as if we needed the reminder.

“Geez… save it for Everdeen, Bann. Let the runt keep his head instead of chewing it off him!”

Bannock frowns. It’s not everyday Rye comes to my defense, which means he really must be hammered.

Cool! I love brotherly affection… even if given under the influence.

“Whatever.” Bannock mutters under his breath. “We’re here anyway.” He signals to the fence dividing our district into two unequal sections: the merchant quarter, where we live, and the Seam (our destination), the largest— yet poorest— side of 12.

It’s unclear why the government erected the fence running right through the district in the first place, but the effect of having a literal barrier separating everyone in our small district, couldn’t be any clearer: we have a huge social divide amongst our people, very distinct and hard to overcome. Both sides distrusting the other, despite there never being a tangible reason why.

Personally, I think the most logical explanation for the creation of the internal fence, was just sheer desire to create hostility and antagonism between the citizens of 12… maybe it’s easier for the Capitol’s long arm to control a podunk place like here, when there’s an unbridgeable social chasm between our own denizens; how can we band together to demand better treatment and fair representation from the mighty Capitol, when we’re fighting with each other?

Of course, I keep my opinion to myself, because speaking of such things is just a sure way to find oneself in prison, facing charges of public agitation and whatnot.

Bann cuts through my musings, “Alright… let’s find a spot to cross over.” He says determined and still very intoxicated.

The worst kept secret in District 12, is how some sections of the fence are too close to the houses in the merchant side. If one really wants to cross into the other side over the fence, one only needs to look for a low wall adjacent to the top links of the fence to climb on, and after that, it’s all a matter of gravity pulling you down. Its been done before too…

Everyone speculates that’s what happened the day our father fell into disgrace: A man from the Seam found a weak spot to exploit… and the rest is history. Never mind the fact that jumping the fence is a common enough hooligan deed; how else can teenage couples reach the Slag Heap at the edge of the old coal mines to engage in their secret affairs?

It only takes us a few minutes to find a brick wall circling the backyard of a random house, just two feet shy of the fence.

We climb it with all the grace of a pig crawling up a greased pole, but after much huffing and puffing, we manage— with great effort— to drag ourselves over the barrier. We’re sweating and swearing, but who could blame us for that? We Mellark boys are just too broad and heavy with muscle, add to the mix the fact that we’ve drank our body weight in white liquor right before Bann had the brilliant idea of dragging us out here, and you have an uncoordinated— mostly clumsy— sad excuse, trio of vandals.

Rye goes first, then I go; finally, Bannock splatters down like a bullfrog, falling on his ass. He’s disgruntled and I suspect in dire need of a nap.

“Come on!” He commands, dusting his behind sloppily.

We’ve been walking aimlessly through unfamiliar dirt roads and dark unpaved alleys. The place is littered with produce crates set upside down in neat circles every other road… I vaguely wonder if that’s what passes as a socializing hot spot here in the Seam, like the square with its concrete benches is for us in town?

Sometimes I forget how things can be so shitty on this side of the District. It makes my stomach twist unpleasantly with guilt, realizing I take certain privileges for granted.

About five minutes into our stupid intrusion into Seam territory, Rye speaks up.

“Dude… do you know where they live?”

Bannock’s head snaps up, clearly annoyed. “How hard can it be to find the Seam’s apothecary?”

Very, actually.

First of all, The Seam consists of row after row of seemingly identical shacks, in varying states of shabbiness, arranged in a huge matrix of sorts. Each row is made of three to five houses with a slim road in between the next set of homes.

For what I gather in my limited liquor-addled brain, each horizontal row has a designated letter, and the vertical street goes by number. Other than that, there are no other distinguishing signs, telling us where we are or how to find the ‘Seam apothecary’ as Bann inarticulately dubbed it.

Rye groans in annoyance, seeming ready to overrule Bannock and call the whole thing off, himself; but my drunk ass is too stupid to keep my big mouth shut.

“They live close to the electric fence. Right before the meadow. They probably have a fence-in yard, too.”

I wince, regretting my words right away. I shouldn’t have said anything, but like an idiot, I couldn’t help spilling out the small bursts of information I’ve gathered over the years on the Everdeens.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but the Everdeens are a bit of an obsession to me… for all of us Mellarks, really. Given our entangled past with them, it shouldn’t be so much of a revelation, but this thing between our families has been a nuisance ever since I can remember and while my brothers and mother use it as a focal point of hatred and animosity. For me, is a curiosity driven thirst for knowledge on everything Everdeen. Anything that could shed light on our sordid past, I would gobble up, trying to answer why something that has virtually nothing to do with me and my brothers, still haunt us everywhere we go.

Rye frowns. “Fence-in yard?” He looks around the houses we are passing, realizing none of those have fences.

“Goat.” Bannock grunts, nodding thoughtfully. “Good catch, runt.”

“Huh?” Rye is scratching his head, confused.

“The blonde girl,” Bann says with mild irritation.

People from the Seam have a very specific look to them: dark— usually straight— hair, gray eyes, olive skin… ‘blonde’, blue eyed and pale, is more of a descriptor for people from the merchant class, like us… like Mrs. Everdeen.

The poor woman must stick out like a sore thumb in here; probably the same goes to her merchant-looking daughter, Primrose.

“What about the blonde?”

“She makes goat cheese.” Bann huffs as explanation, but since Rye still looks like the concept is too hard to fathom, Bannock grunts, expanding. “She trades the cheese in town. Mainly with Father. Which means, Everdeen has to keep at least one goat for the girl to have access to milk.”

“M’kay… goat, fences, meadow.” Rye lists clumsily on his fingers, following after Bann. “Got it!”

We quickened our steps in the direction of the electric fence. I’m still kicking myself for saying anything when we reach the last row of houses before the meadow.

I really hope I’m wrong about them having a goat, although I find it hard to believe Primrose steals milk from other people for her cheeses. She looks so sweet and innocent.

Alas, I’m too clever for my own good sometimes.

The very first house in the row at the edge of the meadow, has a pen connected to the house on the strip of backyard allotted to them. A tiny but sturdy shed stands against the back wall of the house, and if my eyes don’t deceive me, I can barely make out the snout of a goat, peeking out of the narrow opening of the shed.

“This is it!” Rye crows excitedly, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops like a hungry, humanoid wolf.

“Yeah. Finally!” Grunts Bann, “keep your voice down, doofus.” his reaction, both frenzied and anxious.

“Let’s do this!” Rye’s smile is deranged.

“Great!” I hiccup with fake enthusiasm. “What are we doing?” I deadpan, staring at my siblings with all the aggravation I can muster.

My brothers speak excitedly at the same time:

“Taking one of the girls back home with us!”/“Beating the shit out of Everdeen!”

My brothers look at each other, perplexed, and go, “”What?!” At the same time.

“Fuck!” I groan to the skies, noting its near dawn. “You better be joking! We came all the way out here, and you idiots didn’t plan what you were going to do once we arrived?”

“No… I mean, yes! No. it’s simple,” Slurs Rye trying to stare me in the eye and failing miserably, “We’re dragging Everdeen out here. Then, we’ll beat the snot out of the bastard, and have you doodle the whole thing out for Father… you’ll finally use that art talent of yours for something we’ll all enjoy… not just you,”

“No, no, no, no!” Snaps Bannock. “We’re taking one of Everdeen’s daughters, bring her back home with us, and avenge father.”

“What? Why?” Rye whines much too loud and even I shush him. “I thought we were just gonna jump the bastard and rearrange his face a little,” Rye sounds disappointed.

Bannock answers right away, sounding like our mother when she’s chiding us for some thing or another. “Dude… the guy stole Dad’s girl! You know what they say about repaying a slight with the same coin and all that shit. It stands to reason, the course of action here is to take one of the girls home with us, sleep with her, and get her pregnant or something, then she can’t come back to her daddy.”

I throw my hands up in the air, “That’s it! I’m out!” My brain practically short circuits with the outrageous shit my brothers are spewing out of their mouths.

Sure, beating the lights out of an unsuspecting man in front of his house in the middle of the night is already crazy, but Bann’s idea to take a girl away from her home, it’s beyond preposterous!

Instead of lashing out, I turn around and stalk away as fast as my legs can carry me. I’m still tipsy, so I stumble a little, but I’m determined to leave.

“Hey! Where are ya going?!”

I get grabbed by the bíceps and pulled back to ‘hide’ behind a scraggly bush overlooking the house we assume is Everdeen’s. My brothers push me down by the shoulders roughly, until I’m sitting on my ass.

“The hell is wrong with you two?” I snarl, trying to punch and kick either one of them.

“Shut up, runt! They’re gonna hear you!”

“Good! Then someone will call the Peacekeepers over.”

“Wha— No! Why would you want that?” Rye whines.

“I didn’t sign up for any of this crazy shit!” I spit enraged.

“Dude, you can’t bail on operation BREAD,” Rye scrunches up his face.

“Operation Bread? What in the hell, is operation Bread?” I wrench my arms free from them at last, glowering up at both.

“Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad!” Rye says proudly, a lopsided smile brightens his face, and all I want to do is punch his nose.

“You’re insane!” I sputter.

“No… I’m cle-ver!” Rye grins, tapping a finger to his temple.

“Come on, Peeta. You know this needs to be done!” Bann cuts in.

“No! It doesn’t!” I argue. I still feel woozy from alcohol though, so it’s costing me too much effort trying to get up. “This is just insane, Bannock! What you’re proposing is just… heinous!” I hiss.

Bannock’s face hardens, “Nobody will see it like that.” He assures, “An eye for an eye, baby brother.”

“So what? We’re gonna kidnap and rape an innocent girl in revenge, and you think that’ll fix anything? Will it bring peace? It’ll help you get Madelynn’s parents to back off and let her marry you?” I’m so pissed off, I’m pretty sure spittle is flying out of my mouth. “It won’t do anyone any good! Not us, nor father, and especially not Katniss or Primrose!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Bannock flies at me, and all I have to do is lift my arms to shield my head.

Rye is an equal opportunity asshole most of the time, but in this moment, he’s the one stopping Bannock from breaking my face in two, and I’m very grateful for my middle brother manhandling our eldest for me.

“Rape is a strong word, runt.” Rye gasps with the effort of keeping Bannock from kicking my ass. But if the wrinkling of his nose is any indication, I think maybe my words are chipping away some of his complicitness in this mess. “Maybe, what Bann meant, was, one of us will… you know… spend time with the girl, and then… make her his common law wife or something?” Rye looks at Bann expectantly.

Bannock nods. Rye lets go of him.

We all stay silent, breathing heavily for a moment.

“Same coin. Simple as that.”

If the stories are to be believed, Sorrel Everdeen crossed the fence dividing the merchant quarter and the seam, kidnapped my father’s betrothed— Lily— and made her his common law wife, despite being common knowledge, that the woman in question was engaged to our father since they were very young.

It’s an old rumor, really, with no real way to fact-check the events that led to this moment in time, but there’s always been some nasty whispering churning around town; tales varying in height and perjury, sometimes scandalous, others depraved, always with add-ons and full of conjectures flavored by the speaker in turn, but never the whole truth.

The worst thing is that the stories die down for a while when something juicer comes up, but then resurface, like a persistent oily stain on cement… It’s been 26 years since the real events leading to the Everdeens controversial marriage took place, yet the old gossip mill in District 12 has waxed over and rewritten the sordid story through the lense of judgemental people over and over again, until even our mother has started to repeat the outlandish tales, as if she wasn’t an active participant of the story herself.

Still… “I just can’t!” I say both exasperated and grossed out. “We should just go home—“

I get cut off when the door of the Everdeen house opens spilling faint candlelight into the almost blackened-out street.

My brothers rush to huddle around me, crowding on top of me like a pair of boulders… or worse: a pair of sweaty, heavy, alcohol doused men. Disgusting!

The door of the shack closes softly and to our shock, a very angry looking Katniss Everdeen stomps in the direction of the sad excuse for a bush we’re hiding in.

“Hmm… guys… I think she sees us.” I mumble calmly, yet terrified. Katniss Everdeen, eldest daughter of Sorrel and Lily, is coming our way with fire in her eyes.

TBC on AO3…

[carriedawayfromhome]

Hi! Can you do smut with ash Like after a show rough and sweaty everytime you watching him bang the drums it turns you on

Thanks for the request! I did change it slightly from a show to a rehearsal instead. Hope you enjoy! xPairing: Ashton x Reader-Count: 1.9K-Rating: Explicit (Smut)

Masterlist

Requests Open. 

There’s something primal, rough, animalistic almost about the way Ashton drums. The force it takes to hit the beat and to play a song is immense. Sometimes you hate the way your eyes wander, from his jean covered thighs to his taut torso, sweaty chest and finally to his face. The concentration he has when he’s in the zone like this is something that you can’t explain, it’s so intense that it makes your lip automatically find its way between your teeth.

Rehearsal has been going all day but you only arrived about two hours ago to watch the boys finish off their practice. You generally like to come near the end of their set, seeing as Ashton by this time is usually so worked up and sweaty. You generally have to stop yourself from jumping up off the couch your currently in, run over to the drum set and hurl yourself into his arms. It’s a big measure in self control and you silently laugh to yourself realising how ridiculous you seem. Thank god no one else in the room knows what’s going on in your head. 

Throughout the rehearsal Ashton always makes a habit of finding your face and either making a crude gesture with his eyebrows or just making some face to make you laugh, whilst keeping the beat of the drums. Your boyfriend is one talented man. 

The rehearsal starts to wind down and just as the other three men are packing up their part, you make your way over to the drum-kit whilst Ashton tries to wipe the few beads of sweat that have collected there. He beams up at you as you come to stand beside him, “Hey you.” He grabs your right hand in his and holds it to his face, a sigh leaving his lips as your palm comes in contact with his warm cheek. 

“This set is going to be so good Ash,” You move your thumb slowly over his cheek bone, the rosy red flush a contrast against your pale skin, “I love that I get to sit in on these rehearsals, I love it so much.”

He lets your hand drop from his and he stands up, stretching in the process, “I love it to hun,” He shakes out his muscles, a smile creeping its way onto his face as he leans forward to whisper, “I love that I get to watch you watch me. Something about it is just, too hot.” 

Your eyes dart around the room as Ashton leans down to place the softest of soft kisses on your neck, his hot breath dancing along your skin as you feel your skin prickle with delight. 

You’ve only done it once before, having sex in the rehearsal space that is, but that was also long after everyone had left. Ash had wanted to continue drumming for a little longer and after goodbyes had been said you had felt your body moving without even thinking and before you knew it you were in his lap, jeans off, underwear pushed to the side and riding him hard on the drum stool.

You hadn’t even noticed your own blush creep onto your cheeks until you feel Ashton’s heavy hands on your hips and a light laugh against your skin, “What were you just thinking about?” 

You bite your lip and lightly push him away, “Calm down boy,” You cross your arms, a sly smile now consuming your face, “Everyone is still here, don’t get any ideas.”

“I didn’t have any ideas until you said that,” He copies your stance, arms crossed, “Why would I even think such a thing? You have me all wrong little one.” He sticks his tongue out and you shake your head in exasperation. This man will be the death of you. 

“Hey Ash! Can you help me move some of this shit Michael left lying here?” You both look to Luke’s voice as he points to the instruments and bags left on the floor next to one of the couches. You giggle as Ashton walks over and lightly smacks Michael’s arm, his mock hurt look making you almost double over. 

You leave the boys to grumble and argue with each other as you pick up your stuff to take out to the car, seeing as you and Ash will be leaving soon anyway. You know your way around this space quite well by now and as you weave through the back hallway you suddenly hear footsteps steadily running up behind you. With a quick turn you see your boyfriend jogging to meet you with a wide grin plastered on his face. 

“Where are you going little one?” 

With an overdramatic eye roll at his favourite pet name for you, you hold up your backpack and keys, “Just taking things out to the car, am I not allowed to do that now am I?” A poke of your tongue follows to emphasise your joking tone. 

You wait for a moment for his rebuttal, ready to return fire in an instant, the banter between you two has always been one of the reasons you fell for him. But nothing comes, only the quick strong arms that circle your waist and his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss. 

He pulls back just as quickly as he had leapt forward, “Say nothing more.” He whispers, one hand sliding down from your back to your ass, squeezing the denim clad skin, “Understood?”

You nod eagerly, all right and wrong completely going out the window as his eyes look round quickly for any oncoming person who may incidentally catch you two in the act. He moves forward to open one of the many doors along the hallway and upon entering you realise you just walked in what seems to be an extra meeting room, desk and chairs scattered about.

You drop your backpack at the door and with a quick double check that the lock is in place Ashton brings you back into his space, kissing you with as much love and lust as he can muster. You feel yourself getting pushed back and you let yourself be steered towards the desk, lips never leaving each others once. 

You can feel all of him against you getting harder by the second, his hands reaching under your shirt to gently squeeze at your breasts, his fingers finding their way to your nipples, pinching lightly. When he leans down to kiss your neck, you remind yourself of the rules and make sure to bite your tongue. As you two continue to kiss, you start to feel your underwear dampen as his hands unbutton your jeans, pushing your hips forward to tell him to stop teasing. 

“I’ll stop teasing the day you stop undressing me with your eyes,” His hand creeps under your jeans and into your underwear, “It’s the drumming isn’t it? It turns you on so much doesn’t it?” 

You nod eagerly as he wastes no time in rubbing slow circles on your clit, the kind that rile you up just enough to make you breathless and wanting more. You are aware of the fact that the other guys will be wondering where you are, or if you’ve already left and the last thing you want is to exit the room and run into the other guys shocked and smirking faces. 

Ashton pulls his hand out of your jeans and without warning flips you around, your back now squarely to his chest. You then automatically lean forward and place your palms on the table, your ass pushing back into his crotch, hinting faintly at a need for touch. 

“Shit babe,” You hear him whisper above you, his hands quickly pulling down your jeans and underwear in one go, “I’m not going to last long.” 

Ashton unbuttons his own jeans and you listen as he makes a quiet hissing sound, assuming he’s stroking himself and the thought of anticipation makes you press yourself against the cold desk, your nipples hardening at the feel. 

Your eyes close involuntarily as you feel him shuffle forward and slowly stroke his cock between your legs, coating himself in your arousal and with one quick and precise thrust he’s completely inside of you, it takes everything in you to not moan out into the empty room, just loving the feeling of being oh so full with him. 

“Arch your back baby.” He groans, both hands gripping your hips and as soon as you comply with his request he starts to thrust quickly, your palms squeaking against the table top as you jolt back and forward. One of his hands sneaks up your back to forcefully grab onto the hair on your scalp, jerking you back as your mouth drops open with quiet ecstasy. 

Usually when you’re in this position you can’t help but almost scream, the feeling of being dominated and purely taking advantage of makes you wet like nothing else. But having the three guys in the room over makes you force it down with only your laboured breath filling the room. The thought of getting caught and the luxurious feeling of your hair being pulled brings your orgasm closer than you expected and you ride it out willingly, Ashton still going hard behind you. 

“Babe, I’m going to pull out and you come and kneel on the floor quickly kay?” He grunts out, his hand where it had been forcefully on your scalp mirrors his other and he fucks you as rough as he can manage, the overstimulation making your legs tremble. Only a moment passes and he’s pulling out of you with a small grunt and as quick as you can you twist and kneel, taking him into your mouth with ease. 

You close your eyes as you feel him cum into your mouth, the pulsating feeling against your tongue making you dizzy. His hand finds the back of your head and pushes down lightly while you struggle to breath heavily through your nose.

“God that never gets old,” He breathes out suddenly, looking down on you with half lidded eyes as you clean him up as good as you can, “The best view in the house.” 

With his softening cock still in your mouth you manage to give him the finger, eliciting a laugh from your boyfriend. You pull off with a hard suck, loving the way it makes him groan from his own overstimulation and with a quick wipe of your mouth and a stumble to stand, you both fix each others underwear and pants, both giggling as the orgasm high wears off. 

“Well done you.” He whispers and leans forward for a small kiss, pulling back and frowning when you don’t respond. With raised eyebrows you wait for him to realise and when he does he smiles, verbally letting you know you’re welcome to speak now, with a whisper of good girl resting on your skin. 

With both of you fully clothed and looking slightly worse for wear you wait as Ashton unlocks the door and with your backpack in hand you both sneak out into the hallway, waiting to see if you can hear any voices from the other room. 

The silence makes you nervously laugh as you realise all three men have probably left and in time walked right past the door where you were just being railed against the desk. With that both of you head out to the car, stopping so that Ashton can give you a sweet forehead kiss, a usual way he likes to end your sessions together.

Once you’re both in the car, you sit back in elation, letting the rumble of the car lull you into a relaxed state and with Ashton’s hand holding yours tightly, you smile and let your eyes close.  

[despisydraws]

Okay, so this went from headcanons to a one-shot draft real fast and I'm 100% not sorry to fill your entire timeline with trans Courfeyrac's first meeting with the Amis and his coming-out story

Enjoy this mess of a bullet point half-oneshot that has somehow gotten the length of 1,7k words, with no beta because we die like men

-It took Courf quite a long time to figure out what it was that made him so uncomfortable with himself and even once he came to conclusion he just tried to repress it

-He used to dress in extremely feminine clothes (mostly out of fear that nobody would want him anymore otherwise)

-Yep, right, he was super scared of being alone in the world and he constantly needed the assurance that he was needed

-He had a bunch of super shitty boyfriends who treated him like dirt and only wanted him as a status symbol, to have 'a hotter girlfriend than the others'

-He was so tired of being cheated on and used, but he felt so alone and helpless that he tried to hold on to every. single. one. of those douchebags

-That made them even greater assholes, of course, like a confidence boost (disgusting)

-He got rid of them only by them getting rid of him, what happened after a fairly short time (because 'He was just so clingy' and 'they never wanted a long-term relationship they just wanted some fun') (I repeat: disgusting)

-After an especially bad breakup, which he reasoned by himself not behaving enough as the girl he should be ('shitty-ex also said that, so it's true, right?'), his almost frantic femininity got even worse

-That was the phase in which he met Combeferre

-Courf was sitting in the corner of a very empty cafe, staring into his cup without drinking

-Ferre has to deal with the Amis, so he's kind of a hobby-therapist, he came over immediately and asked to sit with him

-He just sensed that something was off about 'the girl who constantly shoves her beautiful long curls back as if they were tiny snakes trying to bite her, who kneads the hem of her short dress nervously, trying not to let anyone see, who shifts her feet in her heels as if she stood on needles' - it reminded him of Enjolras, but in less furious and more hurt

-They chat a little and Ferre gets him to attend one of the amis' meetings

-They go there together, there is a mirror in the corridor of the cafe next to the coat rack, where Courf stops dead and just gazes at what has become of him

-Ferre just tries to calm him by saying 'don't worry, you look wonderful.' And Courf immediately clenches his jaw, because 'oh, great, another one of those guys...'

-Anyway they attend the meeting and Courf is absolutely in awe over Enjolras, about his strength and confidence, generally just his aura which is almost visible to him, red and burning

-Feuilly, who is a hobby-hairdresser and cuts cuts the hair of all of the Amis for free, takes one look at him and immediately goes "wooow, I'd love to cut your hair, can I cut it? Look at all those cool and sexy hairstyles over here *gestures to Bahorel* and here *gestures to Joly who grins and waves at him*, okay, over here I messed up *gestures to Bossuet, who notices Courfs mortified expression and goes 'no, don't worry, I'm naturally bald he's just joking!'* and Feuilly laughs and goes on with his rambling" but Courf is like 'no way, you're not gonna touch my hair, wtf?' And he avoids Feuilly because he has a vague feeling that the redhead is a huge creep...

-Enjolras takes one look at Courf and then turns to Ferre with a raised eyebrow

-They have something like a telepathic discussion about Courf, Ferre desperately wants to keep him because he just feels that it's right but Enjolras can't stand him because his behavior seems so fake (he can't get behind it yet, he tends to judge people immediately, like an instinct, and he really doesn't want a 'little prom queen Ferre wants to go off with' in his activist group. He should really know Ferre a little better than that, given the fact that they grew up together, and know that he's got his reasons, but Enj had a very bad day so he goes with whatever his mind tells him)

-Courf gets along quite alright with the others, especially with Bahorel, Grantaire and Jehan (even though he thinks they're a little weird) and 'that Joly is cute I guess'

-After the meeting they all get ready to go home and most of them have left already, Jehan suddenly comes up to him and hugs him deeply, saying how much they wish for Courf to stay with the group

How? How could anyone resist that?

-So Courf comes back a few times and when they plan to go on vacation with the group to strengthen the team spirit and mayyybe just have a chill weekend for once Courf is already included in the plans without them even asking him

-They go by train to a summer cottage Jehans parents own at the coast of Spain, right at the beach

-Courf shares a room with Grantaire and Joly and Bossuet, Enj and Ferre share a smaller room and Jehan sleeps with Feuilly and Bahorel on a huge extendible couch

-Let's say this is at a point where Courf has already gotten so much queer influence from this group that he is just confused and absolutely can't tell anymore who he is, because, apparently it's okay to not feel the same way your body lookw?? But that's colliding with everything he learned from the shitty douchebag boyfriends and his clique he had a few years ago????

-His mind is absolutely overwhelmed and he doesn't know what to do anymore, the assumption he had about himself is proving true at an alarming speed and he can't repress it anymore.

-Even though his is with such an open minded group now, he still fears to be cast out once he opens up

-He fears that they would think he was shamming himself again to fit in more ('I presented myself so different when he first met them, it would be strange, right? It would seem like a lie if I told them!')

-He sleeps less and cries a lot, this holiday should have been relieving but it has become the horror to him

-Everytime he sees Joly and Bossuet kissing, everytime Enjolras lifts his shirt in the heat, showing his scars and Grantaires' longing gazes, he excuses himself. He sits in the bathroom quietly, staring at the wall, until a person comes along who has to use it

-One night he can't take it anymore

-There's Grantaire and Bossuet snoring to both sides of him and Joly shifting in his boyfriend's arms the entire time, sometimes pressing a pillow on his face to stop the noise

-There is too much sound, too much movement around him so the thoughts that need to be thought, if not at daytime, then at least at night, get even louder

-He stands up with his blanket underneath one arm and quietly leaves the room into the dark hallway. His knees are shaking and all he wishes for is to break down on the floor but his body just can't pass that point of desperation, so he stumbles around until his hands find the next doorhandle and pushes it

-There is a muffled voice, saying "Don't even try it, Jehan, I hid your notebook. Go to sleep, write that thought down tomorrow..."

-When there is no reaction a bedside lamp is switched on, revealing Combeferres sleepy face

- "Ferre, turn the goddamn light on one more time and I'll kill you" Enjolras grunts from the other bed, turning his back to the room

-Combeferre just quietly signs for Courfeyrac to lay down next to him after he took one look at his face and he does (Ferre is after all still the one he trusts most)

-He crawls underneath Ferres blanket and buries his face against the latter one's chest and then everything just starts streaming out of him, all of his thoughts, all of his feelings, he just talks about everything for the first time

-As he ends there is silence and Combeferre places a kiss on his head when he starts to cry again

-Enjolras just quietly apologizes for being rude to him all the times before and stands up, moving over to the two of them

-He starts to tell Courfeyrac the story of his own coming out, how he got kicked out by his parents and had to move out of the city and live with Combeferre and something about the story calms him down

-He falls asleep sandwiched between Ferre and Enj after they had to promise to not tell anyone about it yet

-The next night he feels better but he is still restless

-He's up again, quietly shifting to the living room where he shakes Feuilly awake

C:"Can you help me with something?"

F:"Sure, what is it?"

C:"Cut my hair..."

-Feuilly is out and about in an instant and soon there is light in the kitchen, Courf is sitting on a stool they found in a small storeroom and Feuilly comes in with a grin and a pair of scissors

-The next morning the others almost don't recognize him anymore, if not because of his looks then because of his aura. He is genuinely happy for the first time in what feels like an eternity

-Even Enj is grinning when he sees him and stands up from the table where they are eating breakfast, putting an arm around his shoulders

"Listen here my boy, you don't know what danger you just put yourself in. Look at them, they're all gay and ready to eat you alive"

-The entire table bursts in chaos, Joly spits out his juice, Bahorel is screaming from the top of his lungs, Grantaire is muttering "I'm so in love, I'm so in love, I'm so in love" over and over again and Bossuet jumps up from his chair so suddenly it falls over "Enjolras made a joke?! Enjolras is funny?! My life is a lie!"

-Courfeyrac just laughs with them, glad that Enjolras saved him from all the awkward questions for now

-He sits down next to Combeferre and shoots him a small look

"Are you also, you know... gay and ready to eat me alive?" He chuckles and Combeferre turns his head into his direction with an amused smile "Eating you would be a little harsh, don't you think? But I admit, I have been thinking of eating with you this evening" "Are you... asking me out?" "What else could I have intended with that?"

And they all live happily ever after, finish, yaaay