#plot twist - maybe he cries at everything BUT sex

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

found you - ch. 3

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna) [p.s. y'all kno i try to keep her features ambiguous asf but i think i mentioned her having long/waist-length hair at some point :') maybe i should just give her features but i kinda like leaving it open-ended]

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! rbf! oc

warnings: 18+ only babes, stalking/possessive themes, pet names [kitten, baby, princess, pretty], manhandling, mentions of depression, smoking (w33d, cigarette), profanity, dub/non-consented sex, begging, fingering, orgasm denial, brat taming (kinda), rough sex, creampie (pls don’t b silly & cover ur willy), coercion, alcohol/drinking, peer pressure, jjk manga reference (no major spoilers, jus some of the same phrasing-lmk if u spot it lolol), groping, somnophilia (a bit)

word count/plot: [18.4k!] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

a/n: Sooo i’m not joking about all the warnings so pls b thorough w reading them. I really don’t want anyone to feel misled bc i do take my time to type everything out bc this stuff is dark & not a happy jolly love story. I feel like a part of why I even write this story is bc i want to explore the characterization of someone extremely entitled and completely helpless to their impulses vs someone who is relatively sheltered & always in fight or flight mode-its all p twisted but can u tell i wasn’t in a good place when i first started this LMAO. anyway, jus b warneddd

ch. 1 , ch. 2 [ part 1 | part 2 ] , chapter 3 , ch. 4

They fucked. They fucked a lot. Whether it be at night after his basketball practice or mid-day in school. In study rooms, the locker room, empty classrooms-wherever they could find.

Some days he wanted her extra early, he’d have her first thing in the morning or right after she changed into uniform. Or-when he’s feeling extra desperate-he’d have her in his car in the parking lot, right after driving them to school. He liked seeing her all flush-faced and flustered while zooming out of his car those mornings.

He never seemed to get enough. 

And she couldn’t take it. Her veil was slipping away with each encounter with him. She cried a lot when he wasn’t around and grew incredibly frustrated whenever he was around. Her patience was running incredibly thin—despite knowing her options were limited, she never stopped fantasizing of ways to end their ‘relationship’ on the daily.

The cops left their school a week ago. It seemed they gathered all the information they needed. And seeing how lax Gojo was, she knew without a doubt that he’d gotten off without a scratch. She didn’t even think anyone suspected him.

How could they? When she was the only one that’d seen it all—The only one who knew the reason.

Noel hadn’t come back to school—rumor had it that he’d transferred schools. Rumor also had it that it was Nanami’s doing because-apparently-Noel stole jewelry from Nanami’s house the night of the party. 

She couldn’t help but doubt that rumor. Noel was well off, he didn’t need someone else’s mothers jewelry. But she supposed transferring to another school district couldn’t be helped, especially not after having a label like ‘robber’ stuck to you at a school full of rich kids. It didn’t help that he robbed his own team captain at that; it was something his reputation couldn’t come back from-at this school, anyway.

She wished she could directly ask him what happened that night but she doubted she’d get the chance now.

Eitherway, she knew something was more than suspicious about that situation. And it made her more than just irritable when she thought of Gojo going on with his daily life while other people had to face the repercussions of his actions.

Suddenly the sound of a car honking drew her from her thoughts.

She immediately glanced over to see a matte black Mercedes G-Wagon pulling up beside her. The passenger window rolled down to reveal an unruly, platinum haired boy with the most lethal smirk on his lips.

He lowered his sunglasses, “You forgot about me already?”

She’d gotten so lost in her thoughts she must’ve accidentally walked right past his car. She swallowed-hesitating for only a moment before slipping into his car.

The second she shut the car door, she tried not to be tense. She knew what was coming and he did exactly that.

His hand slid around her nape, his crystalline eyes affectionate as he leaned over to capture her lips in a lingering kiss. He always greeted her like he missed her—as if he hadn’t been in her bed an hour ago.

Since he slept over most nights he'd wanted to leave some of his clothes at hers. She immediately refused-using the excuse that if her Dad found his clothes in her room she was bound to get in trouble.

In reality, she needed the hour he took to go home and change in the morning for herself. He was always around-it felt suffocating sometimes. Suffocating enough that she almost liked school.

Except for when he texted her ‘i wanna see you’ in the middle of class. That text filled her with dread every time.

Aside from school, that ‘morning hour’ and his basketball practice-they were almost always together. Like now, he always picked her up the same time her bus usually came to pick her up. He also parked a block away from her house-her orders, because she had a thing about discretion.

He broke the kiss, his fingers playing with her hair, “What’s got you in a daze, kitten?”

She inadvertently tensed, “Nothing.”

He assessed her before his gaze grew warm, “Always so serious.” he mused.

He ruffled her hair and she pushed his hand away. He leaned back in his seat before driving in that one-handed fashion that he always did.

Her eyes narrowed when she noticed him take an unfamiliar route. She watched him pull into one of the nearby gated communities.

She didn’t build up the courage to ask about their whereabouts until he stopped in front of a house that couldn’t have been worth less than two million. The architecture of the house was rather modern, with a lot of glass wall panels and a marble driveway.

“This isn’t school.” the words came out more curt than she intended.

“Correct. We’re picking Suguru up.”

Her eyes widened and before she could speak the back door of the car opened and Geto slipped inside. He was dressed in uniform. His hair tied back in his typical man bun, she’d never seen him without it.

Geto patted Gojo on the shoulder in greeting before settling into the backseat. “Yo.”

Geto caught her gaze and merely nodded, his expression unreadable.

“Yooo,” Gojo greeted-rather enthusiastically-before pulling out of the driveway. “Busted your car, didn’t ya?”

“Shut the hell up. I get it back tomorrow.”

Gojo smirked, “Damn-tomorrow? Kinda liked it when you rely on me.”

“Yeah well I’d rather hang myself before getting on a smelly bus.”

Ara flushed.

Geto continued, “Did you do the calc homework?”

“Yeah, you want it?”

“Do you remember what you got for the last question?”

They continued to converse until Gojo parked in the school parking lot.

Gojo checked his watch, “We still got fifteen minutes left till homeroom.”

“Great, I had to print out something from the library anyway.”

Geto stepped out of the car only to pop his head back in a second before he shut the door, “Yo, make sure to send me the calc homework.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Gojo said, slipping his phone out his pocket to do just that.

Geto’s eyes seemed to catch Ara’s for a moment, “Bye, Natsuna.”

She blinked, “Bye.”

Geto shut the car door before walking off in the direction of school. The familiar sound of a text being sent was audible, “There.” Gojo muttered.

“You told him.” Ara spoke, rather outright.

He raised a pale brow, “What?”

“He knows.. about us.”

Gojo blinked.

She held his gaze, trying not to look as unnerved as she felt, “I thought we agreed on keeping us a secret.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“And?” her irritation got the best of her. “What if he tells someone?”

“He’s not like that. Besides, you told Millie too-didn’t you?”

“No.”

“She knows we fucked.”

She flushed, “Yeah, and that’s it. I didn’t tell her we’re together.”

A subtle grin tugged at the corner of his lip, “Love when you say it.”

His hand went to the headrest of her seat-leaning towards her, “You could tell her. You can tell anybody you wan-“

“I prefer to keep things private,” she bit out, “You know this. How come I always have to listen to you but you never listen to me?”

The second the question left her lips, she froze. She felt it—the invisible line she’d crossed. She felt herself treading into dangerous territory.

His voice was oddly calm, “I do listen to you.”

It was true, sometimes he did but- “Only when you want to.” The words tumbled out of her, a whispery quality to her voice.

Suddenly his hand was at her nape, forcing her to look up at him. “Because you still hide things from me, Ara. I want you to tell me everything. I’m willing to tell you anything because I’m willing to give you everything. You just need to tell me what’s on your mind.”

She grabbed his wrist, her mind boggled. She shoved his hand away from her neck, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m willing to wait, Ara. I told you that I’m gonna be your everything and I meant it.”

His gaze was determined as he spoke, “I want you to open up to me because you want to-because you love me.”

She froze-holding his gaze for a moment before speaking a bit shakily, “You couldn’t handle it if I told you what’s on my mind.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know.”

“Tell me,” he insisted, “Tell me one thing.”

She didn’t have enough energy to hold back- “I want space.”

She couldn’t look him in the eye once she said the words-simply staring straight out his blacked out windows. She tried not to tremble as the silence hung like weight between.

“I don’t believe in space.” His voice was cold.

She shivered, fighting the urge within her to just clamp up and be silent as she stuttered out, “I-I told you.. you couldn’t handle it.”

She nearly yelled when he grabbed a fistful of her hair, turning her to face him.

His eyes were ablaze with such anger it was nearly palpable, “Is there another boy?”

Her eyes widened before narrowing, “What?! No-!“ she twisted her head away from his hold, shoving his arm back.

His arm barely budged but he complied anyway, releasing her.

“Then why the hell do you want space?”

“Because we’re always together! I-I barely have time to myself. Y-your always there.”

“You had enough time to yourself. All those years before I found you was enough.” His tone was frigid, unrelenting.

She wanted to cry-she couldn’t do this anymore. “Y-you see,” she choked out, “I can’t speak my mind.”

His hand found her nape again, forcing her to face him—forcing her near as tears spilled down her face.

“No,” his tone was calm, yet the icy undercurrent within his words could not be denied, “You only want space because you’re afraid of falling for me. You think the more you get away from me you can convince yourself you don’t need me and I won’t have any of that.”

His voice turned lethal-completely deadpan, “I’m never letting you go.”

The words felt all too heavy-all too weighted-all too much. She hated this feeling; the feeling of having found another cage. This was exactly what she didn’t want.

Another situation that she didn’t know how to get rid of.

She shoved herself out of his grasp, looking away before he could see more tears spilling out of her eyes or how she was biting down on her lip hard to control her sob. She didn’t want to cry in front of him.

She didn’t think when she stepped out of his car and ran towards school. All she wanted to do was get away from him.

She didn’t respond to him all day-and the terror of it all didn’t hit her until she was home, in the middle of doing her nightly skin care routine.

Fuck.

She froze, lowering her hand as she stared at her terrified expression in the mirror-the memory of how angry he looked when she muted him resurfacing.

She’d felt incredibly depressed after their argument, going class to class like a zombie until all her emotions became numb. She was incredibly zoned out, fatigued. She hadn’t checked her phone once all day.

The second she got home, she fell back into her old routine of napping after school. She felt refreshed after waking up and was able to do her homework with perfect concentration-not one stray thought clouding her mind.

She didn’t realize what she was disassociating from until now.

She quickly wiped her hands and retrieved her phone to check the time. 10:29 pm.

She blinked. That was way past his practice time. He would normally be at her place by now. What is going on?

Her heart raced. Too say she was worried wouldn't nearly cover how fidgety she was feeling. He never did this before.

She swallowed, wandering out her room to glance out the window. She was nearly certain it had something to do with their argument-it had to, right?

Her stomach rolled at the thought of him being angry. She stared at his several texts with growing horror.

9:59 am - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: hi

10:45 am - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: araa let’s talk

11:37 am - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: i wanna see you

11:39 am - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: talk to me ara

1:24 pm - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: u fr ignoring me?

1:45 pm - satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: u can’t ignore me forever yk

Her horror grew a thousand fold. She never ignored his texts-especially not after the ‘muting’ incident. But this-she’d ignored his ‘i wanna see you’ text, the first time she'd done such a thing. She was sure-most terrifyingly sure-there was no way she was getting out of this unscathed.

He was sure to be fuming.

She held her phone to her chest, dropping to her knees in the middle of her room. Questioning everything.

I shouldn’t have argued with him. Oh my god.. God, why didn’t I check my phone? Why?! Fuck, fuck, fuck !

She raked a hand through her hair. There was no way she was going to get an ounce of sleep tonight. She was terrified of what he would do.

Her eyes widened. I should text back. Maybe that’ll calm him.

She fumbled for her phone only to freeze when she saw a new notification appear. It was him.

satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: come outside

Her heart stopped. What should I do?

Her mind scrambled for the safest option. Her fingers hesitated before flying across the keyboard.

ara: i just saw ur texts sorry

Before she could send out her next reply, three typing dots appeared from his end and he responded a millisecond later.

satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: just come outside .

She froze. She couldn’t help but think he was mad-definitely mad. He never texted like that.

Oh no..

Her anxiety spiked. She knew she had to go.. Her eyes squeezed shut, chest tightening.

satoru bby🫶❣️🍰: i won’t repeat myself ara

Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

ara: im coming

She stared at her text with dread and.. frustration. Frustration because she couldn't believe he could command her like this-invoking her forced compliance. Dread because.. she had no clue what he would do.

She hugged herself tight as she slowly approached his car, which was parked at its usual spot down the block. He knew to avoid the cameras around her house.

Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest as she knocked on the G-wagon passenger door before stepping inside.

He was facing out his window before she knocked. He immediately glanced over-tapping off the burnt edge of his joint.

His radiant eyes scanned her impassively before puffing out smoke slowly. The smoke silently curling in the air between them.

“Close the door.” he muttered.

She blinked, immediately glancing towards the passenger door to see that her hand was still on the handle. She hadn’t fully closed it.

She refrained from audibly swallowing before closing the door. She flinched when the car door locked.

She glanced over his way to see him swiftly adjust the gear to ‘drive’-mode and get the car on the road. The speed of the action made her throat tighten.

Her intertwined hands fidgeted in her lap uneasily. She contemplated apologizing for not responding to his texts-but she couldn’t find it in herself too. She almost didn’t want to remind him. Even if he was angry, he seemed somewhat calm right now.

She couldn’t ever be sure with him.

She didn’t want to break the silence. Her mind going a mile per minute before finally spurting out, “Where are we going?”

Ever since their ice cream hangout, he always wanted to take her to places at night but she always refused. The paranoia of her Dad finding out always overwhelmed her.

“To a party.” he responded, airily.

Her head whipped around to face him. She stared in shock as he indifferently took another hit from the joint.

“W-what?” she questioned, blankly. Her voice low.

“We’re going to a party.”

She stared at him. He couldn’t be serious… Entering a party with him-everyone would know what that meant, everyone would see them.

“I-“ she scrambled for words, “I can’t go.”

“Yes, you can.” his voice completely assured.

“No, I can’t, Satoru,” she fought to keep her voice even. “My Dad might check on me a-and we can’t show up to an event together-“

“Fuck your Dad and fuck being private.”

She stared at him in astonishment. His eyes were ablaze as he threw his burnt out joint out the window.

“Sick of that shit. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

She felt herself growing sick. Is this supposed to be her punishment? No. no. no.. She couldn’t allow this, word would spread like wildfire and if her Dad were to somehow find out.. It was a huge risk-one that she wasn’t willing to take.

It didn’t help that something about the briskness of his words made her impulsively tap into her anger.

Her tone came out firm-with a tinge of desperation, “What do you have to prove to people?”

A wicked smirk slipped across his lips, “I don’t give a fuck about people. But you do-don’t you? You think your Pops is gonna find out. You know the attention you're gonna get bein’ mine and you hate it.”

He continued, “I don’t give a shit about either excuse anymore. Anything happens, they’ll have to come through me first.”

“Excuse?” she repeated in contempt-filled shock before sputtering out, “Y-you don’t understand-“

“What? That your Dad’s old school? He doesn’t allow you to date? Who cares-If he hears some shit just tell him it’s a rumor.”

Suddenly anger overrode her fear. Her words came out sharp, “Do you think I would be like this if it were that easy?”

“Then tell me why its not.”

She froze, her partly open lips gradually closing. She’d nearly told him-her answer just on the tip of her tongue-but it felt wrong. Telling someone her family issues would be a first, and-on top of that-confiding in him of all people? She’d rather die.

Her voice was low as she spoke through gritted teeth-attempting to keep her emotions at bay, “Just-take me home.” she choked out, shakily.

He glanced over at her. She felt his gaze on her and quickly faced the window. Her jaw locked as she swallowed, hard.

She squeezed her eyes shut as a heavy silence followed. She felt the tension build into a knot in her stomach.

She hesitantly glanced his way to see his expression was completely cold-to glacial levels. Not one emotion on his face.

She felt herself go breathless but decided to push her luck anyway. She needed to go home.

“P-please, Satoru.” she whispered.

His hand on the wheel tightened, “You’re coming with me. That’s final.”

She felt her heartbeat go faster. The finality in his tone was suffocating. She hated how helpless she felt; she felt the weight of it in every point of her body. Unease swirled underneath her skin, making her tremble slightly.

She couldn’t go to this party. She had to try. She needed to think of something.

“Satoru..”

“Hm?”

She fought to keep her voice even, “I’m dressed in pjs, I-I can’t go like this.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s Shoko’s party, I’ll tell her to let you borrow somethin’ “

She gnawed on her bottom lip, facing the window again as she racked her mind for something. It was hard to think through the turmoil of emotions swirling within her.

Her desperation got the best of her as she spoke, her voice cracking, “Please, don’t do this. Just take me home-I-I want to be home.”

He sucked his teeth, his ill-tempered expression faltering a second to reveal something more worn out. He looked almost exhausted.

“Why’d you have to whine today of all days? I don’t have the patience today.”

Her stomach twisted at how he spoke. He made it sound as if he were complaining about a pet being disobedient. Her nails dug into her palms as her hands clenched into fists.

“Aren’t you supposed to be my peace or some shit.” he muttered.

She chose not to dwell on his words, instead she inhaled a much needed breath before speaking quietly, “I’m sorry to bother you.. I promise I’ll stop once you take me home.”

A short, dry laugh left him, “Nah.”

His fingers tapped the steering wheel before he glanced her way, “I can think of a few other ways you could put me at ease.”

Her eyes widened when he pulled the car over to the side of the road. Her stomach swirled with dread. He wouldn’t—

He stepped out of the car and easily made it to her side. He opened the passenger side door, his tall frame nearly blocking the entirety of the entrance.

She stared at him in horror. His blue crystal-like eyes seemed to glimmer in the dark. A faint, nearly imperceptible smile grew on his lips as he looked at her.

She was still for a millisecond before attempting to zip past him through the narrow space underneath his arm-but he caught her easily. Almost as if he anticipated it.

She was yanked to his side, “Relax, kitten.”

Her limbs flung out, trying to connect with anything as she twisted in his grasp. Sounds of frustration leaving her lips as she yelled, “Let go-! Let go of-!”

He swung open the back door as she struggled in his hold. He tossed her in the backseat, her back flat against the seats. She didn’t get a second to process because Gojo was suddenly above her-the wide ceiling of the car providing him ample room.

She opened her mouth to scream but froze when a smug grin split across his lips, “Go ahead, be as loud as you want.”

He tilted his head slightly, “No one’s around to hear you.”

Her heart sank when she realized he was right. Whatever road they were on was rather deserted. She hadn’t seen anyone drive past them for the past ten minutes.

His lips brushed over hers, “No one but me.”

She shoved him off, a short cry leaving her lips as she twisted fiercely underneath him—attempting to turn her body and grasp the nearest car door handle.

His large hand found the meeting place of her neck and shoulder-and shoved her down. She yelled out.

“Where do you think you’re goin’ Ara.”

She stared up at him-momentarily frozen. His pale face was directly over hers, too close-everything too visible. The faint flush over his high cheekbones, the subdued spark in his dilated eyes, the hard-set of his jaw.

Strands of his white hair tickled her forehead as his hand came up to the side of her face. His thumb gliding over her bottom lip-playing with it almost. “You can’t escape me.” he reminded her, softly.

Tears filled her eyes and her arms moved before she could process it. She scrambled, she didn’t even know what she was doing. She wasn’t sure if she was shoving him or hitting him-all she knew was that she had to get away from him.

It took him an entirety of two seconds to pin both of her hands above her head with just one of his own. A sob left her lips as she writhed. She threw her head back in frustration.

His other hand slid down her ribs, over her stomach—pushing her arched body back down against the seats.

“Fuck, you’re testing me today.”

He pushed her legs aside with his free hand before easily tugging her sweats off. 

After removing them, he spread her bare legs and hooked them over his own. Despite being clothed himself, his erection made itself evident through the tent at his groin. The tip of the tent poking right against her panties, right over where it wanted to be.

She gasped, her hands pushing against his hold on her wrists as she struggled.

“N-no! Gojo-stop! Please-I don’t want to-!”

He began to thumb her clit over her panties, giving her a completely different reason to writhe underneath him.

“You think you get the choice?” he hissed, “You think I forgot how you ignored me all day, hm? I needed you, kitten. You ignored me.”

She let out a choked moan when he squeezed her clit slightly, “You can’t ignore me now, hm?” he taunted.

She felt his cock twitch against her cunt. He was already so hard, she couldn’t help but feel terrified.

“S-satoru, plea-nngh!” she moaned shakily, betraying herself. His fingers knew his way around her too well. He knew where to touch her-to make her whimper-to make her moan.

His thumb moved expertly along her puffy clit, pressing at the point where it throbbed the most to make her squeal.

Her shoulders shook as she twisted under him, her arms sore from how much she thrashed in his hold. His grip on her wrists never loosened.

She immediately turned her face aside when he lowered his face above hers. A strangled moan leaving her lips when her clit grew slightly hard under his ministrations–making her all the more sensitive to his touch at its tense bud. She was close, and he knew it too.

A low gasp left her lips when his touch disappeared, leaving her clit throbbing with need–aching for more. She’d been seconds away from her peak.

She felt her hips rise, nearly chasing his touch before freezing. Her frustration surprised her–her eyes going wide in shock.

No… no!

“You wanted more, didn’t you, kitten?” he spoke huskily against her temple before taunting, “Beg for it.”

She gasped when she felt his long fingers touch her pussy lips, spreading her wetness along her folds. She hated that she enjoyed his touch–she hated that she knew he was prepping her.

She turned her head to face him, the hatred clear in her eyes before she spit in his face.

“Never.”

A growl ripped from his throat and the next thing she knew she was screaming. His index and middle finger fucking her so hard, her hips bucked with each thrust.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Ara,” he promised darkly in her ear, “I’m gonna fuck the disobedience right outta you.”

She screamed once more when his fingers felt like they slammed too deep. The lewd sounds of her wetness felt too loud each time his fingers fully submerged themselves in her.

“I-I hate you.” she sobbed, her head shaking back and forth as she tried to tame her moans.

“Your pussy doesn’t.”

She hated that he was right. With each ferocious thrust of his fingers, drops of her wetness flew in the air-leaving wet spots on his pants, his shirt. It was embarrassing–and completely lewd. She squeezed her thighs, aching to close her legs but his body was planted firmly between them–keeping her legs wide open, her pussy completely vulnerable to his advances.

She sobbed, her back arching as she felt herself get as wet as he liked. Her pussy sloshing with juices, her insides a complete sopping mess. It hadn’t taken long due to his teasing earlier.

She knew he liked when he got her like this, so he could completely submerge his huge cock into her straight away despite how narrow she was inside. It made her realize-with daunting clarity-how rough he was planning on being.

He groaned before removing his fingers from her cunt and slipping them into his mouth. A jolt of electricity zipping up her spine as she watched him deftly suck his fingers clean. He loved her taste.

“Fuck,” he muttered, a bit breathless.

He reached down to unzip himself, his luminous eyes never leaving hers as he did so. Her legs trembled.

He didn’t miss the subtle action-his gaze dropping to her shaky legs. His hand slid down her inner thigh, making her trembling worse.

“You scared?” he murmured, quietly-before grabbing her by the hip to pull her sopping cunt directly against his groin. She felt his length press against her through his jeans, he was so stiff she couldn’t help but shiver.

He moved her trembling legs over his shoulders, “You should be.”

She felt tears slip down her face as she tried to contain her sob. She lifted her hips-her cunt inadvertently rubbing his clothed cock as she tried to push at his grip on her wrists-frustration consuming her. She hated how weak the action felt against the strength of his grip.

He chuckled darkly.

“Please, stop..” her voice shook, but she knew her pleas would be futile.

He began to unzip himself once-more. Her body jolted when she felt his hot, bare cock press against her pussy lips. Her wetness making it all too easy for him to glide his thick, veiny length through her folds.

He pulled back slightly, wrapping his hand around his cock to press its tip into her clit—making her squeal. He began to rub his cockhead against her clit in painstakingly slow circles.

His breath hitched as he watched her stir underneath him. She attempted to lift her hips away from him but he was adamant, keeping his cock right at the bud of her pleasure—knowing how it would make her feel.

“I’m gonna make you wish you were good to me.”

Her eyes shot open at the coarseness of his voice, meeting his dominating gaze a second before he showed her the truth behind his words.

She screamed.

He’d buried himself into her to the hilt-in one brutally swift motion. His cock was so huge she felt like she could feel it throbbing at every point in her body. The sound of the action was so lewd, she couldn’t help but gape in embarrassment.

But he didn’t stop–he didn’t give her a second to adjust. Instead he made her mind go completely stupid when he fucked at her at the cruelest pace she’d ever felt. It felt like the cruelest pace known to mankind. She didn’t think her mouth ever closed.

The sound of his cock slamming into her was instantly repeated–it was never ending. Despite being so wet, the fit was still too tight–she was able to feel each bump, ridge and curve of his cock. Especially its head when it hit far too deep within her then it should've. Her body shook forcefully with each thrust.

Her legs on his shoulders gave him the perfect angle to drench his cock to brim in her juices—allowing him to thrust into her as mercilessly as he wanted. His pace was brutal-punishing.

She managed to finally gasp out words through her moans, “Oh my god-ngh!-I-I can’t! I can’t–Gojo, please.”

Her back arched as he didn’t stop-desperate mewls and cries leaving her lips. He clutched the side of her face-his nose grazing hers as he pressed his cock deep into her, making her hips rise as she groaned. She felt so filled.

His thumb wiped away a tear as he continued to thrust into her-a bit slower than before so he could revel in the feel of her slippery cunt. He didn’t know how she managed to be so soft and tight at the same time.

“Love seeing you cry on my cock like this,” he muttered raggedly, “Gets me so hard, kitten-so hard. I don’t wanna stop. I can’t stop.”

He groaned as he slowed down-as if it were taking him everything to do so. “I don’t wanna cum just yet.” he gritted out hoarsely.

He finally went still inside her. He released her hands to slip off his shirt and her eyes widened.

My hands are free.

It was a split second decision-one that was made without a single regard for how badly her body ached or how stiff her arms felt. She moved, using her legs on his shoulder to kick him back and twist her body towards the door.

She clutched the door handle and shoved it open, only to yell when she felt hands grip her waist and yank her back inside.

She screamed, struggling and kicking in his grip, “Let go—let go of me! Let go! Let g-“

Suddenly she was held up and plunged down on his cock in his lap. Her wetness completely enveloping him, instantly transforming her scream into a choked moan. Her body shook as her cunt was forced to accommodate him. The sensation all too much-tipping her to the edge of her sanity.

Her eyes squeezed shut as her cunt spasmed around his stiff cock. She jerked in his hold, nails scratching wildly at his arm around her, "N-no, nngghh," she choked out, moaning as her cunt squeezed him so tight, "Please-please—" she whisper-cried.

Despite all her struggle, he didn’t budge—he was completely immovable. He easily reached over and slammed the car door shut. The 'click' sound of the doors locking seemed to echo.

The second the door locked, his hand slipped around her neck and shoved her small back completely against his muscular chest. His other hand gripped her hip, keeping her rooted in spot as he shoved the full length of his cock into her. The head of his cock reaching a spot too deep.

“AHh-!”

“Enough.” he said the word without a drop of emotion.

Her whole body twitched, uneven gasps leaving her lips as his fingers tightened around her throat. Her back arched against him, his hand on her hip kept her cunt glued to him.

He stared at her parted lips, “When are you gonna learn, Ara..”

She whimpered when she felt his cock throb within her. She dropped her head-forcing herself to breathe.

His hand at her neck slid to her jaw, forcing her head back against his shoulder.

His lips brushed her throat, “I’m never letting you go.”

His cock didn’t stop moving after that. He fucked her. His actions embodying his words as his cock pistoned in and out of her ruthlessly.

His hold on her left her utterly useless to anything but his means. She could feel too much of him at this position. Her body trembling with each rough press of his cock.

Her throat was sore from how much cried-screamed-moaned. From pain or pleasure, she didn’t know anymore. All she knew was that she was completely consumed by him. There was nothing else but him.

He was everywhere. Beside her, near her, in her. 

Nowhere to escape. Just him. Only him.

His breaths were short, hot and desperate beside her ear. He bit at her neck and jaw needily. His hand on her neck now under her shirt, squeezing her tits with all his strength. His cock pounded into her harder.

She bucked forward, crying out. His arm over her tits kept her close to his firm body. With how hard he was fucking her, he had to hold her-to keep her from flying all over the place.

The pleasure building within her couldn’t be helped. Her skin felt hot and sweaty—at the cusp of something she couldn’t come back from. Every nerve within her body felt attuned to the brutal pace of his cock.

She flimsily grabbed the wrist of his hand at her tits, “Satoru, pl-nnghh-st-Satoru!” she yelled, wishing she could tell him to stop but the only thing that left her mouth was an earth shattering moan.

She jerked forward. Her pussy spasming hard around his cock. She felt like she’d entered another dimension—especially since his pace didn’t slow down. His cock drawing out her pleasure to the max.

His arms wound themselves tight around her smaller frame, keeping her close against him as her entire body jerked and trembled with her orgasm. Her back arched against him-his arms only tightening around her to pull her close again. She threw her head back and he buried his face into her neck.

She couldn’t stop moaning-screaming-she couldn’t tell anymore. All she knew her throat felt entirely too scratchy from all the noises she’d made during their fucking and now, her high.

Her pussy clamped around him. Her walls squeezing him so deliciously tight he swore he saw a glimpse of heaven. He groaned into her neck. The groan was so deep, so animalistic she felt it emanating through his chest against her back.

He leaned forward, burying his cock impossibly deeper as he came. She was too weak to even gasp at the feeling of his thick, warm cum spurting within her-completely coating her cunt walls. She merely twitched at the feeling of his stiff cock throbbing in her overly sensitive cunt. Streaks of his cum slipped out of her-down her inner thighs. There was simply no more room inside her.

Then finally, they both went still. Nothing but their breathlessness filling the silence.

She released his hair, she hadn’t realized she grabbed it mid orgasm. Her tits felt sore from how hard he’d squeezed her through his high.

She shivered when she felt his cock twitch within her-the aftermath of his peak. She felt so weak, so utterly used. She closed her eyes, not wanting to think anymore.

He was always so good at that-not making her think.

His arms loosened around her. His hands found the curves of her waist and pulled her upright with him. Even that subtle action made her body ache with soreness.

Suddenly he bit at her neck, nipping at her skin possessively while palming her tits under her shirt. She writhed weakly against him, his half-erect cock within her making her go still.

Her eyes shot open, she couldn’t let him get hard again.

His hands suddenly slipped underneath her knees, spreading her thighs apart. Her cheeks grew warm when she felt his gaze on her lower regions over her shoulder.

She swallowed when she saw all the marks and bruises from his hands on her earlier. He always grabbed her so hard. He always did whatever he wanted with her.

He shifted underneath her, his hips slowly pulling his cock out of her. When his cock finally slipped out, a lewd sound filled the car. She watched in horror as streams of his hot cum poured out of her cunt-it felt endless, it didn’t stop pouring out. It didn’t help that his cock was completely erect and shiny from her juices.

“Look at how wet you’ve made my cock, kitten,” his voice was husky against her temple, “You came so hard you were screaming-you screamed my name.”

Her eyes widened when she saw his cock twitch. She instinctively drew her legs together.

He harshly drew her legs apart, “You think anyone else could make you feel like that?”

She trembled when his hold around her thighs tightened. She knew he was bound to leave new marks at the skin there.

He pressed his nose to her temple, “Hm?”

She shivered, simply turning her face aside. She couldn’t find it in herself to speak.

“Answer me.” he whispered in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut, merely shaking her head.

“That’s right,” he muttered, “No one but me.”

His hand squeezed her inner thigh, making her jolt, “You’re mine, Ara. Mine.”

He watched a tear unconsciously make its way down her cheek, “I took your first and I’ll keep takin’ you forever.”

She flinched when she felt him deftly lick her cheekbone, catching her tear with his tongue-tasting her.

“You belong to me.”

He held her hand as she stepped out of the car. She silently followed him. She didn’t register anything about their surroundings-simply letting him lead her where he wanted.

She thought she faintly heard the sound of a phone ringing and going to voicemail. He grumbled in annoyance.

Suddenly a door swung open before them. Music blasting through the doors.

She glanced up to see Shoko standing at the door, “Hi snowman.”

“I was calling you.”

Shoko glanced over at her, “This her?”

Ara couldn’t help but sense the smirk in his voice, “Yeah.”

Ara glanced around-finally noticing her surroundings. She was on a vast, wrap-around stone porch. Empty alcohol bottles and burnt out joints were scattered all over the otherwise sparkling ground.

Suddenly Shoko was grabbing her hand, “I don’t know why you’re tellin’ me to dress her up when I can barely dress myself but I’ll have fun with this.”

Ara was dragged through the double doors and led inside the mansion. Ara didn’t the chance to admire the color changing chandelier in the lobby because she was getting pulled up the steps-or rather, dragged. Shoko walked pretty fast.

People were everywhere. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. She didn’t want to see people from school.

People laughed boisterously-calling out to each other. Wearing shiny outfits. Drinks and joints in hand. They looked so happy, care-free. She felt so out of place.

A few people spoke to Shoko but she simply said a few words and shoo-ed them away. Ara was too zoned out to care.

Suddenly Shoko pushed open a door and led them both inside. It was a bedroom, decorated sparsely but lavishly. Each decoration piece looked as if it were taken from a museum or art studio.

It was quite obviously a girls room, due to the subtle feminine touches within the room despite the color scheme of the room being cream and sage.

“Alright, so…”

Ara stopped scanning the room to meet Shoko’s blank stare. The other girl looked curious but unamused at the same time. They’d seen each other before-in classes and such-but this had to be the most they’ve ever interacted.

Ara knew she was rather close to Gojo and Geto. Rumor also had it that her and Nanami were dating.

“I don’t know if I have clothes your taste or whatever but can you take your shirt off so I can see what I’m working with?”

Ara blinked, “Uh..”

She couldn’t blame the other girl for asking. She was wearing an oversized tee and loose fitting sweats.

Shoko sighed, walking over, “It’s just us girls-“

She easily slipped off Ara’s shirt and froze, “Holy shit.”

Ara grabbed her shirt and pressed it close to her chest-trembling slightly.

Shoko blinked several times before running a hand through her shoulder length hair, “Oh-wow, you and Satoru had a time, didn’t you..”

Shoko shook her head, “I don’t know what girls see in him.”

Ara was too tired to speak-to agree with her and say she saw nothing in him. All words simply felt too useless.

Shoko went to the closet and returned with a garment on a hanger and heels. She handed it to her.

“Put this on. I’ll try to see what we can do about the..” She gestured towards her chest before waving towards the attached bathroom, “I think my Mom might have some extra foundation shades…” she mumbled to herself.

Ara didn’t understand what she meant and was-frankly-too tired to care. Ara walked into the bathroom. She barely looked at the clothes before stripping and putting them on. The heels were strappy kitten heels that wasn't too bad but the dress... the dress fit a little too well.

She glanced in the mirror and stared in shock as she realized the dress was a sleeveless, bodycon minidress that ended mid-thigh. There were also a few patterned, cut-outs shapes that ran down the sides.

Her eyes widened when she saw what made Shoko curse earlier. Her neck was covered in marks-including her collarbones and cleavage. There were even a few bruises strewn along her exposed thighs.

She uncomfortably pulled the dress lower-only to freeze when she saw that it made her tits spill out a bit more at the top.

What the hell is this?

Ara felt naked. She’d never worn anything like this. She felt exposed.

A knock at the bathroom door made her jolt, “Did you put it on?”

Ara glanced down at herself before stuttering out, “Y-yeah.”

Shoko entered, her eyes widening as she gave her a once-over, “Pft. My moms real funny if she thought I’d look like that in that dress.”

Ara’s brows furrowed-unsure of what to make of the comment. Just as she was about to ask for something else to wear, Shoko gently took her hand.

“You have bruises on your wrists too?” she asked, while examining them, “Christ.”

Ara quickly pulled her hand away, trembling slightly, “Do you have something else I can wear.”

Shoko nodded, “Sure, is there anything you want instead of a dress maybe? A crop top? Skirt?”

Ara froze, hesitating. It was stupid.. she knew she was being stupid. Maybe it was because how genuine Shoko appeared when she asked or the calm sincerity in her tone but something about her asking about what she wanted.. It felt like the first time someone actually cared about her opinion-cared about what she wanted.

She choked slightly on her words, “C-can you get me home?”

Shoko blinked, “You want to go home?”

She nodded, “I-“ her voice cracked. What she wanted to say was ‘I can’t do this party. I never wanted to come to this party.’ but instead she started crying. She full on fell to her knees and started to cry-she couldn’t help herself.

“Oh my god,” Shoko gasped, going on her knees as well. “Shit, are you okay?”

Ara couldn’t speak-simply too consumed by sorrow to go on. Her shoulders shook as she continued to cry. She didn’t know how long she cried for but by the time she calmed down Shoko was gone and the bathroom door was closed.

Ara stood up slowly-grasping the counter to steady her wobbly legs.

Suddenly the bathroom door swung opened and Gojo entered. Shoko stood behind him, a concerned expression on her face.

“Ara-“ his words were cut short the second his eyes landed on her. His eyes were wide as he stared at her. His mouth still partly open as if in disbelief. Color swiftly rose to his cheeks.

Shoko shook her head, “Can you get over yourself and help her out already? I think you boned her enough.”

A smirk split across his lips, “It’s never enough.”

“Gross.” Shoko muttered as Gojo sauntered up to her. He ran his hands down her trembling arms. She couldn’t look away from him.

“You look stunning, kitten.” he murmured, giving her another once-over up close.

Stunning didn’t cover it. She looked sexy as hell. She was guaranteed to give every male an erection with one glance… and something about that fact filled him with an uncanny amount of satisfaction.

He cupped her face in his hands, wiping away the tears at the corner of her eyes with his thumb. She was frozen.

He glanced over his shoulder at Shoko, “You gonna watch?”

She narrowed her eyes, “Hell yeah I am. God knows what you'll do in here if I don't."

His smirk reappeared, “You have no faith in me.”

“No one should.” Shoko bit back.

He merely slid his hand into Ara’s. “Let’s go.”

She gripped his hand tight. Her free hand latching onto his arm just as he moved to head out the door with her.

“W-wait, please,” she stuttered out. Panic suddenly rising through her numbness, “I can’t-I can’t—“ do this party. I want to go home.

He looked down to face her, “What's wrong, kitten?” he asked softly.

There was something humorous about that question-especially coming from him. In another life, she might've laughed. Instead her throat tightened up the second they locked eyes.

She casted a quick, side glance Shoko’s way. Shoko seemed to be watching them curiously.

She swallowed hard before glancing up at Gojo, “I..I can’t wear this dress.” her voice ending as a whisper.

There was a moment of silence as he looked at her. His gaze dropped to her feet before raking up her body ever so slowly. She felt as if he were committing everything he saw before him to memory.

When his eyes met hers, he exhaled through his nose-in faint amusement.

"Modest now, are we?" he teased.

The words would've hit her like a bullet once-making her hand itch to slap him-but now it had the impact value of a rock skipping water.

He released her hand to slip his hoodie off in one movement. He tugged it over her, "Happy?"

She stared down at the floor, nodding.

He slid his hand through hers. “Let’s go.”

Ara couldn't meet Shoko’s eyes as he led her out the bathroom. She knew the other girl only meant to help by calling him but she couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

“Wait.” Shoko spoke.

Gojo paused, glancing back towards her. He watched her crossed arms fall before she walked up to Ara. She reached around Ara's nape, pulling out the rest of her hair that'd gotten tucked underneath the hoodie.

Gojo saluted Shoko airily, “I’ll buy you a replacement for the dress.”

Shoko’s eyes widened, “What-“ she shook her head, “I don’t even wanna know.”

She was led through the crowd with Gojo ahead of her. She didn’t have to look up to know people were parting for them. Mainly, him.

Familiar voices of their classmates greeted him as he passed. He never let go of her hand, simply winking or dabbing up whoever he recognized as he walked through. She felt so many eyes on her, she wanted to puke.

She was wearing a hoodie so she knew it wasn’t her insane outfit. It was most definitely the man she was interlocking hands with. She hated how much attention the simple action of hand holding could garner simply because it was him.

The music was so loud, it was almost obnoxious. The smell of weed was everywhere, she felt like she’d inhaled enough second hand smoke to start feeling traces of being high herself. This was truly the last place she wanted to be.

Finally Gojo stopped walking, arriving at the center of the living room where all his friends were gathered.

He sat down on the couch next to Geto, easily tugging Ara down on his lap.

She gasped slightly, grasping Gojo’s shoulder to steady herself. She felt so uncomfortable.

Geto eyed her, his dark eyes going to her hand on Gojo’s shoulder. She immediately dropped her hand.

“I’m back.” he said with a small smile, “Hope I didn’t miss anything too interesting.”

“No,” Geto responded, “We just skipped your turn.”

“He wanted to play for you but that’s fuckin’ cheating. But—who the hell is that?”

She glanced up to see that it was Toji asking the question. The second they made eye contact his eyes widened in recognition.

“My girl,” Gojo responded with a growing smirk before tugging her close to press a light kiss on her cheek. “She can introduce herself.”

She swallowed, meeting Gojo’s gaze uneasily before facing the others seated around them. She recognized them one by one. Geto. Toji. Nanami. Haibara. And-it seemed-Shoko had just joined them as well.

She cleared her throat, “I’m Ara Natsuna.”

“I remember you,” Toji stated, “You were at Nanami’s party that time.”

Nanami grumbled, “Can we not talk about that.”

Toji chuckled, “My bad.”

Haibara’s voice piped up-rather animated, “At least you’re not grounded anymore!”

“I wasn’t grounded.” Nanami retorted flatly.

“Well your Mom basically put you on house arrest so you kinda were.” Haibara responded lightly.

Nanami looked slightly agitated as he slouched back in his seat, “Fuck those cops. They didn’t leave me alone for weeks.”

Shoko stood behind the loveseat Nanami occupied. She leaned against it, “Didn’t they stop questioning you last week?”

“Yeah, finally.”

Ara tensed slightly in Gojo’s lap. She’d completely forgotten Nanami must’ve gotten the brute end of questioning regarding the investigation for Arman and Jaemin's deaths-considering they died in his house.

She glanced at Gojo. His impassive expression turned into something more amused when he caught her gaze. She shivered when he ran a hand down her back.

He glanced at Nanami, “Need my help?”

She could only assume that meant contacting his Dad. His offer only reaffirmed her theory of his father's influence still persisting in law enforcement despite being retired.

“Nah, my lawyers got it.” Nanami muttered, looking rather worn. It seemed the investigation had taken a toll on him.

Ara didn’t miss how Shoko’s hand subtly dropped to Nanami’s shoulder from her perch behind him. She squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before raising her hand to hold her cigarette as she lit it.

“Is no one shocked that Gojo settled down.” Shoko asked.

“Yeah, what’d you do to him, miss smarts.” Toji asked, “You the reason why he hasn’t been hangin’ out as much?” 

Gojo chuckled, “That’s bul-“

Haibara snapped his fingers, realizing belatedly, “Oh yeah! I haven’t seen you out the past few weekends-“ his eyes widened, “Woa, that’s unheard of.”

Shoko blew out a puff of smoke, “That’s what I’m saying.”

Suddenly she was being pulled further up Gojo’s lap. His hand on her waist slipped over her lower stomach, pressing her body close to his.

He kissed her neck, “Obviously I had better things to do.”

Ara’s face heated up just as the group broke out in ruckus—Haibara whistled. Nanami rolled his eyes. Shoko threw a red Solo cup at him-causing Geto to laugh.

Nanami looked unamused, “Fuck you.”

Toji was grinning as he shook his head, “This guy thinks he’s different.”

Gojo chuckled as he caught the cup after it bounced off him. He glanced within the cup to check its contents. It was filled a little less than half-way, it was a miracle the drink didn’t spill on him.

“Your drink is still in here.” he exclaimed with an astonished smirk.

“That's the point.” Shoko replied. His smirk widened before he set the drink down on the table before them.

He met Shoko’s narrowed eyes, “I’m obviously joking. I haven’t been out cuz I don’t wanna go without this one-“ he shook Ara slightly in his grasp, “Wouldn’t want her partying without me so.. gotta play fair.” he shrugged.

Ara’s brows furrowed. Am I supposed to appreciate that?

“What a gentleman.” Toji muttered before taking a swig of beer. She couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Shoko blinked before meeting Ara’s gaze, “I hope this means you're coming out to more parties then?”

She felt Gojo’s nose nudge her temple, suggestively, “Hmm?” 

As if I had a choice in coming here.

Ara hesitated-shifting awkwardly in Gojo’s lap, “Um.. I don’t really like partying that much.”

Shoko tilted her head, “Why?”

Ara wasn’t really sure how to respond, “Well, Nanami’s party was my first so..”

“That was your first party?” Haibara questioned, nearly jumping out of his seat.

Toji shook his head, “I knew it.”

Nanami ran a hand over his face before grumbling, “I’d hate partying after that too.”

Ara nodded in response to Haibara’s question.

“But aren’t you a senior?” Haibara pressed, eyes wide in shock.

She nodded.

Haibara stared, his eyes flitting between her and Gojo. Gojo was resting his head on her shoulder, arms wrapped loosely around her.

Haibara blinked, “How did you find her?”

A devious grin split across Gojo’s lips. She felt his arms tighten around her slightly, “I got lucky.” he replied.

Haibara continued to stare at them in disbelief.

Shoko absentmindedly played with the ends of her short, blunt cut hair as she blew out another puff of smoke, “Okay well, to be fair the party was fun before all the.. bullshit, but I guess I can’t really blame you.”

Ara merely nodded. They had no idea what occurred in her house the same night after that party.

“But also-“ Shoko continued, “Not all parties are like that. I promise.”

“I’d kill myself if they were.” Nanami muttered.

Toji chuckled under his breath.

“Did you drink anything yet?” Shoko asked her.

Ara shook her head, “No.”

Shoko raised a brow-her eyes snapping to Gojo, “What kind of boyfriend are you? You didn’t get your girl a drink?”

Gojo raised his head from her shoulder, “I didn’t even get myself one,” he straightened slightly, as if preparing to stand up.

He looked down at her on his lap, “Do you want a drink?”

Shoko waved her hand, “Just stay put. I’ll get her one, you’d probably get her something lame like beer anyway.”

Haibara frowned, “Beer’s lame?”

Nanami responded flatly, “Don’t listen to her.”

Just as Shoko turned to leave Gojo yelled after her, “Get me one too!”

Shoko didn’t turn around as she flipped him off.

Toji picked up his deck of cards from the table, “Can we play now? I got money riding on this.”

Nanami chuckled as he looked at his own cards spread neatly in his hand, “You’re gonna lose, Fushiguro.”

Toji grinned, “Let’s see.”

Gojo reached over to pick up his deck, “Oh shit, nobody told me we had money on this.”

“Winner gets 2K, last person playing the winner pays.” Geto responded.

Ara’s gaze immediately latched onto him. She couldn’t help but take note of how he hadn’t said one word during the group's conversation until now.

He sat hunched over, legs spread on the couch next to Gojo. He wore a simple loose gray tee with black loose-fitted sweats. This had to be the first time she’d seen him in casual clothing-and she couldn’t help but notice that his shoulders looked impeccably broad under his shirt.

She’d never taken him to be the quiet type but she supposed she didn’t truly know him. She couldn’t help but wonder if he knew something..

Gojo grinned subtly, “Let me guess, Fushiguro started the bet.” 

“Who else.” Geto replied airily.

She looked down at the cards in front of her as Gojo spread them all in one hand.

“You’re on my team,” he murmured, his cool breath trailing down her neck, “Do you know how to play?”

She shook her head.

He began to explain the rules but in truth she zoned out halfway. Geto suddenly elbowed Gojo, cutting him off mid-explanation.

“Your turn.”

“Jus watch.” Gojo murmured to her before straightening slightly to put a card down on the table. 

Suddenly Toji’s hand shot out, “Wait, does your girl want to play?”

“Shut the hell up, scammer, she’s on my team,” Gojo quipped.

She heard Geto faintly snort beside them.

Toji’s darkly handsome grin returned, “Don’t worry I wouldn’t scam your girl. You got that covered.”

The boys continued to banter as they played the card game. Gojo checked in on her here and there but otherwise no one paid her too much mind-which she greatly appreciated. It was nice to zone out to the pounding music and people watch for a while.

“Shit-I’m out.” Gojo tossed his deck of cards down.

Nanami was smiling, “That’s what you get.”

Toji squinted, “Did you even try?”

Just as Gojo shrugged, some guy approached him. Another athlete that she didn’t know the name of. Gojo and Haibara enthusiastically engaged in small talk with him before the guy offered to smoke them up.

Gojo suddenly turned to the rest of them, “Yo, I'm goin out to smoke.”

“I wanna smoke.” Haibara pitched in.

Toji waved his hand dismissively towards Haibara, “Just go. You don’t even play right anyway.”

Haibara sucked his teeth before whining. “I suck at cards, okay? I’m better at chess.”

“Who the fuck plays chess.” Toji replied.

“You’re next.” Nanami spoke to Toji-rather focused.

Haibara tossed his deck of cards on the table with a sigh before standing up.

Gojo faced her in his lap, “You wanna smoke, kitten?”

She met his gaze before shaking her head. She wondered for a second if he would force her.

His light blue eyes softened before he kissed her cheekbone—lightly squeezing her in his arms as he did so.

“ ‘Kay, I’ll be back in a bit.” he said before lifting her off his lap and standing up. He gave her one last wink before walking further into the party with Haibara and the athlete guy flanking his side.

She shifted slightly, occupying less than half of the space Gojo took up on the couch. She usually would feel relieved that Gojo left her alone but-for some reason-she felt more awkward. More aware.

She glanced over at Geto beside her. It was his turn to play and he seemed to be deciding which card to put down. It was taking him longer than she expected.

She pointed at a card in his stack, “That one.”

His brow raised slightly before he picked out that card and put it down, “Thought you didn’t know how to play.” his tone was calm.

It seemed he’d been eavesdropping on her and Gojo’s conversation.

“Satoru explained the rules to me.”

He seemed to pause before replying, “Oh. It didn’t seem like you were paying attention.”

Her brows furrowed slightly. Is that passive aggressiveness in his tone? Or is he simply pointing out the fact? She couldn’t tell.

He was right to assume because she hadn’t been but it wasn’t hard for her to pick up the rules of the game after watching a couple rounds.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before saying, “I-I wasn’t.” She wasn’t too sure why she admitted that but-for some reason-she didn’t want the conversation to end just yet.

The hard-line of his mouth twitched imperceptibly, “Oh.”

She swallowed uneasily. She watched him play his next move silently. Her eyes flickered upto Toji and Nanami who were locked in on a conversation about the game.

Her gaze returned to Geto as she blurted, “Did Satoru tell you anything.. a-about me?”

She was terrified to say the least. Terrified to confide in him but if he knew anything-something-maybe he could help her—

He blinked before finally looking her straight in the eye, “Like what?”

She stared at him-slightly petrified. She couldn’t gauge him. Does he know or does he not know? She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t risk making an assumption either. Who knew if he was an enabler. He was Gojo’s best friend after all—What if he found Gojo’s behavior acceptable? 

The thought made a shiver run down her spine. She sank back on the couch, scooting away from him slightly.

“N-nothing.” she responded faintly.

She wasn’t looking at him, so she was completely oblivious to the way Geto stared at her. 

He set down a card before stating, “You’re his girl, of course he talks about you.”

She perked up slightly-not expecting him to respond. Her voice felt hollow to her ears, “Did he.. did he tell you how we started?”

“Like start dating?” he asked.

She nodded.

Before he could respond, Toji elbowed him. “You’re out.”

Geto stared at the cards laid out on the table. He muttered a low curse before setting his deck of cards down.

“It’s all you, Nanami.”

Toji grinned wickedly while Nanami shook his head-looking mildly amused.

Just as Geto turned back to face her, his gaze went to something beside her. Suddenly hands were at her waist and she was getting seated on a familiar lap. Gojo was back.

He was showering her face with kisses. His lips smelled of weed with a tinge of something sweet. She placed her hands on his shoulders, lightly moving him back.

“Satoru.” she chided.

His arms around her tugged her knees between his legs as he pulled her further up his thigh, “Missed my baby.”

She went still when she suddenly felt his hard-on against her leg. Oh no.

He kept touching her. His hand on her back kept her close to him, while his other hand crept up her bare thigh. Her breath hitched, stopping his hand just as he found the end of her mini dress. Her dress kept riding up-uncomfortably so.

She quickly crossed her legs, her gaze flitting up to his-uneasily. “S-satoru.”

He smiled-showing off his perfect teeth and lethally attractive boyish charm. His hand slid up her thigh, squeezing her hip over her dress.

She closed her eyes when he pressed his forehead to hers. She bit her lower lip, turning away slightly. She could still feel his erection pressing into her leg-it seemed even stiffer now.

“Sorry kitten,” he murmured roughly against her temple, “You’re just so soft..”

His hand slid down her hip to her thigh, caressing her bare skin. She felt his fingers slip under her dress and immediately put her hand over his. She didn’t meet his eyes when she smoothly intertwined their fingers together. Please, not here..

He chuckled slightly, squeezing her hand in his before whining, “Let me touch you..”

He began to press light kisses along her jaw and neck. He was being so needy.

She tried not to squirm, only to go still when he began to tug her sweater off.

She quickly hugged herself, “What are you doing?”

“Aren’t you hot?” he asked just as quietly as her-matching her energy-but the subtle curl to his lips betrayed him.

In truth she was. She started feeling hot five minutes into wearing the hoodie but anything was better than her incredibly revealing dress.

Her gaze flitted over to Geto, he was looking at them now. Not just him but Toji and Nanami as well. Geto quickly looked away.

She felt her face heat up with self awareness.

She trembled slightly when she met Gojo’s gaze. His azure eyes twinkled as he tilted his head-silky strands of his platinum hair falling over his forehead as he did so. She swallowed when she realized.. he wasn’t asking. He wanted this-all of this.

His hands went to her hoodie, never breaking eye contact as he helped her out of it. Once the sweater was off, he smiled slightly.

He tucked her hair behind her ear, gently pushing the rest of its length behind her shoulders to reveal her ample, hickey covered cleavage.

She felt eyes on her. She didn’t have to look to know it—it made her heart rate pick up and skin crawl with nerves.

She didn’t want to focus on it-on the attention she was receiving. She knew it would overwhelm her so she kept her eyes glued to Gojo. To his easygoing smile. His familiar ruffled icy hair. His imposing stature that always seemed to be at her side.

He kissed her gently, his arm tugging her closer possessively.

“You look so good, kitten,” he whispered in her ear, “I’m goin’ crazy.”

She didn’t have a choice but to believe his words. Especially with his throbbing erection pressing into her thigh. She didn’t know how he had any stamina left.

“Wish we were in the car.” he muttered.

She tensed-flashbacks flooding her mind. She’d been completely bent to his will—used for his desire, just to get her here. She felt her chest tighten-nearly breaking her out of the numbness.

Suddenly, someone nearby cleared their throat obnoxiously loud. They both glanced up.

Shoko stood with a hand on her hip, a drink and cigarette in her other hand.

She shook the drink, “I got your drink.”

She glanced over at the others, “What’s with you guys?”

Nanami seemed to be staring-very concentratedly-at a random spot on the ground. Geto was flushed.

Toji stammered out, “Erm-we’re playing cards.”

“If playing cards means staring at them making out then, sure.” Shoko rolled her eyes.

Toji sucked his teeth, “Do ya fuckin’ blame me?”

Satoru quipped, “I do. Why were you staring, Fushiguro?”

Toji smirked, “Do you really want me to answer that?”

A devious grin broke across Gojo’s lips, “Answer carefully.”

Shoko sighed, “You guys are so boring. I’m surprised Ara’s ears haven’t melted off from all your bullshit.”

She turned to face Ara, “You’re bored aren’t you? You can chill with me-“

Gojo immediately complained, “Hey-“

Shoko took Ara’s arm and pulled her up to stand beside her, “Shut it, Satoru. She’s not just your eye candy, she deserves to have some fun.”

Ara stared at Shoko, wondering how she talked to Gojo as carelessly as she did. They seemed closer than she expected.

Suddenly a low sigh left Gojo’s lips, he reached out to take Ara’s hand, “I know, I know,” His thumb began to rub comforting circles on the back of her palm, “I jus like her attention that’s all.”

His subtle, boyish grin returned, “Don’t get too wild without me.”

Shoko tugged Ara away from him, “She’ll get as wild as she wants.”

Shoko took her hand then, leading her through the crowd of people. She was kind enough to slow down when she noticed Ara was struggling a bit with her heels. Kitten heels or not, she wasn't used to it

Suddenly Shoko pulled her into an elevator and Ara was too shocked to even gape.

Shoko handed her the drink, “Drink up. I got you a margarita cuz you don’t seem like the hard liquor type.”

“Thanks.” Ara whispered before clearing her throat.

Shoko bent over to take off her heels, “My bad for taking so long, I won’t lie, I completely forgot.”

“That’s fine.” She took a sip from the sugar coated rim of the glass and froze. That’s delicious.

Just as she downed the rest of the drink, Shoko asked, “Are you feeling better now? I know you wanted to go home earlier.”

Ara blinked, a bit shocked that she remembered, “Y-yeah..”

Shoko smiled slightly as she stood upright, the straps of her heels hooked over one finger, “That’s good cuz we’re about to have more fun upstairs.”

Suddenly the doors to the elevator opened and they were in the biggest bedroom Ara had ever seen. The decoration screamed opulence. Everything looked so put together that it felt like she’d walked into an Architectural Digest video.

“Hey! Over here.” Shoko’s voice called out.

Ara turned to see Shoko further into the room, standing before a set of double doors. Faint laughter seemed to come from within.

Shoko waved her over, “C’mon, c’mon.”

Ara hurried over and entered inside. This time she couldn’t help but audibly gasp.

“What.. is this?” she asked while glancing around.

“Oh, I forgot you’ve never been here before. This is my moms closet.”

Closet?! The room was a dozen times the size of her bedroom. The walls had glass panels that showcased the clothes within. Drawers and shelves were also built into the walls. There was an upstairs portion as well-clothes, purses and shoes neatly displayed all over.

In the center-below the mini chandelier-was a carpeted area with cushions and bean bags. A handful of girls were seated, chatting and laughing about.

“Hi guys.” Shoko rushed over, tossing her heels aside as did so. “I brought us a friend.”

“Shoko!” “Where the fuck have you been?” “Finally!” A few of the girls yelled out. One of them jumped on her-which resulted in Shoko and the girl falling onto a cushion. They burst out in laughter.

Suddenly the volume of the music was lowered and Ara belatedly realized that there was a rather huge, flat screen TV mounted to the wall. It currently displayed the lyrics to a song by Ice Spice and Nicki Minaj.

“New friend?” One of the girls piped up.

Ara glanced over to see a familiar student that she couldn’t remember the name of. She might’ve been on the girls track team.

“Oh my god! You’re the girl who was with Gojo.” Another girl added.

Before she could even get the chance to feel anxious about being in a room full of complete strangers, she was dragged to the center cushion and plopped between all the girls.

She was bombarded with questions.

“Are you and Gojo dating or just hooking up?”

“Wait, aren’t you the girl who said you’d never date him?”

“Since when did you guys start dating?”

“Did Gojo buy you that dress?”

Ara downed the rest of her margarita.

“GUYS!” Shoko’s voice suddenly rang out, “Can y’all shut the fuck up for a sec. Let’s drink first.”

Laughter and chatter ensued as Shoko handed out drinks from an ornate serving cart that was placed nearby. Just as Ara was relieved that the attention was off of her, Shoko’s eyes suddenly zoned in on her.

“Wait, wasn’t that margarita your first drink of the night?”

Sounds of shock suddenly erupted in the room.

“What the fuck?” “No way.” “Girlll—“

Suddenly a red-haired girl grabbed the bottle of alcohol from the cart and stood over her. She held the bottle over Ara’s mouth.

“You need to catch up to us.” she demanded.

Ara’s eyes widened. “Um-I-“

The next thing she knew all the girls were chanting. “Chug!” “Chug!” “Chug!”

Ara glanced over to see Shoko was part of the chanting as well.

She didn’t know what came over her. Maybe it was because the day had been so stressful or maybe it was because she just felt so numb. Maybe it was because the margarita tasted good earlier so she thought this drink might taste the same. Whatever it was, in that particular moment she decided—that she just didn’t care anymore.

She opened her mouth and let the girl pour. She didn’t know how much she drank-and didn’t care to know either-but she didn’t pull away until she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore.

The girls' voices and laughter felt louder than usual. They sounded so bright and happy.. it was contagious. She couldn’t help but laugh along when they all hooted and hollered after her, as if she’d done something wonderful.

“Holy shit, I was not expecting that. Don’t fucking die on us later though.” Shoko chuckled.

“Just puke on Gojo.” one of the girls suggested.

Laughter broke out within the room.

“Speaking of Gojo,” Shoko slipped into the space on the cushion across her, “I did have questions about you two-like since when did you guys even talk? No offense or anything, I jus never seen you two out together before.”

Ara shifted in her seat, wanting to avoid the question, “Erm.. I’m not really too sure..” she drifted off.

“Oh come on,” one of the girls complained. “You have to remember when he first talked to you.”

“I do,“ Ara responded, a bit agitated before muttering, “But it doesn’t really count because I ignored him-for a while.”

The girl’s eyebrows skyrocketed, “You ignored him?”

Shoko snorted, “That’s hilarious. How’d he take that?”

“He didn't take it.” Ara mumbled.

Shoko laughed, a bit drunkenly, “Go figure.”

Ara looked at her in confusion, “Has he done that before?”

Shoko blinked, “What-you mean date? No, that’s the thing. He’s never dated anyone. His bitchass once told me he didn’t believe in monogamy so I’m just as surprised to see him dating as you are.”

Ara’s brows furrowed.

Another girl then piped up, “So when did y’all first hook up?”

Ara hesitated-her mouth opening and closing multiple times before unconsciously whispering, “..Nanami’s party..”

The memory of that night flashed to the forefront of her mind, making her wince. That night felt so long ago.. it’d been the start of a beginning she never asked for, all of it happening against her will.

“Forreal?!” Shoko questioned in shock.

One girl whistled. Another elbowed her playfully, “How was it?”

Another girl quipped, “She’s dating him-obviously, it was good as fuck.”

Ara shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was belatedly starting to hit her that she wasn’t required to answer any of these girls questions-besides the further they pried, the more she would have to withhold. Her and Gojo’s ‘relationship’ wasn’t close to whatever fantasy they thought it was.

Shoko seemed a bit zoned out, “Wow.. he must be really serious about you.”

Ara’s eyes flickered to her, “What do you mean?”

Shoko blinked. “He doesn’t really keep quiet about who he’s been with, but he kept you to himself for a while.”

Ara shook her head, “No-actually I was the one who wanted to keep us private.”

Shoko’s eyes widened, “Really?"

"Why?” someone else asked.

“Because…” she swallowed, before deciding on a half-lie, “I knew everyone would be nosy.”

Shoko laughed, “You’re not wrong. Sorry.”

“Can you blame us.” the girl seated next to Shoko whined.

One of the girls hugged her arm, her voice slurred. “Sorry, Ara. Forgive me?”

Ara finally recognized her. It was Leah Falcone. The girl was also a senior and she was popularly known for her incredible vocal skill. Her mother was also an established opera singer so she assumed that good vocals ran in the family genes.

Ara remembered once asking her for directions to a classroom freshman year and she’d responded with ‘why are you asking me?’

Shoko took another puff from her cigarette, “Alright, no more Gojo talk.” she turned to face the TV, “Who put the music down?”

Once the music was back up, it didn’t take them long to get more drunk. They went from refilling their red solo cups to drinking from champagne flutes, then drinking from a bottle of passed around vodka. Ara had no idea where all of it was appearing from but she'd take it. She felt good—good as shit.

A pillow hit her in the face.

Ara glanced over to see Leah pouting at her, “You’re not paying attention to the fashion show!”

Suddenly Shoko stood up on her cushion, throwing a pillow smack center in Leah’s face, “No one’s paying attention, dumbass!”

Leah tripped on the heels that were obviously too big for her and landed on the carpet-her beret falling off in the process.

She huffed, tossing her Dior bag in the air before crying.

Suddenly the redhead threw a pillow at Shoko, “Look what you did, you made Leah cry.”

“She always cries when she’s drunk,” the blonde-Mina-interjected.

Shoko picked up two pillows-throwing them rather ferociously in the redhead’s direction, “Think fast!”

Then before Ara knew it, she was wrapped up in the most intense pillow fight of all time. She ran cushion to cushion, throwing the fuzzy pillows with the most strength she could muster—nearly peeing herself with laughter when Leah wailed every time she got hit by a pillow.

Mina ducked behind Ara, “Help me!!”

Ara’s eyes widened as Shoko jumped onto the cushion before her, pillow in hand, “Don’t protect that hoe-“

Shoko swung the pillow in Mina’s direction and Ara blocked it with her own pillow.

“Yes, get her! Get her.” Mina hollered from behind her.

Ara flung the pillow-defending Mina like her life depended on it. She somehow managed to smack the pillow with enough force to make Shoko fly backwards onto the cushion-making Ara and Mina crack up.

Ara didn’t know why everything was so hilarious but she truly couldn’t stop laughing. The girls just kept giving her an excuse to—is this what having friends is like?

“Oh fuck you guys. It’s on.” Just as Shoko attempted to stand up, she toppled over again. This time the sound of cloth ripping resounding in the air.

Ara’s eyes widened while Meena gaped. The second the girls made eye contact they doubled over in laughter.

I’ve never seen her laugh like that.

Gojo stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. She looked beautiful-so carefree-so lively. Her laugh was the prettiest thing he’d ever heard.

He didn’t believe his eyes when he saw her at first-merely coming to check on her since the card game finally ended. He never thought he’d find her… like this.

She was smiling.

Her eyes twinkled as she laughed, carelessly offering her radiant smile to Mina as she did so. The sight of it made his chest tighten with need.

She looked… happy. And she never looked like that with him.

A dark lick of jealousy coursed through his veins as he watched her. She let Mina clutch onto her so easily as they fell back on the cushion in a fit of giggles-not a hint of reluctance on her face.

His cool blue eyes slid over to Mina, to her left hand on Ara’s back—to her right hand clutching Ara’s arm. His jaw tightened. Mina was nice enough but what had she done to earn her touch? What had she done to elicit her pretty smile? Did she really deserve it?

He watched Ara turn to look at Shoko getting lifted off the cushion by Nanami. Despite Shoko playfully kicking her feet around he managed to keep the rip on her dress hidden by wrapping an arm around her torso. He easily held her up, whispering things softly in her ear as he carried her further into the closet.

Suddenly Mina was getting tugged away from her as well. Daniel gently pulled at Mina’s arm to get her attention, only for her to jump into his hold the second he got it. Daniel had entered the closet shortly after he had-probably coming to check on what’s his like himself.

Now it was his turn.

He slowly approached her-reveling in her unawareness as she sat quietly on the cushion by herself. She seemed zoned out.

He stopped right beside her, standing at the edge of the cushion. She was merely an arms length away, all he had to do was reach out and he could quell that thrumming need in his fingers to touch her but she was just so pretty up close-so unaware, so inviting-he wanted to revel in it a moment longer.

Suddenly she glanced up, her eyes widening before she stood up, “Satoru!”

She lay her hand on his abdomen. Heat gathered in his skin underneath her palm.

That’s new. She never touched him first.

His eyes glimmered, “Hey.”

He saw her eyes flicker before tilting her head. She smiled, “Hey.”

His eyes widened, his gaze stuck on her lips. It shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did but it couldn’t be helped. He stared—rendered frozen.

She’s smiling.. at me.

She looked up at him, her smiling widening ever so slightly as she shook her head. Her hand slid up his chest before going on her tiptoes to kiss him.

The kiss was light, a simple peck but he didn’t let it go. She never kissed him first. He didn’t realize how badly he needed her to until now.

The second she drew her face back his hand found her nape, forcefully keeping her lips glued to his. Her lips tasted of champagne-maybe vodka-he didn’t like alcohol too much but her lips made it so sweet.

Maybe the drinks were making her soft on him but he chose to ignore that. He needed to believe that she wanted him because he needed her—he always needed her. She kissed him-him-and that was all that mattered. 

He kissed her with such intensity she fell back on the cushion. He stayed atop her, his greedy lips never letting hers go. She gasped-the pretty sound going straight to his cock. He should’ve been satisfied after the car-he should’ve.

But he was never satisfied when it came to her. He always wanted more, more, more—

“Satoru-“ she breathed out, grabbing him by the shoulders to push him back.

He searched her face-repositioning himself so that he was further over her body, “Mmm?”

She jutted her chin in the direction of the door.

He glanced over to see Toji standing in the doorway-staring at them. The rest of the room had been cleared out, all the girls nowhere to be seen except for the redhead-Arden-laying passed out on the fur rug.

Gojo spoke first, “Enjoying the show?”

“Maybe,” Toji grinned, “Was gonna ask if you wanted to go for a drive.”

Before he could decline, Ara straightened slightly-peeking her head out from underneath him, “A drive?”

Toji answered, “Yeah, racing.”

Gojo saw her eyes widen with interest. “You wanna go?” he asked.

She hesitated for a second-her hand on his shoulder sliding down to his tricep gently. She looked up at him, “Can we?”

He nuzzled his face into her neck, effortlessly scooping her up as he stood. Her scent engulfed his senses as she twisted in his arms. She was giggling.

Christ, he wanted to mess her up again bad. She was already too much to bear-but like this, he didn’t think his stamina would ever end.

He smiled down at her, “Of course, kitten.”

I only remembered bits and pieces after that.

Gojo tugged at her hand in his, “Kitten, let me carry you.” he whined.

She continued to clip clop in her heels on the driveway. The others in the group heading to their cars as well.

She walked-a bit wobbly-into Gojo as he tugged her, “No, no,” she chided quietly, her other hand latching onto his forearm to regain her balance.

She looked up at him. His platinum hair and pale face stood out so starkly against the pitch black sky. The stars glimmered and the pounding music sounded faint to her ears.

“I wanna walk to the car.” she insisted with a pout.

He stared down at her, his intricate blue eyes churning with something heavy as he looked her up and down. His eyes lingering a little longer than necessary in some places.

His hand slid around her jaw, tilting her face up as he kissed her cheekbone. She stumbled slightly, leaning against him.

His hand in hers gripped her firmly, his eyes dropping to her feet, “You want me to take them off?”

She glanced down at her heels, “No-no, I’m fine. I promise.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

She stared out the car window, gasping as Gojo pulled the car to a stop.

“It’s so big.” she exclaimed, in reference to the vast empty parking lot.

He’d parked his car near the others. All the cars were parked in one big row, side by side.

“Of course, baby,” he reached over and unbuckled her seat belt, “I’ll have to take you to our racetrack some time. It’s bigger.”

Her eyes widened in astonishment, “Racetrack?”

A sly smile bloomed across his lips, “Yeah, racetrack.”

She sat between Gojo’s long outstretched legs-laughing as he tickled her. He was relentless, one hand gripping her hip while the other tickled her wherever he pleased. There was a wide grin on his lips as she writhed against him.

She couldn’t reign in her giggles, “Toru, stop-“ she whined.

He paused, eyes widening, “Toru?”

“Yo, can ya’ll stop playing around and pay attention.” Toji butted in.

Gojo glanced up from his slouched position. He was leaning against the front of his G-wagon, with Ara resting against him. Her small frame fit all too perfectly against his chest-like a little puzzle piece.

He raised his chin off her head, “Did you decide who’s goin’ first or what?”

Toji stepped away from the little circle of boys to address him, “Yeah, you and me are up first. Then it’s Geto and Haibara, and so on.”

A guy she didn’t recognize piped up, “We don’t got a flag girl.”

“Where’s Shoko?” Geto asked.

“Probably with Nanami.” Haibara answered with a frown, “I couldn’t find both of them before we dipped.”

Toji grinned subtly, tilting his head towards their direction, “Coulda been the same ish for these two if I hadn’t got em’ in time.”

Gojo merely smirked, “I know you wanted to watch.”

Suddenly a flat voice arose, “Can’t she just be flag girl?”

Ara’s eyes widened when she saw who the voice belonged to. He was extremely pale and tall, with dark brown hair that was tied up in two short spiky ponytails. He also had a thick black horizontal line tattoo across his nose and cheeks. She’d never seen anything like it.

She belatedly realized that the ‘she’ he was talking about was her. She was the only girl here.

“Oh yeah!” Gojo poked her in the stomach before hunching over to look at her, “You wanna be flag girl, kitten?”

She looked up at him, “What’s a flag girl?”

His signature smirk returned before he kissed her on the cheek, “All you have to do is wave a flag and look pretty.”

Ara held up the makeshift flag-which was a silk, bubblegum pink Gucci scarf that Toji had lying about it in his car. No one else questioned how the hell he had it but she’d bet her life and kids that it was a woman’s work. (Apparently the actual ‘flag’ they had was kept in Nanami’s car)

Toji sat in a silver, latest model Volkswagen Arteon while Gojo sat in his matte black, Mercedes Benz G-Wagon. One car was obviously bigger in height than the other.

Ara stood ahead of both cars, gesturing with her hands for them to pull up to the line they’d marked on the ground with chalk. Once the cars crept up to the starting line, she waved the scarf in the air.

“Are you ready?!” she hollered.

A couple of the boys standing on the sideline whistled. Toji revved up his engine.

She swung the scarf once more, “Get set..” a subtle smile rested on her lips, anticipation swirling in her gut.

Gojo lowered his windows, a grin on his face as he blew her a kiss.

She waved the scarf in the air, “GO!”

The cars zoomed past her, the gust of wind that followed made her hair ripple in their wake.

She stared at the two cars zooming off around the lot. They were driving side by side—from what she could tell, no one seemed to be going faster than the other just yet. The speed of it all scared her, in a thrilling kind of way.

The cars zipped past her once more. The sound of their high powered engines echoing.

“So loud,” she murmured to herself while readjusting her crossed arms. The gust of wind that followed from their speedy turns was a bit unnerving.

“Gets even louder when Satoru has his McLaren.” A low voice spoke from beside her.

She glanced over to see Geto, leaning against the railing beside her. She didn’t remember seeing him there earlier.

She glanced past him to see the ponytail guy and Haibara standing by the starting line-closely watching the race with their phones out. They were timing each car. Apparently Gojo and Toji had two more rounds around the lot before the winner was declared.

“I bet,” she responded, before looking at him, “Did you drive it?”

He nodded, “Couple times. It runs really smooth.”

She sighed, “It looks smooth.”

“Do you have your license?” he asked.

She shook her head, “No.”

“You should.” he suggested, “Get Satoru to teach you.”

“You think he’d let me practice in his McLaren?”

He smiled a bit, “Probably.”

That hadn’t been the answer she was expecting. She laughed slightly, “No way.”

“He would,” he spoke evenly, “He’d buy you a car if you asked.”

He swooped her up in his arms, twirling her in the air before holding her against his chest.

He nuzzled his nose against hers, “I won, kitten, I won.”

She held onto his shoulders, laughing lightly, “I know, I know.”

His arm underneath her ass squeezed her closer. He looked up at her, “Where’s my kiss?”

She smiled a bit, “You don’t deserve it.” she teased.

His blue eyes blazed with delight, “You don’t think so?” he whined.

She shook her head, her smile widening ever so slightly. Something about his sparkling blue eyes on her made her belly churn with butterflies.

He raised a white brow, “Just one?”

She shook her head again.

He leaned closer, his chin grazing her breasts, “Pleaseee,” he pouted.

She held onto his neck, “Only one.” she emphasized.

A grin lit his features as he nodded-eagerly, “One.”

She cupped the sides of his smooth face, lowering herself to press a short kiss to his lips. Her nerves thrumming wildly underneath her skin wherever they touched.

“Alright, show off. You only won by a second.” Toji grumbled from somewhere in the distance.

She pulled away, staring, as the corner of his lip curled upward handsomely. His blue eyes glittered, with mischief and want and something.. indescribable, but it was tangible in his touch.

He was just so striking—it made her heart ache.

He beamed up at her-speaking in sing-song, “One kiss for the winner.”

Ara swung aside in her seat, her hands clutching the car handle and dashboard.

“Oh my—“ she gasped out as Gojo swerved to the left to cut ahead of ponytail guy-Choso’s-car.

Geto gripped the edge of the passenger and driver seat, hovering in between, “Goddammit Satoru.”

Choso’s car honked several times.

Gojo glanced over, a shameless smile on his lips, “Oops.”

The three of them shared a look before laughing airily.

It was the final race for the last two winners-Gojo and Choso. Instead of completing the last race at the parking lot, they chose to see who drove to Nanami’s house and back the fastest. The group had split into both cars.

Ara glanced out the window, her hair flipping in the wind due to Gojo’s speed. She looked at Choso’s car behind them to see Toji flipping her off through the passenger window.

She drew her head back in, smiling faintly, “They’re flipping us off.” 

A smirk split across Gojo’s lips as he kept his eyes glued to the road. His speed picked up.

Ara stood through the sunroof, arms outstretched. Geto held onto her legs to secure her.

She tilted her head back, letting the wind and speed make her hair whip in the air. Her eyes fluttered closed-reveling in the feel of the cool air running across her skin.

She swore she felt the music vibrate within her body as it pounded throughout the car. Of course, it had to be ‘F**ckin' Problems’ by A$AP Rocky playing.

The whoosh of the air speeding past her ears made her feel more present than ever before. She wanted to feel like this forever..

She felt someone lightly tap her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open.

Gojo was before her, a subtle smile on his lips, “Hi, princess.”

She blinked a couple times before realizing she was in the passenger seat of his car. He stood beside her-partly leaning on the open car door, one hand over the roof and the other caressing her cheek.

His blue eyes scanned her face, “How are ya feelin’?”

She reached out and touched his chin-his face-checking if he was real.

“Where am I?” she asked hoarsely.

“Sonic,” he spoke through her fingers, “You want anything?”

Her hand slipped down. She didn’t have enough strength to keep it up.

Her eyes dropped sleepily, “Did you win?”

His eyes widened slightly before smirking, “The race? Of course I did, baby.”

“Good boy.” she mumbled.

He tilted his head, smirk widening, “Yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes half-open.

He licked his lips.

She closed her eyes, his hand stroking her hair all too relaxing. She heard a faint voice somewhere in the distance.

“She okay?” Haibara.

“She’s fine.” Geto’s voice-it was clearer-closer.

“Choso’s asking if yall want anything?”

“Yeah, get me a milkshake.” Gojo-his voice crisp-very near.

“What flavor?”

“Cheesecake.”

She slurped the milkshake silently-zoning out while staring at the bonfire before her. There were voices, many voices but she couldn’t seem to focus on any of them.

Through her peripheral vision she noticed bags of Sonic getting handed around. Empty cups, burnt out joint ends and cigarettes littered the patio floor. Familiar voices talked excitedly—a person jumped into the swimming pool. Laughter followed.

“Can somebody get him?” Shoko. “He’s too drunk.”

“Why don’t you get him?” Toji. “Or did Nanami make it hard for you to walk?”

More laughter. “Shut the hell up.”

“Oh, you finished it?”

She glanced up to see Gojo looking down at her. She was sitting snug against him, in the crook of his arm. Her legs over his lap.

He squeezed her forearm before leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“Shoulda got two.” he murmured.

He cupped her chin, tilting her head up as he bent low to press his lips to hers. His tongue pushed past her lips, sweeping her mouth as he deepened the kiss.

He hummed appreciatively before pulling away. He swiped away a dot of whip cream at the corner of her lip with the tip of his tongue.

His eyes lingered on her lips as he smiled subtly, “Yummy.”

“Look what I found.”

The laughter and noises of approval that followed made her curious enough to glance away from the fire.

Toji held up several nerf guns with a devious grin.

Shoko shot up from her seat, “Did you go into my brother's room, dumbass?”

Her heels echoed against the mahogany wood floor. The moment she spotted Haibara she raised her nerf gun.

He yelped before running to hide behind the couch. Just as he hid, Choso entered the living room.

“Any of y’all see Toji?”

Ara opened her mouth to respond, only to freeze when the sound of an ‘empty’ dart cartridge echoed. She glanced over to see Haibara holding up his nerf gun.

She glared and his eyes widened, “Shit.”

She ran around the couch—attempting to chase him.

He screeched, circling around the couch hastily, “Choso! Choso! Back me up!”

Just as she pointed the nerf gun at his butt, she felt a dart hit her in the cheek. She quickly turned her head to see the culprit—Choso. 

Before she could even react, Choso was suddenly getting sprayed with a shit-ton of bullets. Gojo entered the living room—with Geto right at his heels.

“Do you know who the hell you just hit, hmm?” Gojo taunted—a wide grin on his lips as he emptied his clip on Choso while chasing after him.

The boys laughed when they cornered him. The second Gojo’s darts ran out, Geto took over—showering Choso with a second round of bullets.

Choso held his arms out before him, blocking as much of the entourage of darts as he could.

Once Geto emptied his clip, Gojo smiled, “That’s the second L you took today.” 

Choso shook his head, grinning faintly, “Oh fuck off. If I had back up your ass woulda been on the floor.”

As the boys bickered, Ara’s attention quickly redirected itself to Haibara’s crawling figure-clearly attempting to slip away.

She smiled a bit when she realized he hadn’t noticed her looking just yet. She silently followed him, balancing her weight on the front of her heels to keep her footsteps quiet.

Haibara’s head turned back amidst crawl-spotting her. His innocent eyes instantly blew wide but before he could get up, she planted her heel right on his ass and shoved him back down.

“Dammit!” he hollered—making her laugh.

She aimed her nerf gun at the back of his head—unleashing all of her bullets on him. She didn’t notice the other boys cracking up.

Toji walked in two seconds before her clip emptied, “Damn,” he paused, “Can I be next?”

Gojo shot him with a dart-coincidentally starting a whole new round.

Ara stared at herself in the elevator mirrors, she couldn’t recognize herself.

Gojo was laughing in the reflection beside her. His hand went over his stomach as he bent over in laughter.

“I-“ he could barely get his words out, “I can’t believe you did that.”

Geto merely shook his head, smiling subtly as he restocked the darts in his nerf gun.

Gojo threw his arm around her shoulders when he straightened, a humorous smile on his glossy lips, “Haibara said you're more of a menace than me.”

Ara looked down at her feet-noticing a bit of dirt on heels as she muttered, “That’s impossible.”

Geto snorted.

She stared up at the sky-her eyes darting from star to star before settling on the moon. It looked so big-so close-she swore she could see its craters from here.

A breeze passed, making strands of her hair slip over her face. The hammock swayed.

His fingertips grazed her cheek, tucking her loose hair behind her ear.

She faced him-only to find him already looking at her.

His hand settled on her throat, thumb grazing her jaw.

The music and voices of the others on the rooftop grew more and more faint the longer she stared into his eyes. They were so blue-multiple shades of it too-all within one pair of eyes.

There was something about them.. that made him look more extraterrestrial than the moon. As if he didn’t belong here.

“Satoru,” her voice inadvertently came out as a whisper.

A light smile tugged at his lips, “Yeah?”

“What.. happened to you?”

He raised a pale brow, “What do you mean?”

She chewed at her bottom lip-speaking slowly in attempt to word her thoughts accurately. It was taking a lot more effort than usual.

“What.. made you.. the way you are?”

He froze-something seemed to flash over his eyes before his jaw locked.

He slowly scanned her face before responding after a moment, “The way I am?”

She nodded, words flowing freely from her tongue, “You’re not normal, you know.” her tone indifferent.

She saw his eyes widen ever so slightly and felt a vivid zip of fear when his fingers around her neck twitched.

“Is that right?”

He pressed his face into her cheek. His fingers tightening around her throat when she tried to turn away.

“Maybe you’re right..” His words made her shiver. She closed her eyes-breathing shakily.

Suddenly he was laughing-full on chuckling beside her ear, “You’re so right.”

He released her neck to twirl a strand of her hair around his finger. He exhaled, “There isn’t a line I wouldn’t cross for you.”

She kept her eyes closed, her heartbeat still raging in her ears, “I w-would never ask you to.”

“You don’t have to ask.”

She felt gravity disappear from underneath her feet. Her eyes fluttered open. The sky was still dark, scattered with twinkling stars. She was in Gojo’s arms.

He looked down at her, “Hi, pretty.”

Her brows furrowed as she blinked sleepily.

“We’re home,” he muttered.

Her eyes flew open, “Your home?”

He paused-appearing to consider her question, “Can we go to my home?”

“No-no-“ panic swirled in her gut despite her drunkenness, “My home, only my home.” she mumbled off.

“Okay, okay,” he shook his head, “Knew you’d say that.”

She grabbed onto something when she felt herself lose balance. She focused to see that she was sitting on the edge of her bed, her hand gripping Gojo’s shoulder.

He was bent on the floor before her, his hands on her leg-unstrapping her heels.

He looked up at her, his turquoise eyes scanning her features, “You’re good, kitten. I got you.” His hand snaked up her thigh to squeeze her hip reassuringly.

Her fingers inadvertently dug into his shoulder, “I’m-I’m good?” she stuttered out, lost.

He nodded, his gaze gentle, “Yeah, baby, you’re good.”

She glanced down at herself, at the expanse of skin she was showing due to her mini dress. The dress barely covered her cunt while sitting. Her eyes widened when she saw the bruises starting to darken along her thighs—she remembered-flashbacks of his hands gripping her body roughly passed through her mind. He’d fucked her so hard-so ruthlessly-in the car before the party. All of it occurring against her will.

She bit her lower lip, trying not to sob, “I’m-I’m not good.” she whispered.

Suddenly his hand was at her face, cupping her cheek, “Yes, you are, sweets. You're such a good girl. The best girl.”

Two large hands were at her tits, squeezing heartily. A soft moan left her lips, her eyes fluttering closed.

Her hands slipped over his as she whined, “Toru..”

“I know, I know,” he groaned lowly into her ear, nuzzling her cheekbone as he caressed her tits more gently this time.

She glanced ahead to see her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was completely naked, her mini-dress a bundle at her feet. He towered behind her, nearly encapsulating her within his lean frame. His firm chest against her back.

He was fully clothed. It was hard to see him completely due to the dim lighting of her closet but she could make out the smooth planes of his features-his sharp jaw, his sculpted cheekbones—the veins running down his arms, his hands as he kneaded her tits.

His crystalline eyes met hers in the mirror, his breath hot as it trailed down her skin with each exhale. Goosebumps rose all over her body.

His hands at her chest tugged her closer-possessively, “You’re so beautiful, Ara..”

She stirred slightly, her eyes opening to see him propped on his elbow on the bed beside her. She felt his hand at her waist, thumb gently stroking her side boob.

Strands of his white hair tickled her forehead as he leaned closer, “Don’t sleep,” he whispered.

He pressed a probing kiss to her lips, “Not yet.”

He kissed her again, this time a little longer. His hand slid down her side, slipping out from underneath her nightgown. He took her hand, guiding her to touch the bulge at his boxers.

His breath hitched the second she made contact. He released her hand for a moment, shifting slightly before taking her hand again. He wrapped her hand around his cock-she swore she felt his cock twitch.

His hand tightened over hers, wanting her to apply pressure but she was only half-awake. He groaned lowly, slowly pumping his cock through her hand.

“Help me.” he spoke raggedly against her temple.

The bed shook and she glanced down to see her nightgown bunched up at her neck. She was laying on her side-a leaky, pink cockhead sliding between her thighs.

Gojo gripped her hip hard—short, desperate grunts leaving him with each harsh press of his hips against her ass. He had a steady pace going.

She was too weak-too sleepy-to move. Merely wriggling her hips when his cockhead glided past her folds. She moaned weakly.

“Sa..toru..” The feeling of his thick, veiny cock sliding between her thighs all too unfamiliar.

His fingers dug into her hip, lifting his head up from her neck to whisper-hoarsely, “I’m close, kitten, m’close.”

Her eyes fluttered open the second she felt a ray of light hit her eyelids. She shifted slightly to check if the curtains had been left open only to stop mid-movement.

Holy shit.

Everything hurt-bad. Her throat felt dry. Her body ached with soreness. And her head-why does it hurt so bad?

She fell back onto the bed, a low moan on the cusp on her lips-only to cut herself off when she noticed who she was lying beside.

She immediately looked over to see Gojo sleeping soundlessly. His eyes were closed, his long light lashes covering his under eyes. His pale face was a mask of relaxation, not an ounce of stress on his features. His white hair was a fluffy mess-facing every which way. His arm was outstretched, she’d been using it as a pillow.

She glanced down to see that he was shirtless. She didn’t want to check under the blanket to see if he was less clothed than that. 

She stared at him-letting the bits and pieces of memories from last night come back to her. A rollercoaster of emotions building up within her silently.

She’d let herself loosen up around him. She’d let herself have fun—and it’d been the most fun she’d had in eons. The thought was sickening. Absolutely sick. 

How could she have fun with him of all people?

After what he did to her in the car-after everything-she’d been nice to him. Her drunk self had been nice to him. Overly nice, in her opinion—she’d been all over him.

She wanted to puke. Why did I drink?

She shot up out of the bed, her hand going over her stomach as she breathed heavily. 

She felt the bed shift beside her and froze. She didn’t have to look to know he just sat up in bed.

She flinched when he stroked her back, “You okay, kitten?” his voice was deep-slightly raspy from sleep, “Gotta vomit?”

He took one look at her face and immediately scrambled to grab the bucket he’d set on the floor last night. The second he placed the bucket before her, everything from last night poured out of her.

She held the bucket like her life depended on it-despite Gojo having a hand on it as well. Her stomach lurched as she heaved multiple times. His hands slipped around her hair, holding it back as she bent over the bucket once more.

She heaved one last time and nothing came out. Her stomach was finally empty. She pushed at the bucket slightly–signaling she was done.

“You done?” he asked anyway, voice gentle.

She nodded, too weak to do anything else.

He cautiously moved the bucket away from her and handed her a roll of paper towels that was somehow on her nightstand. She couldn’t help but notice how prepared he seemed.

She wiped her face, watching silently as he grabbed the bucket and headed towards the bathroom without complaint. The second he disappeared from view a storm of emotions brewed within her.

Her hands trembled as she started to cry. Her body wracked with the force of her sobs. She covered her face with her hands, attempting to quiet herself but she couldn’t stop. Tears kept flowing down her face.

“Ara, Ara,” his voice felt distant to her ears, “Kitten..”

She felt hands come to her sides, enveloping her gently. She didn’t have the strength to push him away, instead she sagged against him—letting herself use him this once-just this once.

If he was surprised he didn’t show it.

She hated the inexplicable sense of comfort she felt in his presence. She wished it didn’t exist but it was there—he was always there.

She was a hypocrite-she knew she was but she was tired. oh, so tired. She wished there was someone else—someone else she could rely on. Someone who didn’t use her. But there was no one. No one but him.

Why did it have to be like this?

His fingers sifted through her hair gently, merely letting her sob in silence. Her body felt so frail against him like this, her small hands trembling as she held onto him. He drew her closer.

He didn’t bother asking why, he knew she’d never answer. She never answered in the past.

He knew she cried on her own time. Her puffy under eyes always gave it away-but she liked to pretend she was fine near him. He indulged her.

He wanted her to come to him on her own. He'd wait.

But this-he peered down at her-this was progress. She never let herself cry in front of him before. The few times he caught her, she immediately wiped her tears and gathered herself.

But this, this was different. She was clutching him so tight, sobbing so weakly—she needed him. She needed him to comfort her.

And he’d give her just that. He'd give her anything she asked.

All she needed to do was one thing… just one.

She needed to accept she was his.

The last thing she felt was his lips pressing her forehead when she went limp—succumbing to the emptiness of sleep.

previous chapter | next chapter

[livvyofthelake]

HONOR MY FRIEND HONOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!! first of all what she chose to do showed she had heart so jot that the fuck down!!! secondly gaten matarazzo KILL YOURSELF sorry i was just really profoundly affected by this movie. thirdly yes i cried. literally what if the only truth that mattered at the center of everything was love and it was beautiful…. what if our protagonist that fucking sucks found out that the only thing worth living for was actually love all along and she was wrong to be cynical and jaded because at the end of the day she’s a good person surrounded by people she loves that love her back in equal measure and she could never truly be capable of hurting them because she has such a big big heart….. what if our protagonist was on an initially selfish journey but found real true narrative defying love along the way and in the end that was all that mattered…….

furthermore. not one side character was slacking. kennedy? my best friend i LOVE weird girls. travis? literally chad danforth if he was in a paramount plus original movie about a girl that was kind of freaky and machiavellian. his lacrosse number was literally 8. that’s chad’s number…. gary? literally ryan evans if he was in a paramount plus original etc you get it. and then they got to kiss like real people do. hashtag justice for chad and ryan where’s that paper rings amv i have to post that later. honor’s mom? literally bread IS love mrs. rose…. and the way she said she thought michael wasn’t genuine from the start…. saying that in contrast honor always has been genuine even though she doesn’t perceive herself that way… went crazy. honor’s dad? i loved your deck honor’s dad!!! talia and emma? their henchmen swag. their sidekick realness. their bff slay. and they had such fun outfits too…. they could do tanya and rosie mamma mia. diesel? maybe he was right to bully michael. i stand with him in the end fuck michael. speaking of michael i love how they NEEDED to include one little bit of gaten singing. they were like this is 100% necessary to the plot, he needs to have a little singing moment NOW. anyway. travis’s dad? slayed. ally king! he literally just wants his gay son to stop being late for practice! coach bolton core! sorry i need to stop referencing high school musical. and the creepy guidance counselor? well i don’t want to say she was right to um. roofie him. but like. idk. i mean. well. creepy guidance counselor who keeps flirting with a 17 year old girl and insinuating that he’ll help her academically if she has sex with him vs morally ambiguous teenage girl who slips him a roofie so he won’t come onto her in a seedy bar with none of her friends around. like i’m on her side there i don’t care if what she did was bad. i love it when girls do bad things <3

ALSO. THE PLAY????? when she’s like oh did i forget to mention it’s a musical? i was like UM YEAH HONOR YOU LEFT THAT OUT!!!! and i was SOOOOO exited it was crazy. that was the REAL twist of this movie. i had a lot of fun with that ending if you couldn’t tell from the all caps…. when it went back to the “men don’t have to choose between love and power, why should a woman?” line i went crazy… why should honor have to choose between love and power??? she chose love and then she STILL blackmailed that creep and got her friend into harvard! and she’ll be fine!!!!! she’ll be fine!!! oh my god it was just soooo good seriously…. and in 90ish minutes too…. i LOVE a movie that can make me cry in 90 minutes i LOVE a short movie i LOVE to experience the breadth of human emotion within 90 minutes of a short ass movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS is movie of the year material FINALLY we are getting some fucking CONTENDERS for this shit. i can’t believe it’s april and only like. maybe five movies i’ve watched all year have really been contenders for movie of the year. ok well it was literally winter can you even blame me. anyway!! everybody go watch honor society xoxo

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hello! I saw you opened requests... May I ask for a female character x Tommy Shelby?

Here's the plot: the protagonist wants to kill him cause he's responsible of her brother's death. She knows he's vulnerable due to Grace's death and she gets close to him taking advantage on his need to have someone beside. A night of love is the perfect moment in which she can carry out her plan, having him alone, disarmed and off guard.. (So NSFW is perfectly ok 😝)

Whether she ends up killing him or not is up to you 🍷 surprise me ✨

I'd just like to have the female protagonist on the "dominant" part. Like... In the show Tom is always the one who wants everything under his supreme control and many fics depict him as such ... Well, he gives me totally opposite vibes, if you know what I mean 😂

That's all ✨ I'm looking forward to reading this! ❤

This was a super fun request!!!! I hope I got what you mean..... I tried really hard. Honestly kind of a slut for sub Tommy. Never thought about it before- but - I might be in love.

Any way because I'm such a softy I made two ending options.... I'll let you all decide which one I was more into ;)

Warnings: dealing with loss, murder, gang type stuff, seduction with bad intentions, sex, oral sex fem receiving, orgasms, kinda kinky, hopefully hot

Eventually the moment he was dreading was clear in view. The large house came into sight making his stomach turn violently. As if sensing it Charlie started to kick up a fuss. His little cries for his mother doing nothing to settle the pain in his chest. 

Grace was dead. This house was horrible. Charlie seemed to loudly agree in his own way. So why did he come back? 

Appearances mostly. He needed to get his feet back on the ground and settle the situation. The Russians had a tight rope around his neck, if only they would pull a little tighter. The Italians were waiting in the shadows like hungry wolves. 

Charlie’s pudgy little hand tugged on the white collar of his shirt making him hate himself for thinking such things. 

He got Charlie settled back into the house, envious of the sleeping child next to him. He had no idea when the next time he would be able to rest. 

There was a lot of work to be done. 

______

Readers POV

Growing up in a mob family was not what most people expected. Your brothers carried an unhealthy amount of pressure, while you were completely ignored.

The Shelby - Italian feud had carefully made its way to your family. Your youngest brother was to prove himself to the family & organization by killing the ever annoying Thomas Shelby. Not a simple task by any means. 

You wished it was you that pulled the trigger, you wouldn't have missed. The aftermath of Grace Shelby’s body crumpling to the floor left you with two dead brothers, and an engagement to a man you hated. They fought hard to get out but it was no use. He went for a grand shooting in the middle of the room, your other brother's attempt to get him out was useless. Your stomach twisted as you knew taking a shot like that was a suicide attempt… Maybe this was his way out of the family business. Tears stung your eyes and you shook your head, surely he wouldn't have left the consequences on his siblings? 

You felt trapped by this grief, maddened by it. The way everyone reacted, especially your father, started a mass unraveling of your whole life. You became buried under harsh realizations and questions on how you were raised. Everything started to evaporate once they were dead, leaving you with a drive to fix the unfixable. You knew that there was no way out of your life's path, yet your mind was determined, spinning in blood lust. 

You laid in bed as the cool summer air caressed your skin. Mind engulfed by every bit of information you had collected about what had happened. The cocky smiles of their faces the last time you saw them slowly fading, replaced by the heavier, more traumatizing memory of their broken bodies being returned to your family. 

The rest of the crime families your father associated with thought it pathetic, and embarrassing. Out of shame or fear from the Shelby family, people started to try and back away from your father. This meant you were requested to marry into the Changretta family. You were given the task to clear the family name, strengthen bonds, bring the business back, all well someone else got to destroy Thomas Shelby….

A plan had started to form in the absence of sleep. They were your brothers, it was your family given the task, naturally it should be you to complete the task. If you could kill Thomas your family's reputation would be restored earning you enough praise to slip out of the unwanted marriage. Not to mention they would surely benefit from the division of the Shelby estate. 

You drape yourself in black fabric and sit in church everyday. Asking for forgiveness, asking for a direction forward. More than revenge, you wanted a way to escape all this life. Killing Thomas just seemed like the best way forward. Looking at the statue of Mother Mary in front of you, her eyes filled with something you’d never felt. You wanted her to tell you what to do. 

No clouds in the sky broke, sending a beam of light into the room. No one descended from the sky. No messages fluttering from the grand ceiling. 

Instead a group of girls sat in the back of the church attempting to speak in hushed whispers. You were annoyed at first, until you recognised one of the voices to be Ruth Berryman, a known friend of Ada Shelby. You listened as she described the family's peculiar way of grieving the loss of Grace. How Thomas had disappeared and would be returning to the public eye in a charity event hosted at his house. She went on to speculate that he’d hidden himself away to drown in women and opium. 

You didn't have any opium, but you were remarkably pretty when you wanted to be… All you needed to do was dress up and sneak in, then get Thomas alone.

A silence fell over the space as Elizabeth Gray made an entrance. You pulled your scarf around your head a little tighter as you watched her slender frame fall into a seat. She looked exhausted, you felt a strange sense of sadness for her. The image of your brothers flashing in your mind pushed that feeling down until it was unreachable. 

___________________

Your parents were more distant than ever, no one noticed you plotting away in your bedroom. As long as you were on top of your wedding planning no one paid you any notice. The loneliness started to seep into your bones again, making you feel weighed down. You poured another cup of coffee trying to shake the feeling off. Everyone would see you clearly once this was over…

The night of the event had come around. You had an entrance secured and a clear exit plan. 

You looked over your body in the gold framed mirror. The fabric rested heavily on your curves. You would never normally wear anything like this, and you couldn't escape the powerful feeling it gave you. Your body was displayed in a way that was elegant while also being undeniably sexy. You pinned your dark hair up and did your make up. 

You’d never seduced anyone before but looking over your final look you felt it shouldn't be too hard.

You pulled up to the large house, leaving your car down by the road. You were late enough that no cars were pulling up the drive to notice your descent on the house. Your long black wool coat covered you from chin to ankle, making you look a part of the woven night. 

You made your entrance under a fake name and joined the mess without anyone thinking twice about you. 

_________________________

Tommy POV

He wished that this event had been unnecessary. The effort it took to stand about moving from conversation to conversation was almost unbearable. His bones were on fire, head pounding, all he could do was pour more whiskey and hoped it would take the edge off. The night dragged on, until a woman caught his eye. 

She was tall, wrapped in a tight red dress, and had a look in her eye. The room seemed to be swallowed by her presence, the light bending to wrap around her. Her dark eyes held a gaze that made it hard to breathe. She walked over to him like this was her house, tall and proud, despite not being invited. 

“Mr. Shelby.” Her voice floated around him like smoke. She looked content as he held the silence between them, searching her eyes for what secrets they were holding. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met?”

“Y/N L/N” She held her hand out to him. He knew she was lying but he couldn't help but the wave of desire that crashed over him and holding her slender fingers in his hand. 

They chatted for a while, no mention of Grace, or work. He met everyone of her lies and questions with honesty. He watched as his answers spun around in her eyes, she seemed conflicted, but not surprised. He wanted to impress her, but she was unmovable, like stone. She conducted the conversation, and decided which of his answers she wanted to elaborate on. 

Things started to wind down, and he regretfully had to remove himself from her presence to wrap the evening up. She showed no interest in leaving, pouring herself another glass of whiskey. 

Polly set in on him about how stupid this was, but he shrugged it off. He knew that there was something this woman wanted to say to him, he was determined to figure it out. Everything about her was weighted heavily with significance. She was here for a reason, maybe because of the Russians, maybe the Italians, but he felt it was something above business. She had nothing vicious in her eyes, there was something she wanted desperately, but it wasn't violence. 

___________________________

Readers POV 

Thomas Shelby was an interesting man. He didn't try to step on your toes, he let you lead the conversation. Never mocking, always hanging on your words. His answers were not what you expected. He wasn't what you expected. Every time you touched him you felt something bigger than grief for the first time in so long. 

Eventually he took you into his study to wait while he wished his guests well. You listened as his family loudly made their way upstairs. Stumbling and laughing on the stairs. Elizabeth Gray’s voice carried into the office as she laughed and poked fun at another Shelby woman. 

You thought about snooping around his desk but you were stopped by the picture of a woman staring back at you. 

His wife's eyes found the words in the back of your head and twisted them painfully. She was dead, and the sadness in him was still very visible to someone who was grieving just the same. Dead at the hands of your brother. He flashed before you and you started to feel sick. 

It was either this or be married. Unfortunately your mind was already set. 

Thomas entered the room slowly, his eyes dragging over your lounging body. The couch was comfortable and the fire light only made everything seem more warm and  intimate. 

“Sit with me?” It was meant to be a question but it came out more like an order. He looked at you for a moment before sitting next to you. He was so close you could feel the cold air still attached to his suit jacket. 

You didn’t want to talk anymore. It would only make this harder for you in the long run. You needed to get him out of his jacket, make sure he didn't have any weapons still on him. 

You raised your hand to brush your fingertips along the short hair on the side of his head. He closed his eyes, and leaned into your touch, your heart gave a twinge as the fire light only made him look more tired. 

You were going to fuck up if you kept this up. You dragged your hand down and tugged on his jacket, he wordlessly removed it. 

“And the vest” You whispered, there was something in his eyes that made you hate yourself. A wetness started to pool between your legs, even your own body was betraying you. 

You pulled your skirt up your thighs and moved to straddle his lap. His hands went to your hips to help settle you into place. You felt the power of sitting here on his lap, his eyes heavy as he looked at you. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” You asked in a smoky tone. His eyes flashed in a way that made you feel like gravity had increased. You were falling into him more and more.

“Yes” His tone was breathy and you wished things were different as you studied him. He was so willing to let you take charge. You liked being seen. 

He waited patiently for your mouth to reach his, he let your lips take charge, and you deepened the kiss slowly. He was breathless, cheeks flushed, his hands were digging into your hips painfully. You loved the way he clung to your body, how badly he needed you to take his pain away. 

Your hand wrapped around the side of his neck causing him to moan. You pushed his head back to rest on the top of the couch exposing the length of his pale throat. You went in for a deeper kiss, holding his neck firmly in place you—----

Option one: 

Take your other hand up to your chest and pull the small knife from between your breasts. Quickly you drag it across the skin of his neck. He gasped into your mouth as the blood started to rush down his body. You looked into his eyes and admired the love you felt. 

“Thank you” He whispered softly. You held his body while he left this earth for something better. He slipped away so peacefully you knew that it must have been more of a favor to him than anything. 

The house was quiet and you made your way to the window behind the desk and slipped away into the night peacefully. Things went back to usual in your family so you decided it was in your best interest to move on. The war got worse, Tommy's brothers took over and his Aunt was determined to destroy your family. You had the money, so you ran away, unnoticed, placing as much distance between you and Birmingham as possible.

Option Two:

You stopped suddenly. Looking over his face.

“Tell me what it is.” He whispered, pupils blown out. You knew that it would be suicide to tell him the truth. Death seemed like a friend you would greet with open arms. Your vision was filled with the photo on his desk, his wife. His dead wife. The smaller photos of a little boy. Eyes bright, motherless. You pressed your head against his and took a shaky breath. 

“My brother - I - I came here to kill you.” You watched how his face didn't change. Stayed just as relaxed and calm. 

“What have you decided then?” He asked like he was asking if it was raining. You knew a part of him wishes you would go through with it, just like there was a part of you that would be more than happy to die at his hand. 

“I can’t do it.” You said feeling a weight lift off of you. 

“Why not?” His eyes were back in focus now searching you. 

“You feel different -” You couldn't explain it. He was different and it was intoxicating. “And you have a kid upstairs.” You shook your head. You would either die right here, or you would go home to die everyday beside your husband. Either way you’d finally made your choice. 

His big hands ran along your body and you could see him weighing his options carefully. 

“Be a shame if either of us died without fucking first eh?” 

You nodded at his crude words and your mouths met again instantly. 

You both fought for control at first, ripping each other's clothes off, hands groping frantically. You ended up falling off the couch landing flat on your back. The texture of the carpet was surprisingly soft and the heat from the fire kept you comfortable. He parted your legs, leaning down towards you. You gripped a handful of the longer hair at the top of his head and used all your strength to push his head where you wanted it. He let out a deep moan as you pressed his face into your hot flesh. He submitted entirely and ate you out like he was starved. Tongue caressing you coupled with the sharp suction created by his mouth had you writhing. 

“Ah yes. So good. Fuck -Tom” Your words came spiraling out of you as he worked you over. His eyes flashed up at you with a different kind of need. He wanted to make you happy, he wanted to know it made you happy. 

You were getting close, but you wanted to cum around him. You pushed his face off and he got up on his knees, heavy cock standing proudly. You wrapped your slender finger around him, the walls off your pussy fluttering at the size of him. God he was going to destroy you. You could see he was about to lose his patience with your hand, you were naked and strung out. It was his time to take charge. 

“Are you ready?” You asked him, tightening your grip on him, you wanted to push him further. 

“Yes” He moved toward you but you only squeezed him further causing him to moan. 

“See if I’m ready” You whispered into his ear like it was a dirty secret. You felt his fingers push into you slowly and his head dropped to rest on your shoulder. You let out a moan when his fingers rubbed against the spot you needed him the most. 

“Feels so good, so good at stretching me open” You whisper, feeling his jaw clench against your neck. You wanted to see his face but wouldn't push him. You had no idea what you were doing or why it felt this good. 

“Feel how wet you made me?” He let out a deep groan and you felt his cock twitch in your hand. 

“You think I'm wet enough?” 

“Yes” He answered out of breath. 

“Are you sure? You're so big” 

“Fuck - Yes” He was so far gone and you’d barley touched him. You were fairly confident that you could make him cum just like this, and it would still be the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. 

“You want to fuck me now?” You pulled his cock against your wet folds causing him to make a small strangled noise. 

You took that as the answer it was, lining the head of his cock up with your wet entrance you guided his hips forward. You expected him to take over, rip through you to find his release, take his revenge. Instead he followed the wordless directions of the hand you had placed on his hip. This time it was your turn to groan. He stretched you out so slowly, soon you were at your limit. Taking all of him was a beautiful and painful task. Guiding him to pull out and slowly move back in pleasure won over the pain and your hips moved to meet his shallow thrust.

“God, you fill me so well” You felt his body melt under the praise. You guided his hips in and out of you slowly feeling yourself slip away. The pace got quicker gradually and eventually he was fucking you with a stregth that ruined you for anyone else. 

There was only so much you could take before you demanded he touch you. His thumb circled your clit, his body pushing you somewhere it hadn't been before.

“Please, dont stop - Tom - Ah - youre going to make me cum - fuck baby make me cum” Words spiraled out of your moth and he drank each one of them down. Fucking you harder, he took you over the edge, your body swallowing him. Walls rhythmically contracting pull him over the edge spilling inside you. He rode both of the orgasms out before collapsing on you. Your arms held him tightly, not wanting him or the feeling inside you to go. 

He broke your hold and held himself above you. His hand came up to caress the side of your neck and you took one last look of his blue eyes before closing your own. You tilted your chin up exposing his neck. You waited for his other hand to embrace your neck, for him to take your life. 

“Promise you won’t bring harm to me or my family.” 

Your eyes flew open and met his gaze. “I promise” He gave you a nod then pulled out of you slowly. His mouth moved to suck a deep mark into your throat before he pushed himself back inside you. After pulling another orgasm from you he cleaned the both of you up. 

“What are your plans for next friday?” He asked as you both sat on the floor in front of the couch. You were sipping whiskey and smoking cigarettes unsure of what to make of the situation that just happened. 

“I’m supposed to be getting married.” 

“For business or love?” 

“Business, my brothers couldn't kill you and that led to a lot of problems.” 

His face twisted briefly remembering the problems it caused him as well. He was quiet and you felt yourself yearning to apologize. 

“We both lost a lot because of this. I don't even know who started all of  it but I’d like to end it. Leave all of it, everyone and thing behind if I could” He studied you carefully before lighting another cigarette. 

“How bout I make a counter offer then?” His words hit you like a truck. Surely he couldn't be serious. 

“I’ll marry you. Take the territory that would have been handed down to your brothers. In return you can do what you like within reason and the fighting stops.”

You thought about it for a long moment. You thought about all the plans everyone was making, how much destruction was about to move into action.  

“Can I do what I like to you?”You asked in a cheeky tone, desperate to stop thinking about everything. You watched his gaze get hungry. 

“Most certainly” 

“I won't share you. With anyone, ever” The words were out of your mouth before you realized what you said. He may not love you, this may be for business, but the thought of someone else touching him and having him like that caused your blood to boil.

“Somehow I don't think that will be a problem” The corner of his mouth pulled up into a ghostly smile. 

You clink your glasses together and fell back into a comfortable silence, your head resting on his shoulder. 

___

They did get married, it was a business deal that ended the feuding. (Saving John) 

She freaks out about how to look after Charlie because her parents were so distant towards her growing up that she has no idea what to do. Polly and her bond over this. Charlie almost immediately gets attached to her. Eventually she proves herself to the rest of the family. 

She takes good care of Tommy, giving him someone to trust. But she's very opinionated and they fight a lot. Its explosive and usually ends with them fucking against any surface. She just wants the family to be protected and doesn't like taking big risks. So they balance each other out a little. Tommy’s calm and she’s so tired of being calm that the first chance she gets to lay into someone she takes it. 

The first time she had to kill someone it was to protect Charlie. She broke down after the situation because she almost did that to Tommy. Everything she had now - a family that loved her and respected her, a husband that paid attention / was kind to her, a little boy that called her mum and ran to her every time he was scared - She got all of that from Tommy - He has to hold her for hours before she calms down. That's when they realize that they really love each other.

Tags list: @tommydoesntpayforsuits @misselsbells06 @kpopgirlbtssvt

If anyone wants to be added to the list just let me know in my inbox!

[athletickat]

Top Reads 2020 Fanfiction

I started reading Harry Potter fanfiction this year (thanks to Tik Tok) and these stories I’ve read keep me up at night because I cannot stop thinking about them. 

#1- Manacled by @senlinyu

This is story is a MASTERPIECE. I cannot express how many times I’ve read and thought about this story. The way Hermione loves Draco and Draco loves Hermione is unbeatable. Hermione is a literal boss bitch in this story and my favorite Hermione in everything I’ve read. The build up, the tension, the CHEMISTRY; it is the best thing I have ever read. I could write a whole damn brook report on this story and be proud of it. This story is just... ugh *ultimate chefs kiss*.

#2- Rights and Wrongs series by @lovesbitca8 

The Right Thing To Do, All the Wrong Things, and The Auction are my absolute favorite pieces of writing ever. Draco Malfoy in this series is my horny king, and the best Draco in everything I’ve read. The Auction has a special place in my heart because of hard Hermione works to stay alive and keep the Malfoys alive, as well. All the characters in each story are so well written, especially the Malfoys, and I cannot express how in love I am with each little plot detail and connection between the stories.   

#3- Remain Nameless by @heyjude19-writing

I recently read this story and I cannot get enough of it. This is first fic I’ve read with a wedding scene (two scenes!!) and I cannot put it in words of how perfect it is. This story is all about the love Draco and Hermione have for each other, and it has set such unrealistic expectations for me...ugh. Every chapter had me smiling like an idiot and I could not put it down. 

#4- Cruel and Beautiful World by Lena Phoria 

I am so happy that Lena Phoria turned this fanfiction into a book, but nothing beats the original characters in this story. The way I fell in love with all the characters (except Voldemort, gross) is immaculate. This story deals with a lot of trauma and heavy topics, but the plot and the characters are just too good. Draco is a sweetheart and absolutely whipped for Hermione, but they need each other. I have never laughed so hard while reading a dark AU fic, and this story made my abs hurt. Definitely one to read.

#5- All You Want by @senlinyu

Holy shit. This story has the best smut I have ever read. The way senlinyu describes what's happening to Alpha Draco and Omega Hermione during sex makes me laugh out loud. It is so so good and so so sexy. It is such a fun story to read, and that’s why I love it so much. 

#6- Breath mints / Battle Scars by @onyx-and-elm

This story is the definition of toxicity, but honestly, it’s still so good. Both Hermione and Draco are changed after the war, and they fall in love by rage, sex, and protection of one another. Hermione does not give a single damn about what people may say about her, and Draco just wants her to be happy (although it does take a while for him to see what that really means). Plot and characters are amazing, and the ending is *chefs kiss*.

#7- Isolation by Bex-chan 

The first Dramione fanfiction I’ve ever read, and it has a very special place in my heart. I didn’t think I would like reading Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger fanfiction, but this story changed my mind and led to my spiral of reading such amazing stories. Such an amazing read, and I love seeing Draco grow into a man that Hermione deserves and loves. This story is iconic.

#8- Hunted by Bex-chan

Another superb story by Bex-chan. A Romance/Mystery story after the war and Draco and Hermione fall in love... hard. They are great together and the plot is amazing. This story is another iconic one for me.

#9- Love and Other Misfortunes by @senlinyu

Another great piece of work from the Queen herself, senlinyu. Draco is so stubborn it hurts, but it’s okay because Hermione is there to save the day (duh). Love these two and the romance between them in this story. Also, Veela Draco with wings and fangs is too much for me. Not that it’s important or anything, but the smut level is through the roof. Love it.

#10- Bring Him to His Knees by @willhavetheirtrinkets

Auror Draco and Auror Harry are an iconic duo. I love how intricate Draco is in this story, and how his past still very much affects his present, but Hermione helps him a lot, and it shows just how much they care for each other. Hermione and Draco dance around each other until they realize *wait* they have feelings for each other! It is not complete yet, but I do check every week or so for updates because it has a good murder mystery plot and a fabulous Dramione. 

#11- The Risk-Reward Ratio by MissiAmphetamine

War fic, and honestly one of my favorite ones. Draco sucks up his pride and goes to the Order for help, and Hermione is the only one who truly excepts him. Draco is a stubborn bastard in this story, but he makes up for it. The scenes are so real, and neither character is perfect, but you’ll see how far they are willing to go for each other. 

#12- The Just World Fallacy by MissiAmphetamine

Sequel to The Risk-Reward Ratio, and this one is tough. Still so good, but deals with torture, PTSD, rape, and more heavy topics. The love that still stands between Draco and Hermione even after all that they have been through together is beautiful. I love this story, and I love seeing how each character grows into their own person while during a war.

#13- Broken by @inadaze22

I have never cried so much while reading a story. This story made ME feel broken because Hermione is quite literally shattered, but so is Draco. It’s a story that makes you feel so many things at once and it is beautiful. Super slow-burn, but in the end, Hermione and Draco are meant to be together. 

#14- This World or Any Other series by @olivieblake

Clean and Marked are incredible stories with a rollercoaster twist. I love each character in this series, and the love that Hermione has for Draco, and vice versa, is the most powerful thing in this universe. The relationship starts with a potion assignment and just extends through there. I love their characters so much alongside the secondary characters and it makes the story so interesting. 6th year Hogwarts and continues with the war, but Draco and Hermione are always there for each other no matter what. 

#15- The Eagles Nest by HeartOfApsen

Ravenclaw Draco and Hermione, 8th year, and Alchemy. This story is so complex, and I couldn’t stop reading it. I love both Draco and Hermione and how they work to settle a problem together. Also seeing all the secret rooms in Hogwarts was another compelling aspect of the story that I loved. They know they need each other, and them being nerds and all, school is what brings them together in the end.

#16- Almost Perfect, Almost Yours by BelleOfSummer

I could not put down this story. No matter how much it angered me, and no matter how much I wanted to throw my laptop at the wall, I couldn’t stop reading. The plot is so interesting where Hermione is raised by a Pureblood family, but she was adopted from muggles, so she is Muggleborn. All the while her and Draco fall in love through their teen years and go through a war together. Hermione is a bad bitch and Draco is whipped (maybe not in a good way). They experience so much together, and in the end, you learn to love them for who they are.

#17- The Green Girl by @colubrina

Hermione is sorted into Slytherin and makes all new friends that do not include Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley. I freaking love this story because Hermione is a literal Queen, and the story itself is so well written. I don’t usually read T-rated works, but I could not put this one down because it has such an interesting plot.

#18- Erised Effect by @adaprix

Smut, smut, and more smut with such a cute plot. I love little Hermione as a bad bitch and big dick Draco as a little softy. I was hooked from the first chapter and it was so crazy. The sex scenes in this are just... *fans self*. This story is a rollercoaster of smut, but Draco and Hermione are my all time favs in this.

#19- Every Day, a Little Death by @lovesbitca8

Draco tries everything to satisfy Hermione, and when I say everything, I mean everything. Such a cute story with such a cute relationship. Hermione doesn’t mean to fall in love, but alas, Draco is a sex God and it was inevitable. I love this story!

#20- Crimson with a Silver Lining by Lady Cailan

A dark AU where Draco is mesmerized by Hermione and her will to stay alive. Their love is so strong, but alas, Draco is a stubborn bastard. This story is an emotional rollercoaster and another story where I could not put it down. Also *spoiler* some family drama going on throughout the story. 

#21- Bond by MrBenzedrine89

*fans self* again because this story is incredible. Love the smut, love the club, love the love between Draco and Hermione. Super interesting details in this story with Draco, Hermione, and the infamous Bond club. Loved reading this story.

I fell down a rabbit whole of Dramione stories this year, and it made me ignore everything I had to in my life just to read them. I can’t wait to see more stories this year and procrastinate my life by reading these stories!

[earlywrites]

any thoughts on tyrell? (does he cry during sex?)

hahaha, if very strong feelings are involved, he’d probably shed a few tears. for sure if robot had let him do what he really wanted to do on his knees in the arcade then he would’ve definitely wept with worshipful joy in the process, but aside from that i think it’d be more rare than you think? the sense i get from tyrell is that he’s frequently used sex as simply a tool to get something he actually desires more, so a lot of it is tied up in that emotional detachment. plus seemingly acting as a service top/dom for joanna for whatever duration of their relationship – to me i think he has sex for enjoyment somewhat infrequently, and it’s not a particular priority for him with a partner in a relationship compared to, say, emotional intimacy. as martin wallstrom said (or tweeted, can’t remember the origin), he can be a very romantic guy! man this is a meaty paragraph for something you probably threw in there jokingly but there you go.

aside from that, let’s see… a bunch of my tyrell headcanons are kind of tied up in this thing i’m considering writing a few months down the track, so i don’t want to talk too much about them since they’d be ~plot points~ in that, lol. one i will say is that i firmly believe that, unlike the aldersons, tyrell actually had a warm, loving family – but they were poor. not struggling as such but living very humbly, probably out in the country, since tyrell chopped a lot of wood in his youth. in that sense tyrell grew to resent his life and in particular his father for not striving to do better to provide for their family – to learn english so as to have a chance at getting a better job, saw his prioritisation of family life rather than sacrificing that to bring in more money as weakness and unwillingness to step up – and then drove himself to be everything his father was not by learning english, getting a university degree, leaving sweden for america, trying to furiously climb the corporate ladder, be the perfect provider for joanna and their child. i don’t know if sam is ever gonna explore that since we’re getting closer to the endgame now (probably not tbh), so until then thems the facts!

[sillyrabbit81]

The Instructor - Part 5

Summary: Augusts confronts your betrayal.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader

Word Count: approx 4k

Warnings: Dark, violence, abuse, choking, hitting, punching, orgasm denial, orgasm control, sex (p in v), mdom/fsub, switch, praise kink, degradation kink, name calling, dubious consent. I tried to mention everything if I missed something I sincerely apologise.

Authors Note: FINAL PART. There are probably going to be massive plot holes, sorry about that, this was never meant to be a series, so I didn’t do anywhere near the set up needed. However, I’m glad I did do a series because I enjoyed playing around with some of the darker aspects of the story. If it sucks, I'm sorry, I just went for it and this is what came out! It probably also isn't strictly cannon, but I made use of some aspects of the MI cannon.

Unbeta'd and unedited, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Part 4

The Instructor Part 5

You thought you had felt true fear before this moment, but you were wrong. Confronted with the unyielding stare of August, your stomach twists and your mouth goes dry. You’re completely and utterly fucked.

You try to answer August, make up a believable lie, beg forgiveness, say anything. But you can’t, it’s like he can see into your soul and you know that any lie you tell him will only make him angrier.

Quicker than lightning, August’s hands grip your throat. He pushes you to the wall, uncaring as your head hits it so hard your vision swims. Both his hands push into your neck, compressing your arteries and you feel the blood pooling, building pressure behind your eyes. This wasn��t the subtle choking he engaged in when you played. No, this was Special Agent August Walker trying to kill you.

You are stretched against the wall, your toes barely touch the ground. You are a trained soldier, but August is a trained assassin, you know you won’t last long in a situation like this, you will pass out in less than a minute. Then all August had to do was keep squeezing and you would be dust.

“Why, pet?” August asks through clenched teeth.

You can’t speak, you have no air. You plead to August with your eyes, silently begging him to stop. His hands press harder and you feel him crushing your trachea with his leathal hands. You scratch at his hands, his face, his eyes. You kick with your feet, frantic, feeling yourself get weaker by the second. You get one lucky shot in and for a moment August’s grip falters as he doubles over retching in pain.

You slam the palm of your hand into his forearms and he lets you go. You run for the door, your nudity the last of your concerns. Your throat hurts as you run, bruised and raw, you gulp breath in, coughing you try and fill your lungs again. You reach the door, pull the handle. It stops, not making a full rotation.

“Fuck!” you scream in frustration. You turn the lock and try to open in again. It does and for a brief moment you taste freedom.

A foot kicks the door closed and August is in front of you. You back away from him as he locks it again. In the unlikely event you live through this night, you will never forget the snarl on his face. You look into his eyes, expecting to see the eyes of a killer and August doesn’t disappoint. His azure eyes burn with such murderous intent, for a moment you think you are going to lose control of your bladder.

But there is something else there, something he tries to hide behind his fury. You search his face, trying to see past the mask and find what he is concealing. You wince when you see it. August was hurt. Your betrayal had hurt him.

“This is even more fun than the first time we fucked, Pet,” he says, mockingly. August advances on you with a bullish intent. He is magnificent as he stalks you, his loose pyjama pants hang low on his hips, his chest is taut and his thick ropey arms flex as he readies them for a fight.

You try and think clearly, maybe you should confess everything. He’s going to kill you if you don’t. If only you had long enough to check his records, but you couldn’t put your associates at risk if you weren’t sure.

Lifting your chin, you accept your fate. You ready a fighting stance, and August does too. You understand you can’t beat him, but you won’t die without a fight.

You dodge his first attack, and you’re not surprised that he led with his fists. He only needs one to land and he would break your bones. You retreat to the kitchen, praying its laid out the same as yours. Opening the draw with the knives, you pull one out. It’s not ideal, its weight wasn’t distributed well for fighting, but it was better than nothing. Your gun is in your room and you have no idea where August keeps his.

Turning the tables and going on the offensive, you make August back up and you move to the door. You hold the knife expertly, and as long as you keep August from getting his own weapon, the fight might be a fair one. You have so much adrenaline pumping through your veins you start to shake. The blade accentuates the tremors and August see’s, of course he would find your weakness.

“Put the knife down, Pet,” August orders, his voice was smooth, calm and commanding. You nearly stumble, his words sent shivers down your spine. How can he still have an effect on you? “You know I can’t let you out of here.”

You gage the distance to the door, it was still so far away. Your fear made you want to run to it again, but you knew it would be a mistake. Better to keep advancing slowly, forcing August back.

But August stops retreating and plants himself in front of the door. He stretches his neck, rolls his shoulders, his naked torso hides nothing and you see his muscles ripple under his skin. Your body and mind are in conflict, confused by the stimulus. You’re terrified of August, but fear of him and what he is capable of was part of his appeal, part of his savage, dominant sexuality. Your body can’t tell the difference and you feel it responding, your centre grows warm, throbbing and your arousal moistens the apex of your thighs.

“Please,” you murmur. Confronted with August’s obstruction and his dismissiveness of your threat, you lose hope. You feel weak and exhausted. Again, you contemplate confessing everything, but you aren’t a coward, you were realistic.

The cruel snarl on August’s face becomes a smirk as you plead. “I love hearing you beg, Pet,” he taunts.

He attacks again, this time grabbing a chair from the dining table. You try and duck but he is too fast for you and the solid wood chair cracks you over your head and shoulders. You stumble to the ground; your vision wavers and you nearly pass out. You try and get to your knees, but your arms won’t cooperate and you fall to the floor, no doubt you have a concussion. You look for the knife, see it about a metre away. With your head thumping and your heart racing, you scramble for it, but August reaches you first.

Gripping both your ankles, August uses your legs and body weight against you, flipping you onto your back. He pulls you to him, your skin rubs against the carpet and you howl with pain as you feel the fibres burn your ass and back. August climbs on top of you, his hands are at your throat again, squeezing the life from you.

“You’re killing me, August,” you try and say, but all you hear is your pathetic whimpers. You feebly punch and slap at August, but you are spent. You give up, you tried. You get angry at yourself for even thinking of giving up, but you didn’t know what else to do. You can’t win. Tears well in your eyes and start to roll down your cheeks. You squeeze them shut, ashamed that you cried in your last moments, that you gave up, that you didn’t fight.

The pressure on your throat relaxes, and you gulp in air, coughing and retching as your inflamed throat protests. You try to roll to your side to breath easier, but August doesn’t allow it, his body still traps yours and one hand still grips your throat. You feel his whiskered lips on your cheeks, kissing away your tears. You open your eyes and are consumed by his and the fire that burns within them. You wonder what your eyes are saying to his.

August shifts his hips and you feel him, hard under his thin pants. Your eyes widen, he really had been enjoying the fight. It scares you, feeling how hard and fully erect he his, aroused by trying to kill you. But you knew how hypocritical that was, because even now, terrified, a moment from death, you ache for him.

You roll your hips, sliding your bare, slick slit against August, the fabric of his pants harsh against your clit, but you feel him beneath it, and you can’t stop. You don’t want to but your craving for him was too strong.

If you didn’t know August as well as you did, you may have missed the surprise in his eyes. It came and went so quickly. His lip curled, triumphant, he had you where he wanted you, desperate, without fight left and completely his.

August’s arrogant look, his smug sneer, his complete domination of you made you lose the last shred of dignity you had and you beg for him.

“Please, please,” you whimper.

“You’re such a little whore,” August scolds you. “Do you think you can fuck your way out of this?”

You shake your head, “No.” You cry again, fat tears rolling down your cheeks in a constant stream, but you don’t stop your wanton grinding. You need to feel him inside you.

“Why are you so fucking wet, Pet?” August asks, his jeering tone warmed your face with shame.

“I don’t know!” you cry.

“Yes, you do, Pet.”

You try to turn away and hide from his knowing eyes. August won’t let you, griping your cheeks with his fingers, digging deep, the soft flesh pressing painfully against your teeth. Through your sobs you say, “Because I want you.”

“Beg me,” August’s voice changed, becoming low and hoarse. He starts to move with you, teasing you. “Beg for my cock.”

You don’t try to hold back, the words fall freely, “Please August, please.”

August tuts, “You can do better than that, Pet. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, August,” you sob. You’re ashamed of yourself, of how wet you are, how badly you want him, how easily you submit. But it feels too good, playing on the edge as you were, where fear and arousal become interchangeable, you had never felt such bliss.

Taking his pants off, August fists his cock as he takes you in, his gaze rakes over you, lingering on your desperate cunt. Lining himself up, he teases your entrance. When he slides himself over you, he groans as his eyes close and he throws his head back. You realise, you’re not as powerless as you thought, he wants you too and just as badly.

Bringing his head down next to yours, he growls in your ear, “Keep going, Pet. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck your hot little cunt.”

You start mumbling, “Please August, please. I need you.” You throw your arms around him, grip his ass and pull him closer. Your nails dig into his skin as you urge him into you.

With a violent thrust, August enters you. Both of you cry out, your twin shouts echo in each other’s ears. “You feel so good, pet. So wet and so fucking tight.” You mewl under him. He is stretching you, painfully. He offered your core no preparation and it protested his invasion, clamping down hard. August wasn’t fucking around, if he had taken any pity on you in the past, he wasn’t this time. He pumps into you, his pelvis making long driving strokes, your walls straining against the force of his cock, unready for his intrusion.

August hooks your knees over his arms and forcing your legs wider, he is finally sheathed. Increasing his pace, he uses you, furious, punishing and without pity. He offers you no pleasure, he takes what he wants. His face above you is twisted, angry, and hateful. This is payback, revenge, hurt me and I’ll destroy you. But despite that, or maybe because you feel you deserve it, a familiar pressure starts to build between your legs.

“August,” you beg. “I need to cum, please.”

Leaning down, pushing his weight onto your already strained legs, he brings his face to yours. His eyes are dark and sadistic as he says vindictively, “No.”

You groan. You were so close, you don’t know if you can stop it. “Please!” you howl. Fresh tears fill your eyes and you implore him.

“No.” August says, his voice cruel and merciless. “You cum and I’ll fuck your ass raw.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You try and think of all the parts of your body that hurt. Your head, shoulders, legs, the skin on your back rubbing against the carpet. But it doesn’t work. Your body is so warm, tingling, your skin feels alive and the pain is dull compared to the rapture you feel.

Your body is suddenly wrest from the floor. August withdraws from you and flips you onto your knees and violates you again. You feel August’s hand in your hair and he forces your face into the floor. You heard a thud next to your head, his foot is there, and he continues his assault, kneeling on one leg anchoring himself with the other.

You bite your hand to muffle your shouts, you don’t want to give August the satisfaction of hearing your pain or pleasure. You thought he was deep before, but now you feel every impact in your gut, your core uncomfortably full from his brutal jabs. You can’t stay on your knees, your legs too weak to withstand his punitive thrusts. August doesn’t care. He digs his fingers into your hips, holding you in place as he continues his ruthless assault.

Unable to stop it, you feel your release approach again. You try to deny it, but the savagery of August is too much. The feel of your bodies slaming together, the slapping of his balls against your clit, the sound of his grunts of exertion overwhelm you and you can’t stop yourself from whining, “Please, August. Please. I’m fucking begging you.”

You hear August’s malicious chuckle. “No, Pet.”

August seizes you by the nape, pulling you up to your knees and your back presses against his chest. Wrapping his hand around your neck, he holds you against his shoulder. His other hand moves over your breasts, kneading into them, squeezing them. His face is close to yours, you feel his ragged breath tickle your cheeks.

He starts whispering in your ear and he presses his rough hairy lip into you. “You fucking little bitch,” his voice was low, harsh and dripping with venom, but August can’t stop his desire from seeping through. “Who sent you to me? Who told you to whore yourself for me?” He pinches at your nipples, and you shudder against him writhing. His insults pushing you towards your climax as much as his touch.

“Was it the CIA?” he asks, sliding his hand down your belly to between your legs. Fear makes your heart skip, if he touched you there you would not be able to stop your orgasm. You try and pull away, but he is too strong.

“Did those useless government hacks, turn you into a fucking whore, or did you volunteer, Pet?” He slid his fingers over your slit, and one grazed your clit sending your core pulsing around his cock. You want to tell him he has it all wrong, backwards. He thinks he’s been caught, he doesn’t know he’s being recruited.

He slaps your clit with his palm, a quick flick of his wrists that shocks you and if August wasn’t holding you up, you would have doubled over in pain and ecstasy.

“Don’t fucking cum.” August orders, rubbing a calloused finger over your oversensitive clit. Then, he says, sadly and with regret, “You could have come to me, Pet. Told me. I would have protected you. I could have gotten you out.” His voice almost cracks as he adds, “We could have gotten out together. BE together.”

You want to tell him, you want that too. You didn’t mean to fall for him either, none of this was planned. His fingers dance over your hard nub, coaxing from you the orgasm he forbids. Frustration suddenly pours out of you. You fight him again, punching the arm he had wrapped around your waist, and between your legs.

“Why do you fight so hard, Pet?” he asks. Those simple words he said to you all those months ago rock you. It was his invitation to submit willingly rather than be pulled under by the force of his will. But it was different this time, it wasn’t just you at stake.

You beg again, “August…” It’s all you can say through your short gasping cries. You break out in sweat, the need in you was so strong it took everything you had to fight it.

“Answer my question and you can cum,” He says. You nod, vigorously, you don’t even feel shame at giving in so easily, you’re too far gone. He brings his face in front of yours. Your whole body is shaking under his touch as he draws your orgasm and confession out of you.

“Were you sent by the CIA?”

You shake your head, and whimper, “No.”

August looks into your eyes for a hint of a lie. When he can’t find one, he coos, “Good girl,” and you wriggle at his praise. He kisses you roughly, lips hard against yours. “You can cum now, Pet.”

With unrestrained cries, you finally allow the pressure in your core to grow. You feel your release roll over your contorting body. Your guttural shout signals you’re the arrival of your long denied ecstasy and tears streamed from your eyes as you succumb with immense relief.

August watched every second of your orgasm, his face studying yours as if to memorise every expression, until you were done and can’t hold yourself up anymore. He removes himself with a gentleness that was unexpected and he tenderly carries you to his room. Cradling your head against his chest, he kisses your forehead, muttering something you can’t catch and were too far gone to ask.

He lays you on your side, and you are so malleable and weak, you let him curl you into a ball before he leans over you. He lifts your chin and turns your head so you are looking at him. You give him a half smile, which he returns with a soft hum. His eyes go to your collar and a look of sadness crosses his face, a grief so intense you feel it too.

You don’t know what to say and neither does August. He does the only thing he knows how to do when he feels what some people call love. He fucks.

When August enters you this time it’s different. Although his thrusts are brutal and powerful, it’s not punishment. He is trying to make a connection, to see if there is something salvageable between you. He needs to know if he means anything to you. He drops his forehead onto yours, resting there while his eyes met yours. He holds your throat and his thumb plays with your thin golden collar.

“You’re still mine, Pet,” August says, firmly.

“Always yours,” you reply with certainty. And you were. But by the end of this night he would know he was yours too.

As if to seal the promise you made, August kisses you. His lips pry yours open and his gentle explorative tongue massages yours. When you kiss him back, you are surprised by the growl he makes in his throat. Feeling bold, you place a hand on his cheek as you kiss. He doesn’t pull away so you slide your other hand into his hair and you expect him to shake you off, like he did before. He allows it, and he slides his free arm around you, pulling your bodies together. The rhythm you find together is nothing like the primal fucking you two are used to. It seemed as though he was making love to you, as much as someone like August could.

You feel the warmth grow again and radiate from your core. August instinctively knows your close again and stops your kisses watch you again. “Come for me, my sweet girl,” he utters.

You fall apart. Your fist tightens in his hair, you tremble beneath him, while you call his name.

“Fuck,” he grunts while you fall over the edges, and he forces himself deep within you, splitting you, owning you as you feel him thicken and pulse, releasing his seed into your milking core. Then he breaks you by growling your name as he makes his final throes.

You’re both slick with sweat, but August doesn’t care and he brushes your face with kisses. He looks like he wants to say something, opening his mouth and closing it again without saying a word. He helps you get up and he walks you to his bathroom.

August runs you a bath, and he sits on the edge for a while, watches you while you bathe. He showers quickly before returning to his spot.

Finally, he speaks, but he looks away as he says it, and for the first time you see August doubt himself, “If not the Agency, then who?” He asks.

“We have no government affiliation,” you say.

He nods, “Why did they send you, was the plan always to use sex?”

“No, August,” you say honestly. “This was not part of the plan. I was only supposed to be assigned to you while I did my training. This assignment was last minute, I don’t even know how it happened.”

He turns his attention back to you and looks for the lie he believes he will find. When he doesn’t find it he asks, “Your aunt, was that a lie?”

“She’s officially missing,” you say. “Unofficially, she brought me into group.”

“Something doesn’t add up, Pet,” August says. “I’m don’t know anything that a hundred other agents don’t also know. What did they send you to find out?”

“You don’t get it. We don’t want to bring you down, we want to recruit you. I had to make sure you are who we think you are.”

You see a glimpse of understanding in August’s eyes. “Go on,” he prompts.

You watch him carefully as you explain, “My assignment was to find out if you were the one who wrote a certain manifesto making the rounds in certain circles.” He doesn’t blink. You smirk, realising he’s trying too hard to keep his face smooth. He is the one.

“And, am I?” he asks.

“You are,” you say moving down the bath. Unbelievably, knowing he wrote that poetic and chaotic brilliance made you hot again. “This operation is all wrong, too big for simple arms traders. You’re using the CIA to get the connections and resources you need.” You run your finger down August’s bare arm, tracing the ridges of his muscles and the slight protruding veins on his forearms. August watches you intently, trying to appear cold, but you see his breaths grow shallow and his jaw clench. “We have the resources to help a man like you,” You reach his hand, turn it palm up, and lay a kiss into it before holding it to your cheek. “’A man with vision’ Lane calls you.”

“Lane?” August says, he seems confused, and he should be.

“Yes, meet with Solomon Lane and you will get your new world August.” You take his hand off your cheek and fold down his fingers except for the middle one. You take him in your mouth curling your tongue around him, and sucking.

August can’t look away. Already thrown by being discovered, he is completely transfixed by your sudden seduction.

“How?” he breathes.

You open your mouth and show August his finger sliding down your tongue. You get out of the bath and stand in front of August. You move his finger down your body, between your breasts, over your belly and between your thighs. You slide his finger between your warm folds and you hear August groan as you rest him against your entrance.

You ask him, “Have you, ever heard of the Syndicate, Pet?”

End

Tag List

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @eldarwen333 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether

I have a feeling I missed someone, if I did, let me know!

[multifandomwhore-003]

Rules

Pairing: JJ Maybank x female OC

Summary: Two of the Pogues broke the infamous 'No Pogue on Pogue macking' rule, one of them happens to be the girl JJ has been in love with since they were kids, plot twist, the other guilty party is John B.

Genre: Maybe Angsty.

Warnings: Mentions of sex.

Gif credits to whom it belongs

𓆉︎𝙹𝙹 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚞𝚍𝚢 𝙿𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𓆉︎ REQUESTS OPEN, REQUEST HERE THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK Reblog if you like

"JJ, come on it's not that big of a deal! You're overreacting!" you defended yourself.

"No, I'm not you guys broke the rule!" the blonde boy spat.

"It's just some stupid rule," John groaned.

"That we all agreed to follow! If I haven't tried to fuck any of you is because of that rule!"

"Well, that's on you, not us," you argued, "Besides, we were just fucking. It's not sentimental or deep or anything like that. Well, maybe a little deep,"

"Oh yeah, how long have you guys been doing this?" he crossed his arms over his chest.

"A year," John and you replied with simplicity.

The other three teenagers were caught by surprise.

"Look, it's not as gross as it sounds okay?" you tried to cool them off.

"You live with him, I think is as gross as it sounds," Pope said.

"Thank you," JJ saw him.

"Okay, even if it is that's not anyone's business, since when do I have to come clean about my sex life to you?"

"Since you broke the rule," JJ frowned.

"Okay, this is just ridiculous," you chuckled, "I'm gonna leave for a while 'til you realize this is stupid, okay?" You got up the hammock.

"No," JJ stopped you, "We have to fix this right now,"

"There's nothing to fix,"

"You either stop the whole friends with benefits mess or you leave the Pogues,"

You widened your eyes.

"Okay, this has gone too far," John stood up, "JJ you do not get to choose over who we hook up with,"

"I- I agree with him," Pope muttered.

"So do I," Kiara raised her hand.

"Guys..." you were still shocked at their reaction.

"The whole reason why we made up that rule is that we don't have to split up due to a consequence of someone getting hurt," Kiara sighed,

"If you quit this now you'll prove to us that it doesn't mean anything to you; if you don't and you leave the Pogues, your next excuse for continuing with it will now be that you're not a Pogue anymore, so you have every right to keep sleeping with John and we'll have every reason to believe you have feelings for each other. It doesn't matter who makes the decision, either way, you know what's the right answer here,"

You hated to admit that Pope's logic made sense, but he was right.

"I'll leave the Pogues," John stated.

"Oh, so you do have feelings for her," JJ grinned.

"No, I'm doing this so you realize how much of an idiot you are," John let out, "Call me when you know," he entered the chateau.

JJ stepped out of the porch as well and hopped on his bike.

"All you had to do was end it," Pope turned to you.

"Seriously Pope?"

"Every time there's a friends with benefits situation, one always gets hurt," Kiara played with her hair.

"John and I are fine,"

"I wasn't talking about you or John,"

"Then who?" you sassed.

"Who do you think?" Pope snapped.

˙˚˙༓࿇༓˙˚˙

You proceeded to the back door of the house, he was there. Struggling with fixing the car

He wasn't trying to fix it, he was just trying to keep his mind busy. The idea of John having permission to do anything he wanted to you; he always knew you were gorgeous, but he also knew he couldn't beat up every guy who you hooked up with, but it was his best friend. His best fucking friend.

It should've been him, it should've been his name you moaned, cried, whimpered, and screamed every night. It should've been his lips against yours, his lips exploring your body. It should've been his hands that got the liberty to travel through everything. It should've been his hickeys, it should've been your nails against his back. It should've been his throaty voice against your ear whispering every single detail of what he desired to do to you. It should've been him, the one who got to see your face and how you came apart when he did you. It should've been him, the one who got to admire every inch of you. It should've been him, the guy who's loved you since you were kids. It should've been him.

But it wasn't. It was John B. John fucking B. John Booker fucking Routledge.

"Fuck!" He threw a tool away rubbing his hair desperately. He closed his eyes trying to recover his breath, as he opened them he tried to hide his hurt as best as he could. "Get the fuck out of here, Eve, really just- go fuck John B or any other guy you find,"

"You know you think out loud, don't you?" You smirked, "Yeah you always mutter your thoughts, most people can't really hear it unless they pay attention, or there's no sound around,"

He scoffed, "Well, if you heard what I was thinking I don't give a shit," he did, "As I said, just leave,"

"Yeah, I can do that," you stepped closer to him, "Or, we could solve our differences,"

"We already solved them, John's out of the Pogues so you can do whatever the fuck you want now,"

"Okay, let's say I do that. Would that help anyone? Would it make things better? The only thing I know is that you'll get angrier,"

He sighed.

"Why are you mad that I was fucking John? I mean the real reason,"

"You already know why,"

You stayed in silence for a few seconds.

"It only happened like ten times, you know?"

"No, and I didn't ask you either,"

"No, but just so you can stop telling yourself it was every night because it wasn't," you looked at him, "You know how hard it is to fuck someone who you know has been with half the population of this island? You get self-conscious, insecure. Until you stop caring and just find the next best body you can,"

He gulped.

"It should've been you JJ, the night that Topper broke up with me I should've gone to you, not John. But I didn't and I don't regret it,"

"You suck at making people feel better,"

"I haven't finished," you clarified rolling your eyes, "John knew it, I uh- I mean my voice-" you were now embarrassed, "Your name may or may not slipped out a few times,"

He suddenly got cocky. You were thinking about him while you had sex with John.

"Yes JJ, I was thinking about you every time," you heard him again, "Stop beating yourself up about it, because it was you, it is you and it will always be you," you confessed, "Now that you know my most embarrassing secret, go on and apologize to John,"

"I embarrass you?" He got a bit hurt.

"Wouldn't you be embarrassed by being hung up on the same person since you were kids? Seeing him be with anyone but you?"

His face flushed.

"We should've been with each other from the beginning, you know it, I know, even the Pogues know it,"

"So what now?"

"There are two options, we either ignore this whole conversation after I leave or we finally solve things like adults and we stop messing around,"

"What would the rest say?"

"They've always known we're endgame so shut up,"

"So it was that easy, huh?"

"Yep, it's always been that easy," you gazed at his eyes, "What are you gonna choose?"

"So, it's my decision now?"

"Mhmm," you hummed in response, "I already made mine but I have to hear you first,"

He bit his lip.

"So, what are you gonna do JJ?"

He placed himself in front of your body, "Hopefully, you,"

He pulled your waist and finally, after an entire life of wanting it, you kissed.

[softyoongiionly]

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness. 

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops. 

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u. 

Corruption.  

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.  

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.  

But the need to win was still present.  

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.  

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.  

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.  

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.  

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.  

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

It’s said to be the home a monster.  

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.  

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.  

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.  

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.  

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.  

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.  

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.  

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.  

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.  

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.  

It always has.  

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.  

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.  

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.  

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.  

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.  

Exhaustion was palpable.  

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.  

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.  

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.  

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.  

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.  

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.  

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.  

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.  

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.  

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.  

And there it is: the tower.  

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.  

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.  

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.  

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.  

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.  

The layout doesn’t make sense.  

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.  

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.  

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.  

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.  

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”  

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.  

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”  

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”  

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”  

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.  

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”  

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.  

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.  

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”  

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”  

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.  

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is-  what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.  

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.  

Beautiful.  

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.  

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.  

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”  

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.  

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.  

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.  

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”  

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.  

And this is what has kept you frozen.  

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.  

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”  

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”  

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.  

But he had vanished.  

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.  

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.  

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.  

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.  

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.  

You know you should be terrified.  

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.  

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.  

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.  

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.  

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.  

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.  

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.  

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.  

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.  

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.  

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”  

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.  

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”  

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.  

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.  

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.  

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.  

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.  

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.  

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.  

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.  

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.  

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.  

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.  

“She’s awake!”  

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.  

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.  

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.  

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.  

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.  

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.  

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.  

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.  

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.  

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”  

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”  

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.  

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.  

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.  

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.  

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.  

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.  

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.  

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.  

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”  

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.  

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.  

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”  

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.  

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

[mypoisonedvine]

Closer | Bucky Barnes x reader

I wrote this for @mariessecretfantasies’ 500 follower challenge, took me forever but it’s done!!  congrats on 500 love, although I bet (and hope) you’re well past that now.

my ‘prompt’ was a song, specifically Closer by Nine Inch Nails… so it’s filthy.  purely filth, no plot.  don’t say I didn’t warn you.  special thanks to @evnscvll​ for the proofread!

warnings: SMUT of course, mild(?) dub con, d/s dynamics, oral sex (m receiving), vaginal sex, anal sex (and the prep is...not that good), ass-to-mouth (i’m literally blushing as I type this oml i’m so sorry), mentions of blood, slapping, spitting, degradation, semi-public sex, pain kink, and some other generally unhygienic behaviors…  this isn’t a dark fic per se but it’s got 0 fluff.  not even one ounce of fluff detected.  definitely no aftercare lmao.  ain’t nobody got time for that.

word count: a bit under 3k

He couldn’t drink anymore-- well, he could, but he couldn’t get drunk, so there was no use.  Couldn’t get high on any drug, either.  Pain didn’t affect him the way it did other people.  But everybody has their vice, their way of hurting themselves to feel something when they can’t feel anything else.  You were his, and he was yours.

You couldn’t even remember now how it started.  There was definitely alcohol involved, but past that you weren’t sure what had compelled you two to stumble into bed together.  Even at the time you had realized it was irresponsible and probably not worth the trouble, but it seemed inevitable in some weird way.

That was how it always felt, actually.  Like tonight, when he met your gaze from across the bar.  His eyes were so dark, demanding-- it made you shiver even though it only lasted for a moment before he looked away, pulled into conversation with Bruce.  But you knew what it meant.

Didn’t matter anyhow; it was a big party, the whole crew and nearly all of the Tower staff were crawling the halls.  There was no guarantee of privacy at a time like this.  

You were chatting with Wanda when you felt a hand slip around your arm, pulling you back into somebody’s form-- of course you knew it was him, you could tell by the roughness of his skin, the smell of him, the way he pressed against your back…

“Can I speak to you privately for a moment?” Bucky requested with poorly-suppressed irritation, his lips almost pressed against your ear.

“S-sure,” you stumbled over your response.  You got the sense that there wouldn’t be much speaking, but you couldn’t turn him down in front of these people without giving yourself away.

And that was how you ended up in a broom closet, pressed against the wall with his tongue dominating your mouth and his hands somehow feeling like they were touching you everywhere all at once.

“Buck, wait,” you managed to murmur against his mouth as his lips crashed into yours.

“Tired of waiting,” he growled in reply.  “Turn around.”

You didn’t even think to question it, just obeyed his command blindly as he slammed you into the wall and began pushing your dress up, pulling your underwear aside.

“Not here,” you groaned.

“Shut up,” he hissed.

The absolute second that his cock was free he was shoving it between your legs and fucking you with unmatched speed and ferocity.  It nearly burned, the way it forced you open, but it was exactly what you needed.  You arched your back to accept his length more easily, your head falling back in pleasure.  He responded by grabbing your hair and pulling it until your back arched even more.  

“Oh god, Bucky,” you whimpered.  In response, he slammed his hand over your mouth and fucked you even harder, as if it were punishment; he didn’t like when you said his name in times like this.  He didn’t want to think about who he was, or who you were, or what the two of you were doing.  He just wanted to feel you and nothing else.

Funny how a man who’d been unwillingly brainwashed actually craved the chance to forget.

His other hand moved from your hair and slipped down between your legs, roughly rubbing your clit as your hips bucked and thrashed in response.  He held you still through it, biting down on your neck hard enough to make you worry about the skin breaking.  But he knew by now that you liked the threat of pain, which is why he slipped his left hand down from your mouth to your neck.  The sound of your breath halting to silence was so perfect that he had to bite his lip to keep from moaning.

Already your vision was spotting into darkness, starting at the corner of your eyes and moving in.  As you lost your connection with the visual aspects of your reality, everything else became stronger, and it felt like you were somehow seeing better than ever.

He stopped thrusting and leaned closer to your ear.  “When I let go of your neck,” he explained quietly, his voice dark and rough, “get on the floor on your hands and knees.”  

He released his grip and your lungs sucked in air faster than they could handle, making you cough and sputter a little.  Still, you turned around to begin following his instructions.  You got a better look at him than you had before.  His eyes were so blown out that they were nearly black, watching you with hungry rage.  Or maybe it was raging hunger.  

You felt his gaze follow you as you stepped around him, bending down and getting on the floor.  It was cold and a little bit gritty, both of which made you shudder.  You became aware of the wetness which had leaked from your opening, smeared over your thighs and made an uncomfortable patch on the edge of your panties.  You didn’t have to worry about that much longer, though, as he kneeled behind you and ripped them off.  

“Buck, I need those--”

He slapped your ass, with the vibranium hand.  It was so hard that you perceived the sound before your body processed the pain.  As you lurched forward, your squeal of pain tore and cracked in your throat, so much that you could barely recognize it as yourself.   

One hand slid your dress up further, admiring the warmth and smoothness of your skin, two fingers running along your spine; the other guided his cock to your pussy again.

You weren’t quite ready, not exactly wet or warmed up enough for this angle.  You were sure this was the most your body could take, if not a little bit more.  The way he pushed into you-- ignoring the resistance of your inner walls, your skin breaking out into goosebumps, your arms and legs quivering-- put you entirely at his mercy.  Just as you were about to cry out in response to it all, he roughly shoved three fingers into your mouth: flesh, sweaty and dirty, tasting slightly of scotch and gun oil.  They pushed your cheeks out from the inside, stretched your chapped lips until they cracked and you tasted blood.  You swirled your tongue around them anyways, ignoring the way it caused drool to lewdly drip down his hand and your chin.  

He smiled, in a twisted way, as he looked down at you.  “You need it so bad, don’t you?”

You nodded feverishly, groaning around his fingers and letting your eyes flutter shut.  

He used the hand on your back to guide your movements, watching your body as it swallowed his length to the base.  He could tell you were struggling with his size, and he was almost impressed with your fortitude.  Unfortunately for you, it only made him want to push you further.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he grabbed your arms at your elbow and held them behind your back, using them to keep you upright as he slammed into you.  Each thrust made your knees scrape on the concrete, and your shoulders were twisted into an awkward position that made your muscles burn, but you didn’t care.  All it did was add tinder to the flame of pleasure.

Tears stung the back of your eyes.  You always cried when he fucked you like this, and he either didn’t care or didn’t notice; it was just so intense, you couldn’t stop yourself.  You would probably be bleeding when he was finally done with you, and you would definitely be sore (on the outside and inside) tomorrow.

“Gonna cry, bitch?  Can’t take it?” he hissed.  You always got wet when he talked like that.  Then again, you got wet whenever he talked at all.

Your voice came out hoarse and cracked when you spoke.  “Harder,” you barely managed to grit out through your teeth.  

Instead what he did was pull out and flip you over, slapping you straight across the face.  There was nowhere to hide from him now, with your legs spread and your clothes torn to shreds, so you didn’t even try to suppress the moan when he hit you.  He grunted and hit you again, spinning your face the other way.  You wanted to ask him to hit you again but he just shoved himself inside you again, putting his weight on your neck as he wrapped a hand around it.  You couldn’t moan but you could arch your back; he pushed down on your stomach until you couldn’t do that anymore either, and it forced your g-spot to push right into his cock.  You would’ve screamed if you could; it felt so fucking good, too good, too much all at once.

Who could say how long that went on for?  It didn’t feel subject to time or space, it all just felt like sensation-- sensation which washed over you until you didn’t know how to experience anything else.  So often our bodies feel like machines, slaves to routine.  A body which must rise in the morning, rest in the evening; a mind which must toil over the past and worry for the future.  Now, you didn’t even know your own name-- you didn’t even understand what a name was for.  Your only purpose now, and your only goal, was to feel.

That was what you craved about this: the chance to forget about everything else.

At some point you were pulled back into reality by the way he was manhandling you, tossing you back onto your knees and pulling your body flush with his by your hair.

“Beg me to let you come,” he growled, but you couldn’t even think long enough to put a sentence together, let alone actually get it out.  He bit down on your shoulder and you whimpered in pain.  

“P-please,” you sighed-- it came out so quiet that even you could barely hear it.  His teeth sunk in deeper; you tried to say it again but it was caught in your throat.

He pulled your head to the side by your hair, and slapped the half that was exposed.  “Beg me to let you come,” he repeated, slower, “you dumb fucking whore.”

“Please… please, let me come,” you mumbled.  

“Louder.”

You hesitated, about to remind him that the hallways outside probably had people passing through and someone might hear you, but your hesitation was rewarded only with more violence as he hit you again-- even harder than the last time.  You yelped and bit down on your lip.

You hadn’t realized how weak you were until he let go and you instantly fell to the floor, your hips held up by his hands but your face pressed against the cold cement.

“You can come,” he decided, almost flippantly, as he fucked into you deeper and harder.  It seemed like he knew your body better than you did: he made you come faster, for one, and he saw it coming sooner as well.  It was slightly embarrassing, but then again, you were on your knees in a broom closet so that was sort of beside the point.

It seemed to hit you all at once, and with no sign of stopping.  You reached up to claw at the wall but it did nothing to keep you stable as shocks reverberated through your body.  You were about to space out again when you felt the metal tip of his thumb press against your tighter rim.  

“W-wait,” you gasped, but he pressed in further and your words were lost to a whimper.

“Oh, you can’t play innocent with me, sweetheart.  I know you want me to fuck this little ass.  Go ahead, say it.”

“F-fuck my ass, please,” you begged.  It sounded shameless, but there was certainly shame (and fear) tingling in your gut.

The thumb pushed in all the way, and before you could deal with the way that felt, it was replaced with two fingers.  You hissed from the sting, but willed your body to relax as you fell back into that headspace and simply let everything happen to you.  

The transition from two to three fingers was barely noticeable.  But you definitely noticed when he pulled everything out of you, guiding the head of his cock higher up.  He moved your hips closer as you went limp in his grasp-- a drooling, mindless fuckdoll who, apparently, spread your legs for him whenever he wanted.  It was some undefinable mixture of demeaning and liberating.

His cock pressed against your opening, and when it finally pushed past the tightness with a nauseating pop, you bit your lip.  

You almost felt prideful when you heard him moan; he was usually pretty quiet.  How you managed to feel any sense of achievement or value when you were face down in a broom closet getting fucked up the ass… that was a different issue.

He didn’t give you much time to adjust as he picked up his speed, fucking you so much gentler than he ever did but still rougher than you were expecting, somehow.  Each time he was buried all the way inside, you felt like you were miles beyond your body’s limits, fuller and wider than was possible.  It made you wet, uselessly.

When he moved faster, his balls slapped against your pussy and you could hear how much you were loving this, even as disgusting and painful as it was.  He leaned forward to push your face into the ground and fucked you harder.  The new angle pushed him even deeper, opened you up even more brutally, and you couldn’t suppress a cry of pain.

“How’s it feel, huh?” he taunted.

“It hurts,” you told him with a voice much whinier than you intended, but you weren’t exactly complaining.  And you definitely weren’t asking him to stop.

Not that you were worried that he would.  If anything, it only inspired him to push you further as he grabbed your hips tight to slam you back onto his cock.  

He didn’t announce that he was close, but you could just barely tell based on the way your hazy brain couldn’t ignore the rapid increase in his thrusts.  A broken growl was your signal that he was filling you with come but you were too numb to feel any difference.  He kept fucking you through it, only stopping once every drop was inside you.  When he slowed to a stop you sighed with relief, wincing a little as he pulled out and trying to ignore the lewd way that your hole flexed and constricted.  You felt his come leaking as it dripped down over your pussy, down your thighs and onto the floor.  

The smell in this cramped space was inescapable, and putrid, and only now did you really become aware of it.

“Don’t just lay there,” he scoffed as he stood up, “come over here and get on your knees.”

At this point, you were so well-trained that you were obeying his words before you’d even processed them or taken the time to question what his intentions were.  

You looked up at him with watery eyes as he stroked his cock right above your face.  He was looking at you with the most uninterpretable expression… cold eyes, tightened jaw, lips curled into a grimace.

“Clean me off,” he demanded, shoving his softening length into your mouth, “come on, clean my cock off.”

You grimaced but did as he asked, sucking and licking as it slid down your tongue and back into your throat.  Didn’t take much of him for you to start choking, considering his size.

“Breathe through your nose,” he offered as a solution, but you had been trying to avoid smelling or tasting it.  You didn’t even want to think about it.

You even took the time to lick his balls clean, too, and they tasted like your own arousal, bringing back some memories which managed to disturb you in spite of their recentness.  When he was satisfied, he pushed you back onto the floor by your throat, and you swallowed thickly.

As per usual, he said nothing as he stuffed himself back into his jeans, or as he made a hasty exit.  When he shut the door behind him, you were left there used up and tossed aside; dress ruined, mascara smeared, panties torn, come seeping out of you, gasping for breath.  You had no plan for getting out of here without everyone seeing you; you had no plan for getting out of this sick, addictive cycle with him.  In the meantime, you would sit in the empty room and wait for the blood flow to return to your numbed extremities, wait for the aftershocks of arousal and orgasm to subside, and let yourself bask in the comfort of the dark.

[koko-bopp]

Cops & Robbers

park jimin x male!reader

word count - 3K

genre - SMUT

contains - MALE GENITALIA MENTIONS, kinda soft-dom!reader, bottom!jimin, unprotected sex, little bit of dirty talk, talking about consent and safewords, handcuffs, blowjobs, fingering, missionary anal, aftercare, plot twist ending

synopsis - You've been dating Jimin for a while, you're both everything the other could want. But Jimin isn't all that he appears; especially with your job as a police officer, you thought you'd be better at spotting it.

"Do you like it?" Jimin asks, a knowing smirk on his face, one that you've come to learn that meant Jimin was going to get exactly what he wants. The robe he was wearing dropping to the floor, revealing the white lingerie wrapping well around his sun-kissed skin. It made him look so elegant and so desirable, he spoils you like this a lot, almost making you wonder how you scored just a selfless boyfriend. "It's all for you, officer," he purs.

You couldn't help yourself to lick your lips, Jimin using your occupation as leverage to feed both his and your craving. It takes you a second, maybe a blink, but you drop your jacket to the floor, kicking off your shoes and head over to your boyfriend, carefully pushing him on the bed behind him so he was lying on his back. "You look beautiful," You express, watching a gasp leave his lips as you drag your hand down his curves.

"You look tired," Jimin pouts, bringing his hands up to your hair, slowly bringing them down to cup your cheeks, "Do you wanna talk about it first? Is it that thief again?"

"It's ridiculous, the amount of paperwork I need to go through because of him," you chuckle a bit, leaning down to place kisses along Jimin's jaw, "We don't even know what he looks like, there's a partial fingerprint at the last bank; but I honestly don't think it'll lead anywhere.."

Jimin sighs when you reach up to kiss his lips, using the back of his index finger to trace down your cheekbone, before pulling away to look at you with sympathy, "I'll fight him myself if he keeps overworking my baby like this."

You didn't stop yourself from laughing, pressing a kiss on his lips again, "Baby, can I go rougher today? I'm just... I'm just really frustrated.."

Jimin nods, "Of course," his eyes not illustrating any sign of discomfort. You had that transparency with your boyfriends, you could be honest with each other, and it was something you appreciate. Jimin's gaze drops to your wrist, the glistening from the moon outside hitting the gold and silver, "You're still wearing it?"

You look down too, furrowing your brows, "Why wouldn't I? You bought it for me. I even told you not to get me a birthday present."

Jimin grinned, a little smirk on his lips as he brought himself up a bit to bring your faces closer, invisible thoughts going on through the blonde's head as he pushed his hips against yours, watching you bite your lip; taking the opportunity to properly pin Jimin to the bed, hovering over your boyfriend with the moon hitting his skin like he was an angel of a sort.

"What's the safeword, honey?" You ask, tracing your hand down Jimin's body, watching him shiver at the contact.

The word you were looking for came out as a broken moan as you had begun placing kisses down your boyfriend's neck, the reactions his body would provide were immaculate in your eyes. His body would jolt upon you touching, licking or sucking all the places you'd memorised.

Yourself and Jimin have been dating for almost a year, you had met him at the scene of a bank heist. He was shaking and crying when you'd seen him, not the best way to meet the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, but the world works in mysterious ways. Jimin also worked at the bank, his job took up a lot of his time when you two first started seeing each other but so did you job; catching bad guys and all. However, you and Jimin made it work, he likes to spoil you a lot even though you try to reject his advances; how could you say no to such a beautiful face.

"F-fuck, officer–" Jimin moans, you smirk against his chest as you had begun palming his crotch, feeling the muscle grow more underneath your touch as Jimin enjoys the pleasure.

"On your knees, kitten. Bring your hands in front." You get off the bed, standing up while your boyfriend fixes himself to sit on his knees and look at you. Carefully taking off the handcuffs from your belt, unlocking them the way you were taught, and followed by slithering the metal on your boyfriend's wrists. They glisten around the skin, the contrast looking almost majestic, "That's a good boy," you grin, a little gasp escaping from Jimin's lips as you grip his chin, forcing him to look up at you, "Now suck your officer's cock, honey."

With your help, Jimin undid your pants, using his teeth to pull down the zipper, never leaving your gaze or dropping eye contact. The sense of authority you illustrated making him hard and leak.

"Fuck," you groan, furrowing your brows as Jimin excitedly licks from the base right to the tip. Looking at you with puppy eyes, getting a rise out of the sounds you make. But you reach up to grip onto your boyfriend's hair, "Do it properly, baby. I want my dick down your throat."

You caught your boyfriend grinding down on the mattress, "Yes, officer," Jimin immediately coats his lips in saliva and taking your full length into his mouth.

Your job always required you to be firm, it was a surprise to Jimin to see how gentlemanly you were. The first time you two had sex, it was passionate and dirty, you'd bought him to your place, promised him he could moan as loud as he liked. The night was followed by breakfast at midnight and Jimin being treated like a prince, he could comfortably say he thought about marrying you at that moment.

The moans spilling from your mouth with how far he was taking you was music to his ears. Jimin loved pleasing you, probably just as much as being pleased by you.

There was saliva falling from the centre of his lips at he sucked on your cock, falling to the floor as you couldn't help but bite your lip at the sight; Jimin's eyes tearing with how far down his throat you were. "M-mhm, Can't my baby take it anymore?" Jimin nodded his head, mouth full but he tried his best to push himself further. You watched him grind on the mattress, his dick peaking through the white lingerie, leaking with precum and practically erect. You couldn't help but chuckle breathily, "You got hard sucking my dick, didn't you? You greedy, greedy pet."

Jimin's stomach knots at your words, the arousal dripping from your mouth as you pushed Jimin's head to take the entire length, his blonde strands flying through the grip you had on his hair and his eyes welling from gagging on your cock. He loved this, being so far from in control, using him to make you feel good, the way you were groaning and biting your lip, the uniform making you look so attractive.

"S-shit, baby, you want me to cum in your mouth? Huh? You want my cum down your throat?" You asked, clearly rhetorical, but Jimin eagerly nodded his head, sucking harder to fulfil your needs as you furrowed your brows at how sexy your boyfriend looked. He's so pretty like this, lips apart to take everything, "Hm, you better swallow like a good boy."

Jimin's eyes gloss prettily, cum falling from the corner of his lips, the crimson eyeshadow he had on smudging from the few tears that tumbled off his cheek.

Your chest was heaving, a grin on your lips at the sight of your boyfriend. You graze your thumb against the skin of his cheek, providing Jimin with a sense of comfort followed by a kiss on his forehead, "Do you want your reward?"

"Y-yes– yes officer," Jimin's eyes beamed.

"Hm, you're so hard for me, baby," You snicker, carefully pushing Jimin back so he was lying down with his leaking dick for you to see. You smirk, roughly cupping Jimin's crotch only to watch him arch his back with a loud moan erupting sinfully. "How embarrassing, honey. You go so aroused from just sucking my cock?"

Jimin's hips were slowly grinding up, he had no way to stop himself, he was becoming so desperate with your teasing, "Officer," he looks away shyly, raising his hands above his head, "Please... Please fuck me. I want you so so bad.."

You lick your lips, grabbing the lube sitting on the bed and placing just enough on your cock for Jimin's comfort, though not before getting on top of him to hook his legs around your waist. Jimin took the moment to bring his hands down to unbutton your navy shirt, but he didn't make it all that far because you gripped his wrist to pin them above his head. His brows furrowed at you, but you kiss his lips to take the pout away, "Be good for me, baby. I wanna hear you scream."

Moans were spilling from Jimin's mouth as you fucked into him with ease, the bed creaking ever so slightly each time you thrust. Your unoccupied hand moving to grab his hips to get much closer to him, making sure his ass was meeting the hilt of your cock, that he was feeling absolutely everything and that he knew you had every bit of dictation over his orgasm. "O-oficer! Nghh–!" He cried, his breath hitching every time you pounded back into him.

"Louder, baby, let the neighbours know how good your man fucks you," you taunt with your breath against his ear, groans emitting from you with how much pleasure Jimin was providing.

Your boyfriend bites his lip as he accidentally bucks upon your cock hitting his prostate, "Officer! Ah! Baby, right there! Please please please–"

Doing as he asks, you position yourself at that angle, muffling Jimin's cried with your lips, letting your chests heave against each other. The atmosphere clouds with passion and dedication as you feel Jimin clench around your length, "Shit, you gonna cum, baby? You gonna cum all over Officer's cock?"

Jimin frantically nods, his eyes barely keeping themselves open with how fogged up his mind is, just the feeling of your dick thrusting into him and how good it feels occupying his entire consciousness, "P-please."

"Of course, baby."

The moment it shared with Jimin arching his back and you burying your head into his shoulder, kissing down to suppress grunts as your boyfriend spilled cum all over his stomach. You watched his whole body tremble at the sensation of the orgasm, his hole barely letting go of your cock as you pulled out carefully.

"I got you, you did so well for me," you press kisses on Jimin's cheeks as you undo the handcuffs, throwing them to the side as Jimin cracked a small smile at your antics.

"You made me feel good too," he grinned with tired eyes, wrapping his arms around your neck as soon as you'd wiped the cum off his stomach and you couldn't help but place a peck on his nose. "I'm sorry, baby, but could I have some water...?"

You rolled your eyes, kissing his lips once again, "Of course," you reply softly, "Wait here."

A little, happy smile on your lips as you fix up your pants and head downstairs to cater to your boyfriend. It was remarkable that you would literally jump off a plane for Jimin if he asked you to, you really loved him and he always finds a way to make you smile; how could you not love him.

A playful whistle flies through your lips and echoes through the dark kitchen. You could still find your way around it since the space wasn't pitch black, reaching to grab the cup from the shelf and using the filtered water-tap as you patiently wait for the glass to fill; though the sound of your mobile phone in your pocket cuts your soft whistle.

"[L/N] speaking," you answer, turning off the water tap now that the glass was full.

"Sorry for calling so late, [Y/N], it's Kim," the sound of your supervisor's voice emitting from the other end of the phone got rid of your casual behaviour, your back straightened itself out of reflex as Namjoon spoke, "I wouldn't call unless it was urgent; there's been a breakthrough in the Jeon Bank case and I felt it would be more appropriate to tell you now than later."

You furrowed your brows as you kept the phone at your ear, "No need to apologise, I'm all ears."

Namjoon started; "Amongst the thousands of dollars that were stolen, we can honestly conclude that the heist was impressive. The only thing that didn't make sense was amongst the money, the thieves took a more tangible item," Namjoon explained, you could hear the male flip through papers on his desk while you listened carefully, "[Y/N], a watch was stolen."

"A watch?"

"And not just any watch, a Patek Philippe in white-gold. It's worth up to 21 million dollars and the Jeon family purchased it, they didn't think it would go missing because it was in the vault hidden in a door behind the money."

You bought the tip of your thumb in between your teeth in thought, "Sir, are you saying the money was just a distraction?"

"That's what I'm thinking."

Patek Philippe... Why did that sound familiar? You're not in much of a position to be surfing for watches on the web, especially when you can just tell the time on your phone, but the name didn't sound distant.

It was when your eyes met a branded name on your watch.

Patek Philippe. White-gold.

No. "Sir, when was the date of the heist?"

Namjoon read out the numbers to you, and it you felt a whole stab in your chest to learn that it was exactly a week before your birthday. You practically heard Namjoon's concern over the phone, "[Y/N], are you alright?" Jimin wasn't working that day either... He told you he was headed for a job interview in Gangnam... He didn't call you that whole day.

That happened three times the whole year you two had been dating.

You met Jimin at a bank. At the bank the first heist Seoul had in the longest time.

No.

No way. It can't be Jimin, he's sweet, he's funny, he's smart. He's the most loving boyfriend you could ask for. He's not capable of something like that.

"Baby?" Speak of the devil. You turn to find Jimin standing at the doorway of the kitchen, you hadn't even realised that you had dug your nails into the palm of your hand, you could only watch Jimin's lips move as you could barely make out the words. "Is everything okay?"

[peeterparkr]

perennial;tom holland|fifteen.

chapter fifteen: weeds. 

↳ flower meanings: 

Daisy: new beginnings  Thistles: protection buttercups : childish  white clover: happiness 

chapter summary: the stories of the wallflowers and who we are supposed to blame

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angst, mentions of sex, UNRELIABLE authors

word count: 9K

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER: none

previous chapter next chapter   perennial masterlist.

perfidy  ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

I know it took me forever to write this, it was so difficult to write this chapter. I KNOW IT’S UNUSUAL, but please read between the lines because I am trying to tell the story through everyone’s eyes. And EVERYTHING has a reason I swear. ESPECIAL THANKS TO @laurieteddy​ ( @erodasghosts​ ) for helping me out wit this, go thank her, there woudln’t be any chapter, 

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People often tend to ignore the wild daisies, thistles or buttercups that dare to pop in the road, people often think of them as rather a plague, or rather too common to be interested in them. Most people try not to look at them. But when they are combined and together they can create the most beautiful bouquet. 

Some people, like Harry, however like to stop and stare and collect them, wonder how they grow in the most unsuitable places. Harry was someone who could spread love so easily, when he was a wallflower himself. Not easily noticed. A crestfallen Harry had been trying to figure out what to do, for a while now. He hadn’t been able to grow his love around anyone lately, because he’d lost his favorite flower. How would he grow daisies when the daisy did not want to grow anymore. 

Emma was one of those daisies that people often ignored. So spectacular she managed to bloom even when all the odds were against her, in the most odd places. Like daisies in the path as they managed to outgrow the asphalt, or daisies in window corners, or in random fields where people like to do picnics. 

Often people ignored her for she was outshined by other magnificent flowers. Even the night before, she’d been outshined by another flower who had just joined the game. 

Emma had been outshined by a particular flower for a while now, she did not resent her in any way. Though she could not hide her appetence, for it had come and gone so many times by now. Why would anyone stare at a daisy like her? She would wonder. 

Emma often thought of y/n to be a sunflower, unique, beautiful and vedirit, the flower that has sun in its own name because even the sun is outshined sometimes. A flower that searches for the sun, for the spotlight. Emma, a daisy was often outshined by a magnificent sunflower. Because people often think daisies can keep blooming even when they are stepped on. 

Timmy took Emma for granted. Harry had been so delicate, until he decided that he needed to know why sunflowers grew so tall. 

According to gardeners daisies are hardy, drought-tolerant plants that provide years of gorgeous, classic charm. Sure. Emma was all of that, she was tolerant but she also wanted to be loved. Very loved and she deserved it. She was such a magnificent human being who dared to pop out in the darkest situations. 

However, Emma understood why y/n got the attention. Sunflowers were also drought-tolerant but they don’t bloom that easily. It depends on the soil, how you water them… and all the care plants need. But once they bloom, such a whimsical and lyrical flower. 

Emma knew why Tim and y/n had not worked out. And Emma knew why Tom and her would work. 

Timmy liked peonies. Y/N was not a peony. 

Tom liked yellow flowers. Sunflowers, more often than not, are yellow.  

Emma did not understand, if Harry loved daisies…. Why didn't they work out? 

Did Harry truly love daisies or had he settled for the tiny version of a sunflower, the one with less impact. The one that could bloom easily. The one he didn’t have to water that often. The one flower that didn’t need the spotlight. 

Emma would replay that night over, and over. The night that champagne had been spilled because someone had dropped the glass, the night that every heart had been broken. And she wondered how not even Harry had been able to turn the disaster into a beautiful evening, because everything had been dropped. The night everyone had burned, the beautiful garden had turned into chaos, a war. A war she did not wish to be a part of. 

Emma wished to be a sunflower. And it was ironic given how many times y/n had told Emma she wanted to be like her, y/n did not see how thrilling and exciting her life was. How Emma though, knew it complicated, longed for the drama and the story and… everything. 

Sure, her and Harry had had a lovely story, but y/n and Tom? Even y/n and Timmy. Her stories were worth telling. That’s why she was bloody telling it. Full of plot twists and drama and fire. A story that kept everyone on the edge. 

And it wasn’t jealousy, it’s just— Emma was frustrated. She was just not burning in her story. She was boring and though she tried to shine and shine, she just—was taken for granted, because daisies aren’t unique. They’re delicate, though. Easy to bloom and easy to break. 

She did not want to be taken for granted. No, she wouldn’t. But maybe Harry still liked the sunflower. Or he had once, so how could he like daisies over sunflowers? 

Harry, was one big mystery to Emma, how he grew into her like poison ivy. Without poison, and flowers and just tangled into her. Emma thought Harry’s love was like a good plague, one that kept flowering through her. And growing into one couldn’t get out. 

Emma missed him, Emma missed kissing Harry. And though Emma often was against kisses, because she believed kisses were only but a hoax to get tricked into phony romance. Emma always said to beware good kissers, because you might end up thinking you’re in love. 

Emma knew that's probably what had happened to y/n, Tim had been just too good of a kisser for her, that she ended up believing she was in love with him. Lips hold poison that becomes addictive. Sometimes that addiction becomes toxic, which is what Emma believed happened to Tim. He had miscomprehended his own situation, he was not in love anymore, he was an addict to y/n. 

Or… rather, he didn’t want to accept that he hadn’t been enough sunlight for the sunflower. Sunflowers turn to the sun. Maybe Tom was the closest thing to the sun for her, maybe that’s why y/n shined the most when she was with him, her smile was the brightest, and she was the warmest. Emma knew how y/n’s smile would linger every time Tom made her smile, she’d noticed it, even on set when she was trying to hide it. She wasn’t subtle, y/n’s glance would look for Tom, and when he was around, she’d try to hold her breath. She… shined. Because sunflowers turn to the sun.

Daisies, however,search for unusual places. And Emma had searched for the most unusual place to bloom now. 

Emma had slept with Josh for a simple reason, he wasn’t a good kisser and kissing gets more intimate than sex. For Emma, a kiss could tell if you could fall in love. Kissing was but the bond of two people’s secret merging into one. 

Emma was tired, she wanted the talking to stop with Harry and just… kiss him. That’s all she wanted, but her pride was too loud. She wanted to be like the sunflower, who could easily forgive. But Emma was terrified, because she’d never been able to love like this before, and the light was still flickering. 

Emma had talked to Cherry, or rather… Listened to her, and she wondered however could she blame her. Cherry, Cherry was another victim outshined by the sunflower. Cherry was just another casualty drawn by the war, and her heartbreak, could be just as powerful. But of course, no one cared about her. She was the villain. Emma had listened to Cherry. Cherry was not in love with Tom, Emma could tell. She’d been fooled by a kiss, but no, she was not in love. Cherry had only been blinded by Tom. 

Had Emma been a villain at some sort of point? Pushing Tim and Y/N together, even if Emma knew that Tim and y/n would eventually break? 

Emma had been blinded because she knew she couldn’t lose Harry. And god, it hurt. So much, and she was confused and she needed to scream to finally be noticed. There is the inexplicable pain that comes when you don’t acknowledge it, and avoiding it won’t erase the problem, it makes it grow more and more. 

Emma did not understand why she had tried to avoid it, getting drunk, dressing up, taking long walks and singing, but she was not okay. And maybe it was finally sinking. Emma was a flower that was drying out, that was reminded of the greatest love one could have ever dreamed of. Maybe Emma had learned too much of the sunflower, but now she felt it, how Emma was now made of Harry, too. 

Emma hadn’t smiled since she’d left him, and she wished she had tried to mend things before, but Emma felt like it would take her nowhere because maybe her love had not been enough for Harry, and to feel worthless takes one strength, and Emma was getting tired of pretending she was strong. 

Probably not even Tim had noticed it, how she had stopped dressing a certain way or why she couldn’t watch certain films, she had had a haircut, and how she still couldn’t explain it to herself. Why had the fairytale faded? Days turned into night, and there she had been again, kissing another stranger. 

Emma had her head underwater and until now she noticed she couldn’t breath. The daisy was not there anymore. 

Emma never cried, but she did this one time, with a cigarette burning out in between her fingers, with the tulips in her nightstand dried out, listening to Tim complaining about Tom, whatever he tried to say Emma had not listened. 

Someone had shown up later that night, the door had rang, probably y/n willing to talk about her latest decision, Emma felt some sort of fear. Had y/n spent the entire day with Harry? 

Tim had looked up, too. Y/N could’ve forgotten her key, was she there? Emma was not sure why that had made her feel unsteady, after all this time, did she believe y/n would go for Harry? 

Timmy went to open the door and he seemed… calm. Not sure what Emma had expected, probably a crying y/n that only longed for a bottle of cheap wine for herself as they sat on the floor, near the couch, and then they would end up listening to old 80’s songs, or re-watching some poorly made netflix show that probably didn’t deserve the attention, but was good enough to have as a background. 

That was what Emma had expected. To be yet again pushed aside. 

“I’ll… want me to get the door?” Tim asked. 

Emma shook her head, knowing that y/n would not want to see Tim. Emma stood up. And it hadn’t been what she had expected.  Yet, she was filled with doubts. Had y/n… given up on Tom and decided to go with Harry? 

What happened? Had she not talked to Tom? Had she spent the day with Harry? They must have. 

How—how did the sunflower manage that? 

How could it only take them a day and be fine with it? 

There was a slight hint of jealousy over Emma, which was completely understandable. The girl had gone through so many times of being outshined by her, even y/n’s sadness had to outshine Emma’s. 

But it wasn’t y/n at the door. 

Because probably no one had cared enough to care about the wallflowers, but they had to solve it. 

And it had taken another fire to get that other wallflower to Emma’s door. 

The night before, the one thundering storm that had crashed in the other household. But it had ceased. 

Before Emma had opened the door, the other weed like flowers had had a conversation, hours before. The other casualties had been having a conversation while Tom and y/n were enjoying a sunset, everyone else was dreading the darkness the night would bring. 

Before they could even think of the solution Tom and y/n had made, it seemed like the conversation of their unpredictable mess was making them flow. Merely minutes before Tom and y/n had come back home.

James, another wallflower himself,  had spent the day of the storm with Clark and Sam, and though they seemed calm, and they had had what could be called a good day, he couldn’t stop his nerves. James was often too protective of his sister and he would not stop by now. Though, he had also been very protective of Tom. 

They went home, after Harry had warned them the other pair had left to solve their problem elsewhere. Though it was selfish, the four of them wished they could solve it for the sake of the group. 

James was worried about his sister, and he now had to worry for the impression Clark had of him and the drama. James didn’t want Clark to be involved in that drama. 

Clark, however, had been possibly the only one that understood the situation. Outsiders often see the wider picture and notice things we don’t. To Clark it was clear that the people around Tom and y/n had been their doom. Clark was not a wallflower. But he didn’t know that and he did not care. 

Clark was someone, very much like Harry, and Clark was someone who actually liked thistles. Thistles are often disregarded because of their prickles, and not very pretty among many flowers.

Clark often knew that everyone thought James was a prick. He was, for the matter, but it was often because James liked to protect himself and those around him, building fences to keep them safe. 

“I think, James, you do not give enough credit to them,” Clark said. “They managed to go from mortal enemies to a very adorable couple. What I’ve seen so far is two people who love each other so much that they grew past their hatred which, I may have been a witness to when we first started dating, those two could not be in a room without throwing knives at each other and now the way they look at each other reminds me so much of us, even I was slightly jealous of their glances. So secretive and loving.” 

Maybe they all tried to ignore that, how they’d turned arguments into flirting, and translated smirks into smiles. 

James sighed, “they haven’t changed. Plus, they—slept with other people, and our cousin?” 

Sam was quietly sitting across them, scrolling through his phone. 

Harry snorted a chuckle, “Do you think they will get out of this one?” 

“Yes,” Sam was the one to speak now. 

James rolled his eyes, “and then they’ll keep being idiots.” 

“Love changes us, idiot,” Clark said. “Look at you, before I met you, you’d be hooking up with a different person every bloody night,” he chuckled. 

James rolled his eyes, “are you slut shaming me?” 

Sam chuckled at the statement. “You /were/ a slut.” 

James rolled his eyes, “shut up.” 

“No, but I mean, when we first—started dating I was also scared of not being—You know, I’m boring—“

“You’re not boring,” James interrupted. Because he wasn’t. 

“But I am not like you are—you—you and I are very different, you are a very fun person, though sometimes you bloody decide to act all grown up to y/n, you’re still an idiot.” 

“Always acting so grown up,” Sam intruded. “As if you knew what you were doing.” 

“I do know!” James complained. 

Harry laughed, “you do not.” 

“Especially when it comes to y/n,” Sam said. “That’s the least you know.” 

Harry, also standing nearby, rolled his eyes and nodded. 

“No, no, that’s not true, I think you do know,” Clark pointed out. “But you are too worried to see that this is—Look, okay not right now, but I do think your sister and—“Clark turned to Sam and Harry. “And your brother are so in love but they kept listening to all of you and ended up sabotaging themselves.” 

“They’re idiots,” Harry finally commented. 

“So is James and look at us,” Clark pointed out. 

James chuckled, “are you done insulting your fiancé?” 

“I’m not insulting you,” he kissed his cheek. “My point is, you changed and we adapted and we became this magnificent couple, but it’s not always been easy.” 

James stayed quiet, he knew that. It had not been rainbows and butterflies but they’d managed to come through.

Clark watched him, James was often too insecure of everything and built walts and pricked anyone who tried to tumble them down, Clark included. And James often did the same thing with y/n, trying to hide her from the world, and always trying to be the bigger person. 

“I think their problem is the exact problem of ours,” Clark continued. “While everyone here is meddling in their relationship, you sister didn’t even know we were serious.” 

Clark and James had had a nice relationship but every obstacle on their way had almost been powerful enough to break them apart. However each time they had outgrown it, their relationship had come stronger. That’s probably why Clark believed in the other pair. But Clark also believed James had overprotected y/n and not let her make her own decisions, maybe y/n had tried to convince herself to love Tim because her own brother had told her to. Maybe y/n had doubted Tom because her own brother told her to. 

“I…” James sighed. “I know this kind of stuff happens to y/n, and Tom and y/n specifically, look I didn’t bring you that one time at the engagement party and look what happened, I am--That’s the thing, Tom and y/n always… Even when they weren’t dating we were always on the edge of what they will do next, look at us now I don’t know what they will come up with tonight.” 

Harry sighed, and rolled his eyes, he did not want to keep being part of that conversation. He left. 

Clark did understand why James had been so keen on having their relationship so private. James was scared of the other obstacles that he could not control. James did not trust his sister that much, not with relationships. 

Even when Y/N was dating Tim, James had told Clark how he thought the guy was perfect for her but that he didn’t trust y/n. Maybe James did know why y/n couldn’t love Tim back as much as Tim loved her. 

“What I’ve seen is them so in love, and I can tell she truly loves him and is not forcing herself to love him,” Clark said. 

James frowned. “What?” 

Clark took a deep breath, “I feel like y/n—I, look, I’m not—“Clark gulped. 

Sam frowned “what?” 

“I—Okay, I met y/n when she was in another relationship,” Clark reminded them. “With Tim.” 

“She loved Tim,” James said. “Tim—“

“No, I know, I know, but I see y/n just—she is so free when she is with Tom, and I met Tom before I met any of you.” 

James probably understood this. James had criticized y/n when she was dating Tim. But James loved Tim because he had loved y/n, so unconditionally, and Clark had pointed it out to James, how Tim would go to the end of the world for her. 

Which is what James would do for Clark. And what Clark would do for James. But Clark had always known that y/n wouldn’t for Tim. Because it seemed that every time she dressed up for Tim, she wished she was dressing up for someone else. 

“So?” Sam questioned. 

But Clark knew that Tom and y/n would go to the end of the world for each other, and they had proved it several times now. And Clark knew that this was the first time y/n did not do what her brother told her to do, this was her fighting for her own heart and this was her not wanting to be under protection of her brother. 

“I think Tom and y/n will work it out, I don’t think it’s easy, but—I think that both of them, if they’ve outgrown everything else, they will outgrow this and you should be supportive whatever their decision is,” Clark stated. 

“And if they break up?” Sam questioned, “what will happen to us?”

What would happen to them. Clark knew that probably was what James feared the most. James and Tom had always been friends, there had always been a type of bond between them. It was even weird to him seeing him and his sister so foolishly in love. James knew he would have to say goodbye to Tom, even if he was going to ask him to be the best man. James would have to let Tom go. 

And James wondered how y/n would be. Y/N had spent her whole life in love with Tom, her whole life had been wrapped around that fact. James knew. So what would happen if it ever happened? 

James and Tom had always been friends. 

Sam and y/n had been friends for as long as they could recall, always making fun of each other, building the funniest of anecdotes. Sure everyone knew Harry and y/n had always been best friends. But barely people acknowledged how close Sam and y/n were. 

Sam was always left on the outside, probably because he always liked to avoid trouble. Sam, more often than not, was considered to be the most childish in the group. Sam was not childish, he just simply did not understand. Sam was not ignored. Buttercups are loved, though sometimes their love is spread too much and people don’t know what they have to do with it. The problem is when it becomes too much and often, people don’t know what to do with it. 

Sam had distanced because he was one of the few people who did not stand y/n and Tom, long before they were dating. He did not stand their bickering, he hated taking sides. Of course everything had made sense when they had confessed they were madly in love but Sam didn’t quite figure it out. How could anyone hate and then love? 

For Sam, it had not made any sense, partly. He had known y/n was in love with Tom, her glance was so obvious and then when he had looked back at it, it made perfect sense. 

Though she had despised Tom, every now and then Sam would notice y/n hide a smile. 

Sam had always tried to figure everything out, and his own imagination often led to conclusions that would drive him insane. Like a child, he always asked the questions. 

How? How could she be in love with her very own enemy? 

Sam had been the one to drive her home after that heartbreak, after the nightclub. Sam had been the one to listen to her and—Sam had been the one to know she wouldn’t get out of that heartbreak that easily. 

Sam had also been the first to know Y/N would date Tim, and he had been the first person—after Harrison to hear Tom say he was in love with her. 

Clark’s remark had made Sam think about Tim and y/n, to compare it to Tom and y/n. 

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. 

However, Sam had been the only one to ask Tom after the engagement party, probably. “It’s so scary to think I’ve loved her my whole life and it didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to.” 

Sam remembered when he found out about it, and how angry he was at his brother but how happy he had been after he heard they were having fun in New York. Even when they had told their parents, it seemed that Sam’s fear and anger had gone away, and then… The engagement party. 

Sam thought of how scary it was to lose someone you have loved your whole life , but he understood why they were persistent, because if they were so in love and had been for a while, growing past each , how come this had turned into this mess? 

Sometimes love isn’t what we think of it. 

Sam had been the only one to tell y/n that Timmy and her were not made for each other. She hadn’t questioned him, probably because she knew it. But Sam had been the only one to tell her. Probably because he knew his own brother, Harry at the time of course, he knew nothing about Tom, was deeply in love with her. Maybe that’s what drove Sam to say it but… honestly, Sam did not trust Timothee to be around y/n. He agreed with Tom most of the times when he criticized Timothee. 

But he had stayed quiet long enough. 

Sam had been the one who had noticed that Tim had known about Harry’s feelings, Harry had never been subtle but… he knew Timothee had noticed.

There were a lot of things Sam had noticed, like how Tim had set up Harry with Emma. Which, of course, ended up being the best thing that could’ve ever happened to Harry, but Sam knew Tim had done it but to get rid of Harry. 

Tom had once pointed it out to Sam.

“That guy, Tim, the one y/n is hooking up with,” he had said with poison. “He seems that he quickly got rid of Harry eh? He set Harry up with this other girl just so he can have y/n to himself.” 

No, but—Harry and Emma had met at the club. But—maybe Tim had set them up? 

And it had seemed like that. Sam wondered what Tim had done to get rid of Tom, because he had probably noticed about it. Timothée was very, very observant. Quiet. 

Timothee had probably noticed about Tom’s infatuation long before anyone else had. 

Sam knew Timothée was a very, very smart individual. He was very quiet and Sam did not quite like that. Everything he said was like a perfectly crafted plan. He was incredibly smart, and Sam didn’t trust that. But of course, he had been the one to stay quiet for a long time. However, he saw that y/n was happy. And Sam really liked that, because he’d seen her right after that club night, and Sam had been the only one she would reach out to. Occasionally. 

Sam had been the first one to know that y/n had declined Tim’s proposal. Sam had been the one y/n had called because she knew Harry was with Emma. Sam didn’t know the real reason why she had declined the proposal. He only remembered how she had arrived at him and was barely breathing. After coming back from that trip to France, to meet his grandparents. Barely anyone knew she had come earlier from that trip, she had cut it short. Coming back to London alone, she’d taken the Eurostar, and it seemed she’d cried all her way back home. 

She’d asked Sam to go and pick her up to get her home. She was speaking quickly and nonsense as if she had been barely breathing for the trip. “I-I said no, I should’ve said yes, I love him but I don’t… don’t even know why I said no, I can’t believe I said no I am so stupid.” 

She was crying, saying nothing made sense and how her heart had broken because she couldn’t come up with a real reason to say no. Sam had asked if she was ready, if she loved him. Because y/n had not told him what had happened. 

“Did you break up?” Sam asked.

“No.” 

“What happened?” He questioned. 

She had taken a deep breath. “I don’t love him enough.” 

She hadn’t seen it coming, but Harry had told Sam. Harry knew Tim would propose. Emma had told Harry. Everyone thought she would say yes, honestly. You never really truly know how a relationship is behind closed doors, but… Sam had been grateful she’d said no. The skeletons in his closet had not come out yet. 

Y/N had always thought that Sam didn’t know, but he was very aware. 

“I met his grandma, and—She said I would be perfect, I think they—-“she had said. “And—he gave it on a film canister… and I love him, but I’m not—not completely in love. There—there is a part of me that still is not over Tom and I am not sure if I will ever be completely healed from the pain he’s caused me, and that impedes me from loving Tim.” 

Sam knew there wasn’t really anything to be worried about, but Sam had known it for a long time. How Tim was probably a master of manipulation. But he knew it, too. Tom had broken y/n to the next level. 

“Will you ever be over Tom?” Sam asked. 

She had not answered. She wouldn’t be. 

Timothée was not a bad person. But Tim often did things to get things done his way, even when he didn’t see it. 

“You know I won’t,” she said eventually. 

What part had Tim played in this mess? Though there wasn’t much of a part to be played, because y/n and Tom seemed to love creating the chaos themselves, Sam could only wonder what exactly had Tim done to try and take Tom out of the picture. 

Though we could argue that it was ‘after Rome’, Sam had noticed that y/n did hate Tom more after Tim’s arrival. But it’s a very fine line because there is a lot Sam didn’t know as to what had happened in Rome and it was after the nightclub. 

Sam didn’t understand why they said ‘Rome’, as if Rome had been the place that had been cursed when in fact it had been the very NightClub when things had shattered. For a heart to shatter, it needs to be made of glass. Hearts can only be made of glass when they’re so thoroughly in love. A heart that’s not in love is not easy to break. It’s funny, the stronger the love, the weaker the heart, in some sort of way. 

No, Sam had to rephrase that. When a love is so strong, the heartbreak will be more painful. So, Sam could only guess how in love y/n had been to have a heart so shattered. And how was she doing now? And after the script? But last night… She’d made the same face she’d made that night at that club. 

There is something about seeing your best friend heartbroken, it fuels your inner rage. Then again, he’d seen his brother heartbroken too. 

That’s why Sam usually stepped out, he was not sure how he was supposed to proceed. 

But Sam had missed y/n and he didn’t want to miss her again. And then, the night before. He had seen her face, and then she had run away, with Harry this time. Sam had thought she would ask him to drive her away again, like all those times before. Instead, he had stayed with his brother. 

He’d heard Tom cry the night before. 

But y/n? How had she spent her night? Maybe this time her heart made of glass had been covered on something else or it… was simply too broken now that the shattered pieces couldn’t be turned but into dust for now. 

Sam didn’t blame Tom or y/n. But he had to blame someone. 

There was something about Tim, or maybe blaming it on Tim was easier for Sam so he didn’t have to take any sides. He could also blame Cherry, but the poor girl had done nothing wrong but to be a fool, and there is a fine line there. 

Sam decided to keep blaming Tim. What did Tim have to do with y/n’s heartbreak? 

Hadn’t he told her, after their breakup? To sort her feelings out. What did Tim do? Because Tim was very smart. 

Tim definitely knew about Tom and y/n. He had probably been the only damn person to have known it since the beginning. 

What had Tim said to poison y/n even more against Tom? He had been the one to teach her that one word, perfidy. 

Sam had read the script. And something didn’t sit right with Teddy’s character, how he seemed so perfect and yet he had seen y/n run from another country. How Teddy pointed it out, about William and Valerie. 

It meant he had pointed out between Tom and y/n. 

What had he told y/n about Tom? Yes, Tom and y/n were enemies, and they’d always been, always fighting, but in the end they were friends. In their own way. Maybe only because of the family, but… 

Something just didn’t click with Sam. 

Probably Tim had poisoned y/n with horrible thoughts about Tom, because y/n had said Tom was a monster, she’d written about it. How could someone ever love someone like him? 

Tim was not a bad person. Sam had to tell himself that. Because he wasn’t, really. At the end of the day he was a good friend but… The guy just was… sketchy. To Sam, because it was just as if he had manipulated y/n into loving him. 

Or, no, no that’s not how love works. No, y/n had loved him but maybe y/n had known it all the time. 

But it just… He always wanted the best for y/n. Right? 

Had… What had Tim done to bring y/n to LA, too? 

Of course it was stupid to think, but… Sam didn’t want to jump into conclusions but he knew Tim was no saint. He knew that Tim knew y/n. That’s something Sam pointed out every time, Sam knew y/n. He remembered how Tim had brought another girl to his and Harry’s birthday party, knowing damn well y/n’s biggest fear was to be replaced. So if he knew it so, so well, why had he done it? To hurt her? 

But also, Tim was the one to… Sam had to erase those thoughts. No, Tim wasn’t a bad person because he’d also been the one to show y/n she could smile again, and she could laugh and love. 

And Sam knew how the breakup had gone, New Year’s Eve, when y/n had drunkenly confessed to Tim: 

“There’s still a part of me that will always wonder if Tom’s the love of my life.” 

To hear that from the person you love the most, must change you. And Tim had asked her to sort her feelings out. 

Sam could not blame Tim. 

But then again… He had kissed y/n right when he knew Tom and y/n were starting something. And who had come to comfort y/n after the engagement party? Tim. 

It seemed like it was so perfectly calculated. So, very well planned. Or maybe not, maybe Tim had noticed how Tom and y/n were so fragile, that would break easily. That’s the thing about Tom and y/n, they were both so scared of the outcome, of any pebble that could be thrown their way and would deter their relationship, that’s why they lived so fast because they both feared the end, they both feared they wouldn’t be strong enough for the bullets shot their way. 

Maybe Tim knew that, and maybe Tim knew which pebbles to throw. 

Cherry had once told Sam that Tim had been the one to convince y/n to change places with her. And Cherry had said she had been delighted with Tim. Which only brought him to the night before. 

Tim had asked Cherry to stay the night at his place. Sam had heard him ask her. No, Tim had not asked in any wrong way, but in a friendly way because the girl had been destroyed. 

However, Sam thought there was something fishy in all of the situation. Sam had a slight suspicion that this mess had to do with Tim. Cherry had asked him the night before how long Tim and y/n-Tim, not Tom, how long Timothee and y/n had been dating. Sam had said they weren’t. And they wouldn’t be. Had Tim said something to lead to this mess? Was he the reason why at midnight Tom’s and y/n’s fantasy shattered? Why had Tim asked Cherry to go to his place? Maybe he had to do something with it.

Or maybe Tim only loved y/n. And he had been so blinded by his own love that he hadn’t stopped to realize some things he’d done were wrong. But you can never really know what’s going on behind closed doors. 

Harry had his door closed, and Sam wanted to ask his brother what exactly he was going through. Though, he knew he was not having a good time. That was no secret.  

Sam knocked on the door. 

Harry opened the door to watch his brother, Harry hadn’t slept and he was not breathing. He seemed to be trying to calm himself down, but Sam could tell he was angry. Very, very angry. 

“Why did he fucking do it at the engagement party?” Harry asked Sam. 

There it was, a conversation they had had millions of times, yet never truly acknowledging it had been the night everyone had burned. 

Because Harry often avoided the question. Sam was also slightly angry at how they had had to forgive Tom because Tom was in love and because Tom’s heart had been shattered. But Tom’s drunken speech had led to all this mess and the pain still lingered for the family. 

Maybe that’s why no one in the family was really telling anything to Tom, maybe that’s why they weren’t eager with Tom and y/n being together. But they would all stay quiet. Maybe the real reason why James had been reluctant to them was because they feared their battles would leave even more casualties. 

No one really had stopped to think how their relationship had changed everyone’s situation, how y/n’s parents had barely talked to the Hollands. How James wouldn’t go out for drinks with the twins and that’s why they didn’t know how serious he was with Clark. How James had to keep his boyfriend out of the drama because he didn’t want his own relationship to get ruined. How Harry and Sam had lost their best friend. How Emma had to run to another country to get over her heartbreak. How Harry had lost the love of his life. 

Everyone seemed too focused on how Tom and y/n were trying to get out of this one that everybody had simply forgotten everything they’d left behind. All the casualties. 

Every single wallflower, all the weed flowers that had kept growing and had not had the chance to grow. 

“I… why do they always have to do everything big? Like first, the engagement party, why did Tom choose to explode there? Why did y/n write a script like that? It’s obvious they both wanted to fail, it’s so-so obvious, and then? What did he do? He slept with her cousin, out of everyone, her cousin… And she slept with Tim!” 

Y/n had slept with Tim. Yet another pebble thrown at trying to get Tom and y/n back into the woods.  Sam could only try and wonder why y/n had let herself be fooled again, maybe it was a rebound but then again… Maybe Tim wasn’t really the problem, but maybe y/n still felt guilty for that proposal. 

Sam remembered it. 

“I will never forgive myself because I will never love him the way he loves me.” 

Guilt, guilt often grows like poison ivy and covers you and tangles you until you cannot be able to step out of it. Maybe that was the reason why y/n couldn’t stay away from Tim, because Tim had been the one to make her feel loved, and yet she’d never loved him back the same way. 

“… Oh my god, y/n knew she could’ve slept with anybody and Tom would’ve not cared but with it’s like she did it on purpose because they have to make everything big,” Harry continued. “And I’m… so tired of it….Like last night, why did that have to happen? They could’ve talked about it but neither did it because they had to wait until the bomb exploded and bring everyone down with them….  I couldn’t even think of my heartbreak because Y/N had it worse, no, I’m not blaming her but-” Harry sighed. “Yes, whatever they love each other but… But what about my own relationship? What about James’  relationship? Didn’t he fear this drama would push Clark away?” 

Sam only listened. 

“Why did--Why did we have to direct her script so he could make a big entrance and win her back? I knew this would jeopardize my relationship with Emma.” 

Because this was always what happened with them. Even when they were enemies. Sam hated it. Always a big, big fight, argument, how they’d have to take sides and take turns to not have them at the same place, and when they were, they would always, always make it big. 

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. 

Harry sighed. “And they don’t-even care, they just--Like I had to see Emma today and pick up y/n’s clothes and..that would ruin me and yet I did it, because both Tom and y/n are so fucking selfish and I don’t care-I genuinely couldn’t care less about their drama anymore, I come back and they had fucked, like-” Harry took a deep breath. “Oh my god, how do they fuck it up so badly? They’re only sabotaging themselves... And I don’t know and-why do we have to keep being dragged by their bullshit? If I have to listen to Tom complain about Tim one more fucking time…” 

Sam didn’t blame anyone, honestly. 

“And look, I don’t even know what the fuck they’re gonna come up with now, they’re so unpredictable and I don’t… If they break up I don’t want to listen to their rambling I… I just can’t sympathise with them anymore, I… No, I don’t mean that. I just… I need my time, too, you know? I need to be angry and I need to get it out and I need to cry it out because I’m-” His voice was breaking. “I’m not okay, I lost Emma, and I know-But oh my god, we couldn’t even come home because they were here fighting or fucking or I don’t even know.” 

“Everything was easier when they hated each other,” Sam said. And he meant it. But Sam did try to stop and wonder, what would happen if they were apart? 

Tom had changed. Sam had noticed, how sad his brother had turned and only a few days ago how he had a smile back on. 

Harry scoffed. “I said that, too.” 

“What are you going to do with Emma?” Sam asked, because he didn’t want to feed into the Tom and y/n situation, it would give him a headache. 

“I don’t know,” Harry shrugged. “I… don’t know. I don’t know because… I am angry because my problem with her started because of Tom and y/n and--” Harry’s glance was glazing, but he was trying to stop himself. 

“And I hate it because I should’ve called her but I didn’t because I had all these doubts and I… never got my own closure and I just had to deal with it and accept it because Tom this, y/n that and… I just want to… I want to get back to Emma but I don’t know if I could because Emma is friends with Tim and guess what? That would bring trouble and-” 

Sam crossed his arms, listening. 

“Or-or what if my friendship with y/n still bothers her? Even if she’s friends with her, and--I don’t even know, because she came here and I don’t know if she’d ever come back to London.” 

Harry was shattering. 

“I don’t even-know how to talk to her, she’s a stranger and I… I never thought that would ever happen, and she is just so cold and she…I hurt her so much she decided to move to an entire different country, you realize that? Maybe because she didn’t want to see me anymore, I don’t know what she wants,” Harry continued as he plopped on his bed. “And I don’t… No, I do, I do care she slept with someone else because I know she did it just to prove me a point, I know that she hates me now.” 

Sam thought about it again, he didn’t think Emma hated Harry. No, she couldn’t. 

A laugh was heard, and it was undeniably Tom’s, followed by a remark by y/n. Both twins turned their head to the door. Sam decided to close the door, he needed to listen to his brother, the other wallflower. 

Harry had this curse, he was ivy, and he was white cloves. He knew Emma had loved it before but she probably cursed him for it now. Harry often made everything happy, and sometimes happiness is the toughest emotion to bear, Harry would spread his happiness everywhere he could go, but lately he couldn’t, there was barely any anticipation and his heart had felt numb and empty. As if the time when Emma had left, his heart had an indentation waiting to be filled by her. 

“I love her, and I was supposed to love her for a lifetime and—“Harry said. “And… Maybe I wish I could…” He squinted. “Did you hear him? That was Tom, he was laughing, right?” 

Sam bit his inner cheeks. “Yeah.” 

“How long do you think that will last?” Harry sighed. “Even if it doesn’t. How-how does he do that?” 

Sam only frowned. 

“Do you think if I show up to Emma and just smile at her everything will be fixed?” Harry questioned and then laughed at the statement. 

Harry was tired of not knowing what to do. And he was tired that he wanted to fix everything, but he felt that if he even tried to, everything would fall down. Inconspicuously, Harry had tried to go along his whole life without messing things up and that led him to where he was standing right now. 

Harry sighed, “do you think they are going to sit us down and walk us through their decision?” Harry inquired. 

Sam rolled his eyes, “I think you should focus back on Emma.” 

“Right,” Harry sighed. “I just—It wasn’t only the—you know, I’ve been thinking, and my downfall with Emma wasn’t only from the engagement party. It had been something very crafted,” Harry explained, as he paced around the room. “I—I need a beer,” Harry said, as he finally opened the door to head to the kitchen, Sam followed after. 

They saw James and Clark, confused, still at the living room, they had probably seen y/n and Tom walking in. 

“Any heads up?” Harry asked them. 

James looked up and made out a noise that could be translated into an ‘I don’t know.’ 

Harry rolled his eyes. He was tired. He didn’t want to deal with them. 

“Where are they?” Sam asked. 

“They—walked in—“Clark started.

 “Ignored us,” James added. 

Clark chuckled, “they went to the kitchen, and then went outside, they didn’t ignore us, they were just—“ 

“Too busy staring into each other’s eyes,” James chanted with sarcasm. 

“They were talking,” Clark cleared up. “I think we shouldn’t—“

“No, I wasn’t planning to, I don’t care about them right now,” Harry said heading to the kitchen, he could get a glance of them by the window, they seemed calm, which honestly were good news. At least they didn’t have to hear them screaming. 

Harry opened the fridge to get a beer, and then leaned against the counter. Sam double glanced at the couple outside and then grabbed a beer for himself. 

“They… They were fighting before,” said Harry. “And apparently they slept together, again,” Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t understand how they do it,” Harry groaned as he stared at the cold beer in his hand. 

Sam crossed his arms, “Stop avoiding it and explain why your downfall with Emma was even before the engagement party.” 

Harry rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. “It was around the time, when I decided… Tim and I had both talked about it, alright? When he asked me about… Proposing to y/n,” Harry explained. “It was… “ Harry took a deep breath. “I think he was… the one to give me the idea,” Harry said. 

The night Harry had decided he would marry Emma, he was so scared. Because he had been so sure for his entire life that he had been in love with y/n, when in reality it came no close to what he felt for Emma. He had been quiet about it. 

Harry had once read we all fall in love with three people, the first time you ever love, you are young, it’s the first time you ever experience it, how silly it is to think of it. It feels so pure, and real and it’s incomprehensible, and looking back at it, you must think it wasn’t love. But it is, in its purest form because it’s so undeniably real and childish even. It’s the first time you encounter happiness. The time you learn to love. 

Harry hadn’t been in love for all the time. He’d fallen out of love with her and fell back in love. The second time one falls in love is  the one that breaks your heart. But they’re the person everyone expects you to love, the one flower that is pretty. The one that teaches lessons, the one that shows what pain is. You learn from it, what makes you grow, what doesn’t. Y/N had been the second one, too. The second love makes us learn what we love about love, good things, and what we don’t. This love is so powerful because it builds us, and we will often try and look back at it, because you might think it’s the one. And we can be blinded by their cold stare and try to fight for it, and though it brings a warm sunset, it’s not… It eventually dawns.  The one when we learn about ourselves. The one that teaches us to love ourselves. The one before the one. 

Then there’s the third one, the one you don’t expect, it hits without warning and one day you just… simply know it, and Harry had known it, so stupidly. It comes. The one that you don’t search for, the one that is just… right there for you, the one that you never thought you’d fall for. The one that tumbles down all of our walls because you can build a path together. It’s not who you usually like, it’s not like one of those crushes that you’ve had growing up, it brings the best of you. Because you find yourself in a field of all their flowers that have grown into your heart, and it’s beautiful, a dreamland. And you learn to love what you used to hate about love. It’s not the big flower, it’s the one flower you find along the way… the daisy. 

That was Emma, all the flaws he loved, evergreen happiness even when everything might fall down. Covered with her, with those eyes that Harry wanted to see forever. So unexpected and now, he wanted her to be every book he read. 

But he’d lost her. 

“And I bought the ring,” Harry said. “But… Then I asked y/n what she thought,” Harry said. “Y/N was the one before the one,” he explained. “But we sometimes get confused, and… She told me not to marry Emma, and I doubted it. Because no one thought I should and I… I am here now hating myself because I tend to listen to everyone when all that mattered was I loved Emma, I still love her, and-” 

Harry thought then, how ironic it was. Maybe that’s why Tom and y/n were out there talking, because it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. It was them who mattered and how they wished to go through it. 

“I think I started doubting myself,” Harry said. “And then… it happened and…I lost her, I didn’t know because I was the fool who thought that y/n was the one… When, she never was, and I want to just… Jump to Emma and kiss her, just like they do it, so simply,” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’d sacrifice everything for Emma.” 

Sam blew his cheeks. “Why don’t you, then?”

Harry glanced up, “What? Pull a Tom and just show up and kiss her?” 

Sma shrugged. “Yeah. Why don’t you? I mean, it’s worth the shot.” 

And it was, maybe it had been the fact that he’d seen Tom and y/n working it out despite everything. Despite being so different, despite having every wall, they were out there tumbling it down. And maybe that’s what led him to be standing behind that door, staring at the daisy he never thought he would ever love but couldn’t think he could live without. For once, Harry had no doubts, for once Harry did not want to be a wallflower everyone took for granted to spread happiness. 

 “I…” Harry was shaking. But it had to be done and it had to be said.  “I… I love you.” 

And that was the one outcome Emma had not expected from that whole day. But she gave in anyway, finally giving in to kiss him. And for the first time, she became the sunflower. 

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[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Sex snippets: Not full stories, just a sex scene. Like for one of the fairytale AUs (“Nightmare” or “Fairest”); Diavolo has his way with S/O for the first time since he got her. He doesn’t hold back.

I tried my best but I'm not the best at no plot porn lol

She known as snow white pt2 (smut)

Warning: non con, choking, starvation, knifes, gaging, bondage, objectification

Minors dni

You felt hopeless as you laid Diavolo's bed, for maybe a week you'd been locked in that horrible dungeon. It was agonizing being confined to such a small cell with barely any food.

But this felt so much worse, you knew that he was going to come and you were not going to be able to defend yourself at all. You feared that in this state his grip would destroy your bones. Even hell would have been better than this you thought to yourself as you laid on the bed. It was a cruel waiting game to see when he'd arrive.

You felt so tired, your eyes became heavy. Maybe if you fell asleep you'd wake up to find out everything you experienced over this past month was a horrible nightmare, you'd jump out of your bed and dance through the halls. When your brother would ask you why you're so happy you'd give him the biggest hug you could. You felt so warm as you thought about how you'd feel when this horrid nightmare ended. You were so desperate for that to be the truth that you really started to believe it.

You fell asleep and dreamed of what you desired until you woke up, seeing that you were still trapped in Diavolo's room. You felt your heart stop for a second and a heavy feeling in your stomach. You just laid there unmoving. It was such a horrible feeling you felt, possibly even worse than death.

You heard footsteps approach and your body stiffened as the door handle twisted before the door opened. Revealing the monster who had been the cause of all your misery.

"Ah (y/n) I'm so glad that you're back" he said in such an awfully sweet tone. It was enough to make you sick after that hellish week.

He approached you while he took off the large winter coat he'd been wearing.

"I'm sure you missed me, haven't you?" He asked as he put his coat near his bedside before looking at you. You glared daggers at him as you gritted your teeth. He didn't take kindly to your lack of a response and quickly grabbed your lower jaw.

"Well, would you rather be back in that cell again?" He asked with an irritated tone.

"Because I can call my guards to throw you back in there" he yelled as he continued, which caused you to flinch. You had closed your eyes and felt the tears threatening to spill.

"No, I'm sorry" you muttered to him. He let go of your face and put his hand on the bed to support him while he took his shoes and socks off.

"A good enough response for now dear but in the future I demand that you have some manners. You know how hellish I can make your life become" he said before opening his bedside table and pulling out his blade. The sight of it alone brought back those awful memories.

"Now won't you indulge me my jewel" he snickered as he got on the bed and quickly pinned you down. You tried to fight him off like last time but after being in that cell you had little strength to do so. He held your wrists in a tight grip that was sure to bruise as he began to cut the ragged clothes you wore. You screamed out but you knew no one would come to your rescue. You felt the cold air against your skin as he peeled off The scrapes of clothing.

You knew this was inevitable but still you screamed as you laid completely bare In front of him. It was horrible knowing that this time you lacked the strength to stop him as you were barely able to struggle.

"No please! I beg of you to stop!" You cried as he caressed your curves, looking down upon you with hungry eyes and a cruel smile.

"And why would I want to do that? Why shouldn't I enjoy my hard earned prize?" He spoking in a sultry tone as his hand traced up your body. You flinched as his hand trailed up your neck before clawing into your hair and pulling on it. You screamed once more as you felt how hard he pulled.

"You're a pathetic little whore, aren't you?" He hissed as he lowered his face closer to yours.

"Maybe I should gag that mouth of yours since your going to whinge like a little bitch" he said as he let go of your hair and got off the bed. And walked over to the large chest he had at the end of the bed. He pulled out a long silk cloth and a rope. You were horrified, you wanted to run away but your legs would not abide your wish.

He snickered as he noticed the fear present on your face.

"honestly I don't think you understand just how long I've wanted to do this to you" he said as he approached you once more and grabbed your hand making you scream once more as you tried to thrash out of his grip. Your pathetic attempts did not give him much issue but it did irritate him more.

He tackled you down and had his weight a-top of your waist as he made quick work in tying your wrists to the bedpost. He could only imagine how red and sore they'd be after he was done with you. He watched you hopelessly sob as you tried to pull at the restraints as you saw his clothed erection.

He grabbed the silk cloth and forced your head up as he tried it around your mouth. He smirked as another chuckle escaped his mulberry lips.

"Snow white… fairest of them all. Imagine all those who cherished you seeing you as you are now, tied up and teary eyed as your anticipating for me to fuck you senselessly" he mocked you as he began to remove his own clothes.

With each garment he removed the dread in you grew. You closed your eyes as you couldn't even stand to look at him.

"Just do it already, you monster" your muffled voice is only just audible through the cloth and tears.

"So insistent but I'll have to have you wait, I want to savoir this" he replied as hIs hand rubbed your thigh before kneading your flesh. You still refused to look before his hand left your leg and went for your throat, his long fingers constricting it.

"Look at me!" He yelled. You did as he commanded and looked up towards him, trying not to look too low. He laid down against you and loosed his grip on your neck as he let his free hand travel down your stomach til his fingers reached your folds. He began to have his fingers play with them as he traced his tongue against the scar on your chest. You let out a muffled scream as you felt his fingers trace over your most sensitive parts.

"You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't want this" he said in a husky tone as he began to work your clit. You bit the cloth around your mouth as your body tensed up. A mix of screams and pleas built up in your throat as his circles became rougher and faster, your body trying to fight against the pleasure. Tears formed in your eyes and your face became puffy and red as you tried to endure his assault on your body.

"Look at you, such a hot mess even without anything in that tight hole of yours" He chuckled as he watched you helplessly squirm underneath him. You could feel your legs tremble and your hands desperately try to fight against their restraints as you grew close to a release, screams left your mouth as you felt a knot inside you tighten but he stopped just before you could reach your climax.

Your muffled sobbed gave him a delightful shiver. He tightened his grip on your neck once more as he got to his knees once more. Pulling your calves onto his shoulder as he aligned his hard member with your soaked entrance. You couldn't help but scream as you felt his tip graze against you. The fear in your bloodshot eyes sent him over the edge. He gave an unhinged grin as he quickly forced his way inside you. You let out another scream, this time in pain as you felt the sting of being stretched. He didn't allow you to adjust before he began his harsh thrusts.

"Stop, it hurts! It's too big!" Your muffled screams in pain were like music to his ear. He let go of your throat and pushed your legs to your chest as he kept his harsh pace. He leaned in close to your face before licking the tears streaming down your cheek. Screams soon turned into unwanted moans in pleasure. Your body pulsed with every thrust.

"Look at you my little jewel… quivering underneath me. You must be enjoying this" he smugly spoke as he felt himself coming close to his climax.

"Just let go and succumb to the pleasure" he continued as he picked up his pace. Your throat was sore from all the screams and moans, it felt like you'd swallowed sand paper.

You felt the knot return and tighten once more. Your toes curled as you drew closer to snapping.

"Ugh… so tight. Milk my cock dear" he grunted as he thrusted into you once more before you came. A lewd choir escaped your throat as your eyes rolled upwards as your vision clouded. He gripped your thighs with a brutal grip as you tightened around him.

"So perfect… this was your purpose" he grunted as he let you ride your pleasure high. He pulled out and began to jerk himself off, ropes of thick cum spilling over your chest. An expression of disgust painted your face as you came down. You felt as if that man had torn apart your ribcage and ripped out your heart. You felt sick to the stomach. You hated him the most someone ever could.

[oneaddishun]

Niall being single a dad to maybe a girl? Like maybe a day in the life of the Horans or something

WARNING: Mostly angst or fluff but since this is my first time writing non-smut, non-sexual, non-romantic fics, it might be cringe-y for certain audience.

Also, I didn't quite like the first draft with normal, everyday things. So I twisted it up a bit and made some plot with conflict. If you'd like to read the first draft, tell me and I'll post it too :)

EDIT AFTER WRITING THIS: What the hell is up with me? It does include talks of sex as well!! One! Can't I write just one fic without sexualising it?! Also, read at your own risk warning since I couldn't keep my hands off of sexual stuff. No description. Just talks of sex.

WORD COUNT - 1.3k +

NIALL'S POV

Writing. Writing. Writing.

That's what I've been doing since the last few weeks. I have barely had any time for my own daughter. I know her mother would be so ashamed of me. She left me with the only thing that mattered to her more than anything else and I couldn't take good care of it.

Lately my daughter has been a little moody and I can't blame her for it. I know she's been bottling up her emotions because she is a very understanding young woman but it's only a matter of time before she bursts.

I was on my couch doing my usual thing- writing songs. The pen in my hand would scribble on the paper in my lap from time to time. It would take me about a whole minute or two to move on to then next line. I would occasionally stare out of the window and look at the pouring rain. I could hear the light patter of rain on the soft grass as a heavenly smell filled my nostrils.

From the distance, I heard another sound which wasn't the rain. It was her; my daughter. I looked out of the window instantly and saw her pushing a guy out of our driveway and cursing at him.

"You fucking go away or I swear you'll regret following me here!" she yelled.

The guy muttered something back but it was hard for me to make out what he was saying. Maybe some words of apology?

I have never seen her with a guy that close- let alone curse at him. I was seeing a side of hers I had seen never before. She was like a flame. Even the rain and her drenching clothes weren't bothering her.

When the guy stopped talking- and mind you, he was making so many facial expressions that you'd get a headache just watching him- my daughter's expression turned cold. She stared at him as if she was a statue.

The she tightly closed her fist and smacked the guy on his face. She turned around and walked towards the front door.

As I expected, the doorbell rang moments later. I opened the door and she entered. She was wet from head to toe. The raindrops on her face made it hard to notice but I could see it in her eyes that she was crying. A million thoughts raced into my mind. The one that popped up the most was about how much she resembled her mother. Her eyes looked the same when she cried- beautiful, but filled with melancholy.

"Are-" I almost choked the first time. "Are you crying? Is everything alright?" I asked her, hiding the fact that I had seen everything.

"W-what? No- no. I- it must be the r-r-rain," She lied and without another word, she pushed me out of her way and stormed off to her room. It was kind of rude but I had to suck it up for then.

About half an hour later, I decided to check on her. I knocked on her room thrice. No response came. It was unusually quite. I knocked thrice again. Still no response. I barged into the room with worry.

The room was deserted as if no one was there. The bed was properly made and everything was in order. My daughter wasn't to be found anywhere. I looked around and paced everywhere, hoping to find her somewhere.

I heard a whimper from the bathroom and I rushed inside. My mouth hung open when I saw the scene in front of me. I was horrified.

Lying on the floor was my daughter I had taken care of since she was born. A blade beside her and a bleeding cut on her delicate wrist. I was shocked to my very core. What the hell was she doing?!

My mind went blank and for the second time in my life, I was going to cry for a girl. Her mother made this mistake and that's the reason she isn't here with me today. I can't let my daughter do this too. I bent my knees and sat down beside her. I then rested her head on my lap.

Her eyes were half open. She looked at me through them. A single tear left her her eye. Her hair were damp and wetting my pajama but I didn't care.

"NO!" I screamed with everything I had in me.

"Dad..." came her faint reply.

"This can't- You- I- that guy-"

"Dad..." she whispered but I didn't hear.

"You can't go! This-"

"DAD!" she screamed this time to get my attention. I stopped stuttering.

"Dad, it's not that deep. I'm sorry you had to see this," her words were spoken so softly that it took me a second to understand what she said. "I'm okay. Just tired, that's all,"

"Why did you do this?"

"Forget it dad,"

I took her in my arms and carried her to the bed. On the way, she lifted her arm and wiped the tears off of my face. I hadn't noticed it but apparently, I had been shedding tears all this while. I didn't stop her. I let her wipe it off. This reminded me so much of her mother; even she doesn't know how much. As if the past was repeating itself.

I laid her down on the bed and sat beside her- my hand intertwined with hers.

"It was him." she spoke up after a very awkward silence. The bleeding had stopped now since I had bandaged it. "He was my friend,"

"What did he do?"

"Dad, you have to promise me you won't say anything to anyone and keep calm,"

"I- I won't tell anyone," I promised her without talking about my calm. I have anger issues and she knows it. But I would try.

"We were more that friends. He was my-"

"Your boyfriend? Why would I get angry at that?"

"We were friends-" she looked me dead in the eye, "-with benefits,"

I audibly gasped.

"Shhh... Listen first. He tried to- t-" her voice was faltering so I held her hand. As if it gave her my power, she spoke up, her voice stronger now. "He- he didn't stop when I- I said the safe word. He s-s-slapped me and d-degraded me which was a hard rule but he- he-" she broke out into sobs.

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"I saw what happened outside," I admitted and she nodded.

"I love you dad. I won't ever. Ever. Ever. Lie to you."

"I love you too, angel. What you did outside, well, the guy kinda deserved it. I don't care what happened to him but this here," I held out her wrist covered with mark that I had failed to notice ever since she started this.

She hugged me again. And in the hug, she whispered in my ear, some words of apology. I gently smiled and petted her hair. She was my big girl. My strong girl. I won't ever let her go through what her mother had to go through. I will protect her.

I chuckled. "I didn't know you had already lost your virginity,"

She broke away from the hug and nudged my arm. She smiled with her cheeks coated with endless streams of tears. "You're making this awkward,"

"I know. But like- when?"

"DAD!"

"Aww come on! I'm the man who raised you. I deserve to know,"

"A year ago. To the same guy I punched,"

"Huh-"

"Just kidding dad. I was just a minor then. I remember your rules 'No intimacy with any gender before 18'" she mimicked my voice. "I lost it just a month ago,"

The mood was much lighter than what it was ten minutes ago. Even though we were talking about sex, none of us seemed to be bothered by it. We spent all our evening talking about various things which we kept from each other. I always made sure not to bring up what happened today. She would grow up and live a long, long life. Because I would make sure she doesn't cut again.

I was going to make her live happily ever after.

But oh how badly I failed!

[asian-fiction]

Cultural Notes for Secret Royal Inspector and Jo Yi Episode 7-8

More notes about the show. Episode 7-8

Episode 7

- Touching between men and women after the Imjin War was pretty limited. (Basics of restrict the women because women are at fault for horrible thing that happened to them...) So that's why he's being careful about it. The drama is mocking this a bit.

- Also, Korean socialization has it that you give firm pats to the back of a baby (Harder than US and other countries) to help them burp and also to comfort them. (Hold upright, firm pats to the back at regular intervals) So it's also a slight reference to that. Uri Appa used to do that when I cried as a baby... Note that I've witnessed Chinese parents do something similar, but it's not quite the same hand position... (but I'm being really picky here...)

- Meat was limited in Joseon. Especially cow for the lower classes (which was forbidden for the majority of Joseon--since Cows==plowing and also only the King was allowed to eat one). Not so much Chicken.

- The "Taffy" in Korean is Yeot. But what he made wasn't quite Yeot. Yeot is a vulgar word in modern day Korean, and shouting "Eat Yeot" is an insult... causing trouble through deception. So the fact it's not Yeot like Koreans know it, they are eating it as Yeot and he's a Secret Royal Inspector is so meta.

As one source reads:

"In the later years of the Joseon period (1392-1897), troupes of male entertainers that traveled around the country for both performance and prostitution used the word yeot to refer to female genitalia. And “eat yeot” meant “eat pussy,” or “f*** a woman.” Young, pretty men in such troupes were often associated with homosexuality — as seen in South Korean film “King and the Clown” that features a romantic relationship between the king and a male clown — and an expression urging sex with a woman may have functioned as an insult in their circles." https://koreaexpose.com/yeot-sweet-taffy-nasty-aftertaste/

So yeah... and yes, told you so. It'll address homosexuality. It's circling it. Do you hate the drama yet Anti-gay people? You can go away. It'll triple down on it. LOL The meta joke of putting it on sticks and her asking why put it on sticks... the dirty joke in a sageuk, is another level.

- You probably already know this, but Hanyang is Seoul. The name is still sometimes used in current Korea. I've seen it on documents dating from the 1970's, to give you a clue. Episode 8

- Silver mining (which is true of China's kingdoms, too, I think?) was controlled by the King. So what they are doing is illegal silver mining. Because all gold and silver belonged to the King. Drama doesn't go over this, because it's an old trope in Korean dramas. If it's not salt, then they usually use silver or gold mining. I mean Three Kingdoms (Korea) dramas even occasionally put it in as why the bad guys are bad.

- One plot point I don't understand is why they would bring Bi Ryeong to the secret silver mine... doesn't really make sense if they know she's trouble...

- They marked it in the previous episode, but also in this one that the "Widow"'s identity is questionable given she can read hanja. Also that twisted journey of her coming from Gyeongsang, going to Seoul and ending up in Chungcheong? Still makes me think she's a widow. Goes to Seoul to marry, noble dies in war? She loses everything after the laws are passed, and has to move to Chungcheong? Maybe?

- BTW, I love the beaten up gat in the miner's scene. Such a good touch. If you spot it, you will also appreciate how it highlights the character.

- Koreans started to use gunpowder in the mid 14th century. (So way before this time period). And guns were imported from Ming around the same time.

- mourning hanbok were white (as shown) and usually in old times made out of ramie or cotton (unbleached).

- regular hanbok, of course was made out of silk. the type of fabric in Korean is called "Nobang".

- On Name: Ra Yi Eon:

His grandmother is saying the hanja for his name are probably: 理言 (Meaning Principled words). Yi of the Yi Eon also can mean with different hanja Yi: Benefit, Rejoice/enjoy, and clever. Eon in other hanja can mean boy, beauty, proverb and why.

Not sure about the surname. One means "lazy person" and the other means "lightweight fabric."

(懶)- Lazy Person.

(羅)- Gauze fabric.

Some Chinese might recognize 羅 as the surname of the author of the Romance of the Three Kingdoms: Luó Guànzhōng

I should note in current South Korean names some of the "ra" names turned into "na" names. (Linguistic shift and some other linguistic things I’d have to have forever on.)

It's most likely a pun. I kinda think the surname "Lazy person" fits him better.

- Ah I should note that elders, particularly paternal elders named the children, not the mother and father. The list of Korean naming rules for particular eras on Korean names is long. I mean, if you know Chinese naming rules... it's that + additional rules on top. Sometimes it got so complicated they'd go to monks and other religious figures to try to get a decent name. Covering that would take forever, though I've typed it up elsewhere. But to give you a clue, the paternal side of the elders have to approve of it, particularly the elders on the paternal side, but also the maternal side. If they don't approve of it, the parents are going to have hell with subsequent children. (Ummm... I have a family story about this...) But also things like natal chart, the balance of the natal chart with the elements it has in relation to other siblings, the birth dream, hopes and dreams for their child, how fashionable it is, how the sound balance works, does it fit the family jokbo (which is list of acceptable names per family clan). Do the elemtns balance in the name. (I was said to have lots of fire in my natal chart, for example, and the surname is metal-based, so to balance that they gave a character which has a radical of "Water" in it) And this is only a *Tiny bit of the name rules, which are extensive.

- I have to say, as someone whose taken calligraphy before, the calligraphy on that screen (with him studying), is exquisite. Makes my heart beat faster looking at it. It's so gooooodddd. I want to be that good. (If you have a sharp eye you can spot the Korean Aesthetic.) The green ones are computer generated.

- When he says his brother's life is his, he's referring to that he owns him as a slave, because his mother was a slave, and thus his brother is his inheritance.

- Jokbo is a record of the family and helps legitimize the family in Joseon. They unfortunately were often sold. They also helped with naming, as I mentioned earlier. It's like a family tree given to them by the King when their clan was formed. Most Jokbo, though, even if there are some are Joseon-created. The only legitimate one is of the Lee Royal line, which can be confirmed by DNA... the other ones can be questionable, especially from my clan, the Gimhae Kims...

- Some of the whole slave class thing is taken from the traditional story: Hong Gil Dong.

- Women after the Imjin war were not allowed to participate in bowing in ancestor rites, only men were. They were expected to serve the food, prepare the table and the guests, but were not allowed to participate. That's why the grandmother is not bowing.

- The whole thing about younger gen not wanting to get married, is a contemporary thing and they are making commentary about that in a round about way.

[tintentrinkerin]

adelphopoiesis

Author: tintentrinkerin

Title: adelphopoiesis

Requested by: @schaefchenherde

Header by: @wincestismyheart​

Divider by: @firefly-graphics​

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Sam

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Sam Drinks Dean’s Demon Blood, Anal Sex, Not Canon Compliant

Content: Chasing your baby brother around the bunker with a hammer is fun, right? But what if you tickle his thing for blood?

Read here or on AO3

Dean’s most effective weapon is not the hammer he destroyed the door with. The hammer that’s stuck in the wall now beside Sam’s head. It’s not his physical strength, radiating like utter heat from his body, showing in the tension of his neck, the firm grimace of his mouth, his pretty mouth. It’s not the First Blade. A blade powerful enough to kill anything and anyone, but Dean himself. 

Sam’s only weapon is a lousy knife. A demon knife, that will barely leave a scratch on a Knight of Hell. 

“It’s all you”, Dean says, leaning in the knife, leaning into Sam’s half hearted attack. 

The way Dean looks at his brother, it’s tearing Sam apart in so many ways. Ways he thought he’d buried under guilt and hunts and lore and his shame. Sam gives in and takes the knife away, he will regret it so bitterly, he knows. Of course he knows. He can’t even lay a single finger on Dean. The demon in front of him wears the face of his brother but there is nothing left of his soft side for Sam. His voice, how he calls Sam, how he says Sammy, the hair, the determined look, the tongue against his teeth. Like he’s a predator and Sam’s the prey. 

Dean’s eyes turn black.

It’s a whooshing sound and it darts Sam’s ears the moment he thought he’d surrender and then, the First Blade, fast as an arrow lands in Dean’s hand. There is not a blink for Sam to react before Dean looks at him with a triumphant smirk. The knife glides through Dean’s smooth skin of his throat like it’s warm butter. Blood spills. 

Blood

Spills

Blood is Dean's most effective weapon.

Its smell is so familiar, so luring. So intimate and so…powerful. Sam turns and runs. He needs to go. He needs to get away. 

“Oh Sammy, baby brother, don’t run away!”, Dean mocks. 

Shit, he’s right behind Sam and Sam’s judgement clouds already. He isn’t even fast. It feels like running through molasses. The air feels thick and strong, pressing Sam down, and the smell of iron and lust and Dean, oh my God, it’s Dean’s blood! - He needs to get away! Sam manages to worm through the destroyed door to the electrical room, but he catches several splinters. Some even bite his face and he gets stuck with the cast of his elbow. Spraining the right elbow, why, Sam, why did that happen? Everything’s against him. 

Memories of Ruby appear in his head. Of the smell, the taste, her body, the sex. The grunting and the mind blowing orgasm, the banging against walls everywhere they went. The power, the trip. His increasing power, a stimulant better than any human known drug. It resonates all within him with the odor of Dean’s musk and his blood. He can smell its potential, its strong taste. Sam even imagines how it would make him feel. Running away never felt so hard like right now. He remembers the withdrawal and the pain behind his eyes blinds him as he trips in the hallway and tumbles against a wall. Stinging pain in his arm, in his head and his legs feel heavy. It’s like he has Dean’s breath in his neck all this time. Even though he can’t hear him come close at all. It sounds like Dean is far away, in another world. 

“Come on, Sammy, I know you want a sip of it. Makes you all giddy, doesn't it? I can smell you. All of you.”

Sam yells something, but he can’t even make out what he says. 

“Keep runnin’ if you must, but you know I gotta find you sooner or later. It’s my home, too!”

The alarm is blaring again and Sam has no idea how far he can run. There won’t be any walls that might hold Dean back. He’s regaining strength, the human blood wears off. Even that Sam can smell. How much stronger Dean gets with every minute. 

“I taste delicious, Sammy. Just fuckin’ delicious.”

Oh, yes, Sam bets he does, that’s exactly why he needs to keep running. The smell gets even more intense now and Sam wonders how much Dean can cut himself up with the First Blade. He should’ve given the damn thing to Crowley when he had the chance to do so. 

“Stay away”, he croaks. 

There’s another hallway, one leading deep into the intestines of the Forbidden Bunker, how Dean and him called it jokingly, when they discovered it. An area full of locked doors made of the weirdest materials. Only one chance is left for Sam, when he finds that one door he unlocked in these months without Dean. He had learned a lot about witchcraft since Dean left this note on his bed, when he left Sam for Crowley and a life as a demon. When the only way to save himself from Dean was to hide himself in a panic room again, hallucinate again, he would have to do it. He rather sees Lucifer again, Mary, Bobby, all the victims they couldn’t save than to fall for Dean’s lure. Drink his own brother’s blood. This was perverted, disgusting, twisted. Even for them. The monster hunters, the monster fuckers, the monsters themselves. 

“The longer you run, the harder I bleed, brother!”

Sam tries every door on the way, but none opens. Sam’s eyes sting from the smell. What the hell is Dean doing? Covering the walls in blood? That would be insane. Even Dean would faint at one point. It must be impossible to drain a body so much before it dies. Dean isn’t possessing a body, he still has his own, whatever that means for him and his physis then. Sam trips again, he falls, on his right arm of course. He tears up from the pain that fills his chest, his arm, his shoulder. He can’t survive that long if doesn’t find a hide-out. 

It seems to be near, because Sam still can read the signs on the doors and when he finds room 616, he pushes the door open with a long and agonizing cry and slams it shut. It’s the door he unlocked already, a room, bleak as an empty tomb. Cold and pitchblack, there’s no electrical light, just candles, but Sam won’t be able to find them. He can just hide in here, pressed against a wall, praying to Castiel, to Hannah. He even cries for Crowley inside, someone needs to help him. 

Footsteps.

The smell of blood. The First Blade scraping on the tiles, Sam knows it’s that. 

“Gotcha! I really thought you’d be a bit cleverer than that. Where’s the fun when you cage yourself like a mouse?”

The door bursts open, way too easily. None of the sigils and runes seem to be an obstacle for Dean. And when light shines in the room and Sam can see not only Dean’s silhouette but also his face, he knows. Dean is covered in his own blood. His face, his slit throat, still pumping blood in long and rhythmic spurts from the wound. His arms are drenched in blood and now, with a biting smile, Dean looks at Sam and the Blade carves an S in Dean’s arm. 

“Come here, Sammy. Come to your big bro and lemme get you something real good

The stench is so intense now that Sam first vomits in violent jerks and then faints. The last thing he sees before the world turns completely black is Dean’s triumphant, sweet smile and his eyes. His normal green eyes. 

When Sam awakes again, he is tied up. Bound to a chair. They’re in the dungeon again, how did Sam come here? His head aches like it’s been run over by a stampede of bulls and his mouth tastes like vomit and blood. He tenses immediately as he’s present enough to realize his situation. Dean has tied him up here, and now he’s sitting on the desk in one corner, right beside the blood donor box that Sam got from the hospital. His legs swing and he hums a strange melody. 

“Oh, look who’s up.”

Dean jumps on his feet. Sam can see the First Blade, the damn Blade, resting on the table. Then Dean takes the syringes of human blood and starts spilling them. 

“You won’t need them anymore, Sammy. I think I won our little chase.”

“Dean, don’t do that… please. I can still…”

Dean hisses. His eyes turn black.

“You can still what, brother dearest? I already told you. I am what I am now, I am free. I’m finally free. Of humanity. I’m strong now. Efficient. Deadly.”

Sam winces when he moves in the ties. The ropes cut in his flesh and Dean removed the sling on his arm. His elbow hurts so much, it’s taking his words away. 

“You were deadly before already. The Mark made you powerful.” 

“But guess what, I’m even better now. Dean Winchester 2.0 - I’m all in for my upgrade. You see it as a bad thing, but what I see is … potential. Chances. Oh Sammy, I can conquer the world. Hell. Heaven. You really want the boring Dean back, huh?”

Sam shakes his head but that makes him feel dizzy, he stops.

“I want my brother back. The brother I loved.”

Dean’s black eyes target Sam like he’s prey again and he hates being looked at like this. It makes him feel less human, less Dean’s brother.

“I am your brother. Nothing ever changed that. But I told you to stay away from me, I told you not to look for me. But you did. You plotted against me, with Crowley, with Cas. You tied me up in this chair, you tortured me with human blood. Against my will. For someone who’s all over the place with autonomy and respecting boundaries you violated mine just perfectly.”

Sam squirms. The problem is that Dean is right. But Sam did it for the greater cause, didn’t he? Dean becoming human again was the best for everyone!

“You make me sound like the bad guy here, that’s not fair”, Sam mutters.

Dean laughs and it’s a deep, rough laugh that makes Sam’s skin crawl. This is so much Dean, even darker than usual. And it shakes Sam to the core. 

“Good, bad… Who cares. Human categories, bullshit. Nothing’s fair, Sam.”

“I need something to drink”, Sam says faintly now. 

He won’t make Dean untie him, that’s for sure, but maybe Cas will come to the rescue soon, he can maybe delay things. Also he needs to get rid of the taste of old blood in his mouth. Dean doesn’t reek of his blood that bad anymore, Sam is very much aware of the pink line across Dean’s throat. A scar. The blade will cause scars. Or at least the weapon delays even Dean’s healing. 

Dean smiles. 

“Sure. But why waste water on you when I kill you anyway?”

Sam’s heart sinks.

“Will you?”

Dean shrugs as if he doesn’t give a shit at all.

“Thinking about it. But you’re my brother, as you keep on reminding me. Maybe I should give you a chance to redeem yourself in my eyes and let you live?”

“And how would you do that?”, Sam asks, winding in his ties. 

Dean goes away. Doesn’t say another word. Sam is stunned and damn, holy shit, he’s afraid. Dean will kill him. But what is it with the possibility of letting him live?

The smell of iron. Like a perfume, soft and silky. No. No no no.

“Dean? Dean!”, Sam cries and fights the restraints harder.

He did it again. He slit his fucking throat, Sam knows it. And this time, he won’t be able to run, he won’t be able to fight back. He’s tied up, he’s in pain, he’s weak. It’s not like with the other hunters who wanted to force him to drink demon blood. He could fight them off, but now?

Emaciated. Sick. Depressed. A broken arm. Hungry. Tied up. The addiction is pulsating through his veins, giving him the chills. It’s hot and cold at the same time. Like crackling in the air, the heavy scent of blood and Dean, he can only say no.

Dean won’t take a no, why should he? He’s a Knight of Hell. Sam is human. His brother is back, his throat cut deep enough to see the structures of muscles, veins, nerves, his trachea, the pulsing blood. Sam vomits all over his shirt, but there’s not much left except bitter, yellow gall. 

“You’re sick, huh?”, Dean coos in a voice like he did when Sam was younger. It’s meant for comfort but now it just feels like mockery and Sam wonders how he deserves to see his brother slit his throat, twice, just to seduce Sam to drink it. It's so fucked up. It’s low, even for lean, mean Dean. Human Dean would’ve never provoked Sam’s demon blood addiction. 

Sam nuzzles against the hand that’s stroking his face, his eyes squeezed shut. His lips tremble. 

“Let me make you feel better, don’t pull away, Sammy…”

Sam cries out and some ugly big tears fall down his face. Is it so easy to break? He’s gone through so much pain already, through torture, rape, withdrawal. He was betrayed by everyone he loved, especially Dean. Dean’s hand is warm, but his skin feels like marble when Sam leans in, rubs his face in the palm of Dean’s hand. Is this still his brother? Is there any humanity left? 

But what would that change? They’re here now. In a bunker soaked with demon blood, Sam is tied up, Dean reigns. 

“Hush, hush”, Dean purrs, both of his hands holding Sam’s bobbing head. “It’s gonna be alright… Sammy, just give in. There will be no more pain, just us. You and me, against the world. Like it used to be.”

Sam opens his eyes but all he sees is blurry and red, it stinks of iron and vomit and Dean’s black eyes…

“I wanna see your normal eyes”, is all Sam can say right now.

A smirk.

“Anything for you, Sammy.”

And Dean’s eyes flash back to green and Sam can have the illusion of his brother just for a moment longer. Thick dark blood is pulsing out of Dean’s cut on his throat. 

“It looks disgusting, Dee.”

Dean only laughs.

“It’s not supposed to be beautiful.”

Dean cups his hand before the dripping wound, collects a tiny lake of blood in his hand and then, gently presses his blood covered hand against Sam’s lips. 

The world turns upside down. Sam feels the spinning, the spinning, the spinning!

The taste makes him want to barf, violently, but the old creature, the blood sucking monster was waiting patiently beneath the surface. Patient but greedy. Now it’s unleashed it bursts out and the first drops, he swallows. His lips limp and curled in utter disgust, but now, oh now, there’s a jolt running through his body, he sits straight up, first ties grinding, the ropes won’t last. The shackles won’t last. 

“Come on, sweet baby boy, you want more…” Dean sings, eyes black as the night. 

And slowly, very slowly and enjoying, Sam’s lips brush Dean’s hand, collect the blood, a tongue, pink, hot sneaks out, licks the offered hand. 

The ropes break. The pain in Sam’s arm fades. It’s a movement even Dean didn’t see coming when Sam bursts out of all restraints he put on him and grips Dean’s hand tight, as tight as possible and sucks three of Dean’s fingers dry. 

The Knight of Hell rejoices, pulls Sam close, closer than they’ve been for a very long time.

“That’s it, Sammy, yes, that’s it, let me take care of you… such a greedy boy…” 

Dean’s voice is distant to Sam, distorted and hollow, he remembers their youth, the motel rooms, the flickering lights, the old tv, how Dean smelled of whiskey and beer. John’s passed out in an armchair, stained in blood, piss and vomit. 

He remembers Dean’s care. The kisses at night, the stealthy handjobs in the shower, how Dean ‘taught’ him how people do it. 

Make love. 

Sam was twelve. Dean was sixteen. And he was a grower. 

A slut. 

All of this drenched in velvety red tint.

The ritual.

“Let me take care of you, Sammy…”

“I love you, Dee.”

“Never tell anyone.”

And Sam never had told anyone (but Lucifer knew - he knew everything) and deep down, buried in his mind, these feelings were in peaceful slumber, violently dragged across the floor now, kicking and crying, 

A W A K E

Sam is awake. 

He remembers the awkward, painful, dry fuck in the back of the Impala after they killed the Wendigo, so long ago, and how they never ever said a word. 

Spit is shitty lube.

So is blood.

It roars. The monster roars in Sam’s chest. It’s in agony, it’s in joy, it’s free! 

And Sam is just a puppet, always been nothing more than a puppet. He watches himself suck Dean’s fingers, then sticking his own fingers in the wound, stir it, stir Dean’s insides. The gurgling, the retching. Dean’s satisfied moans, his hands all over Sam’s now healed body. 

“Yes, Sammy, let it all out, come on… Let it all out.”

Sam only hisses. This blood, Dean’s blood, the blood of a demon, of a Knight. It’s so much more potent than Ruby’s or any other demon’s he’s ever drank and tasted. Dean is delicious. Demon tend to taste like rotting meat, titan arum aroma.

But Dean tastes of all the good things. Dahlia, petrichor, amber. His musk makes Sam’s blood boil and his pants bulge. 

“Sammy.”

“Dean”, is the first thing New Sam says. 

What Monster Sam says. His voice sounds low, rough, barely in control. His body is shaking, too much force is withhold now. 

“Brother.”

The wound on Dean’s throat is closing up again already, the healing ability is really incredible. Sam will bite it open very, very soon, but first… 

Dean doesn’t protest, he doesn’t fight back at all when Sam slams him down to the ground like he weighs nothing. There’s the crunchy sound of maybe, bones breaking, or just getting sprained, but even that, Dean will heal in no time. Dean lies on his stomach, attempts to get up. 

“Sammy-”

“Sammy is not here right now.”

There’s no surprise, no scare in Dean’s voice. Sam stomps his bare foot in Dean’s back and Dean stays, doesn’t even breathe. The adrenaline rush in Sam’s ears makes him deaf for most other things and seeing demon Dean down on his stomach, defeated so easily, it’s almost an insult. Sam crouches down, one foot still on Dean’s back, pressing him down. 

“You surrender?”, Sam asks, eyebrows raise.

“I didn’t mean to fight you at all.”

Dean chuckles, his voice raspy

Sam drags Dean on all fours, rips apart his shirt (the pretty red shirt, ruined with blood anyway) and Jeans and when he holds Dean’s hips, bends over and bites Dean’s neck, Dean hisses “Come on, Sammy, that’s it.”

That’s it.

Sam tears apart skin, Dean’s blood gushes in Sam’s mouth, warm and silky, smooth and delicious. 

“Is that what you wanted?”, Sam says in a breathless moment, before he starts sucking the wound dry, the bleeding will stop soon, way too soon for Sam to be satisfied. 

Dean growls deeply, pushes against Sam. Pleading. Sam pushes two fingers inside Dean, but feels very quickly, Dean doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want it. He needs Sam. He rips off his jeans, down to his knees and when that’s not giving him enough space, he just tears it to shreds completely. Dean’s ass is perfect. Round, juicy, firm. When he gives it a slap - a hard one - he enjoys the noise Dean makes. And then he thrusts completely inside, without hesitation. No foreplay. No gentle feeling ahead and preparing Dean’s wonderfully tight and delicious ass. He feels amazing, hot, tight, smooth. Dean hands grip Sam’s wrists tight while he fucks into him, raw, without anything to soothe the pain, make it easier, make Dean nice, slick and wet. But he doesn’t complain at all. 

“That’s it”, Dean chants, in his low, low “Let’s finish this game” voice. That’s it, over and over. 

This is no sex Sam would ever have if he was in his right mind. Covered in his own vomit, Dean’s blood, on the cold floor. Not that he has fucked any guy after he fled off to Stanford anyway. Dean is all he knows. He only knows what Dean taught him about fucking ass. 

Dean starts getting slippery with his own blood, Sam’s blood infused spit and finally, cum. Sam loses the feeling of time and space, all he can do is fuck Dean until one of them passes out, and if Dean passed out, Sam would continue anyway. 

The adrenaline rush plummets too early for Sam’s taste, the haze clears up and he’s getting aware of his ripped off clothes, the shreds of Dean’s. The fluids, the smell, the feeling. Crust everywhere. Dean is still on his knees, head sunken on the floor, his arms stretched out, breathing heavily. There’s no sign that he’s in pain. But Dean’s a demon, right? He will be fine. 

Sam drags him up, and the cocky smile, the perfect hair, it’s all gone. Dean looks like he’s had the same otherworldly experience. It’s a sight that makes Sam chuckle. 

“What are you laughing at?”, Dean asks, coming on his feet, gently swaying, but finally his wounds are closing up. 

“You threatened to rip my throat out. With your teeth.”

“Not there yet, Sammy. Not yet.”

The situation is unreal, Sam feels unreal. He knows he will never be the same. Something’s broken inside him, crumbled - yet ready to expand again, into unknown territory. 

He doesn’t remember the coercion, Dean’s betrayal - or was it Dean’s way of deliberating Sam?

Sam, leaning on the table, watches Dean come close and he leans in, a hand in Sam’s hair, gently pulling. Their kiss isn’t gentle, nothing will be gentle for a while. Teeth clash, the table scrapes along the floor and the throbbing of Dean’s pulse makes Sam rise up again. Dean bites Sam’s neck, sharp pain - and Dean drinks. The feeling is satisfying and roughening Sam up at the same time. He pulls his Knight close, closer, grabs him and bends him over the table, both still bleeding, Dean high from Sam’s blood. 

“For a Knight of Hell, you’re very pliant”, Sam growls in Dean’s ear.

Dean chuckles.

“I just bend the knee to my King.”

Sam frowns. 

“What do you mean?”

Dean hikes up and drags Sam to the mirror in the Dungeon.

“Take a look”, Dean hums, rich and satisfied in tone, “acknowledge who you are.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. First, Sam’s mossy eyes just look glassy, clear, beaming with desire for Dean. 

Then he draws in his breath with a sharp hiss. 

“You got your daddy’s eyes, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes turned yellow.

[shutupandshipit]

Sharpen Your Blades - Ch.17

Summary: “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The thinning of Aizawa’s patience was evident in the twitching of his brow. “If you stop asking questions, maybe I could finish explaining.

”With a huff and roll of his eyes, Katsuki glanced away from their coach.

“City Hall and the SC want us to give them more variety. We are a team solely made up of single skaters. Every year, we dominate the rankings for single skate while Shinketsu dominates the pairs, so this year both cities are being required to split their skaters evenly between singles and pairs with at least one pair coming from out top five.” There was a collective intake of breath, but no one commented, choosing instead to remain silent. “Unfortunately, for us, it’s a lot easier to switch from pairs to singles. With our male to female ratio, alpha/beta/omega ratio, and those of you actually experienced with pair skating, we’re at a disadvantage. So, I’ve decided to choose your partners for you.”

…..

Or where Katsuki and Izuku are forced to be partners so they can continue to compete, but the blood in the water may be thicker than anyone realized.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: E

Chapter: 17/20

Previously <- Chapter 16: Heats and Ruts

Chapter 18: ??? -> Next (coming 5/30)

Author’s Note: This chapter is pretty much exclusively sexy times with plot bits sprinkled in. If you don’t want to read it, the last section is tame. Otherwise, you’re gonna have to wait for the next chapter, hons. Thanks for coming to my PSA!

Chapter 17: Staying inside

Inko stood behind Izuku, hand pressed between his shoulder blades. “Go one, honey, it’ll be alright. Everyone out there is brand new too.” When he didn’t step forward, she asked, “Don’t you want to be like Daddy?”

Izuku nodded, but he didn’t look at her. He was staring out across the ice at all the other three and four and five year olds cautiously scooting around the ice. Some held tightly to their parents’ hands. Some held on tightly to each other. Others were plastered to the wall.

There was only one kid making ever more confident, if a little shaky, circles around center ice. Ash blonde hair and ruby red eyes, Izuku wanted to be exactly like him, but he was too shy.

The boy’s eyes caught Izuku’s before Izuku could duck away behind Inko’s legs.

After a couple minutes, a voice called, “Hey, you, kid! What’s your name?”

Izuku peaked out again to find the boy standing right in front of them, staring Izuku directly in the eyes. “I-I-Izuku,” he stuttered.

“Hah? Deku? What kind of name is that?”

Pouting, Izuku came out a little further. “Not Deku. Izuku.”

“Whatever. I’m Katsuki. Are you going to come out and skate or what?”

Izuku turned nervous eyes back to the ice. “I want to, but-”

“Then hurry up!” Katsuki interrupted, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the edge of the ice.

Izuku stumbled along behind him. “H-hold on, Kacchan! I don’t know how to skate!”

“That’s why we’re here, dummy! Hurry up!”

Izuku glanced back up at his eyes, and was swallowed immediately by the sheer determination there. After a moment, he nodded and let Katsuki drag him onto the ice.

…..

Izuku excavated his arms from his blanket, wrapping them around Katsuki’s neck as he hurried them down the hall of their apartment building. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he mumbled frantically as his body trembled from the pain and hot watery saliva filled his mouth. Fear and the sense of safety clashed horribly in his chest. On the one hand, he didn’t have a nest nor did he have the certainty of food or water or even a locked door, which was driving his omega into a frenzy. On the other hand, he had Katsuki’s arms around him and his heartbeat against his ear and the certainty that Katsuki would never let anything happen to him.

He didn’t notice they were in Katsuki’s apartment until he was being unceremoniously dropped in a nest. Unfurling from the blanket, he surveyed the nest. It was perfect. Exactly how he would have built one if he’d allowed himself. A mountain of plush pillows and plusher blankets all arranged for optimal coziness.

Izuku’s omega took the reins, forgetting everything besides including the red blanket and himself into the nest. He barely registered Katsuki standing over his shoulder, staring at him. 

When he’d gotten everything incorporated properly, he went to work on stripping out of his clothes.

Katsuki whispered, “Jesus fuck.”

Snapping his head up, he stared at the alpha. His expression was strained, fingers curled into fists at his sides. He panted, pupils dilated wide and body trembling.

“Kacchan?”

Katsuki swallowed before turning quickly. “I’m going to lock myself in my room so I don’t do anything we’ll both regret.”

“Wait- Kacchan-” The door slammed before Izuku could say anything more, and he stared down at the nest forlornly.

‘Alpha… left?’ his omega whined in confusion, ‘Alpha close. Alpha come. Alpha built a nest, but alpha not in nest.’

‘We can’t force Kacchan to do something he doesn’t want to do yet. We only just started courting. Sharing our cycles is a big step,’ he reminded his omega, but still, disappointment sat heavy in his stomach. He didn’t have long to think on his disappointment before the heat reared up again. His whole mind was consumed by his heat, going blank with need.

…..

Katsuki came to panting breathlessly, fingers locked around plush hips, digging into soft flesh. He was buried in Izuku’s body, trembling with aftershocks as Izuku clenched around him and whined desperately, wordlessly. “Wh-what the-” he panted, confused more than anything else. He couldn’t remember getting naked, couldn’t remember climbing into the nest, couldn’t remember fucking Izuku.

He couldn’t remember fucking Izuku.

He snarled viciously, angrily wishing he could direct it at his alpha. Because of his alpha, he couldn’t remember the moment he’d been dreaming of for years. He couldn’t remember a single detail of sliding into Izuku for the first time, of making him cry out his name, of knotting him.

Worse of all, he couldn’t remember if Izuku had said yes. He couldn’t remember if Izuku had said it was what he wanted. The last thing he could recall was locking himself in his bedroom and pressing his face into his pillows to try and smother the scent of Izuku in the other room.

Clearly, that hadn’t worked.

Izuku made a noise beneath him, chest pressed in the very visibly dry blankets below them, body trembling as his fingers gripped the fabric for purchase. He whined again, high and reedy, like a dog in pain. He strained against Katsuki’s hands, but Katsuki’s grip kept him firmly in place.

Bile rose in the back of Katsuki’s throat. Immediately, he started to loosen his grip. “Fuck, Deku, I’m sorry. I thought- I’m usually conscious during-”

Izuku pressed desperately back against him, whining as he struggled for movement while Katsuki’s knot kept them firmly tied together.

Katsuki was at as loss for words as he watched Izuku trying to fuck himself on his cock, and it took him several long moments to put two and two together. His death grip and black out. Izuku’s desperation and the dry sheets beneath him. He might have cum, but it seemed as if Izuku hadn’t. That Katsuki’s stupid fucking alpha lizard brain hadn’t let him, chasing after his own pleasure instead of worrying about the pleasure of his partner. Sex was supposed to be a push and pull, a give and take, an agreement between participants. It wasn’t supposed to be all take, take, take with no reciprocation. The whole idea made Katsuki sick to his stomach.

It made him want to rip his alpha straight from his head all the more. The only positive thing he could find about the situation was that Izuku’s neck and shoulders were unmarred.

He wasn’t sure what he would have done if he’d come out of his rut induced black out to find that he’d claimed Izuku. Possibly thrown himself off the nearest bridge because it would have been what he deserved.

Izuku’s whines had devolved into racking, heaving sobs, and Katsuki’s stomach and heart twisted around and around each other. His alpha, for the time being, was silent. Sex drunk and lounging in his own afterglow.

Katsuki hushed Izuku gently, releasing his hold completely on the omega’s waist, and leaning over him to press chest to back. “I’ve got you, Izuku, I’ve got you. Breath,” he coaxed, soothing his hands down Izuku’s sides until his breathing had leveled back out with a few hiccups.

Sliding his hand down Izuku’s chest, he just barely skimmed his fingertips over Izuku’s length before the omega shuddered and cried out. He went completely limp, Katsuki’s arm across his chest keeping him from collapsing completely.

The scent of mint and a lightning storm and sweet summer apples filled the air, and Katsuki’s alpha lifted its head in interest. Katsuki shoved it back down, basking instead in the sheer pleasure of Izuku’s pleasure.

Katsuki lowered the two of them completely into the nest on their sides, dragging the red nesting blanket over them. Izuku’s chest was vibrating wildly with the force of his purr, eyes closed and body utterly motionless. If it hadn’t been for how loud his purr was, Katsuki would have thought he was dead or something.

"I'll be right here when you come back," Katuski murmured against the back of his neck, noting the shiver that wracked his body.

With his arms tight around Izuku and his nose filled with their scents, he drifted on a wave of post-orgasm bliss. He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until he startled awake as Izuku murmured.

“Kacchan?” His eyes were still closed when Katsuki finally opened his. Somehow, he was still buried in Izuku and was halfway hard again already, but he was still conscious. That was the important part. He was still conscious, and he was bound and determined to stay that way. “Kacchan? Mm, Kacchan?”

“Here, Izuku,” Katsuki said, breath ghosting across his cheek.

When Izuku cracked those green eyes, they were clear of his heat haze. That was probably part of the reason he was verbal again. He blinked up at Katsuki rapidly, cheeks blooming red and purr coming to an abrupt stop. “K-K-Kacchan? Wh-what happened? Where are we?” His eyes grew wider as he glanced at Katsuki’s bare chest. “Why are we naked? Why are you- Oh my god!” His voice had become a mere squeak as he shifted, probably feeling Katsuki still in him. His hands shot up, covering his face.

Fear shot through Katsuki, and he bracketed Izuku in, desperate for him to understand. “I’m sorry, Deku. I’m sorry. I only came to after- My alpha took over. I’m sorry. I don’t remember how or when I got out here.”

Izuku didn’t seem to be listening though, and Katsuki shut up to hear him moan, “Oh my god, I don’t remember my first time with Kacchan! Stupid omega! Why did you do that? You couldn’t even give me this much?”

Katsuki couldn’t help it when he snorted.

Cracking his fingers open, Izuku pouted up at Katsuki with watery green eyes. “It’s not funny, Kacchan, I dreamed about that for a long time. And now I’ll never get to remember it. It’s just one more thing-”

Katsuki pulled Izuku’s hands away from his face to lean in and capture his lips. The omega’s eyes fluttered closed, and he started to purr all over again as he opened up beneath him. When they pulled apart again, Izuku was panting and red for an entirely different reason. “We’ll just have to remember this time then.”

A giggle exploded from Izuku, and he covered his face again. “Kacchan, you want to spend my heat with me?” he asked, breathless as he continued to giggle.

“Well, I can’t spend it with anyone else, can I?” he snapped without heat, “Now, my rut-” Katsuki didn’t finish that statement as big watery cow eyes peaked out from behind Izuku’s fingers again. “Kidding, nerd. Now that I’ve had your ass, even if I don’t remember it, no one else gets to have it.”

“The same goes for you,” Izuku whispered, still staring through his fingers, but he had that look of pure determination that he always got when he was getting ready to dominate a competition.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“N-n-no one else, gets to have you now. O-o-only me.”

Staring down at him for several long moments, he finally let the thought ricocheting around his brain out, “You’re hot when you’re confident, nerd.”

Again, the hands flew back up. “You can’t just say stuff like that, Kacchan!”

“I can say whatever I damn well please. And stop fucking hiding!” Katsuki wrestled with Izuku’s arms, trying to rip them away from his face until Izuku bucked back against him. They both stilled, moaning wantonly into each other’s skin. It took them several minutes of breathlessness to speak again.

“Kacchan, I want to remember this time. I want you to stay with me.”

“Me too. I want to remember.” Katsuki gripped his wrists, but when he pulled this time, they fell easily. He didn’t waste time before diving into Izuku’s mouth, rutting gently against Izuku. The quiet friction was enough to have them panting.

“Mm,” Izuku hummed against his mouth, “More. I want more.”

Pulling out and ignoring the wretched whine Izuku released, he flipped the omega onto his back and settled in between his legs. Gripping his hips, he slid back into Izuku’s heat before the omega could really start complaining. Fully seated, he fell on top of Izuku again, licking into his mouth with fervor.

Izuku moaned, legs wrapping around Katsuki’s waist and hands burying into his hair. He gripped the roots tightly, and Katsuki bucked his hips in surprise at the mix of pain and pleasure.

“Fuck, do that again,” he gasped into Izuku’s mouth, setting a frenzied pace that rocked Izuku with every thrust.

Complying, Izuku pulled at his hair again as he cried out, legs tightening around Katsuki’s hips.

“Izuku,” Katsuki grunted against his cheek, “If you keep holding me like that, I’m not going to last long.” Already, he could feel his knot beginning to inflate, each slide in and out of Izuku’s entrance harder than the last.

“I don’t care!” Izuku shouted, legs flexing around him again in a show of pure strength and making his movements stutter. “Knot me! Please! I need it!”

Growling, Katsuki removed one hand from Izuku’s hip, instead fitting it around his length. Izuku bucked up into his hand. Everything between them was slippery with sweat and precum and cum and slick. Katsuki’s fingers glided over Izuku effortlessly.

“Yes, yes, yes, right there,” Izuku chanted, moving with Katsuki now, rushing to drag their ends closer. “Please, please, please.”

“You’re going to have to hurry up yourself. I’m not going to cum before you this time.” Katsuki thrust into Izuku harder, teeth aching with the urge to sink them into Izuku. “I wanna bite you so bad.”

“No,” Izuku moaned instead, “Not yet.”

“I know,” Katsuki grit out.

Izuku’s body trembled, shaking with each thrust and pull. “Kacchan!” he cried out, clenching down around Katuski. Instead of going stiff like Katsuki had been expecting, like the last time, he thrust up into Katsuki’s hand and down onto his cock as he spilled between their bodies.

“Finally,” Katsuki growled, sinking his teeth into Izuku’s shoulders as his knot locked them together. He shuddered and stilled even as Izuku continued to move against him, spilling into the omega’s body.

…..

Morning crested with blazing orange creeping through the wide open windows of Katsuki’s apartment. Birds serenaded the rising of the sun and the wonderfully dull aching pain in Izuku’s hips as he shifted in the arms slung around him. Despite the freezing temperature of the air tickling his cheeks from the window he couldn’t remember either of them opening, he was comfortably warm. Not mid-wave of his heat warm, but sitting in the summer sun warm.

He’d never felt so completely satisfied in his life. For once, it was easy to breath.

Until it was all interrupted by the obnoxious buzzing of plastic across hardwood. Burrowing beneath Katsuki’s side, Izuku was resolute to just ignore it. The buzzing went silent after an extended period of time, and Izuku sighed happily. Then it started ringing again. He released a frustrated groan, but remained exactly where he was. The heat in his body was beginning to build again, and he knew another wave would be hitting him sooner rather than later. All he wanted was to rest until then. The buzzing stopped again and immediately started back up. “Oh my lanta,” Izuku moaned, rubbing his forehead against Katsuki’s side.

 He was gearing up to reach for the offending object when Katsuki shifted to reach across him instead. The buzzing stopped, and in its place was Katsuki’s voice, deep and gravelly and sex-drenched, “Don’t you extras understand what it fucking means when someone doesn’t answer the goddamn phone.”

The sound of Katsuki's voice shot straight through Izuku, simultaneously turning him into a puddle and setting a forest fire alight in his body. He wanted nothing more than to suck his dick while that voice spat obscenities and praises in equal measure.

Katsuki didn’t seem to notice when Izuku slipped beneath the blankets. “I’m going to answer that question for you. The answer is clearly no. Stop fucking-” His rant was cut off by a deep groan.

Cold air nipped at Izuku’s fevered skin as the blankets were jerked up. Katsuki’s scarlet eyes stared down at him as he innocently stared back like he hadn’t just licked up Katsuki’s entire shaft. “Morning,” he chirped as he leaned back in to repeat the action.

Before the blanket fell back into place with another of Katsuki’s deep groans, Izuku just caught sight of his phone case through gaps in Katsuki’s fingers. He gasped, scrambling back up Katsuki’s body just as the alpha flung the phone back onto the couch. “Kacchan, that was my phone!” Izuku cried, reaching for it. He could still see that the call was connected as thick arms wrapped around his waist.

“Where do you think you’re going? You better be planning to finish what you started,” Katsuki growled playfully as they wrestled. Katsuki worked to bring him back into the nest while Izuku struggled to end the call that was. Still. Connected.

Why hadn’t the person hung up! Did they want to be scared for life? The bigger issue was that people would know. People would know that they’d spent his heat together, and they wouldn’t have gotten to open up about their courting on their own terms. It was distressing, but at the same time, Izuku didn’t know if it could work any other way. They hadn’t even talked about the courting, not really. The passed few weeks had been strife with their angst and frustration and falling into each other over and over again.

“Kacchan, the call is still connected,” Izuku whined, but his strength was failing with the heat building in his body.

“They better fucking hang up soon if they don’t want to be scared, then shouldn’t they?” he growled against Izuku’s collarbone, making him squirm with need and already mounting pleasure.

Just having Katsuki so close, being able to lie skin to skin with him, was nearly too much. At the same time, it was far from enough.

“Kacchan,” he whined again before finally submitting, and slumping into the alpha’s body.

Katsuki held him close, arms around his waist as he pressed kiss after kiss along the exposed skin of his shoulder. His fingers trailed along Izuku’s lower back, gentle and warm and undemanding.

Izuku panted against Katsuki’s shoulder, body limp as the wave took him. Every press of Katsuki’s lips and skim of his fingers sent pleasure sparking along his skin. He cock was crushed between the planes of their stomachs, already sticky with pre-cum. Slowly, Katsuki’s hands parted from each other, one burying deep in Izuku’s hair to scratch at his scalp while the other slid down to press against his entrance.

Izuku pressed weakly down into Katsuki’s hand, moaning quietly when those fingers gently pushed into him, seemingly checking to see if he needed to be prepped again. He pumped them slowly, dragging the pads of his fingers along Izuku’s inner walls. Izuku was still wet, and he didn’t want to wait for Katsuki to stretch him back out. “Kacchan, please,” he whispered, trying to press down just to get Katsuki to move, but the alpha seemed content just having his fingers in Izuku.

“Tell me what you want, Izuku, and I’ll do it for you. Anything. You just have to ask.” Katsuki’s whisper ghosted across his skin, and a shiver rocked his body.

He moaned plaintively, phone call forgotten as he arched against Katsuki’s body. “You. I want you.” He gripped Katsuki’s shoulders, digging his nails in lightly. “Please, please, I just- I want-”

Katsuki hushed him with lips against his jaw, pulling his fingers from Izuku only to replace them with his cock. He slid in easily and slowly, savoring every inch that disappeared into Izuku.

A moan slid from Izuku’s mouth as Katsuki found his home in his body, and he cried out when Katsuki gave a singular, shallow thrust to completely seat himself. Izuku came between their bodies, trembling against Katsuki as the alpha showered him with more kisses, more gentle touches, more wonderful words. “So good for me,” he whispered into Izuku’s skin, “Never imagined it like this. Could never imagine this. Tell me what you want.” He sounded almost delirious, drunk as Izuku on the rightness of their intimacy.

Because he was right. Out of all the nights he’d fantasized about being with Katsuki, he could never have imagined this.

“Take me apart.”

And Katsuki did.

…..

Katsuki had never put so much work into something in his entire life. It wasn’t simple to take Izuku apart at the seams, but it was made easier by his knowledge of the man. He was slow, methodical, finding the places that made Izuku release silent screams, the places that made him cry out, the places that made him mewl and squirm.

Even with rut running hot through his veins, his alpha now seemed content to give the omega every second of pleasure they could possibly manage and set his own pleasure aside instead of chasing madly after it. He didn’t think this was what ruts were normally like for most alphas, and he worshipped Izuku’s body for the sheer ability to. That was where true pleasure lay.

Katsuki nipped and sucked at Izuku’s pert nipples while Izuku made efforts to get movement between them, but Katsuki’s hands on his hips kept him fully seated. He slid his hands down to massage Izuku’s thighs only to return them before Izuku could get any bright ideas.

Izuku whined plaintively, hips and cock twitching with the effort to break from Katsuki’s hold. “Please, Kacchan, move,” he begged, fingernails digging deep into his shoulders, “Please! I need to feel you! I need you to move! You’re driving me insane!”

Breaking from Izuku’s chest, he mouthed along the column of his throat leaving deep red marks in his wake. “Not enough if you’re still coherent.” Izuku whined louder this time. “I quite like you being my cock warmer. You don’t?”

Burying his face in Katsuki’s hair, he groaned. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”

“And here I am, saying it.” Katsuki nosed along the skin beneath Izuku’s chin, stopping when he came in contact with his scent gland. He stayed there, lavishing the area with broad strokes of his tongue. “Do you want me to not say stuff like that?” he asked after a moment.

“Sometimes,” Izuku started, and Katsuki could already tell it wasn’t going to be an answer to his question, “I feel like I need a safe word just to be around you.”

Katsuki paused in his ministrations, and Izuku’s body immediately relaxed into him, chest heaving. “Am I doing something that needs a safe word?”

“I feel like you’re edging me.” Even though he was mumbling, he was so close to Katsuki’s ear that he could hear him clear as day.

“Not on purpose.” Katsuki loosened his hold on Izuku’s hips, but the omega didn’t take the opportunity as it was presented to him. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“Good, because I don’t want to stop.” Katsuki hummed, satisfied. “Will you tell me if you change your mind?”

“Yes.”

Katsuki hummed again, and slowly leveraged Izuku off his lap, making the omega keen against his ear. He pushed up back into Izuku’s heat just as slowly, holding him up so he could start a tortuous rock of his hips. “‘Zuku,” he mumbled as he mouthed at Izuku’s shoulder, “Why didn’t you have anything ready for your heat?”

“Kacchan,” Izuku whined, body trembling violently as Katsuki slid home again.

“I’m not going to get mad.” Katsuki didn’t know if that was a blatant lie or not, but he’d definitely do his damnedest not to show it. This wasn’t the time for anger. Neither of them were in the right mind for it either. “I just want to know. Why didn’t you prepare?”

“I-I-I-” Izuku stuttered, eyes screwed shut and mouth hanging wide as he panted, “You’re go-going to be mad.”

“I told you I wasn’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Jerking Izuku roughly down back into his lap to force a cry from his lungs, Katsuki gently gripped his chin in his hand and pulled his face down so they were just centimeters apart. “Why did you say that you don’t want to have a heat, Deku? I want to have pups with you one day, but if that’s going to be at your detriment, then I’ll leave it. I just want to understand.”

Izuku sobbed, his chest heaving as tears all at once began to track down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, alpha. I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” he babbled. Distress had begun to sour the sweetness of his heat scent, rotting apples instead of crisp apples. Rain on asphalt instead of rain on a forest floor.

With a growl, Katsuki crushed their mouths together. Izuku’s mouth tasted like salt and copper, and he swiped his tongue over a cut on the inside of Izuku’s bottom lip. He pulled back again, but still not far. Never far. He wouldn’t have been able to handle it. “Izuku, listen to me,” Katsuki whispered and waited until he could glimpse those emerald eyes through cracked lids, “That’s your omega talking. This is your body, and I don’t get a say over it. If you want to have pups one day, then we have pups when you’re ready. If you never want to have pups, then we don’t have pups. In the end, the choice is yours. I just want to understand. Why don’t you want to have a heat? Why weren’t you prepared? Why did you chance taking suppressants? Every time I smell them in your scent, all I can see is you in that bed glassy eyed and barely breathing. Every time I see someone else touch you, all I can see is you broken on the ice. I just want to understand. Please, help me understand.”

“Kacchan, please, please, I need you, please,” Izuku begged, face still wet and hair hanging in damp ringlets all around him, “Please, I’ll tell you everything, please. I need you. I need- I-”

Katsuki hushed him again just like before, lips against his cheek. Again, he lifted Izuku off his lap, arms straining with hiss full weight. He was kind this time, taking up a faster pace than previously both for Izuku's sake and his own.

Izuku cried out wordlessly with each upward thrust. "More, Kacchan! More! I need your knot, please!" He all but sobbed, "Please!"

"Almost there, sweetheart," Katsuki growled, thrusting up harder each time his knot caught on Izuku's rim.

As soon as his knot breeched Izuku's entrance and locked them in place, the omega spilled hotly between them with a scream. He collapsed against Katsuki, chest heaving for breath and spasms rocking his body. It was only after his breath came under control that he whispered tiredly, "You didn't cum, Kacchan."

"I was preoccupied."

"By?"

"You cumming."

Izuku pressed his face into Katsuki's neck. "How can you just say that? Why would you want to watch that?"

Despite feeling the sudden urge to stop talking, Katsuki said, "Because you're beautiful and I get distracted by everything you do."

Izuku keened, and jerked in his lap, spent cock releasing another pathetic spurt. He squirmed more insistently, and Katsuki could have sworn he felt the omega's body temperature rise as he watched an embarrassed flush color the back of Izuku's neck and ears. "I want to feel you cum in me," he muttered, and started licking insistently and purposefully at Katsuki's scent gland.

Katsuki reacted immediately with an involuntary jerk of his hips and long moan. Grinding down into his lap, Izuku moaned along with him, leaving marks all along his neck and shoulders, but always returning to the same place.

It didn't take much for Katsuki to start pushing more insistently at Izuku's ass, unable to move as much as he wanted to. He gripped wherever he could, fingers tight on supple skin as his movements became frantic. "It's not enough," he growled, just at the edge but unable to fall over.

He didn't notice one of Izuku's hands dropping to trail behind him. At the same time as he gently gripped Katsuki's balls, he bit into Katsuki’s scent gland without breaking the skin.

"Fuck!" Katsuki spat, ramming up against Izuku so hard that they were lifted into the air. His body went still as his cock pulsed within Izuku and the omega walls clamped down tight. He felt Izuku's cock jump between them again, but no hot fluid followed. A satisfied growl rumbled through his chest, quickly turning into a purr.

After a moment of silence filled only with their harmonious purrs, Izuku said, "You called me sweetheart."

Katsuki didn't respond as his heat of exertion turned into one of embarrassment.

"I liked it."

The breath he didn't realize he'd been holding flew from his chest.

Laughing, Izuku pulled back to press a slow kiss to Katsuki's mouth before laying his head on his shoulder. "I wasn't ready because I thought I would find a way around having my heat. I… I haven't had a heat since I was twelve. The only other time I tried, it was so painful, I took the suppressants, but was still sick for days after."

"Jesus christ, don't you know how dangerous that is?"

"Yes, but I preferred to chance it than live in fear of my next heat. I just… I didn't have a choice this time. My doctors took me off because… my hormones had started to drop dangerously."

Katsuki remained silently, listening intently as Izuku sniffled.

"They took me off them and then just told me to use heat aids or find an alpha. You remember that date I went on?" Katsuki snarled in response which at least made the omega laugh. "I couldn't do it. I felt like I was cheating. I didn't want just any alpha… I… I wanted you."

"Why didn't you just tell me? We could have been doing this the whole time. We could have been mated years ago."

Izuku pulled away from Katsuki, glaring pointedly at him. "Kacchan, until October, you had barely said a word to me since we were twelve unless we were arguing. It would have stayed that way if Aizawa hadn’t made us partners again. When was I supposed to just come out and say that? I thought you hated me."

Katsuki flinched, eyes darting away from those stern green irises. "I never hated you."

"Then why?"

"I blamed myself," Katsuki blurted, feeling the truth burble up thickly inside of his chest.

"Blamed… yourself?" Izuku’s confusion was all too obvious.

"For you getting hurt. If I hadn't ended our partnership, then that scum would have never been your partner. But I wanted you to be able to skate singles, so I thought if I ended it, we'd both get to skate singles. Only that didn't happen. If you'd been skating with me that day, you never would have gotten hurt. I almost ripped the guy's throat out. And each day you weren't on the ice was another day I considered not skating anymore. You hated me because I'm basically the reason you got hurt. So leaving you alone was the best way for me to-"

Izuku cut him off with a choked sputtering. "You thought I hated you? Kacchan! I thought you hated me for dragging you down and then not being good enough to keep from getting hurt. I didn't want to drag you down anymore so I just… left you alone. I knew you didn't want anything to do with me."

Katsuki stared at him, mind reeling with the new information. And then they were laughing, holding tight to each other. "We're idiots."

"No," Izuku gasped around another giggle, "We're just really bad at communicating. Like really bad. Like I think we're the worst people at communicating on the face of the planet."

"Same thing."

"Also, Kacchan?"

Katsuki hummed, eyes on the ceiling as he traced nonsensical patterns into Izuku's lower back.

"For the record, I do want to have your pups one day."

Katsuki gave Izuku a wolfish grin.

…..

They didn’t leave their nest for three full days save for absolute necessities. Food, water, bathroom, and shower. Other than that, they fucked and when they weren’t fucking, they were catching up on TV shows or figure skating news or binging the rest of Izuku’s podcast that Katsuki hadn’t already listened to or continuing to spill their guts for each other.

When their respective heat and rut finally petered to a close with one final, slow, generous orgasm, Katsuki left Izuku in the nest to cook an actual meal. One that was hot and nutritious and didn’t taste like a protein bar. Eventually, Izuku hoisted himself from the completely destroyed mass of fabric to sit on the floor of the kitchen.

Izuku watched Katsuki idly, eyes trailing over his strong shoulders and corded thighs and tight calves, appreciating every aspect of his body. A body he now had pure carnal knowledge of, and would be happy to gain more knowledge of eventually. A body that was marked up with thin angry scratches and deep purple hickeys and rings of teeth marks and bruises that were in the shape of fingers.

His heat had only just ended, but Izuku already couldn’t wait to spend his next in a nest of Katsuki’s design.

“Oh,” he whispered.

Katsuki glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

Izuku opened his mouth to reply, but closed it after another moment. He made his mind slow down, to stop rushing forward, and actually consider the implication of his thought. After a long moment of silence where Katsuki didn’t press and simply allowed him to think, he said, “This is the only heat that I’ve ever had that didn’t hurt.”

Katsuki’s eyes glanced towards him. “Isn’t that because you haven’t had one in years?”

Izuku lifted his eyes again, blinking up at his alpha. He shook his head. “No, that’s not it. At first, it was hurting so badly that I couldn’t even see straight, just like it used to. I’m certain it would have stayed like that too, but…”

Again, Katsuki’s eyes found him. “But?”

“But you stayed with me. That’s the difference, Kacchan. You.” He was grinning, stupidly taken with the idea that Katsuki had so much sway over him. He always had, but the physical proof made his heart pound in his chest. “Say, Kacchan?”

Katsuki hummed in reply, eyes focussed back on the pan in front of him.

“Do you ever think that we claimed each other a long time ago? Before we knew what our secondary genders were going to be? Before we knew if we’d even be able to be together? Do you think that could be why my heats were always so painful?”

Katsuki scoffed, but not meanly. When he spoke, Izuku’s heart swelled. “Nothing but ourselves were going to keep us apart, dumbass. Even if we’d both been alphas or omegas or betas. We just happened to be compatible on more than one level.” Izuku noticed how he didn’t answer his last question, but after a moment he continued. “This was the first rut that wasn’t unbearable. They never hurt or anything, mostly they were just a chore, but it always got to the point where taking care of myself left me feeling empty instead of sated. But this one wasn’t like that. So, maybe your theory has some merit.”

Izuku scooted along the floor, wrapping an arm around Katsuki’s calf and leaning into his leg. He began to purr.

Katsuki’s hand dropped, threading into the curls on the top of Izuku’s head. He allowed the intimacy for several long moments before shoving Izuku with his leg. “Go sit. I’m fucking starving.”