#other than that - if these things don't bother you - come on in!

[asunflowerana]

will you go to prom with me?

summary: prom is near, and your sweet, popular friend will do anything to have you as his date.

with: Gojo Satoru.

warnings: yandere behavior, blackmailing (not from satoru), slight blood mentions.

words: 1448.

a/n: i'm just gonna sit back and pretend this didn't give me chills. thinking of turning this into a series, but i'll hold myself from now haha

"Go to prom with me." It's not what you'd expect to hear on a Tuesday morning, right after a wearing History class. Even more so coming from the mouth of no other than Gojo Satoru, the coolest, most desired boy in school.

Yes, you've been friends with him for almost a year. And yes, you get on very well together, crack some side-jokes at classes, sometimes go out to grab some food, do homework at the library, and even stay up at night until sunrise on the phone, freaking out while studying for a math exam that none of you knew about it — or not paying attention, to be more honest. 

So yeah, you're friends. But it's Gojo Satoru we're talking about. And Gojo Satoru is just way out of anyone's league.

You're simply dumbfounded.

"I—" You swallow hard, feeling like you just lost your memory and no longer know how to complete sentences. You're feeling a lot of things, honestly, the guy you've had so many daydreams with saying he wants to have you as his partner, and there you are, a pile of nerves trying to hide the hard, loud way your heart beats inside.

And it's not that you don't want to accept it. Heck, you want to say yes so badly, how many times did you catch yourself watching those sappy rom coms and wondering if you and the white-haired boy would make a fine couple like that. He's the whole package, and if those gorgeous blue eyes and jaw-dropping looks weren't enough, he's also so kind to you, that you can't help but develop a crush.

But as expected, he didn't catch only your attention, but the whole school as well. Kaya Nami, one of the troublemaker cheerleaders, is in the line and does everything she can to make sure nothing gets in her way.

"If I were you, I'd stay away from Satoru Gojo. You won't like having me as an enemy, believe me." She threatened you last Friday, right during PE class. Confused wasn't enough to describe how you felt, but you didn't say anything back to not cause drama, only nodding and watching her head off like nothing happened.

"...I'm sorry, Satoru, but I can't." And unfortunately, that warning was enough to hinder you from making the choice you wanted.

It goes without saying how astounded Gojo was by your answer, that probably being his first time ever being rejected. "What do you mean 'you can't'?" And then his tone dropped an octave, changing to something more seething. "Did someone ask you? You said yesterday to me that you didn't get invited."

"And you're right, I didn't get it." You try to reason, not liking the way he's bothered by your rejection. " it's just... I didn't think you wanted to go with me!" And you didn't lie, even though you said it more as an excuse.

"Well, now you know." He gets closer, almost making you hit your back at the locker behind you. His eyes say he didn't buy any of your excuses. "So, why can't you go? I mean, I know how overwhelming my beauty can be, but you're just as pretty, sweetheart."

His mood suddenly changes to the usual Gojo Satoru, the cheeky guy who enjoys flustering you for fun. Grazing your chin between his index and thumb, he looks deep at you. "I'll give you the best time you ever had. Just be my date."

It takes everything on you to not jump in his arms and let yourself get swept off your feet. Why does he have to make this so difficult? Taking a deep breath, you remember the headache you're gonna get if you don't make the right choice. "Satoru, I'd love to be your date, really. It's just, I think there's someone else that would make a better date than me."

He stares at you with an unreadable expression. You don't know if he got angrier or had enough of your pitiful answers, but you wish you could be able to read only a fraction of Satoru's mind, cause he's staring for too long at you, and you don't know what else to say other than stare back at him.

Finally, he steps back, diverting his gaze to a random spot for a moment before moving to look at you again. Sliding his hands inside his pants pockets, he seems to accept the situation, but you're still not sure of what you see. "I guess you're not changing your mind, huh? Then tell me, who's this 'perfect match'  that you think would be better for me?" He questions with a hint of disdain, but he tries to hide it with a small side smile.

The girl appears in the scene before you can mention her name as if she was waiting for the right opportunity to pounce and make her move on him. By the way your shoulders slump and your eyes lower to the ground, he quickly assumes that she's the person you were talking about earlier and that for some reason, she's making you very uncomfortable. Not you nor Nami noticed the way Gojo glares at a blank spot. Thinking, he mindlessly accepts the blond girl's invitation to lunch, giving you a brief hug before going away. "If that's what you want." He whispers unexpectedly in your ear, offering you a final smile before letting himself be guided to the cafeteria.

You spend the rest of the day wanting to beat yourself for wasting the chance you had to go out with Satoru. You don't talk to him as much during the week, since Nami was making sure to grab every second of his free time at break. It didn't take too long to figure out that both of them would go to prom together, and even though you were the one who made that happen, it still stings to imagine them having a good time.

Prom day arrives, and in the end, no one invites you. It wasn't something completely unexpected, but to be honest, you were hoping that at least one of your friends would be kind enough to want you as a company just so you could all enjoy the "night to remember". Honestly, you didn't want to miss such an important event, and even though there was a chance that you'd make a fool of yourself, it's still your prom, and you have the right to make the most of it, with or without someone.

Kicking away the self-pity, you dressed up and got ready for the special night, wearing that beautiful gown that you remember once showing on Pinterest to Satoru, months before the event. Checking your purse one more time, you catch your phone to ask for a cab, when you hear three familiar knocks on your front door.

Opening your house, you come face to face with someone you never would've imagined seeing at that moment. There stood Gojo Satoru, with a black tuxedo that perfectly accentuates his body, a bouquet of pink camellias in his left hand, glasses off, and a beautiful lopsided smile.

"...Wow." The combo of his honest compliment, his lingering, fond gaze in your direction, and the fact that you made him momentarily speechless, makes your whole self overwhelmed with endearing sensations, especially your warm cheeks.

But that passes too quickly since you don't understand the sudden visit.

"S-Satoru? What are you doing here?" You didn't want this to be the first thing to say to him, but you're so confused, that you don't know what else to say. "I thought you were going out with Nami. Where is she?"

Awakening from the brief trance you provoked in him, the white-haired boy only increases his smile in a rather strange way. " Didn't you know? Mina got in an accident yesterday, she fell from the stairs and ended up breaking her leg."

One more time, you were taken by surprise. As for your friend, he doesn't sound as worried as you imagined he would be after giving this message, but he still makes a respectful pause after saying it.

Satoru also notices your reaction, observing the way you empathetic self got sad for that girl's situation. Little did you know that she got exactly what deserved. And if you looked more closely at your gift, instead of worrying yourself, you'd notice the blood stains around the wrapping paper, the remains of what your future partner did to prove his love.

To his luck, you're just too pure to realize what you don't need to. And for that, Satoru smiles, gazing at you with sparks again.

"So now, will you go to prom with me?"

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated 🦋

© asunflowerana 2024

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

It was another competion the entire family all shoving and pushing each other into the car to see more of Damian's art.

Tim is excited for Damian.

He knows what it's like, to stand there and have no one show up. To be there all by yourself for hours the only one to visit your booth being the art teacher.

Ms. Carrington who would ask questions and ignore the tears that pooled in his eyes before helping him pack everything up, sometimes even driving him home because of course neither his parents or Bruce could be bothered to pick him up.

He can't really help the envy that he can feel building in his chest mixing with a good chunk of repressed anger.

A elbow being jabbed into his ribs distracts him.

"Hey what's with the face? Perk up Boy-Loser it's Damian's night."

He turns to Steph the smile that he had been attempting to plaster on falling. It's such a stupid thing it's a nickname so what if it's demeaning, he gets called pretender or replacement by Jason what does it matter.

"Do you ever think it's kinda fucked up that not a single person in this family calls me anything that isn't an insult?" He snaps.

She looks shocked. How fucking dare he have an ounce of self esteem. Someone alert the Media Tim Drake isn't a dormat.

He turns away sliding into the crowd.

There's less then half an hour left before he can leave. Pratically throwing himself down in the empty hallway as far as he can get from this entire night.

"Baby bird and Timmy aren't insults? Or are they I can't seem to keep up with the kids these days."

He turns, of course. You might be able to run from Batman or lie to him, but you can never escape the grasp of Big Brother Nightwing.

"So your admitting that your old?" he joins the banter.

His muscles start to unclench another superpower only Dick Grayson seems to have.

"Never, something you want to talk about?"

Does he? No. Should he? Yah.

"Maybe I just don't want be insulted every day of my life. So weird who doesn't want to be reminded they suck?"

He can hear the whine, he can also hear that everything he just said isn't gonna matter. You don't take whiny little boys seriously. And that's what he is.

"Hmm you know I get called Dickhead or really a lot of just penis related jokes. Always hated them not that it really stops anyone."

He looks finally making eye contact with his big brother. Because he's right. How many times has he heard anyone in the family other than him and Damian call Dick anything nice. Never not once. Maybe Bruce but he can't really picture it.

"Also don't think I didn't notice how annoyed you are with Bruce about this entire night, which I don't blame you for. You know I love Damian kiddo, but yah Bruce is not winning a mug from me or you."

He doesn't really want to acknowledge any of that already exhausted and he will have to apologize to Steph and if he opens the box it will be a car ride from hell home.

"Luckily for you I have a car parked a block up we can escape get ice cream and have a nice sleepover in bludhaven."

He wants to so bad, he wants to throw himself at Dick who knows him so well, who followed him out here, who isn't blinking, the only adult who has ever not somehow fucked him over.

"What about Damian? He will be pissed at me for stealing you or something. He doesn't need another reason to stab me."

He turns to look back at the floor.

"Foolish Drake I will be coming with you Father is being insesently annoying and I much rather talk about art with someone who has a brain cell."

Both him and Dick whip around to see Damian standing there a slight blush on his face hesitation making the corner of mouth twitch. He sees Dick looking on unsure. He doesn't hesitate.

"Thank god I know a great place with that Vegan Cookie Dough you like. What you waiting for Big Bird? Let's go. "

Climbling to his feet he grabs Dick and Damian dragging them to the exit he hears Dick's confused muttering sharing a secret smile with Damian before ignoring it.

The night is finally looking up.

[masonmontz]

heeey, hope you like it:)

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

fluff 🥹 word count: 2,7k

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“What’s wrong, Y/n?” Jaz asked while the two of you were having afternoon coffee in a bakery in Manchester. “You've been quiet since we got here.”

“I'm all worked up, don't worry, it's nothing” your smile didn't reach your eyes and Jaz noticed, and even though you've only known each other for a short time, anyone would realize that there was something bothering you.

You and Mason had been officially dating for a little over two months, but you had met his family before that and you loved them all, it was really great spending the holidays with them in Greece.

“You can tell me, you know, don't you?” she held out her hand and you lightly squeezed her hand across the table, smiling once more and nodding. “Is it something with Mason?”

“Jaz, don’t worry, I’m fine” she rolled her eyes and you smiled, trying to push the thought that had been haunting you for a few weeks to the back of your mind, but it was inevitable.

“Okay, so let's go, I'm already missing my girls” she murmured and you smiled, remembering the photo Mason sent you minutes ago where Summer was putting makeup on him and Mila was trying to put bows in his hair. “Should we take a pie?”

“Please, lemon pie is the best ever” you almost groaned when you saw a lemon pie on the counter, so Jaz went over and asked to wrap it up. “Debbie wants us to stop by the grocery store to pick up something for dinner?”

“She texted me to say she was making lasagna. I've come to Manchester and I need to spend the day at the gym because all I do is eat.”

“She likes to spoil Mason.”

“This is ridiculous, she never makes food like this for me, only for her big baby” you couldn't help but laugh, because they were clearly jealous of the way Debbie treats Mason, and Mason loves being spoiled by them, even though the family is now full of children and he is a grown man.

“He takes advantage because he knows she does everything for him.”

“That little devil, was the same thing when he was a child.”

You and Jaz got along really well, the girls adored you too, and you were in love with Mason's nieces and nephew, but it was sad because Stacey lived far away.

You love Mason and his family so much that it hurts, especially because your family lives far away and you miss being welcomed by them, and you found comfort in your boyfriend. However, Mason never said he loved you.

Of course, everyone has their own time and maybe he isn't ready to take that step in such a new relationship, but you listen and notice how easily he says “I love you” to his family. You just wish he would tell you he loves you too.

“Hey, had fun with Jaz?” Mason asked when you arrived at his house, he hugged you and left a kiss on your lips. “I missed you, babe. My family is stealing you from me.”

“They just think I’m cooler than you” you murmured and Mason laughed. Summer ran to you and you walked away from Mason, walking behind her to the coffee table where she was coloring pictures.

“Do you want to color with me? Uncle Masey didn't want to, he said he was tired.”

“Tired, uh?” you asked and looked at Mason who just shrugged and laid down on the couch, because he hadn't done anything all day. “Summer, I'm going to take a shower and then I'll color with you, okay?”

You walked upstairs to take a shower in Mason's bedroom bathroom, and luckily you had some clothes at his place or you would have had to go to your apartment to get them. Mason walked into the room just as you entered the bathroom, you smiled as he followed you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, the same way you two do when you're talking in the bathroom.

“I just need some silence, I'll watch you take a shower” you rolled your eyes as you took off your clothes, ignoring Mason's gaze all over your body.

“Hey, the doctor texted me, I think I'm going to need to go to the hospital for a checkup tomorrow” you said, remembering the message the doctor sent you this morning. You were hospitalized for days a month ago because of severe headaches, and now you are being monitored by two doctors to see if everything is okay.

“But are you feeling any pain?” Mason asked worriedly and you quickly shook your head, watching him sigh in relief.

“They want to do new exams, I'm fine. You have training tomorrow, don't you?”

“Yes, but I'll go with you to do the exams and then I'll go to Carrington.”

“No need, Mason, I can go alone.”

“Okay, but call me and text me” you smiled at him, and Mason actually looked worried about you.

Again you thought he hadn't said “I love you” to you yet, and you looked down as you washed your hair and Mason hummed a song under his breath.

“Hey, I bought you something” Mason spoke and left the bathroom. He left the bathroom door open and you could see him walking past the bedroom with a gift box which he placed on the bed before heading back to the bathroom. “I think you'll like it.”

“What is it?”

“You will open it and see, be patient.”

Mason continued talking to you for ten minutes until you finished your shower, and he stayed there until you put on another set of clothes and organized the bathroom.

“Do you want me to dry your hair?” he asked and you looked at him through the reflection of the mirror, Mason was behind you and you smiled feeling love all over your chest. Mason stood up when you nodded, and he looked for the hairdryer he uses when he is really late.

You wanted to cry as you watched Mason drying your hair calmly, focused and sometimes smiling at you. Maybe he doesn't love you, but he definitely likes you, because no man would ever do that, right?

You looked at the floor, feeling your eyes fill with tears and blinked a few times to keep from crying. Mason noticed and turned off the dryer, turning you to face him.

“What’s wrong, babe? You've been quiet for a few days” you didn't want to tell him the real reason you were crying because you were ashamed of doubting his feelings.

“I’m a little bit worried” you said referring to the exam you will take tomorrow, and Mason hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Nothing will happen, you’re fine and healthy and we will spend our lives together.”

“Really? Do you want to spend your life by my side?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want to?” you shrugged and smiled, but it still wasn't the answer you needed. “C’mere, let's open your present and put a smile on that face.”

You wiped away some tears and smiled at Mason as he pulled you over to the bed where he had placed the gift. It was a pink package with hearts drawn on it and you felt bad about tearing it, but you still pulled the package open to see what was inside.

“It's heavy, it must have been expensive” you muttered and Mason rolled his eyes.

“You can't guess the price because of the weight” he said and laughed. “Open, open.”

You swear you had stopped crying, but you started crying again as soon as you saw the gift Mason bought for you. Big tears fell as you held the box and cried. Mason stood up worriedly, hugging you.

“What’s wrong? You didn't like it?” You hugged him tightly, crying into his chest and letting your emotions take over.

“It's the most beautiful gift I've ever received.”

You held the box to look at the book nook of a village in Greece, the same one you visited when you were there on vacation. Every detail caught your attention and you couldn't speak as you sobbed, hugging Mason once more.

“Did you like it? I thought of you when I saw it, and you can put it on your bookshelf.”

“I loved it. Thank you, Mase.”

“Stop crying, okay? I just want to see you happy.”

“They are tears of happiness.”

“I'd rather see a smile on your lips.”

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“Y/n, we're going to keep you under observation tonight, okay? Your exams are altered and we need to do new exams to check if everything is okay” Doctor Reid said as he entered the room, and you sighed sitting in the hospital hallway, because it would be another long night alone in that scary place.

“But am I okay?” your heart was racing and deep down you were scared. Since you were hospitalized for the first time this has been consuming you.

“No need to worry, we just need to be sure of the result to know which medicine you can take.”

“Okay” you murmured a little in relief, and a nurse arrived and took you to the room where you would spend the night. You hated the hospital, especially being alone there for a whole night with a needle in your arm.

You sent Mason a message saying that everything was fine but he didn't reply to you, so you just talked to the nurses who were giving you medicine and making the bed where you would stay.

Half an hour later Mason appeared in the hospital room with your pink bag that he probably filled with things and a black one.

“Hey, no need for all this, it's just one night” you said seeing how many things he brought, so Mason left everything on the armchair and walked towards you.

“I'm worried, are you sure you're okay, love?” he asked and left a kiss on your forehead, then another on your lips. “One bag is mine.”

“Why? You don't have to stay here, you can stay with your family.”

“Only in your dreams will I leave you alone in the hospital, Y/N.”

“No, seriously, Doctor Reid said it's just for some tests, you can't leave your family alone there, they came to see you.”

“Hey, I'm going to stay here and I already told the coach that I'll be late tomorrow.”

You huffed, because there was nothing you could say to make Mason change his mind.

He just lay down next to you on the hospital bed, and kept you company for hours until he went to the hospital cafeteria to get something for you both to eat. He came back and stayed by your side the whole time, and when you fell asleep, Mason held you close to him and kissed your hair, snuggling into you and sleeping too, because where you are is where he feels good.

“Thank you for spending the night with me at the hospital” you said as soon as Mason dropped you off at your apartment, and he was already late for practice but didn't seem to care.

Luckily, the doctor said everything was fine and there was no reason to worry anymore, he just prescribed you some medicine to take when you have other headaches.

“You know I would stay by your side in the hospital for a month if necessary” he mumbled and you smiled, hugging him one last time before he ran off because he was late.

“I love you” you yelled, and Mason just blew you a kiss before closing the door.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

Mason has been traveling with the team and you are increasingly drowning in the thoughts that he doesn't love you. You cried a few times alone at home, watching a romantic movie or seeing someone post love quotes on the internet.

You're at rock bottom.

You were so lost in your own thoughts crying while watching The Longest Ride that you didn't notice Mason entering your apartment.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he asked and you got scared, trying to wipe away your tears so he wouldn't see, but it was too late.

“I'm just crying because of the movie” you pointed at the screen right at the moment Luke is picking up Sophia for a date, and there was no reason to cry.

“Hey, I know you, there's been something bothering you for days and you still haven't told me what it is. I'm getting worried and so is my mum, she said you've been quiet.”

Mason pulled you from the couch and you let more tears fall, you stood in front of him and looked him in the eyes.

“I don't want to look like a fool.”

“You know I’d never think that of you, love” he tucked your hair behind your ear.

“It's just that…” you stopped, unable to speak, but Mason encouraged you. “Do you love me?”

“What?” he asked, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing, but you cried when he didn't answer.

“You never said you loved me, and it's okay if you don't feel anything-” Mason put his hand over your mouth when you sobbed, and he stopped you from continuing to speak.

“Oh my God, I can't believe you're crying over this, baby” Mason held back his laughter. “Do you think I don't love you?”

You shrugged and looked at him with sad eyes.

“I said I love you several times” he murmured.

“No, you never said, actually.”

“I said yeah. I showed it. I showed you I love you when I introduced you to my whole family. I showed you I love you when I introduced you to my friends. I showed you I love you when I took you on a trip with my family because I know they would love you as much as I do.”

His heart was racing, and Mason continued speaking.

“I show you that I love you every day. I show you that I love you when I buy you books, when I take you out to dinner. I love you so much that I bought you a book nook from Greece for you to put among your books because it was our first trip together.”

“I showed you that I love you when I stayed by your side in the hospital for an entire night, and don't get me wrong, it wasn't to get something in return, I did it because I love you and I wouldn't leave you alone.”

“I- I” you sobbed as Mason hugged you. Now you look like a fool, because you were so focused on the words that you didn't pay attention to everything Mason does for you every day. “I’m sorry.”

“If you need to hear it, I'll say it. I love you. I love you so much Y/n that it hurts. I love you so much that I would spend a week eating your failed recipes just to make you happy. I would listen to Taylor Swift for the rest of my life just to show you that I love you. I love you.”

You were laughing and crying, and Mason was smiling too as he pulled you to sit next to him on the couch.

“I can tell you that I love you every day if you want, but I prefer to show you.”

“I'm such an idiot, my God. It's just that you say that you love your family all the time and you've never said it to me even the times I've said it.”

“Because they have the habit of saying I love you and that's why I do it, but I say I love you when I'm stuck to you all the time and don't want to let go.”

“I feel like a fool.”

“No, love, you know you don't.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. Sorry I didn't realize you wanted to hear it.”

“No, I want you to show me.”

“Ah, you don't even know what you want” he said and kissed you.

“I know exactly what I want. You. For the rest of my life.”

[elryuse]

Hierarchy

Pt 4 : Truth Or Dare

Y/n POV

Somehow, I found myself getting closer and closer to ryujin. Something that even shocked me. I was a nobody, I was a scholar, And even though ryujin was one of those privileged students, She didn't care to be friends with me. Day by day, My usual boring life was starting to shift. Ryujin alongside her friends would always ask me to go out together. Either eating at one of those luxurious cafes, Hanging out at the Large library, and even staying out at one of those PC bangs until late at night.

And without me realizing, I was getting closer and closer to some of the most privileged students here at jooshin high. One day, At the classroom. Ms. Han was teaching us about the ways people could play other people just by using their brain. The whole class was sternly listening to every word that comes out from Ms. Han's mouth. She explains that, One of human's biggest weaknesses is their ego. And we, as a student of Jooshin High, Must learn how to use that weakness, So that we can achieve whatever we want.

"This is how you'll earn your place at the highest level. This is how we can reach the hierarchy". Ms Han exclaimed.

As the materials were done. Ms sohee said her goodbyes, Before me and the rest of the class. We could finally take our lunch and have some time to relax. Ryujin immediately took a seat close to me, Alongside some of her friends such as Jimin, Minjeong, Yeji, and Chaewon. As they kept gossiping about the recent news and popular K-pop groups. Yeji murmured something out, Which was about the upcoming Birthday party of the Top students at Jooshin high, Which was none other than Park So-hyun.

I was hesitant at first, A large event such as this was a very new experience for me. I mean, I don't know what I should do, What I should bring, Or what I even need to go for. However, Ryujin kept begging me. As she playfully teases me, Making me blush like crazy. As I tried my best to reject her offer, Ryujin and her friends kept teasing me, And in the end, I found myself accepting their offer.

Small Timeskip

As D-Day is coming up. I was nervous as ever, I wasn't sure if my clothes were that proper. I mean, I don't even know what the dress code for this party was. All ryujin said was to wear something nice. How the fuck should I know, What's nice for them and what's not nice for them. Haishhh... It's frustrating asf. But nonetheless, I tried to wear something proper. So I decided to wear a casual piece of suit. With a nice white cotton shirt.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, I could only think about what sort of crazy thing would happen today. After getting done with myself, I waited for my transportation. Which was provided by ryujin. I don't know why, But this privileged student didn't really bother to buy or rent their friends some expensive lifestyle. I mean, She rented me a fucking limousine. Just for myself. Like what in the actual fuck. I'm all alone. Why the fuck would you rent me a fucking limousine? Nonetheless, I immediately got inside the limousine, before the driver drove me to the designated spot.

I could look outside my window, The huge palace that was none other than So-hyun's home. The place was huge, Filled with many abstract statues, and trees. The anticipation was palpable as I approached the grand mansion, its facade bathed in a soft, golden glow. Ryujin had been raving about the party So-hyun's was throwing, promising a night of endless fun and extravagance.

As I stepped inside the mansion, I was greeted by a breathtaking sight. The interior was adorned with lavish decorations, each room a masterpiece of opulence. It was clear that So-hyun, the queen bee of Jooshin High, had spared no expense.

Ryujin, beaming with pride, welcomed me and introduced me to her friends. I was surprised to see Wonyoung again, the girl I had met at her family's home, where I had played the piano for them. I hadn't seen her since that day, and I couldn't help but feel a strange mix of excitement and apprehension.

As the night wore on, the party reached a fever pitch. Music blared, laughter filled the air, and people danced with abandon. Ryujin and her friends urged me to join them, offering me shots and a small dose of drugs. I had never done any of these things before, and I was hesitant to try them. But with their encouragement, I reluctantly agreed.

As I took the shot, a wave of warmth washed over me. I felt a sense of euphoria, a carefree abandon that I had never experienced before. The drugs seemed to amplify my senses, making everything feel more intense, more alive.

Wonyoung, meanwhile, had retreated to a secluded area with So-hyun. I watched them from a distance, their faces etched with a mixture of guilt and longing. I knew they were struggling with something, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was.

As the night progressed, I became increasingly tipsy. Ryujin and her friends decided to play Truth or Dare with me, their laughter echoing through the room. I was game for anything, my inhibitions loosened by the alcohol.

When it was my turn, Ryujin dared me to "kiss the person who you think is the hottest and prettiest in this party." I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing. I knew that Ryujin was hoping I would choose her, but my heart was elsewhere.

I walked slowly through the crowd, my eyes scanning the faces around me. Then, I saw her. Wonyoung was sitting alone in a corner, her eyes filled with sadness. Without hesitation, I walked over to her and kissed her.

The room fell silent. Everyone stared at us, their eyes wide with shock. So-hyun's face was a mask of confusion, while Ryujin's expression was one of betrayal.

I pulled away from Wonyoung, my head spinning. I realized what I had done, and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. I had betrayed Ryujin, and I had humiliated myself in front of everyone.

Wonyoung looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and hurt. "H-how could you?" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

I tried to explain, to tell her that I didn't mean it. But the words wouldn't come. I was too ashamed, too embarrassed.

As I turned to leave, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It Was Wonyoung. "Wait," she said. "We need to talk."

I followed her to a secluded part of the mansion. We sat down on a couch, facing each other.

"What The Fuck were you thinking," Wonyoung said. "Why The Hell would you kiss me in front of everyone"??

"I-i'm S-sorry" I answered with guilt on my shoulders.

Wonyoung took a deep breath. "What Would Happen if Everyone started to Shipped You & I together." Her voice stern and full of anger.

My heart shnked like the Titanic. I couldn't believe it. I was so stupid and drunk, That I kissed one of the most powerful students in Jooshin High. What would happen to me now.

"Now what are we gonna do?" Wonyoung asked,her voice trembling.

"I-i Don't know.. I-i'm sorry",I answer. "I was drunk as hell wonyoung... I-I didn't mean to".

"But why me?" She asked. "Why do you kiss me and not anybody else"??

"I-i Don't know," Y/n said. "I'm sorry. I was just so... lost. I didn't know what come over me"

As wonyoung and I came back from the secluded area, the air and atmosphere gets more and more intense. People were staring at us. I can only hope that luck was by my side. I hoped that nothing bad would ever happen to me. I just wished that all of those eyes stopped staring at me. As I thought I was gonna be suffocated by the amount of pressure. Someone started to walk in our direction. The sound of the elegant high heel shoes was all that I could hear.

That is until, That person approaches me, before kissing me. I was shocked, I was flabbergasted. Because that person is none other than, So-hyun. The whole crowd immediately stopped partying, As they were shocked at the sudden move. All of the students immediately let out their phone, Before they took pictures and video of me and her. What is going on. What game am I currently being played at. What's gonna happen to me.

To be continued

[m1ngkis]

Jeong Yunho #NEEDTHAT (18+)

A/N: MINORS BE GONE not me blushing rereading this.

It had to be going on a month since you had seen Yunho. His schedule as an idol kept him busy and yours equally so. The most you two had time to do was text each other, trying your best to find a hole in your plans to see each other.

"Wednesday?" You looked up from your calendar to gauge his reaction through the facetime call, which, if you were reading the furrow of his brows correctly, wasn't good.

"Shooting a couple of promo shows." Yunho sighed as his hairstylist continued to tug at his head, spraying a bit of product on the strands of hair.

"Afterwards?"

"Dance practice. Then, hyung has a song he wants to work on with me." You could see his frustration for the situation sit on his features. "I have to go. Manager is calling." He groaned before mumbling an I love you and waiting for you to say it back before hanging up.

It wasn't until two more weeks later that Ateez was granted a vacation and the first thing Yunho did was ask to be dropped off at your place.

His text came through your phone the same time his knocking was heard at the door. "Let me in." And you hopped up off the couch, not bothering to check the camera to see if it was really him.

With a squeal, you opened the door and jumped into his arms, holding him tight as he dropped his bag to catch you.

"I missed you so bad." Your speech muffled into his jacket as he groaned, his arms wrapping around your frame and squeezing hard.

"I missed you too."

Yunho walked inside your apartment with you clinging to him like a sloth to a tree, kicking your door closed and tossing his bag to the side. "I thought I'd never see you again." His hand cradled the back of your head as he gazed into your eyes.

"Don't be dramatic, Yuyu." You chuckled, running your palm down his cheek. He melted in your touch, grabbing your wrist to keep it in place as his eyes fluttered shut.

He rubbed his face into your hand, relishing in its softness and warmth. A moan slipped past his lips so quietly you almost didn't catch it before he kissed your hand.

"I missed your touch so bad, I thought I was gonna die."

"Really?" He nodded as he took hold of your other hand and placed them both on his head, letting your nails scratch lightly at his scalp as his arms wrap around your body again.

"Oh God, please..." Yunho whines, dropping his head to your chest and biting at you skin. Your fingers curl around his hair and tug until his head snaps back.

"What do you need, Yuyu?"

Yunho shakes his head as his hips start to thrust up shallowly. His need bleeding through his body and making him lose control over himself. "Anything...everything. What ever you're willing to give, baby please."

You pucker your lips and plant a kiss to his forehead before whispering. "I have an idea but you have to let me go for a second."

He actually whimpers at the thought of your bodies not being combined for more than half a second but his arms loosen and he allows you to get up.

"Take off some of your clothes." Only then does he realize that he didn't even bother taking off his shoes before entering your home.

He does so and sits them in the entryway. Afterwards, his jacket and shirt are shed as he makes his way back to the couch.

You run to your room and come back with a scarf. "Do you trust me?" The scarf dangles from your fingertips and a smile graces your lips.

"You're beautiful...I trust you with my life." His eyes sparkle in a way you have never seen and it almost pains you to hide them behind the material and you tie it behind his head.

Immediately, Yunho tenses. His hands curl into fists as his breathing becomes ragged. "B-baby? You still there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here." You run a hand down his chest, your nails grazing against the skin, causing him to shudder as his body melts into the couch. "I need you to breathe."

A shaky breath exits his nose. "C-can I touch you?" The desperation in his voice makes your thighs clench.

You don't answer him, opting to adjust him so he's laying on the couch. Slowly, you start to remove your clothing and toss it his way. His frantic hands grab onto every piece like a life line.

"Ready?" You ask. Yunho perks up. "Yes, yes. Please, Im so ready."

You hook your leg over him so you hover over his face and once he feels your thighs on either side of his head, he groans and his arms grab hold of you, pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Yunho!" You yelp as he moans against your heat, lapping up your wetness like a starving dog. "Wait!" You reach for his head, tugging at his hair.

"Mmmm hmm." His tongue laps at you and his eyes roll back behind the blindfold as moans spill from your lips. A month with out him dialed your sensitivity to 20 and its apparent in the way you fall forward against the arm of the couch. Your stomach heaving as the knot in it tightens.

"So good, Yu! Yes!"

Yunho thrusts up into nothing as your wetness drips down his chin and his fingers dig into your thighs. His own moans vibrate your skin as he guides your hips up and down his face with no regard for the mess you two make.

Your moans climb in pitch and his tongue speeds up until the knot in your belly snaps and you cum. Yunho licks it up and slips the scarf from his eyes as you come down from your peak.

"Was that good?" He asks with a smirk.

[shepherds-of-haven]

How would the ROs rate their own attractiveness? Like do they consider themselves attractive?

Huh, good question!

Blade: he is distantly aware that other people/society in general considers him to be good-looking in some capacity. (By Ket standards, he and Gladius both are considered to be blessed with markedly good looks, but almost in a 'pretty boy' kind of way. Gladius is considered like stunningly beautiful while Blade has more of 'effortlessly hot' aura). So he would say other people probably think he's "above-average" in looks (but he also believes it to be more of a muscularity/strength thing than things like his facial features. Like women, if they do find him attractive, probably think so because he looks like a strong provider LMAO). But he himself doesn't think about his own attractiveness or appearance beyond what good hygiene and proper presentation dictate... he hardly spares himself a glance in the mirror most days. As you can tell by his haircut choices

Trouble: he considers himself to be average in looks, neither particularly handsome or particularly ugly, just exactly in the middle of the road! If asked to describe his own attractiveness in more detail, he'd probably say something like, "I clean up okay. I'm a decent-looking working-class guy? *shrug* I don't think anyone would be mad if I showed up at their doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, but artists aren't swooning over my cheekbones, either"

Tallys: Tallys considers herself to be a good-looking woman, probably an 8 if we're using a scale, a 9 if she put more effort into being conventionally beautiful (doing things like growing out her hair (!), using makeup or perfume, dressing well, etc.). She's confident in her own attractiveness and doesn't find much fault with her own features or body, but she also knows that doesn't mean she's everyone's specific cup of tea, either! She just believes that, according to a general standard, she rates highly in most areas, and no one could sincerely call her ugly. It helps that she's an Elf, since most of them have a high standard of confidence when it comes to their natural beauty!

Shery: before she joined the Shepherds, she believed herself to be average or below-average, and believed herself to be "mousy": hiding behind her bangs and spectacles was not something she ever saw conventionally beautiful people doing, so she grew up thinking she was forgettable or unremarkable, though not necessarily ugly or outright unattractive. Just sort of "plain." However, since joining and noticing that there are people who seem to compliment or even crush on her, she's since come to tentatively revise that opinion and thinks she could probably be considered "cute" by some people's standards, but she still thinks that her personality makes it hard for anyone to really notice her or become completely enthralled by her... so she would say she's probably like a 6 or 7 by looks alone, which she's content with!

Riel: as like a work of art or a painting (so judging by pure aesthetics alone, devoid of other considerations), he believes he rates around an 8 just going by the symmetry of his facial features, his taste in clothes, the fact that he's well-groomed, but he's a bit self-conscious of how he rates in terms of desirability or sexual appeal, which is a different thing entirely (in his own mind). Like, you can admit a painting is beautiful, but you don't want to fuck a painting? In those terms, he believes he falls well below the standards of the masculine ideal, probably resting at a 5, though he believes he makes up for it in other areas (wealth, intellect, uniqueness, etc). It doesn't bother him that much, but it is something that he is aware of at the back of his mind!

Chase: He thinks he's pretty good-looking (🙄), but that the effect is best felt and supplemented by his in-person charisma, charm, aura, and general personality. This is an extremely topical/dated example, but it's sort of like how a lot of people were largely indifferent to Glen Powell going strictly by looks alone, but then they saw him acting in Twisters or Top Gun or whatever and saw his chemistry with his co-stars and were suddenly like "oh 😳" Like he needs to be seen in action to really feel attracted to him?? Anyway, Chase thinks that if you were to see a perfect painting of him in a gallery, he's good-looking enough alone to make you stop and admire him, so probably like an 8... but his magnetism in person brings that to a 10 LOL

Red: He "doesn't really think about it" (🙄)--he more spends time grooming and styling himself to his own standards rather than really fretting over what other people would perceive or rate him as, but if you really pressed up, I think he'd say he's an 8 on a good day, potentially a 9 if he were to try very hard, but he'd sort of vaguely look around at everyone else to confirm if this was an arrogant thing for him to say lol, so he's definitely not totally sure about it! There aren't too many things he finds fault with when it comes to his physical appearance or body--he's generally satisfied and content in that department--but he also would never argue he's some great show-stopping beauty or gorgeous model: he just quietly lives with the idea that most people think he's a naturally pretty handsome guy!

Ayla: this is sad, but she probably rates herself a 3, maybe a 4 on a good day. 😕 Ayla thought she dispensed with thinking about her own appearance or attractiveness long ago, having accepted the fact that most people perceived her as this ragged, scrappy loner who mostly lived on the road and was lucky if she could find a stream to wash her hair in. She never possessed a mirror and, the rare times she stayed in a room that had one, she used it to check herself over for hidden injuries or things on her back and then went on her way... and none of this really mattered to her because she spent so much of her time alone. No one was really looking at her, she wasn't looking at herself, so who cared if she looked like a half-drowned rat with her hair growing into her eyes while she shook sand out of her clothes? Since joining the Shepherds, however, her private consciousness of her appearance has naturally increased, and sometimes she can feel quite down about it (especially when faced with the elegant grace of Tallys, the feminine cuteness of Shery, or the show-stopping beauty of Lavinet). Part of being in a group that she avoided was the vulnerability of natural comparison: no one's comparing you to anyone if you stand alone, but with the Shepherds, of course that's going to happen, even if only in her own mind... Anyway, this is a lot to say that she considers herself to be below-average in attractiveness, but is filled with a sullen self-loathing and pride when she considers doing anything to try to change that fact, so she just... resigns herself to feeling that way forever, if that makes any sense!

Briony: she thinks she's cute and can edge over into pretty when she tries really hard, so she'd probably say she hovers between a 6 and a 7 on an average day? While she thinks she has advantages like her striking hair color and eyes, she has areas that she privately feels a bit insecure about: she feels her face is too round, her nose is too short, feels like she's a bit short and compact and boyish in body when she's rather be tall and leggy like Tallys or buxom and curvaceous like Lavinet, etc. etc. It's not something that really bothers her--she figures that everybody feels that way about themselves--so she's happy with being "above-average" on most days. It's only when she's crushing on somebody and isn't sure of how they perceive her that she gets really unsure and self-conscious about it, and then she really obviously throws herself into styling herself to appear more feminine!

Lavinet: don't hate her, but she definitely thinks she's a 10 LOL. This is partly due to the fact that, by Blest beauty standards, she pretty much is a paragon of desirability, and everyone in her life has treated her as if she were a 10 or even outright said so... so there's really no reason for her to think otherwise! There are always small things she would tweak if she gave any thought to it, but in general she's been very happy with her appearance and how she's been able to use it as a tool to accomplish her goals in life!

Halek: he is well aware that he's gorgeous... he wouldn't say this out loud because he knows he'd get endlessly ragged on, but he'd probably say he's a 10 LMAO, maybe 9 so as to give the appearance of some humility... It's not even something he's arrogant about, he's just like aware of general beauty standards and is like 'yeah by no choice of my own and by complete accident of birth, i happen to fit these really well? *shrug*" It's nbd... and it's part of where his bde comes from, I'm sure

[icycoldninja]

Dating Gojo headcannons

A/N: I was watching jjk at 2 am as I tend to do and was hit with inspiration. Naturally, I wrote it down.

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

-First of all, do not let your delulu nature consume you. Gojo is not going to be the perfect boyfriend.

-He's hardly ever at home thanks to those goddamn curses, and when he is, he's busy showering, taking his daily 3 hour nap, or just trying to relax. You might not even see him, since it'll be so late.

-Sometimes he'll bully you by stealing your stuff and never returning it, eating all your food, and literally kicking you out of your own bed at night.

-He'll let you come with him on missions because he knows he's the strongest and can protect you from any danger, though he does want you to have a little training first, just in case.

-Will bring you back souvenirs, but never snacks. Why? Cause he ends up eating them all while travelling home.

-Bothers you day and night over the stupidest things ever. For example, he will send you a text message at 3 AM alongside picture of two frogs just chilling together with the caption "This is us", then 15 minutes later, call you so you can hear him pee in this one public bathroom he found that has "great acoustics".

-You guys are prank buddies for sure. Megumi will have an aneurysm followed by a nervous breakdown one of these days.

-He will love you forever if you can make him mochi (or desserts in general) whenever he wants some.

-Will use Infinity against you in an argument by monopolizing cuddles. 5 minutes of shouting at him equals 5 hours without a single hug. It sounds easy to handle, but after you get used to being bombarded with his annoying attempts to get your attention and all of sudden it's ripped away, you're left in shock.

-Still, there are some upsides to dating him. Having a human Barbie doll to dress up is one of them.

-He'll wear whatever you want him to, whenever you want him to, experiencing no shame whatsoever. Want to go to a party in matching dresses? Done and done. Do you desire to see him in your lingerie? He can do that too.

-Sometimes makes you carry him around bridal style because...well...no one really knows why. He just seems to like it.

-If you listen carefully at the door while he's showering, you might hear one of two things: singing or sobbing.

-He loves to dance with you, and if you are the type who doesn't know how to dance or doesn't want to dance in front of others, good luck.

-Talks to you nonstop because he's an uncontrollable chatterbox, even worse than he is in public. He'll talk with you, at you, about you, and around you--there's no way to get him to shut up, don't even try.

-Sometimes these chats get dark, really dark, especially if he's been rambling for a while.

-All in all, Gojo can be a lot of fun at times, and at others, a huge pain in the ass, whereas on rare occasions he will be a sad little marshmallow that you need to pamper and cuddle. Just make sure you take good care of him, and he will repay the favor tenfold.

[a-lying-elysium]

"I Read About You in History Books"

[Bucky Barnes x fem!reader]

Summary: You've always been fascinated by history, especially by the untold stories of people forgotten in the shadow of legends. Bucky Barnes is one of those people.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, Fluff with a dash of angst, not proofread

Word Count: 1.6k

You knew The Winter Soldier. Who didn't? Everyone knew the tales of the most feared assassin in the world. How he appears and disappears like a ghost. How he struck his victims with deadly accuracy and no one could catch him. The man behind the mask intrigued you more though. It was almost laughable but to you, The Winter Soldier was older news than James 'Bucky' Barnes.

Meeting Steve Rogers was incredible. It took every professional bone in your body not to jump up and down in excitement. I mean it was the Captain America. How were you not meant to be excited?

You didn't expect to become his friend, to watch his back and have him watch yours. You had been in so many fights besides him and, of course, asked him every question you could think of about his life, the war and especially Bucky Barnes.

Why do you want to know so much about him? He had asked once.

Only the Gods knew the answer.

You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky Barnes, more than what was in the history books. There was never much about him in anything, always being overshadowed by Steve or the other Howling Commandos. You'd read every account, watched every documentary, pieced together the fragments of his life as if they were a puzzle begging to be solved.

You never expected to meet him. Never expected him to be more than a name in a book or a picture in a documentary. You thought that meeting Steve was miracle enough.

You were quite wrong.

~~~

"Mind if I join you?"

Bucky frowns. "In a stairwell?"

"Well, I usually come here to get some quiet, so yeah, in a stairwell."

Bucky's posture is stiff as he leans back against the cold concrete wall, his arms crossed over his chest. You stand a few steps below him, one hand resting on the metal railing, your head tilted to the side as you study him.

“Quiet, huh?” he asks, his voice a low rasp, still hesitant to engage.

“Yep,” you reply, popping the 'p' with a small grin. “It's one of the few places in this whole compound where no one’s either training, running missions, or asking me a million questions.”

He’s guarded, that much is clear, but there’s something else too. Something underneath the surface, a complexity you’ve always suspected is buried deep within James Buchanan Barnes. You aren’t just interested in The Winter Soldier. You want to know the man beneath that, the person history has barely bothered to document.

“So, what brings you up here?” you ask casually if your presence is the most natural thing in the world.

Bucky glances away for a moment, his jaw clenching. His eyes are distant, but not in the way that screams of danger. More like he’s... lost. "Just needed some space," he finally says.

"I understand that." You slide down onto one of the steps, resting your arms on your knees, looking up at him. "It gets overwhelming, doesn’t it? Always being around people, no room to just... think."

Bucky nods in agreement, his eyes flickering to you.

You decide to take a chance. "I swear this isn’t some weird interrogation or anything, but... I've read about you, in History books. Well, about the Howling Commandos. About you and Steve during the war."

His expression tightens, the walls going back up. "You don't know me—"

"I know," you say quickly, cutting him off. "I know that what’s in those books isn’t the whole story. That’s why I want to know more."

"More?" His gaze sharpens, almost suspicious. "Why?"

You shrug. "I don’t know. Maybe because history’s never the full picture. It’s just pieces, bits of what people decide to write down. I’ve always thought there had to be more to you than just 'Steve’s best friend' or 'The Winter Soldier.' And..." you press your lips together, hesitating, but continue, “...I guess I just want to know who you really are.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, the tension between you thickening with each passing second. His blue eyes are scrutinizing you, searching for something—maybe sincerity, maybe an ulterior motive. You aren’t sure.

"You think you can figure me out?" he finally says, his tone biting, though not as cold as before.

You shake your head. "No... But I think you deserve to be known. Not just as a name in a book or a legend in a file. As, well, you."

His brow furrows, and for the first time since the conversation started, he looks truly unsettled. "What if I don't even know who that is anymore?"

The pain in his voice catches you off guard. For a moment, the Winter Soldier—the assassin, the ghost—seems to fall away, leaving only a man haunted by the weight of his past. And it breaks your heart a little.

"Then maybe I can help you figure it out," you say softly.

Bucky exhales, a sound heavy with the burden of decades he hasn’t asked to carry. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any promises, but he doesn’t leave either. Instead, he slowly lowers himself to sit a few steps above you, the silence between you shifting into something more comfortable.

"Can I be completely honest?" you ask.

"Huh? Yeah?"

"I don't come here for quiet. I lock myself in my room for that. I totally stalked you in here."

Bucky scoffs. "You're probably the nicest stalker I've encountered."

You look up at him, grinning. "Thank you!"

He raises an eyebrow at you but you swear you see a small smile grace his lips.

Maybe this is the beginning of something. Maybe not. Either way, you aren’t about to let him disappear like a ghost again.

Not if you have anything to say about it.

[alessiamalfoyzabini]

Dark Moon | EXTRA 01 | Monster

Pairing | yandere!gangster!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 3,9k

Warnings | +18, yandere themes, knife wound, memories of past trauma and abuse, references to an attempted murder and escape attempt (present in the main story), Stockholm syndrome, guilt, Hoseok loves to psychologically torture MC, references to MC's traumatic past (hard yandere Jimin) and her love-filled present (soft yandere Jimin) that MC calls before and after, smut (fingering, wet kisses, nipple sucking), non-sexual choking attempt, fear and anxiety, this is not for minors.

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | You thought the worst was over, but the dark shadows are denser than you thought.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys!

After receiving many comments asking for an extra chapter for Dark Moon, I decided to write one, I hope you enjoy this glimpse of how things turned out later, thanks for loving Dark Moon 🥹❤️

Taglist: @katherine-kookie @btsuga-d @dragons-flare @takemeaway5402 @m00njinnie @seokjins-luigi @pjmsneverland @ajkwww @jimincrystal @ungodlyjoon @hecateslittlewitchling @namjoonsbuspass @darkuni63 @xicanacorpse @jiminismine4ever @btssimplove @antisocial-mochi267 @reallygenerouskoala @velvet-stardust2002 @angelicsmileworld @dabishou @ke1k029 @lennieharper @pantara @superrsstaargirrl13

➢ Main Story

➢ Happy Ending Series

➢ Side Note | The first two stories - Happy Ending and Dark Moon - were written in the third person, which had been my style for a long time. However, I’ve recently started writing all my new stories in the second person, as I find it much more immersive and enjoyable. As a result, the new stories in this series will continue in the second person. Thank you for reading this far ❤️

Jimin's return from a mission is announced by many heavy footsteps, some even shuffling, you hear excited whispers and words left unsaid.

You jerk open your eyes, your blurred vision in the dark making you dizzy, but that is not the reason for your nausea.

Jimin.

You jump up with your heart in your throat, it's not unusual for him to come home late from work, it's the other agitated voices that startle you. Something has definitely happened that has alerted the others as well.

You quickly grab your robe and tie it in a tight knot at the waist, you don't even bother to put on shoes, when you lower the handle the click resonates like a gunshot and a shiver runs down your spine, you will never get used to that kind of life, even though Jimin has become your whole world, and as a result his life is yours too.

You move your feet toward the living room, where surely everyone else is gathered, and you bring back an unruly lock of hair, tongues of fire sway sinuously throughout the hallway, someone has lit the fireplace, a sign of a long night they will spend here.

“Squeeze this, man,” you hear someone say, you recognize him as Jungkook and frown, "It's going to hurt, but you know the drill by now," he continues and your heart misses a beat.

When you reach the living room and the heat of the fire invests you, two heads turn in your direction, you simply feel the ground missing from under your feet.

You see Jimin, lying on the couch, pale under the mop of once again black, blood-stained hair; you don't know if it's his, but the one on his uncovered side that Jungkook is taking care to stitch up with needle and thread definitely belongs to him.

“What happened?” you simply manage to ask with a choked edge to your voice, rocking on jelly legs before collapsing at your husband's side, who clutches a leather glove between his teeth to suppress the pain.

The man weakly lifts his eyelids in your direction, two shiny black pools look at you affectionately and with weary hand tries to caress your face, you immediately clasp your fingers to his, they are cold you find yourself noticing and this startles you.

You glance at the wound, it is just below the ribs and Jungkook's quick hands move the needle expertly, there is ice wrapped in a cloth abandoned on the couch, perhaps to try to make the area around the wound less sensitive, you also notice a bottle of disinfectant and some gauze.

Jimin winces all the same, clenching the glove between his teeth so as not to show you his pain, not out of shame, but because he doesn't want to worry you further.

Your mind involuntarily goes to that day.

The day you hurt him trying to escape, those are hard memories to swallow, you don't like to remember the before, but how can you not think back when you have the same scenario before your eyes?

“I'm fine,” hisses Jimin fulminating Jungkook when he presses the tip of the needle a little too hard, ”It's superficial.”

“One more inch and we could have run to the hospital, though,” mutters the third man's voice, you try to ignore his disturbing presence.

It was not difficult to bond with all the members of Jimin's family, all except him.

Hoseok never showed any interest in being your friend, and you always mentally thanked him for that. Since that time at the Dark Moon, you have had no direct contact with him and you are more than okay with that, he is a real monster. You can see it in his eyes, the evil that he harbors and is not ashamed to let it out whenever he can.

That day, you would have died by his hand if Jimin had not gotten in the way, despite the wounds he had. You owe everything to Jimin you think, kissing his sweat-soaked forehead softly. The boy closes his eyes at the pleasant warmth of your lips against his smooth skin.

“You're not well, Jimin,” you whisper in his ear, Jimin's eyelashes flicker a little, you can see the shadow of a smile amid the pain.

“You're always so anxious, my love,” he chuckles with difficulty, in response you inhale into his dark hair his masculine fragrance, mixed with gunpowder and blood, “I'll survive, as always.”

How many more times must you wake up with your heart in your throat, with Jimin wounded and lying on the couch sweating and bleeding. The only thing sweet about that image is the bold smile he gives you every single time.

“And you always try to downplay everything,” you say bitterly, kissing him on the lips.

Jungkook looks at you out of the corner of his eye without saying anything, but he is clearly more relaxed now that you are there to look after Jimin, Hoseok on the other hand snorts.

“You women are so complicated,” there is boredom in his tone, it irritates you but you tighten your lips into a thin line to ignore him, ”Even though you were more like us that time than you want to admit, remember?”

The reference to that day freezes you, you widen your eyes and lift them to his.

His hair is no longer as red as blood, now it is as black as his soul, but his sadism is still there. He loves to hurt physically, but he doesn't disdain psychological hurt. Especially if it is to hit you, after all, resentment is his best friend and he never considered you part of his family.

Jimin's eyes go wide, the black has stopped sparkling, the sweetness has been replaced by anger.

“Shut the fuck up, Hoseok,” he hisses with a latent snarl. He is hurt, but that doesn't mean he will allow Hoseok to disrespect you, ”She is not to blame!”

He always says that, but is that really the case?

“Or what?” the other challenges him, leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Please... stop,” you mutter dejectedly to both of them, agreeing - reluctantly - with Hoseok. True, you were no different from them that day. It is a guilt you will carry with you forever.

Perhaps because of your tone, perhaps because of your look, or perhaps both, Jimin vibrates with anger and disdain. He jerks up ignoring your arms trying to pick him back up, managing to grab Hoseok by the collar of his black leather jacket, landing a punch right on his mouth that he dared to say too much to his wife, this set of movements blowing out a few stitches, making Jungkook growl in frustration.

“That's really enough now!” Jungkook has never been a go-between, he has always reasoned with physical force, and it doesn't even take a moment to force Jimin back to his seat, weak as he is, and push Hoseok away with an irritated shove, “You've both pissed me off.”

Hoseok rubs his split lips, blood smears his black gloves - the same kind of gloves Jimin had on the night he caught you - his teeth have torn flesh as a result of Jimin's punch, but he doesn't seem to show resentment.

He knows he has gone too far. Even if he doesn't regret it.

He also seems at times amused at his friend's reaction, love is a feeling he does not understand, he finds it ridiculous, and he also finds Jimin and Jungkook ridiculous for getting “tamed.”

Hoseok disgusts you.

“You didn't have to react that way, we all know what he's like,” you whisper softly on your husband's lips, Jimin is breathing heavily out of anger and grief, Jungkook seems to have abandoned the path of kindness and is stitching him up carelessly, perhaps even with a hint of malice.

“I don't tolerate-” I don't tolerate  anyone disrespecting you, you block that sentence by kissing him again, losing yourself in the soft lips and sugary taste of the boy who brought you to your knees, in every sense of the word.

You block him because you don't feel you deserve all that respect, Hoseok is right.

That evil man is like a virus in your brain, he wanted to hurt you that day and for a just reason, you almost killed a member of his family, you are unforgivable and you willfully ignore the reasons that led you to such an extreme act. You remain a murderer, the man you hold in your arms now, he would not be here now if you had managed to escape without giving him help.

“Christ, I want to go home,” Jungkook whines, envious of your intimate contact, he wants to go home to his wife and spend the rest of the night with her, but he has to stitch Jimin up first and some stitches are blown out, this thought makes him nervous and that hint of malice sneers a little more.

Jimin finds himself screaming in an instant with no more glove to help him, he casts a shocked glance at Jungkook, more blood stains his quick fingers, and yet he looks innocent, as if he has not just voluntarily stuck the needle deeper than was really necessary.

“Be kind, Jungkook,” you smile at the pigtailed boy, who rolls his eyes in response, “Please.”

“At least there's someone who knows politeness in this room,” he mumbles back, Jimin snorts throwing his head back on your soft, cozy chest, you lift your gaze and pin it on Hoseok, he's looking at you with a strange smile. He knows what you're thinking.

You pull the blankets up to Jimin's chin, he is shivering with cold and that worries you. Jungkook instructed you which antibiotic to give him once a day, then closed the door behind you, careful to let Hoseok out first.

Jungkook didn't trust you to be alone with him either.

You swallow a knot that tightens your throat, you feel suffocated. You need to get some air, even though it's probably cold outside that would freeze the soul of even the devil.

“Don't do that,” you hear yourself say, turning to Jimin.

He has pulled himself up from the blankets and looks at you harshly.

“What?” you ask pretending to arrange something in a drawer, your attitude exhausting him.

“Don't think of another man,” the blackness of his eyes is darker, the jealousy is always there, ”I hate that my woman thinks of another.”

This makes you smile incredulously, “I don't think of another man, Jimin, you are my man” you clarify with your hands on your hips, you see him melt a little as a sad smile finally comes to light.

Oh.

He means to say...

“You think about the things this man says,” he points out to you, ”But it's all bullshit, stop this guilt, it's killing me.”

Tears accumulate between your eyelashes, you blink quickly to chase them away.

“But it's true, I did-I almost killed you,” your lips tremble, Jimin instantly notices.

He doesn't like to resume the before, it disturbs him. But he has to if he wants to calm you down somehow.

“And before you tried to kill me, I hurt you willingly,” he emphasizes the last word with a grimace of contempt, to himself, “I pushed you to the limit and at that moment I liked it.”

Jimin never hid his darkness, he promised to love and respect you after, but it was not so before.

It was hell, just thinking about it leaves you paralyzed, the memories of pain are suffocating. Those of the pleasure you did not accept but yearned for are even more so.

Still, you shake your head, whichever way you look at it, you feel guilty.

“You were drunk; you didn't really want to” you try to justify him.

“I was drunk because I was fucking pissed, pissed at you,” the man points out to you, now bleary-eyed.

He would never hurt you now, in the after.

Right?

“You can justify me, but not yourself?” the pain in his voice leaves you stunned and pained, the shadows of your past are dense and heavy, Hoseok wallows among them, you think angrily.

But Jimin doesn't feel the same way, the problem is not Hoseok, he knows that very well.

You two still haven't gotten over the before, that's what reinforces the pain.

“I can't accept what I did, because I was never this” you were never a monster, no need to say that, Jimin already understood, “But I acted like one, you at least do it for a living.”

The man shakes his head, “I did it out of anger, and anger led to making my hate-based reality also a job” for a moment he sees the exhausted little boy collapsing at Seokjin's feet again and accepts his offer.

He will not deny it, it was the best choice ever, even if the circumstances that led him to meet you were terrible.

But he doesn't regret his love; he could let you go, but he won't.

He is too involved with you, you are too involved with him, you are a family now, in the after.

He just wants to take that weight off your shoulders crushing you. Even though it will hurt both of you.

“Come here, babe,” he invites you, moving a hand to draw you to him.

It doesn't have to happen again, you find yourself already sitting on the bed by his side, it was instinctive, the need for him overwhelming.

“I'm sorry,” you whisper in a choked voice, truly sorry for the dark thoughts you are giving him while he is in a pitiful condition.

“Straddle me,” he says bluntly, squinting your eyes.

“But... are you crazy? Jungkook finished with the stitches not even twenty minutes ago, I could hurt you, the wound is fresh!” you protest with your chest heaving up and down rhythmically, you cannot deny that the request tickled you.

But Jimin grabs you by the hips and intimates you to do as he told you, “Ride me, Y/N” his voice sounds sensual and needy, a giddy feeling tightens in your lower belly.

You lick your lips lifting yourself up on Jimin, surround his hips with your thighs, the robe opens over them and let Jimin look at your soft skin with desire. He has stopped shaking, you notice.

Paying attention to his wound, he opens the robe over your chest as well and slowly pulls down the thin straps of your nightgown, the man's eyes darken at the seductive sight of your delicate breasts and already turgid nipples, he would have gladly spent the evening another way if a half-dead bastard hadn't stabbed him out of spite, you'd be under him crying and moaning in pleasure, instead he has to settle for that position.

But he can always make up for it somehow, right now - in your after - he thinks, closing his plump lips around a stiff, rosy tip that asked for nothing more, the sensation of his wet tongue playing with your breasts makes you hold your breath, your clitoris throbbing and your entrance moistening, already ready to receive him in all his tantalizing thickness.

A dusting of pink colors your cheeks, Jimin loves your sensitivity, you could come just like that.

Your husband licks a streak of saliva down the column of your neck, you tremble as he finally reaches your lips before imprisoning them in a fiery and lively kiss, the sensual and soft entwinement of your tongues makes your thighs wiggle against his skin, you clench his legs and Jimin lays one of his hands on your hip and thrusts toward you, you mew meekly feeling the thick tip of his cock pressing against your panty-covered entrance.

Ignoring the glowing twinges in his side, Jimin sensually moves his pelvis against your pussy, playing with the tip of tongue, which grasps and tickles yours. You could really cum exactly that way and it would still be sublime and overwhelming, but Jimin sneaks his other hand inside your panties and puts some pressure with one finger on your swollen, taut clit, circles around it mischievously and then presses again, making it throb repeatedly and to his liking.

You are forced to separate from his wonderful mouth to catch your breath, narrowing your eyes at the bite he leaves on your neck, before gently sucking on the same spot. You don't doubt that there will be a bruise when you wake up, but it's a pain so pleasurable that your juices flows from your slit shamefully, you know it when you lower your eyes and notice the wet spot spreading across his pajama pants, at the height of his cock that continues to rock against you.

He continues to seduce you with his mouth until the first contractions of orgasm leave you breathless.

“Oh God... Jimin... I'm close,” you whisper in a shrill tone, your eyes watery with pleasure.

Jimin stops the movements of his pelvis, and before you can beg him to continue, he clamps his teeth on one of your nipples, flicking it repeatedly with the tip of his tongue, and penetrates you with his middle and ring fingers, leaving his thumb to stimulate your contracted clitoris mercilessly.

The urgency of your pleasure is like an electric shock, your walls sucking his fingers instantly into their silky softness, vibrating softly as they are penetrated and every single sensitive and receptive point stimulated, the orgasm shooting powerful and fast, you haven't even given him time to get to the last thrust, you come with raging shivers all over your body.

Just as you open your mouth to scream out all your pleasure, the hand Jimin was holding on your thigh goes up to your neck, his fingers tightening around it, but there is something strange about it.

It's not just erotic pressure, the fingers clench, so much, too much.

You open your eyes wide, searching for a miserable trickle of air, you try to tell Jimin with your eyes that you can't breathe, that he is hurting you, you even dig your nails into his arm, but nothing. Jimin's gaze is distant, remains intensely focused on you and doesn't seem to want to let go, fear and agitation blind you, you need oxygen as soon as possible, and eventually your brain shuts down and your body's response kicks in.

You strike Jimin in the face several times, heedless of his reddening skin, scratch his chest bloody, almost reopen the wound and fill him with fists. He accepts every single blow you give him in silence, because the feeling of your pulse desperately running under his fingers disgusts him, repulses him, but it must be so or you will never understand. When you try to grab him in your turn by the neck, to do the exact same thing to him, he finally releases you and you both regain air.

But for you the coming of air is painful, terrible, you take in so much that you can't really breathe and you choke, beginning to cough. You rise from him in shock, but you collapse to the ground with your head spinning and your peripheral vision almost completely obscured, your ears ringing and you are unable to think. You feel only shock, but also much, too much anger.

You thought the before was over, that the after was only full of love, you do not understand and when he reaches out to embrace you, your body instinctively rejects his touch.

Your still-dull mind loves him, your all too reactive body rejects him because of the danger, you are confused, you can only rely on instinct, which tells you to run away and get to safety.

Despite everything, Jimin comes back to embrace you and this time he does not accept your rejection, your body trembles in response, and when your mind finally manages to generate a thought, you can only ask…

“Why?” you cry, pressing your forehead to the floor, “Why did you do that?”

You touch your neck, it hurts, just as your lungs hurt. It was just horrible, why did he do such a thing? He said that... he said that...

“Because I love you,” he whispers miserably, "And that was the only way to make you understand," his voice sounds strange, as if trying to hold back sobs.

“I love you,” “The only way,” “To make you understand.”

You let him embrace you without trying to push him away anymore, but the terror is still there. It flows through your skin like a raging river.

“Now tell me, did you hit me because you wanted to or because it was your body reacting to what I was doing to you?” he asks softly in your ear, staring motionless at an undefined spot in the room.

Now you understand, he used sex to distract you and the threat of death to remind you of the danger and fear of that day.

You don't die from violent anal intercourse, but you die little by little inside if it is repeated day after day. Your mind had not held, your body had rebelled against that fate.

It was instinct, survival instinct.

“I didn't mean to do it... hit you I mean,” you sob, his lips brushing one cheek gently, as if to soothe you.

“You are not a monster, my love,” he whispers, remaining silent a few moments before resuming, “I am the monster” there is still self-loathing in his words, with the tip of his nose he brushes the marks of his fingers on your neck.

You know he's sorry, but you also know he won't regret it, not if it helped you understand.

You are not a monster, you just reacted to what was done to you, your mind and body were broken. Your mind more than your body.

You forgave Jimin and you will surely forgive him even now, in the after, because he helped you understand, understanding was the last step to forgiving yourself as well.

The shadows are less dense and Hoseok no longer wallows among them.

It is Jimin's words that matter, not Hoseok's.

Hoseok hates you and would do anything to kill you, whether physically or psychologically, it matters little.

Jimin loves you and would do anything for your welfare, even pass as a villain in an effort to help you understand.

Remember what you thought when Jimin confessed after saving you.

It is a sick love, but one you need to feel safe.

And you don't regrets anything.

“Jimin?” you call out to him, get a murmur in response, “Thank you.”

He kisses the fingers of your hand, some of them stained with his blood, but he regrets nothing.

“You are the most precious thing I have, Y/N,” he confesses, ”Hurting you disgusts me, though in this case it was necessary, forgive me.”

Overflowing with sincerity, you finally relax, “I have already forgiven you,” you reply.

Jimin cannot block the emotion he feels, he kisses you in your soft, fragrant hair, he knows he does not deserve it, but you are his whole world, “Thank you.”

[giritina]

Lately I've been dipping my toe into the mess that is transandrophobia discourse, and in the process I've been presented with one question in many forms:

"Do trans men experience misogyny?"

My initial answer was "these terms are all theoretical frameworks for a vast range of human experiences, why would you choose to frame your pre-transition experiences as that of a woman?" This makes sense to me, but clearly isn't satisfactory to many of the people sending me anons. As much as I might want to use my own life as a case study, I can't very well tell these people in my asks box "no, you've never experienced something that could be categorized as misogyny." Still, the question bothers me.

I think that's because the question obfuscates the actual debate. It's clear to me the question we are debating is not one of "experience" but "authority." That is:

"Do (binary) trans men understand what it's like to be a woman?"

My answer? No.

How can I justify that when we have, since birth, been raised as women? Well, because we also have, since birth, been trans men. If we cast aside the idea of transness as a modern social construct or anything other than an innate and biological reality, this has to be true. Even before you ever came out to yourself, you were transgender. Transphobia has dictated every moment of your life. Your idea of what "womanhood" is is not at all the same as a woman's, be it cis or trans. Why? Because a woman does not react to "being a woman" with the dysphoria, dissociation, and profound sense of wrongness that you do. [If you do not experience these things, a cis or trans woman, at the very least, does not identify as a binary trans man.] A woman sincerely identifies as a woman, and identity plays a pivotal role in how we absorb societal messaging.

Let's take homophobia as an example. While any queer person has probably experienced targeted episodes of bigotry, the majority of bigotry we experience must necessarily be broad and social. Boys learn to fear becoming a faggot as a group, but the boy who is a faggot will internalize those messages in a completely different way to the boys who only need learn to assert the heterosexual identity already inherent in them through violence. All of them are suffering to some extent, but their experiences are not at all equivalent. This is despite the fact that they've all absorbed the same message, maybe even at the same moment, through the same events. Still, we don't say that a straight boy knows what it is like to be a gay boy. Similarly, cis women do not know what it is like to be a trans man despite being fed the same transphobic messaging in a superficially identical context. It isn't a stretch to say the same can apply to misogyny.

Because I can't speak for you, I'll use myself as an example for a moment. I'll give my bonafides: I am a gender-nonconforming, T4T queer, white, binary trans man. I am on T, and I have recently come out to my family. I do not pass. My career as a comic writer is tied to my identity as a trans man. I can confidently say I have never been impacted by misogyny the same way as my friends who actually identify as women. This manifested early on as finding it easy to shrug off the messaging that I needed to be X or Y way to be a woman. In fact, most gender roles slid off my back expressly because breaking them gave me euphoria. I was punished in many ways for this, but being this sort of cis woman did help me somewhat. It's easy to be "one of the guys" in a social climbing sense if you really do feel more comfortable as a man. It also helped me disregard misogyny aimed at me or others because it seemed like an shallow form of bigotry. It was something you could shrug off, but it was important for building "unity" among women. I thought this must be the case for all women, that we all viewed misogyny as a sort of "surface level" bigotry. However, for whatever conditional status I gained in this role, there was a clear message that if I did "become" a man, every non-conformist trait about me would just become a grotesque and parodic masculinity.

That was the threat that was crushing me, destroying my identity and self esteem. That was what I knew intimately through systemic, verbal, physical, and sexual abuse. I could express my nonconformity as a cis woman, but if I took it so far as to transition to male? I would be a pathetic traitor, a social outcast. I truly believe that throughout my life people were able to see that I was not just a failed woman, but an emasculated man.

I do partly feel that the sticking point for many is the idea that the sexual abuse suffered by trans men is inherent to womanhood, and therefore inexplicable if trans men are men from birth. While this disregards the long history of sexual abuse of young boys, especially minority boys, I do see the emotional core. I'll offer that the sexual abuse I suffered was intrinsically linked to my emmasculation, my boyishness, despite the fact that I was not out to myself or anyone else. I believe many trans men have suffered being the proxy for cis women's desire for retribution against cis men, or for cis men and women's desire for an eternally nubile young boy. I also believe they have suffered corrective assault that attempts to push them back into womanhood, which in itself is an experience unique to transness rather than actual womanhood.

I'll note quickly that many, many trans men cannot relate to the idea of feeling confident and above it all when it comes to womanhood. Many of you probably tried desperately to conform, working every moment to convince yourself you were a woman and to perfectly inhabit that identity. I definitely experienced this as well (though for me it was specifically attempting to conform to butchness) but I can concede many of you experienced it more than I did. I still believe that this desperate play-acting is also not equivalent to true womanhood. It is a uniquely transgender experience, one that shares much more in common with trans women desperately attempting to conform to manhood than with true womanhood.

One key theme running through the above paragraphs is the idea that "womanhood" is synonymous with "suffering." A trans man must know what it is like to be a woman because he suffers like one. It should be noted that actual womanhood is not a long stretch of suffering. It often involves joy, euphoria, sisterhood, a general love and happiness at being a woman. It wasn't until I admitted to myself I had never been a woman that I was able to see how the women in my life were not women out of obligation, but because they simply were. The idea that you are a woman because you suffer is more alligned with radfem theory than any reality of womanhood.

When I admitted my identity to myself I was truly faced with the ways that my ability to stand up to misogyny did not equate to being anti-misogynist. I was giddy to finally be able to admit to being a man, and suddenly all that messaging that "slid off my back" was a useful tool in my arsenal. Much like cis gay men feel compelled to assert their disgust for vaginas and women after a life of being compelled towards heterosexuality, I felt disgust and aversion to discussions of womanhood as an identity. I didn't even want to engage with female fictional characters. I viewed other people's sincere expressions of their own womanhood as a coded dismissal of my identity. Like many people before and after, I made women into the rhetorical device that had oppressed me. Not patriarchy, not transphobia, but womanhood and women broadly. It wasn't explicit bigotry, but the effects were the same. I had to unlearn this with the help of my bigender partner, who felt unsettled and hurt by the way I could so easily turn "woman" into nothing but a theoretical category which represented my personal suffering.

This brings me to another point: I sometimes receive messages from nonbinary trans mascs telling me that it's absurd to think they don't understand womanhood and identify with misogyny in a deeper way. I would agree that, if you sincerely identify in some capacity as a woman, you are surely impacted by misogyny in a way I am not. However, why are you coming to the defense of binary trans men like me? Less charitably, why are you projecting a female identity on us? Perhaps my experience frustrates you so deeply because we simply do not have the same experience at all. Perhaps we are not all that united by our agab, by our supposed female socialization.

So, no. I do not believe that binary trans men know what it's like to be women. I don't believe we are authorities on womanhood. I do not believe that when a trans woman endeavors to talk about transmisogyny, your counterargument about your own experiences of misogyny is useful. I ESPECIALLY do not believe that it is in any way valid to say that you are less misogynist, less prone to being misogynist, or-- god forbid-- INCAPABLE of misogyny because you were raised as a girl. I also don't believe your misogyny is equivalent to that of a woman's internalized misogyny in form or impact.

For as much as many in this movement downplay privilege as merely "conditional," those conditions do exist. They do place you firmly in the context of the rest of the world. Zoom out and look at the history of oppressed men, and you'll find the same reactionary movement repeated over and over. Attacking the women in your community for not being soft enough, nice enough, patient enough, rather than fighting the powers that be. Why do I believe your identity is more alligned with cis manhood than any form of womanhood? Because this song and dance has been done a hundred times before by men of every stripe. Transphobia is real, and your life experience has been uniquely defined by it since birth. This is a thing to rally around, to fight against, but you all have fallen for a (trans)misogynistic phantasm in your efforts at self-actualization. You are not the first, and you will not be the last. Get out of this pipeline before it's too late.

[moonchild701]

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Finders Keepers

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Dabi finds you knocked out in an alley at the end of your patrol. You're pretty, so he decides to keep you.

Pairing: Dabi/Hero Fem Reader

Content Warning: Noncon/Dubcon, Kidnapping, Nonconsensual Bondage. Spanking, Cunnilingus, Choking, Self Deprecation, Victim Blaming, Degradation, Mind Break, No use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.8k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: We're switching it now! :D

My Masterlist

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You groan when you come to, head pounding as a dull ache pulses across your body. You attempt to move your arm to your head, to at least try to ease the pain there.

Except, you can't move your arm.

What the fuck?

Tugging harder, your eyes snap open to find that your arms are restrained above your head in tight ropes. They dig into the soft skin of your arms, creating harsh red lines as you thrash in your restraints.

Your eyes quickly scan around the room, finding it unfamiliar. Though the room is dark, you can vaguely make out a bed in the corner of the room, with plain sheets covering it, and a small wooden dresser next to it. Other than that, the room is bare.

You try to stand properly, to plant your feet firmly, but the position of your arms doesn't allow for more than the tips of your toes to touch the floor. You shiver as the cool air causes goosebumps to rise across your skin. At some point, your clothes had been removed, leaving you in only your underwear.

You try to remember what the hell happened and how you ended up here... you remember being on patrol, and stopping a mugging, the victim running for safety. Then a thud and pain as your vision blurred while the mugger lifted your head, makimg you look into piercing, golden eyes and everything goes foggy after that. You believe he made his escape after that, and you think you vaguely remember another pair of piercing eyes on you; a pretty blue.

But then you let out a soft curse as you remember that it was at the end of your patrol, and no one would really know something is wrong until the next day, because you already signed out on your comms; the mugging just happened to occur right after that, on your way home, and it's not like you could just let it happen.

Fuck.

You grunt in annoyance, panic beginning to bubble up in your chest. Who the hell kidnapped you and what did they want? The numerous senarios flashes through your mind, none of them pleasant as you're both a Hero and woman.

Neither of those things were a good thing to be when kidnapped, but together is worse, especially when you can't use your quirk for whatever reason.

They probably injected you with supressants......

Just as you were about to try to pull on the rope again, the door to the room slammed open, smacking harshly against the wall. You flinch at the sudden sound, and the fluorescent light that floods the room after a sharp click, sensitive eyes shutting at the brightness.

And as much as you tried not to, you felt a trickle of fear go down your spine as you shook.

Get it together!, you mentaly reprimand yourself.

You try to activate your quirk again, in vain, you know, and as expected, nothing happened. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Finally awake, I see. You tryna use your quirk, Sweetheart? Cute~." a husky voice coos mockingly; menacingly. You squint your eyes open, narrowing them at the figure as they shut the door behind them, before strolling further into the room.

"Don't bother tryin', Dolly. I injected you with enough quirk cancellin' serum to last....a while." His grin is sharp and dangerous, and you supress a whimper at now knowing just who has you captive.

Tall, healthy skin contrasting against the dark burn scars, secured by silver staples, and tousled midnight hair falling over pretty cerulean eyes...

The villain Dabi.

You've been captured by the League of Villains, and no one has any way of knowing, especially not for a while.

Fuck.

As much as you fear your situation and fate, you refuse to show it, glaring at the villain, waiting for his next move, which just makes him smile wider staples tugging at the edges. You need to be ready for anything... there's obviously a reason they brought you here, right? But you had not an inkling of what it could be, because you've never actually interacted with any of them, only knowing who Dabi is because of his prolific rapsheet and defining looks.

It's hard to miss the scars, obviously.

You silently debate with yourself on whether or not to just ask, before deciding why not. It's not like it would actually change your situation.

"Why did the League take me? I've never had anything to do with you..." you ask warily, eyes trained on the villain as he stalks closer.

Now standing directly in front of your bound figure, his smirk softens. He grabs your face, fingers pressed into your cheeks teasingly, turning your head side to side, inspecting, making you freeze, your eyes wide on him.

"I did."

You almost didn't catch his murmured words, but when they process, it just confuses you even more.

"What?"

Piercing, azure eyes meet yours, hot and calculating.

You stare back helplessly into the villains eyes, as he says, "I took you. The League has nothin' to do with this." His voice low, thumb rubbing at your cheek, as he tilts his head. "They don't even know you're here."

Your heart rate quickens, because you don't know if that's better or worse.

"T-Then why—" You silently curse yourself for letting the nervous stutter slip, but you're quickly distracted.

You get your answer.

He releases his hold on your face to slide the hand down to tilt your chin up gently, his middle finger stroking over a pulse point, thumb rubbing at your botton lip, as the other hand brushes up your side, ghosting over the skin there, and he breathes, gaze locked on yours, "You're fuckin' gorgeous, Sweetheart. I just had to have you." Your lips part in shock as your breath hitches.

Ah. He's crazy.

You don't want to be here, you want to be home, curled up warm and happy in the softness of your bed.

Fear washes over you, cold and consuming, and you have to blink away the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes

Because Dabi's lips curl into a smirk as he his eyes drag over your shivering frame, squirming in the ropes that still hold you suspended from the ceiling.

The hand on your chin releases to slide down, over your throat to your chest as he cups your breast through your bra, the other hand sliding down your side, toying with the waistband of your panties.

You gasp at the touch, desperately trying to move away from the hot hands violating your skin.

"N-no, no, get a-away from me." you say shakily. You're confused, frightened, and worried about what's going to happen to you.

This can't be happening.

Dabi laughs, soot tinted and condescending, quirking an eyebrow at you. His lips curl into a playful smirk as he gropes at your breast before grabbing your hips in both hands, pulling your suspended body flush against his, burying his face in your neck, rough scars and staples grazinging your skin.

And oh, you could feel the thick, hard bulge on your leg as he presses his thigh up against your core. You immediately start struggling against your restraints.

"No, no no no—"

Dabi sighs against your pulse, mismatched lips grazing the skin there

"Shut the fuck up, little hero." he murmurs, his hips moving against you as he slides you to do the same, grinding you on his thigh. You whimper at the friction, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Hah" his hot breath on your skin raises goosebumps where it hits,

Why, why, why—

Without warning, you drop; the scent of something burning wafts through the air and you realize it's the rope.

Before you have a chance to recover, Dabi drags you over to the bed by the short piece of rope like a leash, forcing you to stumble your way after him. He throws you roughly down onto the hard mattress, securing your hands to the head board with thick handcuffs after burning away the rest of the rope.

You choke on a sob as you struggle to get away from him. Looming over you, he burns away the straps of your bra, sliding it off and throwing it to the side, before heated hands are roaming and groping your flesh reverantly, familiarizing himself with your skin as he leans in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

You clamp your lips shut, but he just squeezes your cheeks to pry it open, tongue slipping in, licking into your mouth.

In a last ditch show of defiance, you bite down on the muscle, hard, the coppery taste of blood painting your tongue.

He pulls away with a curse, glaring up at you with a sharp coldness as he chuckles darkly, and with the blood trickling down the side of his mouth, he looks like the deranged villain you know him to be.

Wiping up the trail of blood with his thumb, he looks at the crimson staining his skin with amusement, before popping it into his mouth, sucking it off, and pulling it out with a wet pop. "Looks like you need some discipline, hm?" He hums, pulling away.

Before you can fully process what he means, he flips you onto your stomach, forcing your arms to cross awkwardly and uncomfortably, before gripping the waistband of your panties on both sides and tugging; his blunt nails dragging lightly over your skin as he pulls it over the swell of your ass, and down and off your legs.

And you shake, as your last piece of flimsy modesty is stripped from you and thrown carelessly to the side somewhere.

Where is everyone? Why hadn't they come to save you yet? How long had you even actually been missing for?

The thought is immediately cut off as Dabi lands a sharp smack to the exposed flesh of your ass cheeks.

Shocked, you gasp at the sting, pleading, "No, please, d-don't—!" Helpless against the villain, you whimper as he kneads and squeezes your ass, soothing the sting, decietfully gentle and placating, before your vision blurs as he lands another harsh smack against the soft flesh, followed quickly by another. Then another. Then another.

You sob pitifully, body convulsing in an attempt to escape Dabi's stinging touch; the sensitive skin turning such a lovely red.

Your breath hitches as you're suddenly flipped back over onto your back, and then Dabi is on you; looming over and surrounding you, face close enough to yours to feel his breath fanning against your lips, and you're not sure when he got rid of his shirt, but the heat wafting off of him is almost suffocating.

"Learned your lesson?" He smiles expectantly, sarcastically, and you just continue you sob.

"If you don't shut up, I'll have to fuckin' gag you." Dabi's voice is a harsh whisper, and you're viciously reminded that this man could turn the whole room into an inferno within seconds, turn you to ash in less. Though, he doesn't need to because his eyes are the same color as his flames and you already feel like you're being burned alive with them trained on you.

He grabs your face and growls, commanding, "Behave.", and swipes his tongue over your bottom lip before slipping in, and this time you let him, but you don't kiss back, though he doesn't seem to care.

You whimper when his hands wrap around your thighs, hot and firm as he forces them open, slotting himself between your legs, and he licks the sound out of your mouth.

He explores you warm mouth like he's trying to memorize it, kissing you stupid, and you're breathless by the time he's done. He eases down your chest, mouthing and licking and sucking at your bare tits, hot tongue playing with your nipples; the metal of his piercing was an overwhelming surprise to the sensitive buds, before moving back up the column of your throat. And you can't help but whine as scarred hands roam your thighs and up your sides, salty tears rolling pitifully down your cheeks, as you try and fail to calm your sniffling.

Though, when he speaks again, you shiver in more than just fear.

"Mm, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" He whispers against the shell of your ear, voice velvet, breath hot. "You'd love to be gagged and choked, like the sweet little whore I know you are, hm?"

Something between a mix of shock and shame wracks through you, as arousal pools in your stomach at his words.

No.

No, you can not be turned on right now. Fucking hell, Dabi is a man, a villain, who kidnapped you, for fucks sake, and now he's using your body as he sees fit. Nothing about this is okay.

And yet.

And yet, warmth creeps up your neck and cheeks as your pussy weeps, clenching around nothing.

In your dazed, shocked arousal, you don't notice what was coming until it's too late, as Dabi grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, before crashing your lips together in a searing kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth yet again. He sucks on your bottom lip, biting into the plush flesh as a sharp smack against your inner thigh makes you jolt in surprise.

"I asked you a fuckin' question, slut. You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Dabi's eyes are sadistic, wolfish smirk on his lips.

You tremble, your body warm all over as shame washes over you. You could still feel the sting of his slap to your thigh, could see the skin reddening and the bruises already forming along your chest.

A sharp squeeze to your thigh, much too close to your heat makes you squeak.

"N-no, no, I—"

His thumb brushes through the folds of your pussy, to your clit, as he bites down on the junction of your neck, forcing a moaning squeal out of you.

"No? Why're you so fuckin' wet then, hm slut?" He growls into your throat as he licks and sucks and bites at the sensitive skin there, rubbing his thumb against your nub, making you leak.

Your breathing picks up as you tug on your bindings in an attempt to distract yourself as you try oh so desperately to contain your noises, to not react.

And then you feel his thumb petting over your entrance, making you gasp and shake your head pleadingly as the thick digit slips in. You thrash and pull at the cuffs locking you in place, as the reality of your situation truly sets in.

"No, no. please, don't- I don't want—mmf!" You plead, getting cut off by a large hand cupping over your mouth. You try to scream and thrash against it, but he's too strong. As you feel the thick thumb pumping in and out of you, easily because of your slick, you sob, beginning to accept what's going to happen.

Your body would react to his touches, to the stimulation, it's only natural...but this is wrong.

So, so wrong.

But it feels so, so good.

You wail at the thought, feeling dirty and ashamed of yourself; too distracted to notice when Dabi pulls the thumb out, popping it into his mouth, groaning at your taste, before reaching to the side, and the dresser. You don't notice anything, until Dabi squeezes your cheeks, holding you still and forcing your mouth open. You make a pitiful, confused sound and he makes a show of making sure you see your panties in his hand, before he stuffs it into your mouth. You scream into the cloth, thrashing, trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp. Dabi just presses his fingers tighter into your cheeks, slamming your head back against the bed roughly. It of course doesn't hurt, but it does distract you long enough for him to cover your stuffed mouth with a thick strip of tape.

You scream against the gag, shaking your head, eyes wide; begging.

"I fuckin' warned you to shut up. No use in your pathetic beggin', baby, you belong to me, now." Dabi cooed, mocking; tapping your cheek condescendingly, before scarred hands are fondling and groping, pinching and squeezing, wherever they wander on your writhing body.

You sob as he roughly palms your tits, sucking bruises into your flesh, your tears flowing freely, eyes glassy and clear. Gorgeous. Licking up the salty tear track on your cheek, he breathes, "So fuckin' pretty when you cry, Sweetheart. Be a good girl, and let me make you feel good, yeah?", pressing a kiss to the corner of your eye.

And he will. He knows you want this, you just don't know it yet. Don't worry, he'll make sure to show you.

Swiping his pointer and middle finger across your other wet cheek, gathering your tears, he strokes your wet cunt with them, before slipping the two long fingers into you in one slow push. You scream, and you don't know whether it's out of despair or desire, but you couldn't deny that as fucked up as it is, Dabi fucking your literal tears into you was one of the hottest things ever, your cunt pulsing at just the thought of it.

Dabi groans as you cry on his fingers, barely giving you a second to breathe as they're dragging along your walls and crooking deep, before he's sliding it back out, and pumping into the tight warmth again and again.

Leaning forward, he places a kiss against your gag, before trailing kisses and nips down your throat, chest and stomach as he bullies a third finger in. You reflexively clench around him when he kisses your mound, the stretch making you breathe sharply, before he throws your leg over his shoulder; pressing the tip of his scalding tongue against your clit, rubbing in circles, then slipping in, beside his fingers.

And your brain blanks.

You give in. It's not like anything is gonna change anytime soon, so, well. Why not enjoy it.

Besides, if you say you've never at least thought the villain was hot, no pun intended, you're lying to yourself.

So, you let go.

Even with the acceptance, you feel embarrassment and self loathing flood through you, as you keen, high and needy, as you grind down on him, shoving your pussy further into his face, fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue, which....was a very pleasant surprise for Dabi. After all, he's the oh so, big, bad, scary villain that kidnapped you; that's violating you.

Yet here you are, grinding and moaning against him, like a needy little slut.

Pumping his fingers roughly, his other hand digging harshly into the flesh of your thigh, he groans against you,"Fuck, not complainin' so much now, hm?", dragging blunt nails along your sensitive skin and his hot tongue up your clit. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll fuck the thoughts right outta that pretty little head."

You moan lowly as your pussy pulses around his fingers, helplessly leaking at his words.

"Shit, Sweetheart. You're swallowin' my fingers so fuckin' good. Can't wait to feel you 'round my cock.", he breathes, hot breath hitting your swollen clit, pressing one last kiss to it before pulling away; your hips involuntarily jumping to chase his hot mouth, the cuffs rattling against the headboard.

Dabi smirks, his eyes wide, huffing out a laugh of disbelief, as you whine at the loss of contact, before pressing hot kisses along your hip bone, muttering into the skin there. "You're really just a little whore, aren't you? Actin' all innocent earlier like you didn't want it," he says mockingly, but you can hear the underlying awe in his voice, before he curls his fingers, twisting them, as he makes his way up your abdomen and chest; and he continues, "but really, you're just a little cockslut, huh?"

You moan loudly into the gag at that, but shake your head rapidly, denying it even as you know deep down that it's true; as you both know it to be true.

It becomes even more clear when he drills you with his fingers, thumb rubbing your clit, and you're a mess beneath him; writhing and moaning, and crying and grinding as he brutally nudges against that sweet spot inside of you; all while he peppers open mouthed kisses along your chest, taking his time, tasting your skin, sucking and nipping at your pearled nipples, his tongue hot and slick on you.

You moan and whimper into your gag, head lolling back to hide behind your raised arm at the continued the abuse to your sensitive buds and cunt.

And then they're suddenly taken away, as he releases your tit with a wet pop and withdraws his fingers with a squelch.

Your hips twitch and lift from the bed, chasing him in a silent, desperate plea for more. Dabi could see your stretched hole, clenching on nothing as it just wants to be filled.

He's more than happy to oblige.

"Aww you want me to fuck you, baby? Shit, look at you. Fuckin' needy, mm? Done pretendin' you weren't desperate for me to stuff you?", he teases, hungry eyes betraying his calm demeanor. You tremble, feeling so empty, as tears streamed down your cheeks.

"Fuck, you're already so cute, I don't know if I'll be able to control myself when I have you cryin' on my cock, Dolly." He groans, palming himself through his pants, as you wiggle your hips enticingly, legs spread and your puffy pussy on show for him.

And Dabi laughs, breathy and fond, "Slut. Fuck, c'mere." He says, the sound of his belt unbuckling and hitting the floor with a clang just makes you somehow gush more.

You look down in anticipation as scarred hands grip your thighs, holding them spread. Your cunt throbs at the sight of his cock, thick and veiny, long and so fucking hard; precum beading at the tip.

He grips his length, tapping his sticky cock head against your clit, dragging through your folds, coating it in your juices.

"Relax for me, sweetheart, don't wanna break you, hm?" He purrs, before pushing the thick mushroom head inside lightly, making you whimper.

Dabi's grin is predatory as he slides in all at once, in one slow drag, impaling you on his fat cock. He groans at the feeling of your tight heat wrapping around him so obediently, "Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Like you were made for me, sweetheart."

Your eyes wide and glossy, you couldn't help but moan at his words, at the delicious stretch, at the hunger in his eyes.

His thickness stretches you so good, almost painfully, but you could take it.

You were his good girl now, he would make you take it.

But you don't really have much of a choice now, do you?

You choke on a sob, body shaking and hands clenched into tight fists where they rest in the cuffs. Because the thought should bring nothing but disgust and fear, yet all you feel now is shameful want, as your pussy tightens around him, gushing.

"Haah, you take me so good. Mm, such a good girl, c'mon..." He mumbles, grinding deeper and deeper into you, his hips flush against you.

Your whimper is sweet even muffled by the gag, and Dabi's composure slips.

He pulls back before shoving back into you roughly, making you sharply breathe. Not giving you any time to catch your breath, he thrusts deep into your tight hole, snapping his hips mercilessly. A scarred hand grips at your tit, the other bouncing and swaying lewdly with every brutal thrust. The gag muffles your cries and whimpers, but the scream you let out when he hits your sweet spot is still loud.

You grind down to meet his thrusts, pleasure completely taking over as all rational thoughts are fucked out of you; unable to think of anything but the way his cock feels, stirring up your insides, reaching so deep you swear you could feel it in your stomach, and the single-minded need for more.

Dabi moans, slowing his thrusts, admiring the way your hips roll sinfully, bouncing yourself on the villain's cock. "Fuck, pretty little slut...", he breathes, "So fuckin' pretty when you're bein' honest, hm?" His hand gropes and pinches your breast, as he licks his lips, eyes trained on you.

When he took you, he certainly hadn't expected that you'd be such an eager slut, but he's definitely not complaining.

You whine, the shallow, uneven thrusts, making you needy for more, faster, deeper, as you rhythymically clench around him.

Releasing your breast, he wraps the heated hand around the expanse of your throat, squeezing lightly, feeling your quick pulse beneath his fingers as he rolls his hips to meet yours, slow and deep.

You moan and choke behind your gag, eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy. Dabi smirks cruelly, finally speeding up his delicious thrusts; your body forced to move further up the bed with the speed and strength, and he just drags you back down to take it, your little display of hedonistic pleasure inciting him.

A whimper escapes you as you feel the warm coil of pleasure spread through you, you're so close. Your thighs shake, your moans spilling in a sweet mixture of pleasure and pleading.

"Fuck, look at you. Gettin' fucked by a big, bad villain and you fuckin' like it. Your little Hero friends know you're such a goddamn whore?" Dabi grunts out, cock hitting your sweet spot so, so good, fucking you so, so deep, as he pummels your insides, giving your throat another squeeze.

You let out a choked, sobbing moan, back arching from the bed as you feel yourself just on the edge of your release. You look up at Dabi pleadingly, eyes pretty and glossy, wide and blown out, almost completely black with lust; your chest heaving as your cunt pulses around him.

"You wanna cum, little hero? Squeezing me like you wanna milk me." Dabi groans, hips beginning to stutter.

You nod frantically, eyes wide and begging, tears streaming down your cheeks, moaning desperately against your gag; the panties soaked with your spit and drool.

"Yeah? Fuck, you want my cum, baby? Shit, do it. Cum for me, slut." Dabi moans, pistoning into you, muttering, "Wanna see it, wanna see you fall apart on my cock"

The pleasure burns.

Back arching off the bed, toes curling, you cum with a scream; clamping down on his cock as you gush and squirt around him, your eyes rolling back; vision going white.

Dabi fucks you through your orgasm as he chases his own, growling, "That's it baby, fuck. I'll fill you up real good, and if it spills, I'll just fuck it back in. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Your pussy squelches loudly, his thighs smacking wetly against yours as Dabi continues fucking you, frantic in his desperation to paint your insides with his cum.

The feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him so good and the sight of you cumming from just his cock was enough to push him completely over the edge with a moaning curse. Buried as deeply as he could be inside of you, hips flushed and grinding against yours, his thick, hot cum pumps into you, marking you from the inside as his; branding you and filling you up.

He collapses on top of you, holding himself up on his elbows, not pulling out just yet; keeping you full and plugged. Chests rising and falling in heavy pants, you bask in the afterglow of what was probably the best orgasm you've ever had.

He gently removes your gag and unlocks the cuffs, freeing your hands, rubbing soothingly at the irritated skin of your wrists, pressing light kisses to the sensitive skin, before trailing his lips up your arm, over your shoulder and throat, to your own.

The kiss is slow, languid and savouring, and you moan softly into his mouth as he licks into yours.

He groans softly, before kissing down your throat, breathing out a short, hot laugh against the myriad of bruises littering your neck and mumbling against your skin, "Fuck, I can't let you go after that. I'm keepin' you, gonna take care of you, and if you don't love me now, I'll just have to teach you, I promise, Sweetheart. You'll be my perfect little cock sleeve.", nuzzling into you.

The words don't match his saccharine tone as they send a trickle of fear down your spine at the dark promise, but the fog of arousal clouds your mind, and you slump back against the sheets as he looms over you, eyes piercing through you.

You feel his hips begin to roll against you again as he grinds into your abused cunt, making you gasp.

He grins. He'll fuck you until you're gaping and dripping with his cum, cock branding his name into your sweet spot and he'll make sure you never forget who you belong to.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

[mayasaurusss]

hello! could you write some headcanons or a one shot about dating lottie in the wilderness??

For sure sweetie. Here you go, enjoy!

I had like six more pharagraps but Tumblr is a coward and didn't let me save them :'(.

Contains: description of wounds, lots and lots of crying, (not my happiest work).

It was at Randy's party that you and Lottie first shared a kiss. With the taste of beer on her tongue, she approached you, intent on finally telling you how she felt. She found you alone, drinking the remaining alcohol from your cup. It was incredibly hard for her to connect her words, which came out more as a string of closely related words than an actual phrase.

You understood what she meant -sort of- and were the first one to ask her about how she felt. For Lottie kissing you was a delight.

But after the party, neither of you made the effort to sit next to each other on the plane. You needed to win nationals, there was no time for unnecessaries feelings.

You were surprised when instead of being greeted with Seattle's skyline, you felt dirt and sand on your skin and a horrible throbbing pain on your side.

Lottie was the first to greet you when you woke up. "The plane has crashed" she says, and she doesn't even try to sugarcoat it. It's the very first thing you hear waking up in your new life.

Her eyes are distant, fear and horror having left behind numbness. It's like she's not even here.

She will stay at your side all day long, tending at your wound periodically until Misty comes.

When night falls she sleeps soundly near you, cradling your weak body in hers.

Hours later, when Taissa discovers a lake, Lottie is the one to help you move. You are leaning on her and she's so careful to move you as best as she can. She's careful, slow and when no one is near, whispers sweet reassurances to you.

The days pass. Everyone tries their best to survive. You can't do anything besides sitting around and checking on your wound, getting redder and redder until a crust forms on it. Then, with a little patience, you can finally help. Both you and Lottie work on the same stuff. If you're gathering herbs, she is too; if you are taking the place of Mari as a cook, she's the one to hand you ingredients.

As time goes on, you can feel something shifting in Lottie's demeanor. She's numb, silent and spends an awful lot of time with Laura Lee.

Your jealousy takes the better of you, and for a while, you don't talk to Lottie. And she doesn't talk to you either. You're left alone with the presence of the trees on your head, until she is the first one to make a move.

She sits next to you, silent. You can feel something in her changing, killing the sweet Lottie you knew. It's then that she tells you about what's bothering her. She sees things.

Your sweet Lottie sees things. Shadows moving in the dark corners of the room, in the darkness that seeps out of the trees, whispers and voices telling her what to do, how to act. She has visions: of death, of fire and frost, of hunger.

For a while you are terrified of Lottie. You don't mean to, really, but what she said to you that afternoon made you wary of her. Who knows what she could do to appease her voices.

So you drift further apart, further and further until autumn comes. It's clear to all of you that death is close. There's no food and the days are cold. So, in the last attempts to make your life worthy, you threw a party. One of those that you went to before the crash, only with no music and homemade alcohol.

At homecoming, you finally try to open your heart to Lottie once more. It's scary, it's sad, but she allows you into her own. The rest of the night is spent laughing, holding her close to you and waiting for death to come. But it doesn't. You wake up hours later, the dust of the earth in your eyes and the sparks of the fire dying next to you.

You had slept for the entirety of the night, oblivious of what happened. No one is interested enough to tell you, and you will come to know it the day after, when Jackie and Shauna fight. Thinking that they had let their hunger run rampant enough to threaten the lives of their friends scares you, but not as much as you thought. Maybe you wished Travis died. Maybe you could finally satiate your hunger.

After Jackie's death, Lottie grows more deranged. You know that she means no harm, but through her delusions, she managed to hold a tool on the entirety of the group. You attend her prayers in the morning, more to fill that hole in her chest than helping yourself. Or maybe, you too need just a little bit of faith.

There is not one day where Lottie isn't near you. She follows you like her shadows follow her, her eyes always on you. It creeps you out sometimes, but you let her. She will randomly go out in the wilderness and come back with herbs and plants she will boil to make you a cup of tea. It's a small gesture, one that you grow to hold dear.

In return, you bring her all the trinkets you find while helping Natalie and Travis hunt. The girl has grown wary of you, annoyed at how you always have to stop to collect some strange sticks, rocks, shells and remains of animals. She had even begun to scream at you once, but you had to endure and bite your tongue.

She will always wait for you with one of her many beverages. Lottie will never tell you that the reason they are uncharacteristically dark is because she let a few drops of her blood in, in an attempt to shield you from whatever the wilderness had in store for you. Maybe it's an attempt on her part to bring herself with you, to make you feel less lonely in that cold hell.

When you eat Jackie, you find Lottie outside in the snow, clinging to where her heart is. She would want nothing more than to wail right now. Her stomach is filled, and she so wished it wasn't.

You take her and kiss her tears away, but nothing will erase her guilt. Both of you cry, hugging each other while snow falls.

Lottie never does anything out of pure malice. Every little thing she does is for the better good, but she knows she's flawed. Somehow, it seems like everything she does is a burden, making people turn against her.

There are moments of happiness even in the most difficult of situations. Sometimes you will walk in the wilderness, letting the snow cling to your boots and cold air fill your lungs. The forest is silent, but you're okay with that. There isn't any need to talk. There's just you and her, embracing each other's company.

You will never forgive yourself for not intervening when Shauna attacks Lottie. You're just too out of it. All you can see is a blur of figures moving, red spilling from them. When you understand that it's Lottie's blood, finally you understand what is happening.

Worry and horror fills you as you fall to the floor, checking Lottie.

Her flesh is red and puffy, blood seeps from cuts near her eyes and brows, flows down her nose and stains her clothes. She doesn't respond to your cries.

You nurse her back to health, regularly checking on her with Misty. Cleaning her wounds, helping her bathe and clothe her as best as you can. Sometimes she'll mumble through her fever, words coming out jagged. She asks you to not let her body go to waste, to eat her if she dies. The mere thought of that makes your skin crawl. You try to reason with her but it's no use, she needs to hear it. So you accept.

The first thing Lottie does when seeing you after waking up is cry. She's not happy to be alive. Maybe she wished for you to consume her so she could finally be at peace, away from this place. But that does not happen. That night, you don't let her go back. As much as she could protest, you don't want to share her to the others yet.

"I am sorry". She doesn't tell you why, but deep down you know the reason. You hug her close, hiding your face onto her neck, "Please...never say anything like that ever again". She falls silent. It takes a moment for her to actually feel the desperation and sadness grow in her heart, but when it does, it breaks her. She almost falls in your arms, hands shaking and tears stinging at her flesh. She wails, like a hurt animal. You embrace her and cry, mourn with her. Words don't come easy, but as you spell them, a small hope flickers in your chest.

"I promise to you, everything will be okay"

[silverynight]

Welcome home

<---Previous

Chapter 5

They decide to go to a cafe; the place is nice and cozy, and Izuku will have the opportunity to ask questions to every single one in order to get all the details about the mission; he wants to know how they used their quirks and why they decided to use them that way.

The tables have bench cushions around; Katsuki and Izuku sit on one and Uraraka, Hagakure and Todoroki on the one in front.

Even though he tells himself to calm down, Izuku can't help it and starts asking about the rescue. He listens with a fascinated smile on his face as Hagakure explains how she used her quirk to blind the villain when he tried to attack them.

Then he starts rambling about her quirk for a while, all the data he has gathered about her during the time they have met each other, she seems interested or at least he hopes so. He's too focused he doesn't even realize Uraraka is looking at something with amusement until she makes a gesture with her hand towards it.

Izuku turns around, only to find Katsuki with a hand on his chin, quietly staring at him with a fond smile on his face.

"What?"

Katsuki looks a little bit flustered when he notices Izuku's confusion, but he doesn't say anything.

"Midoriya, do you want something to eat?"

"Right!" He says, embarrassed. He looks back at Todoroki as his cheeks turn slightly pink. "Sorry for rambling! You must be hungry!"

"It's alright, I don't mind," the pro hero with mismatched hair assures him. "Actually, everything you say is fascinating. I feel like I'm learning a lot about quirks after listening to you."

Izuku can feel the moment his face turns even more red; Katsuki hisses next to him. When he looks at him again, he realizes he's get irritated. He must be starving too.

"What do you want to eat? I'll get it for you."

"Uhh..." Before Izuku can answer Todoroki's question, Katsuki is already getting up while glaring at the other pro hero.

"Don't bother. I always get Izuku's food."

"Well, I want a strawberry churro and Uraraka wants a croissant. Thanks for asking! Yes, we both are here too, in case you have forgotten!" Hagakure cuts in, half irritated half amused at the situation.

"Sorry! I'll go get them for you!" Izuku says.

"Not you, darling! Sit down!"

However, no matter how much Uraraka insists, Izuku ends up in the line with Katsuki and Todoroki.

"Midoriya."

Katsuki growls as a warning, but Todoroki ignores him completely.

"I'd like you to consider working at Endeavor's agency instead."

That definitely wasn't something Izuku expected to come out of Todoroki's mouth.

"I was really impressed by your performance these last two days; you're really smart and I think you'd be a great asset for our agency."

"Oh, fuck off!"

"Kacchan, please," Izuku has to grab the blond pro hero's arm in order to calm him down a bit. Then, when his friend looks less murderous, he turns towards Todoroki again: "I appreciate the offer, but I'm really happy where I am."

"Take that, half and half!"

Rolling his eyes, Izuku is glad they're next in the line. It's a nice distraction. Perhaps food is what everyone needs to feel less irritated.

"What happened?" Uraraka asks, grabbing her croissant and the coffee Izuku decided to buy for her. "I was watching you from here and Bakugo got more grumpy than usual."

"Half and half here wants to steal Izuku from m–us!"

"What do you mean?" Hagakure asks, sounding curious already. By the time Todoroki explains, even the women get slightly annoyed.

"No!" Uraraka huffs, grabbing one of Izuku's hands in hers. "Get your own green bean! This one is ours!"

They keep playfully scolding him for it and even he starts smiling at them. However, Katsuki moves closer to Izuku until their legs are pressing together even though there's plenty of space on his side.

After a while, the four pro heroes start talking about their time in the UA; Izuku can't help but laugh at all the things they tell him about Katsuki.

"They had to put a muzzle on him because he was so angry at Todoroki for not trying harder at the sports festival!" Hagakure chuckles, while Katsuki narrows his eyes at her.

"He even won, but didn't look happy with the results!" Uraraka adds, laughing along with Hagakure.

"He probably thought he didn't deserve it," Izuku cuts in. "That's why he was so mad."

He looks up at the blond pro hero before stroking his cheek; Katsuki closes his eyes and leans into the touch, content.

"It's alright, Kacchan. You did your best!"

"I didn't," Todoroki says then, getting Izuku's attention again. "But that's because I didn't truly accept myself back then."

"But now you do, right?" Izuku asks, smiling kindly at him.

"Now I do."

***

As they sit back in Katsuki's car, Izuku realizes that he's still frowning. Probably because Todoroki asked Izuku to think about his offer.

"I'm not going to work at Endeavor's," Izuku assures him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He relaxes somewhat before looking back at the green haired man with an intense expression on his face; Katsuki does that a lot lately and he has no idea what he's thinking about.

"Stay with me tonight."

"Okay, Kacchan," he says, smiling at him softly. The truth is that he still wants to spend a little bit more time with his friend after what happened.

But staying is a mistake because Izuku likes Katsuki's apartment; it feels like home even though it shouldn't.

The next days he barely stays at his own place and every time he goes back to it, it feels colder and less like the cozy apartment he once acquired.

Katsuki basically gives him one of the guest's rooms; he has a closet for himself in which he keeps a few clothes because he also stays during work days and it's more "convenient" that way.

Somedays, Izuku feels like he's fooling himself.

There's green tea now in Katsuki's kitchen, chocolate, and blueberries on the fridge that Izuku makes disappear quickly.

"You seriously don't want the last bit of honey?" Izuku asks, looking tempted to pour it all over his bread, but he wants to offer it to Katsuki first. He doesn't think he has ever seen him touch the bottle, but he's not there ALL the time.

"I don't like sweet food," Katsuki says from the couch, browsing through Netflix's catalog, looking for a good horror movie.

"But you do like honey!" Izuku argues. "I mean, you bought this..."

That bottle was there before Izuku started staying in that apartment a few times a week.

"I bought it for you," the pro hero says casually, already selecting a movie. The thumbnail looks like it'll give Izuku nightmares.

He looks back at the now empty bottle, feeling warm inside out of the sudden. He smiles, thinking about all the things Katsuki does for him...

"Well, I'll go back to my room now!"

"None of that, nerd!" Katsuki turns around, looking at him over the back of the couch. "You promised!"

"Fine!" Izuku pouts, getting ready to close his eyes. "But if you complain about me clinging to you, I'll leave, okay?"

Being as close as possible to Katsuki is the only thing that makes him feel safe when they watch those kind of movies.

Katsuki snorts.

"Have I ever complained about that?"

"No, but just in case," Izuku mumbles before sitting right next to him, even though there's a lot of space on the couch. "I don't know why you want me here, to be honest. All I do is cover my eyes, gasp and wrap myself around you every time. Sometimes, I even end up on your lap! That can't be pleasant for you!"

Katsuki's smirk makes his eyes glimmer with amusement.

"That is actually very pleasant for me. You have no idea."

It must be because he enjoys Izuku's suffering... his friend is still a jerk sometimes. But he buys a lot of sweets for him and lets Izuku cuddle him so he'll forgive him for that eventually.

To no one's surprise, Izuku ends up covering his eyes and Katsuki's space.

The pro hero looks like he's having the time of his life, but he's kind enough to put a hand over Izuku's shoulders and nuzzle against his green curls to calm him down.

He falls asleep like that but wakes up on his bed in the morning.

***

"Trying a new style?" One of his coworkers asks as a form of greeting. "Well, you look good with everything, Midoriya!"

"Isn't that too big for you though?" Another one says, frowning a bit.

Some days, he wishes he didn't blush that easily; it makes him look like he's hiding something.

"Kacchan gave it to me," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. It's not his fault that Katsuki's clothes are very comfortable; it's true that wearing black is not Izuku's style, but he likes the fact that the hoodie feels like it's hugging him.

He's not sure if that's completely true, though, because most of the time is just Izuku "stealing" things from him that the pro hero ends up giving him.

"I see," the man in front of him grins in a way Izuku doesn't like. There's nothing to "see" there.

He runs back to his station then.

An hour later, he decides to pay a visit to Hatsume. He wants to ask about Kaminari's gear; something happened during his latest mission and it ended up damaged, but Izuku doesn't understand what prompted it to act the way it did. And he needs to understand in order to write a report about it.

But he's also very curious.

Right outside Hatsume's department, Izuku remembers why other people are not allowed there unless they let them know they're coming beforehand.

Izuku forgot to do that.

"Not again!" He manages to hear someone complaining before Hatsume laughs.

"It's alright! We always learn from our mistakes," she says right before something inside explodes and sends Izuku backwards.

There's smoke everywhere; his ears start ringing a bit, but he realizes he's alright, although his back hurts.

"Are you okay, Midoriya?" Hatsume asks, leaning over him. "You shouldn't be here."

He gets that now. At least the people from support are completely fine, mostly because they wear special clothes all the time. In case something like that happens.

"Are you sure you're fine?"

"Yes, don't worry!"

"Alright, then let me turn off the alarm in your device before he comes running here..."

Honestly, Izuku had forgotten his pretty necklace was a security device. But now as he looks down he sees a red dot in the middle of the X.

"IZUKU!"

"Too late," Hatsume mumbles, right before turning it off. She moves away from Izuku to give room for Dynamight to fret over him.

"I'm fine, Kacchan, I promise," he assures him as he manages to sit.

Katsuki kneels on the floor next to him and Izuku notices his hero suit; it looks clean and impeccable, which means he was about to go out.

His red eyes start scanning his body from head to toe, desperately looking for wounds.

"Where does it hurt?" He asks, touching Izuku's back of the head with his fingertips. When the green haired man flinches, the pro hero's eyes lose their shine. "I'll take you to the infirmary."

"Kacchan, wait!"

Katsuki growls. He's obviously still in distress, and Izuku can't have that. Pretending no one is watching, he cradles his friend's face and rubs their noses together.

The fear he notices in his eyes shocks Izuku for a moment.

"I'm fine, Kacchan," he whispers, smiling softly at him. "I promise."

He watches as the blond's broad shoulders lose some of their tension. His arms wrap around Izuku's completely before he presses his lips against one of his freckled cheeks gently. After he takes a deep breath, he does the same against the other.

Izuku's heart skips a beat.

"Alright! Let's go back to work, everybody!" Hatsume says, clapping her hands together to get her workers' attention. "There's nothing to see here!"

As the smoke clears, Izuku turns as red as a strawberry.

Katsuki doesn't seem to care about having an audience or not.

"When I heard the alarm, I panicked," he admits, pointing at a bracelet on his right wrist. Izuku had thought all this time it was a simple accessory.

"I'm fine," he repeats, mostly because his own heartbeat doesn't let him think that much.

Katsuki leans to give him a kiss on the forehead, making even more difficult for Izuku to actually focus.

"Let me take you to the infirmary anyway. Please, it'll help me feel better."

"Okay, Kacchan."

As the doctor explains to them both that Izuku doesn't have a concussion and the incident only got him a few bruises, he realizes, as he remembers Katsuki's soft kisses on his face that me might have feelings for his best friend.

And that could be a problem.

***

Perhaps the best thing is to stop staying with Katsuki; Izuku's feelings will only grow if he keeps spending that much time with his friend.

It's a good thing he never moved in with him like Katsuki wanted. He'd be kicked out immediately if the pro hero found out about Izuku's crush on him.

Except that it doesn't feel like a simple crush.

As they both walk down the stairs, Izuku takes a deep breath and thinks about an excuse to stay at his own apartment this time.

"Here, take this, nerd," Katsuki stops for a moment to give him a key. "This is just in case you need it, but you know you only have to type the code to get in."

A copy of Katsuki's apartment door key. And he's going to give him the code too.

"It's 0715," the pro hero says in a whisper. His face turns so red Izuku worries about him for a moment. "So when... I'm on late night patrol you can get in without me and stay there."

"Oh, that'll be easy to remember!" He says, chuckling. His friend probably hasn't even realized what those numbers mean. "It's like my birthday! What a coincidence!"

Katsuki chokes on air, blush spreading down his neck. Maybe he's getting sick or something...

"I know you are really smart, but sometimes you make me question your intelligence."

"Kacchan, that's so mean!" Izuku tries to look offended, but he fails miserably. Besides, his mind is preoccupied with something else.

When they're inside Katsuki's car. Izuku takes a deep breath.

"Take me to my apartment, please."

"Why? Did you forget something?"

"No... it's just," he bites his bottom lip before continuing: "I mean... I live there after all, I should stay in my own apartment."

"Or you can finally move in with me."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Katsuki turns his head towards him; good thing he hasn't started the car yet.

"Why not? Does something in my apartment bother you? We can redecorate it if you want. I just bought you a display cabinet to put your ridiculous All Might figure collection. It was a surprise, by the way. So pretend to be surprised when it finally arrives."

Katsuki is making it really difficult for Izuku not to fall in love with him.

"Uhh... it's..." Izuku blinks as his eyes start getting wet.

"What is it, Izuku? Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything," he says; he's never heard him speak that softly to him. His thumbs wipe his tears off before he presses his forehead against the sweet nerd's.

Katsuki deserves to know so he can decide for himself if he wants to keep some distance between them from now on.

It'll break Izuku's heart, but he can handle it.

"Listen, Kacchan, don't freak out, but I think I have f-feelings for you. So it'll be better if we–"

"Wow," Katsuki chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really are an idiot, Izuku."

"This is not funny, Kacchan! I'm trying to tell you something important!"

"So am I!" He smiles, red eyes glimmering with unrestrained happiness. He cradles Izuku's confused face, before giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Izuku. I am in love with you."

"What?" He blinks, getting slightly dizzy as Katsuki keeps pressing their lips together. Kisses pressed against his face as he turns so pink his freckles disappear momentarily.

"I have never been subtle about my devotion to you," Katsuki smirks, enjoying the fact that Izuku gets so flustered after being kissed to speak properly. "That's why everyone in the agency thinks we're dating. Yes, I know about those rumors too, the only difference is that I have never shut them down."

"But why you never told me anything?"

Katsuki's smile vanishes for a moment and Izuku wants to take the question back immediately.

"I thought you didn't love me the way I did."

This time it's Izuku the one who initiates their kiss, although Katsuki is the one in control. He smiles against his lips before taking his time to explore Izuku's mouth.

"Move in with me, Izuku."

"I'd love to, Kacchan."

***

A lot of things have changed in a month; Izuku finally left his old apartment and is now living with Katsuki.

And sleeping on his bed too.

Waving a hand in front of his face to stop himself from blushing, Izuku focuses on the task at hand.

He has practiced that curry recipe a lot, torturing his friends in the process, although Todoroki claims that the first time was perfect.

Uraraka couldn't even finish it, Kirishima gave him a thumbs up, but didn't look like he was enjoying it.

However, the last one was a success, which means he's ready to make it for his boyfriend.

He wants to surprise Katsuki this time; he's the one who cooks for them and he knows he does it gladly, but Izuku wants to show him he can make an effort too.

A loud sigh escapes from his lips when he finishes just in time for the door to open.

"I'm home, Izuku!"

He rushes towards the entrance because that's one of his favorite parts of living with Katsuki, that he gets to greet him in his own home.

In their own home, and wants to do that for the rest of their lives.

The realization hits him by surprise, and both Izuku and Katsuki just stand there, frozen, staring into each other's eyes like they know exactly what they're both thinking.

"You look cute with that apron," Katsuki breathes deeply, as if he had forgotten how to and pulls Izuku into a tight hug. "Is it too soon to ask you to marry me?"

"It's us," he whispers back, trying not to cry. "We have never been a conventional couple to begin with. It's fine."

"Is that a yes?"

"It is."

After a long kiss, Izuku pushes his boyfriend away a bit, chuckling when Katsuki chases his lips desperately and pouts when he keeps turning his head away.

"Come on, nerd! Just one more!"

"Wait, I need to tell you something first."

"What is it?"

"Welcome home, Kacchan!"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but the glimmer in them and the wide smile on his lips tell Izuku that he's just as happy to hear that as Izuku is to say it.

***

Thank you so much for reading this story!

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[manofbeskar]

[small drabble about mihawk & shanks]

i don’t think this has to be a tragedy.

we could spend our entire lives trying and failing not to fall in love with each other; not to constantly seek a gap in each other’s chassis to fill. we could tiptoe around the words we refuse to say. refusal out of need than want. pride is better than feeling left behind. we could pretend we don’t look for red or black in the crowds and ignore the joy that comes. pretend it doesn’t hurt much when we lose each other and bury our hearts six feet under (or don't bother).

mind the gap when you step into my chest. pull my ribcage apart to make room by my heart. tiptoe on the edge of all-consuming love. “tiptoeing” vs “unapologetically crushing your desperation under your boots”. my sandal soles have a better grip on dirt than my hand on yours.

chew carefully so you don’t choke on your pride. being left behind is better than never having been with you at all. i'll always prefer watching you go than seeing you leave—it doesn't make sense but neither do we.

my throat at the edge of your knife—i think you're the love of my life. tear me apart when you take me down. clashing swords instead of mouths. fight me or fuck me, both if you miss me. pin me on the wall like cupid's dartboard. sink to my knees in front of your cross—a devout follower with a poor sense of direction. give religion a chance when you look my way. misunderstand it either way.

romantic or just plain tragic? the best things have no logic sometimes. come back again tomorrow and I'll ease your sorrow. my heart is still yours if you want it. offer stands until i'm not. dig it out of the soil if you want me. kiss me or kill me if you miss me. come back tomorrow if you love me.

[commsroom]

i don't think early-series hera gets enough credit for how funny she is. "scans do indicate a percentage drop in the tank's capacity that is commensurate with the amount officer eiffel could stuff into a crewmember duffel bag"? she saw him do it. she probably talked to him while he did it. it's the tonal dissonance between highly technical phrasing and a very blunt observation. like when eiffel asks her for her top five 'stick it to the man' songs and she asks him things like 'top five lanthanides?' until he says "you're just yanking my chain, aren't you?" and she responds by quoting anarchy in the uk at him. sure, sometimes there are things she genuinely doesn't get and/or would express differently, but the way she frames it is playing with the false expectations people have of her. she knows exactly what she's doing.

[disdaidal]

Someone who constantly embarks on ship wars and fandom wank... doesn't sound too mentally stable. It's sad, really.

Dedicating all that energy and free time to arguing about fictional characters and their relationships, instead of channeling it into something more relaxing or creative, sounds destructive.

Seek help, please. Before it devours you completely.