#and the stuffed up nostril that i had in my dream was also stuffed up when i woke up

[july-19th-club]

it should be illegal to wake up with a headache id you didn't have one when you went to sleep

[mrsbrookemunson]

Spider-Man | Andrew!Peter x Fem!Reader

Prompt: This is when Peter Parker gets his powers in the movie, except you're right there with him as his best friend.

Genre: Fluff with underlying angst

Warnings: Swearing, canon fighting, mentions of injuries (Reader gets hit in the face with a skateboard, and whacked in the stomach with a pole), Peter's low key kind of mean to the reader (but cares), arguments, Peter likes Gwen, implied chubby!reader, it is the subway, and aftermath scene from the movie. Definitely a few typos

Word Count: 3445

A/N: I actually wrote a whole bestfriend!reader x Peter Parker series and never posted it, so let me know if you want part two.

| Part One | Part Two |

It all happened when Peter Parker said he was going to try to find some Dr. Conners that knew his dad back in the day, plain and simple. And me being the bestest friend I am, I waited at a coffee shop—did all my homework, not to brag… it’s a process!—so that he didn’t have to go home—which happens to be next to mine—on the subway alone. Plain. And. Simple.

“There you are!” I exclaimed, happily. “You know when someone says they’re five minutes away, I’d like to believe they are indeed… five minutes away.” I stood up, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my coat, the chill air having not gone away in the city of New York for a while.

Peter gave me an apologetic smile. “Sorry! I just… have a lot on my mind, and I’m tired,” he explained, sounding distant.

I narrowed my eyes at him in question. He definitely seems off. “Ah, it’s okay, you know I can’t stay mad at you.” I widely smiled, slapping him on the arm which causes him to jolt. “So, how was it?” Did you find Dr. Conners?” 

He nodded, “I did.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, “And?” 

“And–what? We didn’t talk, I couldn’t get him alone.” 

I frowned. “Next time then…” I assured. “Anything else that happened that I should know about?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing of importance.” His lips twitched up for a second afterwards. “But… Gwen Stacy was there.” 

My heart hammered, “That girl you’re madly in love with?” 

He laughed my statement off, awkwardly. “I’m not in love with her,” he protested weakly. “Just interested is all.” 

I let out an absentminded hum.

At that moment the train came hustling in with an abrupt stop.

Saved by the subway.

“Shall we?” I tilted my head towards it.

“We shall,” he replied. 

If I knew that Peter would’ve fallen asleep on the train, I also wouldn’t have drifted off… but I did… honestly… kind of worth it.

His feet were elevated, resting against the wall beside my head in his lying down position. I, on the other hand, was sitting upright, my neck craned back in a very uncomfortable manner. I was surprised we both dozed with the group of drunks beside us causing a ruckus. The group, stupidly, danced and laughed, the smell of cigarettes and beer burned my nostrils. 

Suddenly I was woken up when Peter made a harsh movement up.

What I didn’t expect to see was him attached to the roof of the transport. “P–Peter?” I rubbed my eyes in the slight chance I was dreaming. 

Everyone stared at him in a tense silence, including me. 

Peter looked at his hands which stuck onto the metal, hesitantly letting go, sending him down to the ground. “Are you okay?” I asked, concerned, kneeling down beside him to help him up.

“Yeah,” he answered, unsure. “You did see that right?” 

I opened my mouth to answer, but get cut off by one of the girls present, “Disgusting, now I smell my beer.” 

I had to resist the strong urge to roll my eyes. Because that’s what’s important. 

Peter, being Peter, looked at her in alarm, and guilt. “Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I didn’t mean to…” His voice dragged when he tried to pull his hand away. 

“Peter?” I eyed him, weirded out at the turn of events that took place 

“I didn’t–I didn’t,” he stuttered, still struggling his hand away.

An older man walked up to Peter, a tough persona displayed. “Get your hand off her!” he commanded.

Peter looked at the man, fearfully. 

“I’m trying to get my—”

“Can’t you see he’s trying!” I shouted. 

The guy, now angry, pushed Peter away from the girl, his hand took her shirt along with him. A couple of the surrounding guys laughed, staring.

“Well, that’s one way of getting your hand off of her,” I joked, but Peter didn’t react. 

The man that pushed Peter gets more riled up from this action, “Are you kidding?” 

Peter held onto one of the hand bars that he was previously rammed into, looking away from the girl, respectfully. “I’m sorry.” He raised a hand back, her shirt still latched onto the palm of his hand.

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?!” the man shouted.

“Hey! It’s not his fault,” I argued in his defense. “Can’t you see he was trying to? Technically you were the one that pushed him, which led to the accidental taking off of this… lady’s shirt, so–technically–it’s your fault.” 

I noticed in the corner of my eye Peter trying to pull his hand away from the hand bar just as I heard, “Hey, get him, Rudy, I got the girl.” 

“What?!” I raised my hands up in defense. “Isn’t this whole thing about sticking up for women?” 

“Hey!” Ignoring my words the man threw a punch towards Peter who raised a swift leg, kicking the man past me and onto another bench. The man groaned in pain.

“Woah,” I let out, breathless as the man fell to the ground.

“Man, I’m sorry! Oh, man, are you all right?” Peter rambled, turning to look at him.

As if he knew, Peter pushes up kicking another guy that had just about lunged at him, the momentum of it ended with him on his back.

“Take him down! Come on,” a woman shouted.

“Woah hold on–ah!” 

I was about to step in when another guy charged towards Peter who kicked up at the guy, doing a kip up, effortlessly landing on his feet. All with still holding onto the hand rail. “Get him, man! Get him!” 

There was only one guy left standing, his head whipping to the skateboard on the ground, Peter ever-so-slightly shook his head, eyeing it upsettingly. “No, man, no. Not my board,” he pleaded.

I was just about to grab it when the guy got it first in a flash, winding it back.

“Please, dude, don’t—” Peter didn’t finish his sentence as it was about to hit him, but the impact never came. “Y/n—You!” 

Of course, during this part all I saw was pitch black darkness, Peter–thankfully–filled me in on what happened after I was ejected from existence… I can still feel the pain.

The guy with the skateboard still in hand, attempted to swing at Peter for a second time, but Peter manages to kick up once again, and swung around to straddle his own arms in a bent position. Much to Peter’s dismay, the pole broke from the ground, nearly hitting me…

Oh wait—

First he hit the guy who started it all right where the sun didn't shine. “Sorry. Sorry.” Then another guy in the jaw. “Oh.” He turns to look at all the guys lifeless on the ground. “I am so sorry.” And then—

“I’m alive–UGH!” I crouched down, holding my stomach.

Peter finally gained the ability to drop the pole, staring down at his hand in shock.

Coney Island, next stop, the conductor’s voice resonated through the poorly made speakers, repeating it. 

“A little help down here,” I squeaked.

Peter snapped his attention to me who was… in a lot of pain. “Oh my—” he cut himself off, rushing to me. “Oh my God, I am so sorry, are you okay? Does it hurt? Of course it hurts, you were hit with a skateboard. Can you remember things? What’s your name? What is my name?” He took my face into his hands, inspecting it carefully. “Why the Hell did you do that? You definitely have a concussion.”

“Peter! Everyone is staring.” I covered his hands which have yet to pull away from my cheeks that felt as though they were on fire. 

Peter opened his mouth, but no words came out, shutting it. “Do you think your aunt would be okay if you spent the night?” 

“As long as we use protection,” I teased.

Peter’s eyes widened in embarrassment.

“Oh–I didn’t mean–it’s just my aunt always says to… nevermind.”

It was a long ride to the Parker residence from there.

Peter practically sprinted off of the train when we arrived. “Peter!” I screamed due to the amount of distance he put between us. 

“Oh, right!” He ran back, not wasting anymore time. “Hop on my back!” 

I blinked a few times, “Wh-What?” 

“Hop on… my back.” He set his backpack on the ground. “I literally just ripped a metal pole out of the ground, I can carry you.” 

I hesitated. “You’ve never been able to carry me before,” I pointed out, sadly. “Not to mention I have a backpack that weighs at least 50 pounds.

“Don’t say it like that, please, you’re probably lighter than air, it’s my fault I’m so weak,” he begs. “Let’s just try.” 

“I hate trying.” 

“I know you do,” he dismissed, turning around, and kneeling.

“If this goes poorly…” I dragged.

Peter didn't respond, as I cautiously wrapped my legs to straddle his back. 

“Okay I–woah!” I gasped when he stood upright. “Okay, okay, okay, you’re holding me up, that’s…” 

“Just hold on tight.” 

I do as he said, wrapping my arms around his neck, and intertwining my legs around his torso. “Why? You aren’t going to—No!” I shrieked when he starts to sprint again. “Peter!” I tighten edmy grip around him, my face nestled into the crook of his neck. “How are you doing this right now?” I asked, hinting at the fact he’s running with me on his back, with my backpack on, while carrying his backpack, and skateboard, which apparently broke at the second hit at him. It broke off of him.

Can’t deny all of it was attractive, well… what I saw before I was knocked out.

“How did I do any of that stuff?” 

I opened my mouth to reply with something clever, but nothing formed. 

“See?” he laughed.

I noticed that his face was starting to break out into a cold sweat. “Peter? You’re sweating. I knew this would be too much for you—”

“No! I think it’s the shock, the reaction. You know…” He began to slow down. “I am not beginning to feel too well,” he admitted, starting to stumble a little.

“Okay, you need to let me go. “

“It’s not you, I swear!” 

“I’m not saying it is, we’re almost at your house Peter, we can walk from here.” 

Giving in, he let me go. And looking at him… he didn’t look too good. Well, he always looks good, but I mean like… he looks ill. “It wasn’t you…” he reassured, shaking his head, spastically. 

“Let’s just… get you home, okay?” 

I go to grab his hand, but he jerked away. What is happening right now?

We arrived at his house. I opened the door, and ushered Peter inside whilst closing the door behind us. “Uh, hey,” Peter greeted. “Hey, hey.” He walked off without me.

I scrambled to keep up with his long strides as he met up with Aunt May and Uncle Ben. 

“Sorry. I’m late–and–uh Y/n's here too.” He gestured toward me as I peak my head around the corner. “We got—” 

“We’ve been so worried.” Aunt May stood to block him with a stern expression. “Your aunt too, Y/n!” She pointed to me who sported a sheepish smile. 

My eyes looked down at my phone which I had yet to pull out tonight, cringing at the number of voicemails and messages. I sent her a quick one back that I was safe and would be staying the night at Peter’s. “Use protection,” I read my Aunt Yelena’s text in a hushed tone.

“I know. I’m sorry. Watch out!” 

I looked up in alarm to see Peter catch something about the size of a fingernail, if not smaller. My feet got the better of me as I made my way towards Peter’s raised hand that rested in front of May’s face to get a better look. My body pushed up just beside Peter’s… I don’t think he noticed.

The fly buzzed as a beat of silence went by, Peter not being able to look at anything besides the insect just in between the pads of his thumb and pointer finger. 

“That’s a fly, Peter,” Aunt May commented, her hands pressed against her chest, scared.

Peter, for sure out of it, let go, waving his hand in the air. “Yeah,” he responded, carelessly. 

It flew around his head, his eyes following it carefully. “Nice catch,” I whispered. He jumped, dramatically, looking at me as if I was a ghost before looking back at Aunt May.

He wiped his bottom lip, preparing as if to say something, “I’m so sorry I kept you guys up,” he paused. “I’m insensitive, I’m irresponsible, and I’m hungry.” He goes to push past Aunt May, pressing a kiss on her cheek, and handing her half his broken board in the process. 

Aunt May and Uncle Ben looked at me for answers, but I could only supply them a weak chuckle. Ben stood up to position himself next to May in the doorway of the kitchen, fitting myself right in between them.

The three of us watched as Peter dug out a yellow plate of what looked to be May’s meatloaf, unwrapping it, then proceeding to eat as if he hasn’t eaten anything in days, letting out breaths of relief. Was I somehow finding this attractive? Yes. “Drinking?” May questioned, eyes glancing at me as a quick analysis to see if I was in the same shape.

Ben, grasped the concept, and looked at me as well. I gave him a helpless shrug. 

“What’s this?” Peter asked.

“I don’t think so,” Ben answered to May.

“This is your meat loaf,” Peter concluded chuckling, continuing to lean against the opened fridge door. “This beats all other meat loafs.” 

Ben and I gave each other pointed looks of acknowledgement of his words.

“Something is very wrong,” May observed 

“Yeah,” Ben started.

“Nobody likes your meat loaf,” Ben and I finished at the same time.

May looked at us both in slight irritation, her previous concerned expression dropping.

I don’t even know how it happened but the next time I saw Peter he was carrying at least seven courses, including ice cream and–is that frozen mac n’ cheese?

Peter slid past the three of us, nearly dropping one of the containers which May immediately reached out to catch, but the crook of Peter’s elbow did the job for her. “I got it,” he affirmed. 

“He took the frozen macaroni and cheese,” May voiced.

“I noticed that,” Ben responded.

Ben and May looked at me with another interrogative gaze. 

I sucked on my teeth for a moment, “I really can’t answer that for you.” 

May looked at Ben and I with a more threatening appearance. “Why didn’t you guys tell me you didn’t like my meat loaf? Especially you Ben!” 

“Um…” He gaped at her.

“You could have said that to me 37 years ago—” 

“Y/n!” Peter called out from his room.

“You’re on your own Uncle Ben.” I saluted him, making a haste exit away from the conversation.

When I got to Peter’s room I didn’t find him. “Peter?” 

“In here,” a muffled voice says. 

I went to the bathroom, opening and closing the door to see him splashing water on his face. “Peter, what the hell was that all about?” 

“I don’t know,” he sighed.

He stared at his reflection, his hand reaching up at the collar of his shirt, connecting his fingers to something. 

“What’s that?” I took a step toward him to inspect. “It looks like—like a string.” 

He pulled at it, my eyes meeting what looked to be, “a bite.” 

He pulled on the string, a groan of pain escaping past his lips. He goes to look at it, a mixture of emotions flashing across his eyes as it now appear to resemble more of a web than a string. His eyebrows twitched up, as his eyes followed the trail that lead from his right hand to his left. He shuddered a couple of times. I didn’t dare to speak a word, rather just watched, but when I saw the dead spider at the end I nearly screamed. 

He looked away from it, blinking twice until they fully close.

“Peter,” I breathed. “You need to go to a hospital, that spider could’ve been deadly.” 

He shook his head now looking at me. I traced out his eyes that were bloodshot, a dark shadow casting underneath them. “No, we do not speak of this. I just–I just need some rest. You–you should go home.” 

I look at him taken aback. “Yeah. Right. Like I would ever leave you alone knowing this. What if you have a seizure or something? What if your skin starts burning holes? What if—” 

“I get it!” he snapped. “Fine. You can stay.” 

I gave him a proud smile. “Cool, see you in your room.” I smoothly winked at him, skipping off to allow him a second to himself. What a twist of events.

Beep—

I jumped up when Peter abruptly slammed his fist down on his alarm clock, the whole thing blowing up into bits. “Holy—my God, Peter, you—” My eyes set on the broken pieces of the poor alarm clock that got a taste of his newfound strength, coughing a little from the smoke 

His head burrowed into the pillow he had laying on the ground.

Despite having slept in the same bed multiple times, with said new strength Peter argued against it this time, claiming he'd accidentally hurt me in his sleep. With that said, he refused to have me sleep on the floor with my obvious concussion. “How are you feeling?” I asked. 

Groggily he got up, storming out, and to the bathroom.

It was less than a minute later when I heard him let out a small cry. “Peter?” I opened the door to see water shooting out from the faucet. “What did you do?” I closed the door in case either May or Ben decided to walk by. 

“Do you really need me to answer that?!” he replied, angry. He reached for the towel beside the sink, when the holder for it ripped off the wall. 

“Peter, just calm down!” I attempted to ease, as he frantically spun around. 

He tried to cover the broken faucet with the piece that he ripped off, eventually throwing the towel over it. His hand went toward the doorknob to the cabinet only to have that also be broken off. In defeat he looked at me.

“How about you try to open this door—” I knock edon the wood behind me, “—as carefully as possible?” 

He hesitated, but when I moved out of the way for him to obey, he walked up, only the tips of his fingers holding the doorknob, delicately turning it. Not without another look at me he left, slamming the door. “Thanks Peter,” I huffed, walking out of the bathroom.

When I went into Peter’s room I found him sitting on his bed, toothbrush in one hand, and the doorknob in the other. 

“Peter…?” I took soft steps toward him. 

He jolted up, turning his head to the side, frantically. He stared at something in horror. He jolted again, moving his whole body to turn toward his window, the blinds were down, the room dim. He held his toothbrush out in front of him as some form of defense. Realizing what he’s doing, he stood up. “I have to get to the bottom of this,” he told me. 

“You can say that again,” I laughed, going to his computer. 

His foot connected to a piece of paper which he struggled to get off. “You–you don’t have to—” he stammered when I offered to get it for him. “Thanks,” he muttered, sitting on his desk chair.

His typing was faster than lightning, looking up every possible thing about spiders and their bites. Nothing matching his problem. He lightly touches the bite on the back of his neck, a sudden impulse going through him as he typed, ‘Richard parker spider’, but it seemed to fade into random letters.

Peter and I both looked down at his hands which he lifts. Some of the keys, including the spacebar, stuck to his fingers. “Sticky like a spider,” I thought out loud. “You’re like a spider, but a man,” I paused, my tongue darting out to swipe over my lips in concentration. “A Spider-Man.” 

Comment to be added to the taglist !!

For those who used to be on my taglist and see this, please comment if you want to be on it again, as I have not written in a while and don't know what you're into now. Thank you.

[cant-get-enough-btr-forever]

"Big Time Battle of the Bands", Chapter 14: Big Time Chase

"Uh...hello, everyone!" Gustavo called into his mic.

The crowd stared as he lamely stood in the middle of the stage. "I am singer-songwriter extraordinaire, Gustavo Rocque!" he continued. "I will be your...opening act for the night."

He cleared his throat and fiddled with his tie. "This first number is one of the very first hits I ever had. Some of you older folks may appreciate it."

From behind the curtain, Kelly rolled out a keyboard. She wore a very forced grin. Gustavo sat down at the keyboard and propped the mic on a short stand. "This one's called, 'Girl, You Are My Girl.'"

He played a dramatic chord. "Girl...you don't need to have a worry in the world..." he crooned. His fingers flew across the keys. "...don't you know, you are my girl, girl?"

Backstage, Logan, Carlos, and Kelly also stared. "You know, um—don't worry, okay, guys?" Kelly reassured them, despite her cringing. "Everything's gonna be fine." They slowly turned their pained expressions to her.

She looked back at the singing Gustavo and sighed. "God, please let it be fine."

......

The doors to Hawk Records flew open. There stood the dark silhouette of Hawk, who was flanked by his three “Hawk-men.”

"This is a very special night, boys." Hawk said to his men, who didn't seem to care in the least. "This night marks the beginning of Gustavo Rocque’s demise." He chortled as they marched down the hall.

"'Hawk is all washed-up', they said. 'Hawk has lost his touch.'" he went on. "Couldn’t have done it without Crozz My Heart—the ladies who are going to crush Big Time Rush."

He was still simpering when they reached the control room. "Well, chicks, you've been such good little girls, these past few days…" he called as he palmed the key, "...but I'm afraid our friendly relations are over from here on—" To his shock, the door was unlocked. He immediately swung it open.

The room was empty.

His head whipped around, lividly scanning the vacant studio. “What—where—” he spluttered.

Outside, an engine roared to life.

Without another word, Hawk and his men tore back out to the lobby and burst through the doors. They were just in time to catch sight of a motorcycle peeling out into the street. "Adios, loser!" Jessica called to him, giggling madly. Kendall and James mockingly saluted. In a flash, they were gone.

Hawk's veins bulged like knotted cords. He looked to be on the verge of a stroke. "No—no, no, NO!!" he cried. Nostrils flaring, he wheeled to face his men. “THE LIMO! TO THE LIMO!”

As soon as they’d bounded inside the vehicle, he walloped the arm of his henchman. "FOLLOW THAT MOTORCYCLE!!" he bellowed. The henchman's expression did not change, but he floored the gas pedal.

......

"Dream girl...you're my guiding light..." Gustavo sang, a stark contrast to his tuneful piano playing. "Just take my hand, it’ll be alright..."

Logan groaned, holding the curtain for support. "Will it, though?" he moaned. Carlos and Kelly had slumped into folding chairs. They were covering their ears and cringing.

In the audience, Katie and Mrs. Knight wore identical tortured expressions. Mrs. Knight forced a smile as she turned to her daughter. "Don't worry, honey! I'm sure the boys are just having technical difficulties or something. It happens all the time at concerts." But as soon as she'd turned back to Gustavo, the grimace returned.

Mr. Bitters leaned forward, next to Katie's ear. "Haaasss-beeennnsss..." he whispered. Katie glared at him as he contentedly leaned back into his seat and stuffed popcorn in his mouth.

......

Kendall swerved around a corner, tires screeching across the asphalt. Cars honked and cyclists toppled as the heated chase barreled through intersections.

"GO, GO, GO! FASTER, YOU IMBECILE!" Hawk screamed.

Jessica looked back. The speeding limo was nowhere in sight. She turned to James. "Looks like we lost him!" she called over the motorcycle's revs.

James grinned and squeezed her shoulder. "Just sit tight, baby! Escaping evil managers happens to be our specialty!"

Right at that moment, they rounded another corner—and came face-to-face with the limo, which had taken a shortcut behind them. They yelped as one. Kendall pulled a U-turn as quickly as he could.

"Oh, yeah, it totally shows..." Jessica groaned, looking green in the face.

Yet another evil laugh bubbled from Hawk's lips as the henchman neared their tail. "That's it...we've got 'em now..." he snarled dangerously, leaning forward with anticipation.

"He’s gaining!" Chloe cried, gripping Kendall tighter.

Kendall called over his shoulder, "James, why don't we introduce Hawk to our little friend?" Smiling widely, James whipped out a huge, 3-foot-long straw.

The girls stared. "Don't knock it till you try it, ladies!" he called smugly.

He swiveled around and blew several powerful puffs through the straw. There were several answering splats as the limo’s windshield became cluttered with spitballs.

"Spitballs...they're just spitballs, you lunkhead! The wipers! Turn on the wipers!!" Hawk cried, gripping the dashboard. The henchman pushed a button. The white mass was soon wiped clean off.

"Oh, boy..." Chloe moaned.

A bulb lit up in Elena's head. "Wait! Guys! I—I think I've got it! Mikee, use your heels!" she yelled, pointing at her feet.

Mikee grinned, reached down, and yanked off her stilettos. "With pleasure!"

"Hey, Hawk!" she screamed, practically standing in her seat. "This one’s for your career, you gross lowlife!" With a mighty grunt, she sent the pointy heels soaring through the night air...right in Hawk’s path.

POP!

"ARRGGHH!!" Hawk screeched as the henchman lost control. The vehicle swerved violently, slid across the road, and slammed headfirst into a giant metal donation box. Clothes were launched like confetti as the limo’s nose went crunch.

"CURSE YOU, BIG TIME RUSH!!" he cried as smoke hissed out of the totaled hood. "CURSE YOU ALL TO HE—" He gave a high-pitched shriek as the airbag ballooned in his face.

The gang cheered, laughed, and whooped as they watched Hawk's limo smoke far behind them. "I knew fourth grade softball would pay off!" laughed Mikee.

"You did it! We're free!" Elena gasped, clasping Mikee's hands and shaking them.

Mikee yelled back, "You did it, Elle! That was brilliant!"

"Yeah, girl! Way to go!" Jessica cheered.

After high-fiving everyone, Chloe flipped her helmet's visor down. "Punch it, Kendall, we've got a show to run!" she shouted.

Kendall flipped down his own visor and grinned. "Hang on tight!" Their victorious whoops echoed throughout the city as the motorcycle tore down the road.

[bite-sized-devil]

A cupcake for his cupcake 🧁

Happy birthday my beautiful Yan! Hope you have the best day darling, you deserve only the best things 🌻 💕 @crazyyanderefangirlfan

Beel has been planning this for months now, it shouldn't be this hard. Making cupcakes for your birthday sounded simple enough. Boy was he wrong! He thought he could get away with one trial run, but it had been such a disaster that he decided he'd need heaps more.

The cupcakes always turned out perfect, fluffy, moist, and with the perfect amount of frosting. It was him that was the problem, he always ends up demolishing them as soon as they were finished. He'd even tried making more so that he could eat some and then have some left for you. But the ones he made just for him ended up having the opposite affect, they were like a gate-way drug. He couldn't get enough of those little cake shaped bits of heaven.

Every dream he's had this month has involved cupcakes. The better ones also featured you; you as a cupcake, you eating cupcakes, you naked with cupcakes, you feeding him cupcakes. Honestly, if he were anyone else he would be sick to death of them. The closer it got to your birthday the more you featured in his cupcake fuelled dreams.

This is the day, FINALLY, your birthday. It needs to be perfect. He wants to see the look of pure pleasure on your beautiful face as you bite into the vanilla flavoured dessert. A foodgasim caused by food that he prepared. That's all he wants. That and any left over cupcakes you don't want, he'll definitely want those too.

So far everything is going off without a hitch. He's made enough cupcakes to fill in the heart shape he's creating. Not a single cupcake has been popped into his mouth, he made sure to fill up on food and snacks before he started. Now to do the frosting; he's chosen your favourite colours; blue, green and purple. They remind him of a cute mermaid he saw once while he was helping Levi clean barnacles off of Lotan. She wasn't nearly as cute as you though, his lovely, funny, gorgeous and charming sweetheart. No one could ever compare.

Almost finished, just one last part to finish.... Oops! He's squeezed the pipping bag to hard and it's exploded all over him. Some lands just above his lip and on reflex his tongue darts out to lick it into his mouth. As soon as his taste buds register the sweet taste his nostrils flare and his eyes go wide. More, need more he thinks to himself before ripping the piping bag open and bringing it to his mouth. Devouring every little bit he can.

Your POV:

You've been looking for the big guy all morning, kind of bummed that you didn't get to wake up in his strong arms. Maybe get some sweet good morning kisses, instead you rolled over to find a cute pink heart shaped post-it note, no doubt stolen from Asmo, that said "Happy Birthday Beautiful, I'll come find you shortly. Love you cupcake."

You pull out the note again as you think of it, swiping your thumb over the written out pet name he uses for you. It brings a sweet little smile to your lips, thinking about him trying to be as quiet as possible writing it out and placing it beside you as you slept. Ugh! Where is he? You NEED to kiss him.

Rounding the corner in the hallway you walk past the open door to the kitchen. You freeze in your tracks, glancing sideways you see your boyfriend stuffing his face with some sort of cake and a torn piping bag stuck to his shirt.

"Beel?" You say question softly. A hand coming up to stifle your giggles when you see him abruptly stop and turn towards you.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I ruined your surprise." His words come out a bit muffled because of the cake he's still eating but you hear the sorrow in his voice and the sadness in his eyes has you walking across the room towards him.

"It's ok!" You reassure him immediately. You pull the pipping bag off his shirt and let it fall to the ground. "What was the surprise? Because finding you in the kitchen like this is quite a surprise." You laugh while pressing your hand to the side of his face, trying to brighten his mood.

"Don't laugh.. I was making you some cupcakes for your birthday... And I, I got carried away when I accidentally tasted the frosting. I'm so sorry." Wrapping his arm around your waist he pulls you close so youry flush up against his solid chest. His big pink and violet eyes still so full of guilt, looking into yours.

"Aww pumpkin, don't look so sad. It's really the thought that counts to me." You caress his jaw before using your fingers to wipe some frosting off his top lip and bring it to your lips to taste.

"Ohh ... Mmmmmmhhhn." You can't help but moan a little at the taste, closing your eyes as you do, getting a little lost in the flavour. It's perfectly sweet with hints of vanilla, melting instantly on to your tongue.

Coming back from your little experience you open your eyes to find Beel smiling brightly down at you. He moves his big hands up your body to cup your face.

"You like it?" He's almost vibrating with happiness as he asks. You nodd enthusiastically up at him matching his bright smile with your own.

Leaning down he kisses you, taking your breath away with the sweetness of the frosting still lingering on his lips. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug, making him open wider letting you slide your tongue into his mouth. Swallowing all of his delicious groans.

His hands leave your face in favour of roaming your body, grabbing your ass with one hand and slipping under your shirt to rest a hand on your stomach with the other.

You squeal when he grabs your ass roughly, and he takes that opportunity to claim your jaw and neck for his own. Kissing sweetly down your jaw, then sucking and nipping at your neck. Your breathy moans turn to needy whines when the hand that was on your stomach slips under your bra and rolls your hardened nipple between his fingers.

"Beeeeeeeel." You whine between pants.

"Yeah, Cupcake? You need something?" He asks between kisses, his voice is low and laced with desire.

"You, please... I neeeeed you." You whine again and he answers with a growl. You're pressed so close to him you can feel it vibrating through his chest.

He picks you up with out warning and throws you over his shoulder with ease. You squeal his name when he smacks you on the ass while he walks to the door.

"Calm down cupcake. We're going back to your room so I can show you what else I've got planned for your birthday."

Botched cupcake making completely forgotten, he's got other plans for you now, much funer plans that involve two people. And then later he can give your the charm necklace he had made for you.

A delicate gold chain with a cupcake pendant that is bewitched to change colour to match your different outfits. He has had it engraved on the back: "Yours for all eternity - Beel"

I rather enjoying being your ☠️ anon! I'm sorry its over but I'm glad I got to spoil you a little for your birthday 😘💕🎉

[kohakuarisaka]

Trial By Fire (chapter 1 of 2)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Hawks stopped by your apartment, asking for a patch up, and then asked for so much more.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Role reversal: Keigo is a villain and Touya is a hero. Liberties were taken with Hawks’ quirk and is non-canon compliant. This fic is not nice to Touya. Reader and Hawks smoke. Reader has a quirk. Reader is a female with descriptive female genitalia. This fic contains graphic sexual content, including penis in vagina sex, oral sex, spanking, dirty talk, biting, degradation, and knotting. Consensual ♥

Keigo’s appearance in this fic was inspired by this lovely art piece!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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You hadn't heard him approach, not his footsteps, nor the flutter of his wings. It was a little windy tonight; but, that wasn't why you hadn't heard him. He was just that good at sneaking around, or maybe you were just that lost in thought.

Suddenly, the cigarette in your hand was plucked out of your grasp. You followed the burning bud and watched a calloused hand bring it to a pair of soft lips that weren't yours.

He took a drag, looking at you innocently, before huffing the smoke out through his nostrils.

Sometimes, you really hated how weak you were for him. Even when he deserved it, you couldn't bring yourself to get mad at him. Maybe, it was his stupid beautiful face, or his mismatched eyes, or those wondrous crimson feathers.

"What are you doing, pretty bird?" you scolded him softly, reaching out to take your cigarette back.

Hawks let you, and some deluded part of your mind told you it tasted better after his mouth had touched it. Still, you turned away from him, finding it difficult to think properly when he was staring at you like that, his gaze soft and his lips quirked into a faint smirk.

In the distance, a car was honking obnoxiously. You peered down at the streets below and watched the traffic lights change colors.

"Was hoping you'd patch me up?" he asked, perhaps a little too sweetly. "Or is Touya gonna find out and arrest my ass?"

You sighed and gave him a dirty look in the corner of your eye. "No. It's over between us. He isn't gonna be comin' around," you retorted, a little venomously.

"Ohh," he whistled. "What happened? Must'a been bad. You were always so far up his ass."

"Get stuffed," you spat back at him.

He laughed in response to that. It was a little louder than expected, and you could see his shoulders trembling in the corner of your eye. Hawks leaned against the railing next you, matching your posture.

Before he could take it again, you remove your cigarette from your lips and brought it to his. He snatched it from your grasp with his mouth and took a careful drag before lifting his hand to pull it away. You watched the smoke drain from his mouth before looking away again.

"You wanna talk about it?" Hawks offered. Strangely, he sounded sincere.

"As much as I wanna get fisted by sandpaper," you replied hoarsely.

"Shit," he grumbled.

You let out a loud sigh. "There's nothing to talk about. I just couldn't take it anymore," you explained.

In the corner of your eye, you could see Hawks staring at you as if he was trying to decrypt your words or decipher your expression. You avoided his stare for just a little bit longer before finally giving in and turning to face him.

When you looked at him, he returned your cigarette to your lips, or tried to anyway, but you took it with your hand. It was almost burnt out, but had enough left for one more drag, which you took slowly.

"You're hurt?" you asked him softly before turning around to burry your burnt up cigarette in the nearby ash tray.

"Not too bad. I'll fuck right off if you want me to," Hawks replied.

Sometimes, you didn't really think his superpower was his feathers, but just how he managed to always show up at the perfect time. Maybe, someone to talk to was what you needed, even if you told yourself you didn't.

Ending things with Touya was exactly what had to be done to try to get back on track with your pitiful life; but, that didn't mean that everything would be magically okay again, that wounds would just heal and every trace of him would be gone forever.

But, you weren't childish enough to think that anyone could save you from that. No, you had to save yourself.

"Come on, pretty bird," you tossed over your shoulder.

Hawks hated when anyone called him that, except you. Maybe because anyone who called him that did so to put him down, to emasculate him. But, you called him that because you actually meant it. He was so, so pretty. Or, maybe, he just had a soft spot for the girl he used to bum cigarettes off of.

The winged villain followed you down the stairwell to your room. He made a grumbly cooing sound, like a hum in chest, when he stepped inside.

"Place looks great."

It had been quite a shithole the last time he was here. You scrubbed the walls and floors, replaced most of the furniture, gutted out the shitty kitchen cabinets and replaced them. It did look great.

"Thanks," you hummed, pushing at his shoulders until he obeyed and plopped down on the couch.

You sat down next to him and didn't bother asking what was wrong, but just began sliding your hands down the arm of his leather jacket, pushing it up to his elbow to expose his forearm.

You worked your hands over his skin, using your quirk to navigate his nervous system. Your eyes went glossy and distant as you did so, staring at him without actually looking at him. Hawks was patient, watching you work.

"You broke some ribs," you observed quietly. "The gash on your back isn't infected, but your blood cell count is low. You have a cavity forming, too, you manchild."

Hawks burst out laughing. "Do I need to call a dentist?"

"No," you laughed softly. "I'll take care of it." You let go of his arm and looked up at him, head tilting slightly. "Mind if I go by your neck? It's easier closer to the spine."

"Sure. I like choking," he teased.

"Tch," you grimaced at him. "Shut up."

He laughed softly in response to that. Despite his teasing, you still shimmied in closer and reached up, sliding your hands one either side of his neck. His skin was soft. Even the healed burn marks were soft.

Your eyes went glossy again as you focused on the task at hand. Hawks made a low, grumbling hiss as you pulled the injuries from his body, focusing first on his broken ribs.

It hurt like a fucking bitch, feeling each one crack back into proper place. Where your hands touched him was cold as ice; but, it was just an illusion, a side effect of your quirk, a sensation without the actual stimulation.

The wound on his back followed, muscles and skin tissue forming back over into proper place. That didn't hurt as bad, and felt more like a dull ache in comparison. You took care of his cavity, too, which he noticed like a stab in the mouth.

You were done, and Hawks knew you were done. The icy cold touch of your hands had subsided, and the warmth of your skin returned. Still, you didn't let go right away. Your vision returned and you peered up at him, and he looked down at you just the same.

The left side of Hawks face was covered in a scar, a healed burn. It started at the center of his forehead, traveled across the bridge of his nose, took most of his cheek, but just barely missed his lips.

The burn continued down his jaw, onto his shoulder. You had seen him shirtless before, and knew it extended down his chest, ending somewhere at his waist.

Along with that burn, his left eye had been blanched, now pale white instead of the golden, sunlight hue of the one on right. He could still see out of it, just not as well as the undamaged one.

Still, despite all that, he was so, so-

-beautiful.

"All done," you sighed, letting go of him and standing up, turning away from him maybe a little quickly.

"Thanks," he grunted, watching you rise to your feet.

He reached for you; but, you had already stepped too far away and eluded his touch. It wasn't intentional. Your back was turned and you didn't even see it. Yet, your sudden retreat made him feel an unpleasant ache in his chest, and another, very different sort of ache somewhere else.

"It's gettin' kind'a late, so-" you started, heading for the hallway that connected to your bedroom.

Hawks was fast, dangerously so, and was suddenly right beside you. His wing jutted out and smacked into the wall, blocking your path. Your eyes shifted to his, not entirely surprised by his actions. Maybe you should have been. But, he was the kind who liked attention, especially from you.

"Are you alright?" he asked, crossing his arms loosely over his chest.

"No," you deadpanned. "There's a birdman loitering in my house."

That seemed to calm him a little, for he pulled his wing back, lips twitching into a faint smile. However, he replaced his wing with his body, blocking you from continuing down the hall.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around lately," he began, surprising you a little with the sincerity in his tone.

"I get it," you answered immediately, with just a bit of bite.

Life led people down different paths. Touya was following in the footsteps of his dear father to become a great hero. Hawks ended up joining a league of supervillains and was wanted for murder, amongst other things.

-and you worked a 9 to 5.

Maybe, facing down one of Japan's most wanted villains should have been frightening. Being trapped with him in your apartment probably also should have been frightening.

He was a dangerous criminal and on a power level than most could never even dream of. But, you trusted Hawks more than you trusted most people... most heroes.

By the look on his face, there was something he wanted to say; but, it didn't come out.

"What's with the constipated look?" you blurted.

The compressed look on his face softened and Hawks threw his head back, letting out rolling laughter. His hands clutched his tummy and his shoulders trembled. Maybe, that was your real power: making him laugh like that, to the point tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.

"I missed you," he stated plainly when he finally stopped laughing.

"Y-yeah, me too, pretty bird," you replied softly, tearing your gaze away from him.

"I hate when you call me that," he murmured.

Hawks stepped towards you and you reeled back. His wings came up on either side of you, forcing you to duck back and hit the wall to avoid him. The bright red plumes towered on either side, caging you in, trapping you with him.

Yet, you weren't scared or perturbed. Hawks liked to play, after all. Even when you were kids, he would fly after you and tackle you to the ground, laughing about what terrible prey you were, always so easily caught.

"No, you don't," you retorted gently.

There was still some distance between you, just enough that you'd have to extend your arm to reach him. His wingspan was massive and the soft, red quills were like curtains caging you in, absolutely gorgeous.

"I'm not good at this sort'a thing," Hawks began, murmuring softly into the darkness of the hallway. His face was cast in shadows, but his eyes were bright, pale white and sun kissed gold.

"Formalities and playin' nice," he added on, a little hoarsely.

You knew where this was going.

"You want Touya's sloppy seconds?" you asked him lowly.

Immediately, it was clear that he didn't like what you said. His eyes narrowed and he stepped in closer.

Hawks might have only been a couple inches taller than you and while he certainly was muscular, he wasn't a hulking beast. Still, he managed to make you feel so small.

His hand landed on the wall behind you with a smack, and it startled you a little.

"Don't fucking say things like that," he snarled.

You gawked up at him, surprised that something like that would upset him.

"You're more than that - a lot fucking more," he added on lowly.

It was only then that you realized he wasn't just mad, he was hurt. He had been your closest friend since you were 13, back when you were stealing cigarettes from upper classmen and sneaking into R-rated movies.

-and he had to watch Touya have you.

"What do you want from me?" you asked him, voice low, a harsh whisper, and it shuddered out of you.

"Everything," Hawks replied in a harsh whisper.

You couldn't help but lick your lips at that proposition.

He stepped in closer, sliding his forearms against the wall on either side of your head. The closeness forced you to crane your head back to look up at him.

"You want me, too," he commented lowly, peering down at you like a hawk circling above an unsuspecting prey.

"I let you in here because I care about you. Don't be so arrogant," you scolded him softly, lacking any real authority to your tone.

"Then, tell me to fuck off," Hawks challenged you.

You stared up at him, lips unmoving. His feathers picked up the faint change in your breathing pattern, just the slightest bit of acceleration. Even if you didn't say it, your body gave it away: this was exciting you.

He was one of the most powerful villains in Japan; but, you were his greatest weakness. He'd do anything you asked, deliver the world to you if it was what you wanted.

"You want this," Hawks murmured darkly, as if he had just made some grand discovery.

His eyes flickered down from your face to below, signaling what he was talking about.

He was hovering with just enough space between you that you could tilt your head down to investigate his claim and take a glance at the tent he was pitching, pressing against the zipper on his black cargo pants.

When your eyes moved up and caught his gaze, you felt hypnotized by the dark stare he had focused on you.

Hawks didn't look expectant or desperate. He looked hungry, yes, but there was some hope to that stare, maybe even the faintest bit of sorrow in those mismatched eyes.

He didn't want to be rejected by you. But, he didn't want you if you didn't want him back.

There probably should have been a little voice in the back of your head telling you not to do this. There had to be some sort of negative repercussion, right?

But, all you could hear was the rattle of the heater in the other room and the shuffling of your neighbors in the room above.

Normally, your thoughts ran rampant with worries, negativities and fears. All had been silent since Hawks arrived. He just had that sort of effect on you, clearing your thoughts with nothing but his presence.

Expectantly, you tilted your head back and parted your lips slightly. Hawks leaned in, following the temptation you presented him with.

Maybe, it would have been wisest to remain as just friends. Even if you tried to tell yourself otherwise, this would change that forever: a door would open that could never be closed.

But, you weren't kids anymore.

"If I kiss you, I won't be able to stop," he promised, or threatened, warm breath fanning over your cheeks.

He smelt like the cigarette he stole from you earlier. It made you all the more eager to taste him.

"Last chance," he added, voice low and hoarse.

"What happens if I say yes?" you dared to ask, eyes peering up at him almost innocently.

You watched Hawks' throat bob. "What happens if you say yes..." he parroted lowly.

The predatory gaze he gave you reminded you that he was a bird of prey and you might as well have been a mouse.

"I'm gonna fuck you like no one ever has before," he began, the words falling from his mouth in a sultry whisper. "Stuff you stupid with my cock, cum so deep inside you that you feel me for days. My name will be the only god-damned thing you remember when I'm done with you."

Oh.

"Promise?" you whispered hoarsely, leaning up a little to try and reach his lips.

You must have been making quite the lewd expression, for Hawks' eyes pinched with amusement.

Hawks tilted his head down. "Promise," he agreed in a whisper, breathed against your lips.

This must have been what it felt like for a spark to meet gunpowder.

Something as simple as a kiss had sent a powerful shockwave down your spine. Your skin prickled all over, flushed with a sudden need to be touched. Your heart began thundering away in your chest and you unconsciously released a very pathetic little sound.

His feathers picked up the rage of your heartbeat and he couldn't resist a shudder, aroused at the excitement he had give you with just the press of his lips.

In a split second, he had his body pressing against yours, flush from shoulder to thigh, pinning you to the wall. Your hands weaved through his hair, pulling him down to crush your mouths together.

It was probably the sloppiest kiss you ever had: a little violent, crushing, and wet. But, nothing could even compare to what this felt like, the taste of him mingled with tobacco, to the way it made you feel like you could melt.

His hands grabbed at your thighs and hoisted you up off the ground. He slammed your back roughly against the wall, cores pinned tightly together, and perched your legs on either side of his waist.

"You feel that?" Hawks breathed, lips touching the shell of your ear.

It was clear what he was referring to: his clothed erection rutting shamelessly against your clothed cunt.

"Every time I see you take a drag, I get fucking hard," he confessed, pulling back to chuckle a little. "Maybe that's why I always stole 'em: fucking jealous."

Before you could get a word out, his head dipped down and took your mouth again. Your hands dragged down his back, clawing at his jacket, threatening to venture further.

Hawks pulled back violently, bumping his forehead against yours to force your gaze to meet his.

"You touch my wings and you're gonna get something you can't fucking handle," he threatened, the words rumbling out of his chest like gravel in a cement mixer.

You looked back with a drunk expression, partially frightened by his threat and partially curious to what that entailed. It resulted in a ridiculously lewd expression on your face.

"All I've done is kiss you, and you already look like that," he observed with intrigue, chuckling softly.

"All I've done is smoke, and you're hard," you retorted sharply, leaning in to bite at his bottom lip.

He hummed, amused at your teasing; that sound, however, died out when you dipped your hands down into his shoulder blades and slid up, brushing the baby feathers that jutted out of his skin.

Hawks let out an almost inhuman sound, head tilting back and moaning, eyes fluttering shut, as his entire body vibrated against you. You stopped, hands shifting away from his feathers, surprised by his reaction.

Immediately, his head fell forward and he settled a frightening glare on you. The growl that emanated from within his chest sent a violent tremor down your spine.

"Oooohhh," he cooed hoarsely, the sound rumbling through his throat. "You don't want me to be nice, do ya'?"

The question went unanswered, for Hawks rolled his hips, pressing your clothed sexes together. Your hands flew up, grabbing at his wings again, fingers tangling in the feathers for purchase.

The friction was nice; but, it wasn't good enough, and Hawks seemed to have that same thought process, for he removed you from the wall and carried you to the bedroom.

He tossed you down on the bed like you were a toy and watched your body bounce a little with an amused look on his face.

You shrieked when red plumes departed his wingspan and swarmed your body. They surrounded you in a wispy tornado before descending, tracing your skin softly and pushing under the hem of your clothes with purpose.

The brief moment of fear washed away when they carefully, albeit swiftly, worked your clothes off. Your arms were forced above your head so your shirt could be discarded while other feathers peeled your pants and underwear down your legs.

Hawks watched, standing at the bedside with a starving expression as his crimson feathers exposed you for him. You didn't take yourself for the shy type, but something about the whole thing had your skin prickled with embarrassment.

Once they were done, his feathers retreated, returning to his wingspan like good little soldiers. Hawks approached, sliding his knees onto the edge of the bed.

Before he could arch over you, your foot flung up and you flattened it against his chest, pushing in protest.

"You, too," you tried to demand. Unfortunately, it came out breathless and desperate.

Hawks eyes shifted from your heated gaze, trailing down to shamelessly take in the sight of your sex, now exposed due to the position of your leg. Instinctively, you wanted to close your legs at that predatory stare. But, somehow, you found the strength to resist.

He hummed and stood back, returning to his feet. You leaned up to watch him work his jacket and shirt off, wings shuddering to peel the fabric away before dropping the materials carelessly to the floor.

He seemed caught off guard by your sudden advance as you got up on your knees at the bedside to reach for him. Your hands landed on his pectorals, shamelessly squeezing at his muscles before drifting down, fingers gently digging into his abs as you traced the outlines.

"Are you having fun?" he laughed.

You were about to answer, but he suddenly grabbed your wrists and brought your hands down to his belt. He didn't have to demand anything, you started working at the buckle, eagerly working the clasp open and undoing his pants.

His mouth opened, likely to spew teasing words. Whatever was going to come out failed him when you suddenly palmed his erection over the fabric of his boxers.

"F-fuck," he groaned, leaning into you suddenly as if he was going to fall over. "Damn brat," he added on in a snarl.

"Are you touch starved, pretty bird?" you murmured, tilting your head to nibble at his jawline.

The red that tinted his the tops of his ears failed to hide the truth from you. It had been a little while, just long enough to make him hungry for it.

Suddenly, he pushed you down on the bed. You flung over with a startled yelp and felt his hands pry your legs apart, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs.

He flung your legs up over his shoulders, careless that your feet knocked against his wings, and buried his face between your thighs.

"AH!" you cried out, startled by the sudden sensation of his textured tongue lapping along your slit.

Normally, when someone ate you out, there was some finesse to it, tongue tracing delicately, some soft kisses, just barely lapping at your slit as if you were a dainty little flower.

Not with Hawks. He was smearing his tongue all over the place, lapping at your slippery folds as if he was starving and this was the only meal he'd had in weeks.

You didn't mean to, but in the process of grounding your heels against his back, your toes curled and touched his feathers. You felt his wings flap once and his back muscles tremble.

He leaned back and peered down your body, taking in the look of your aroused expression with a pleased sigh. You felt delirious, wearing a lost look on your face, and he looked damn proud with your wetness smeared across his cheeks.

"Hawks-" you squeaked.

"A meal fit for a king," he praised you in a hoarse voice, tilting his head back down to continue where he left off.

Trying to get on some equal grounds, you twisted your foot and poked at his feathers with your toes. His shoulders twitched, so you continued, digging in as best you could considering the awkward positioning.

Hawks moaned at the touch, the sound vibrating against the folds of your sex. He probably would have scolded you if his mouth wasn't preoccupied. Instead, he pushed back on your thighs, forcing your legs a little higher, until you couldn't reach his wings anymore.

He fucked you with his tongue, mouth suctioned around your opening and slurping lewdly. It was a strange sensation you weren't quite used to, but it felt amazing.

It was clear that he wasn't doing it out of obligation. He did it because he fucking wanted to, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself. When he needed a break from your core, he lapped his tongue up your folds, smearing wetness all over the place.

He purposely avoided your pearl until he was confident it was throbbing, the tiny bud forced on display with lewd the way he held your legs apart.

You practically screamed when his tongue finally touched it, hands pulling at the bedsheets beneath you and making a mess, pillows and blankets going askew.

Hawks groaned, mainly because the sound made his cock throb painfully in his pants. He ignored that ache and focused on lapping at your little button, not relenting, even when you were trembling and sobbing.

At the risk of your feet getting touchy again, Hawks dropped one of your legs, needing a free hand to bring you to peak ecstasy. He hardly had to force the calloused digits inside. Your squishy walls took him in eagerly.

"Fuck, Hawks," you sobbed, struggling to remain still.

He leaned back, just enough to get some words out. "Come for me," he uttered hoarsely.

You whimpered at the command, head falling back into the sheets. He had been getting you there before he even said anything, even when it was just his tongue. But, now, with his thick fingers drilling into you and voice making such demands, you felt it approaching like a speeding truck.

"I said fucking come," he added on with a demanding, low growl. "Come on my fucking face. I wanna taste it."

He growled into your sex, loud and rumbling like thunder while his wings flapped once, knocking some things off your walls. The loud noise was a little startling, but didn't break the spell.

He kept up the pace with his fingers, even when the slippery mess of your slick dribbled down his knuckles, and his tongue returned to your pearl, lapping at it roughly.

Your orgasm started in a small wave, rolling over you once, twice, before crashing down and forcing a bizarre concoction of moans, sobs, and whimpers to pour from your lips.

Hawks was unwavering, tongue and fingers working you over expertly through the whole thing, until you sagged on the sheets and stopped whining.

He pulled back and stood up, setting your legs down on the bed. You looked up at him dizzily, and watched him lick his fingers and knuckles clean as if he had spilt some treat on them.

It was such a shamelessly erotic display and left you trembling.

When he was done, he dragged his palm down his chin, wiping your essence away. He caught you staring, of course, and quirked his lips into a prideful smirk.

"Nothing smart to say?" he uttered teasingly. "'Thank you, Hawks'?" he suggested with a warm chuckle.

He had pulled his wings back in; but, there was no way to miss that he was holding them up just a little bit higher than normal. If you weren't so blissed out and eager for more, you probably would have laughed at such a blatant display of dominance.

He was still in the state you had left him in, pants hanging limply around his waist, erection pressing eagerly against his boxers, belt undone and dangling at his thigh.

Hawks lifted his dominant hand and wagged his index and middle finger, beckoning for you to approach. After that mind numbing orgasm, you didn't dare refuse and shimmied over to the edge of the bed.

"I deserve a reward for that, don't you think?" he suggested, that predatory expression taking over his face again as he looked down at you.

"Say 'please'," you challenged him softly, looking up through your eyelashes.

"Hmmm," rumbled out of his throat. He sounded amused, maybe even a little impressed.

You expected something snarky when he opened his mouth. Surprisingly, he uttered a sultry, "please."

You didn't plan on denying him even if he disobeyed; but, after hearing that, there was no way in hell you would dare refuse.

Your hands pushed his pants down his thighs, simultaneously leaning in to mouth at his clothed erection.

Hawks drew in air sharply, like a low hiss, before drawling out, "fuckin' tease."

In all fairness, he hadn't held out on his services for very long; so, you pushed at him, until he relented and let you turn him around. His butt hit the edge of the bed as you settled on your knees on the floor, between his thighs.

You were supposed to be ridding him of his clothes. However, in the desperation to see what he was hiding, you simply pulled his boxers down, until his cock sprang free.

Staring at it like an idiot would have probably pleased his ego; but, you opted to wrap your lips around the tip and take him in your mouth promptly. You went down just a little too eagerly, and nearly choked; but, it was worth it to hear the strangled sound he made.

"F-" he hissed through clenched fangs, "-uuuck."

You stroked what your mouth couldn't fit, starting off sloppily to get him slicked up well enough to make the glide easier. Your eyes fluttered shut, concentrating on the task at hand, and to make every little noise he made just a little clearer.

He was breathing harshly through his nose, groaning out the occasional curse, before he opted to just blurt what was on his mind.

"Daydreamed about this all the fucking time," Hawks grunted.

Maybe, that sort of thing should have been concerning; but, if you were being honest with yourself, your thoughts of him weren't always so pure, either. Sometimes, laying in bed alone at night, masturbating, it was easy to start thinking about his long, calloused fingers, and wonder what kind of things he would say.

Hawks had one hand gripped at the edge of the bed, while his other weaved carefully through your hair. You expected a painful, demanding grip; but, he was surprisingly gentle, touching you with a sort of adoration.

"Yeeahhh," he groaned, the word undulating as it exited his chest.

"Fuck, you look so cute like that," he praised, pushing your hair out of your face so he could admire the lewd expression you were wearing, lips spread wide over his girth.

"I bet you were curious, huh?" he uttered arrogantly. "Bet you wondered how big it w-" He cut off, moaning lowly when your tongue flattened along the underside and lapped at the thick vein there.

"Does it - aghn - taste better than a heroes?" he taunted in an amused, gravely voice. He even laughed a little at his own crudeness, albeit briefly.

As you drew back, you suctioned tightly, maybe to punish him, or because you were spurred on by such vulgar words. You weren't sure which. His hips lifted off the bed, chasing the sensation, and he moaned shamelessly loud into your dimly lit bedroom.

It startled you a little when you suddenly felt something staring to swell at the base of his cock, fingers smoothing it over curiously.

Just as quickly as you felt it, Hawks hand rotated from the top of your head to the underside of your jaw, pulling you back and forcing you off his cock. The fleshy sound your mouth made echoed around the room.

When you peered up at him, it seemed he was as caught off guard as you were. His mouth was hanging open, cheeks tinted pink, fangs bared while labored breaths wisped through them.

Did he want an answer? You were ready to tell him that he did taste good, when he suddenly leaned down. His arms wove beneath yours, and he hoisted you off the floor, spinning you around and tossing you onto the bed, almost carelessly.

He quickly rid himself of his clothes as you bounced atop the sheets, and climbed on top of you, forcing your legs up and onto his hips.

Just a little dizzy, you were surprised when he suddenly slotted over you, his mouth colliding with yours. He barely gave you a single kiss before shoving his tongue inside.

Your tongue joined his, sliding together in a pointless dance. You felt him lean down, the warmth of his body caressing yours. Hawks weaved one arm around your head possessively, while his other slid up your side, fingers dancing along your ribs.

You expected him to just ram into you. That was usually how this went. But, he was proving to be unlike any other man you had been with before. You could feel his cock jabbing into your thigh, throbbing with need; but, he seemed more concentrated with another task at the moment.

The kiss went on, and on, and on, as if he hadn't already kissed you senseless earlier. He seemed enraptured by the taste.

One of your hands fell onto his shoulder, while the other slid up to cup his face. You weren't really thinking about the where, until your fingertips touched leathery skin. Hawks flinched as if you had hurt him, and you realized you were touching the burnt half of his face.

He pulled back harshly from the kiss with a wet smack and stared down at you. He looked like he was trying to be mad, like a retort was hot on the tip of his tongue. But, instead, he just looked lost.

You stared up at him, unable to hold back just the slightest tinge of fear, afraid that the moment was ruined, that the spell had been broken, that you had crossed a line that Hawks didn't want you to cross.

But, then, he leaned into your palm, surrendering something that went unspoken. Your thumb smoothed over his cheekbone and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"Hawks?" you hummed, wondering how long it had been since someone touched him there, touched skin tinged red and scarred over, forever a reminder of the past.

His eyes fluttered shut as your hand explored, down his jaw, down the side of his neck, over his shoulder, touching places he had once been burned. He dipped his head down, brushing his cheek against yours. You trembled at the sensation of his soft, short beard hairs tickling your skin.

It seemed he had grown impatient, for he tilted his hips up and slid forward, until the tip of his member brushed your folds. Your head fell back with a sigh and you tightened your legs around his waist expectedly, eagerly awaiting him to finally take you.

But, Hawks was unmoving, hovering. His lips nibbled at the shell of your ear before you felt his warm breath as he uttered lowly, drawling out the words, "beg for it."

He was so close, you could feel his chest vibrate with each syllable. You gazed over his shoulder, down his back, where his wings fanned out beautifully behind him. The appendages were tense, fingers bristled tensely.

When you didn't answer fast enough, Hawks reeled his hand away from your side. His palm collided with your ass and a smacking sound echoed around the room, immediately followed by your pained yelp.

"I said," he snarled, "beg for this cock."

It was far more arousing than it was menacing, and it was clear, despite the anger he was displaying, that he was pleased by your refusal to immediately obey. It meant he got to punish you, to drag this out a little longer, to play with you some more.

You bit your lip and delayed giving him the answer he wanted, skin prickled with excitement at the thought of what would follow.

"Are you tryin' to piss me off?" he asked lowly, tilting his head back to look at your face.

He didn't look mad. He looked painfully aroused, cheeks tinted pink, eyes taking in your lewd expression hungrily, fangs bared through slightly parted lips, where he drew in sharp breaths.

"I-" you began.

He either guessed you were going to sass him, or just decided he didn't care what the response was going to be. His hand collided with your backside again, just a tiny bit rougher than last time.

Your eyes pinched shut and you cried out again, body jerking slightly from the touch. Even with your eyes closed, you could picture the smirk he wore at witnessing your response.

Hawks leaned down, nose nudging at the soft spot behind your ear.

"Last chance," he whispered, almost tauntingly. "Beg. For. This. Cock," he added on lowly, almost snarling into the skin of your neck.

You probably couldn't have suppressed that shudder if you were dead, and Hawks felt it. His wings twitched behind him and he groaned softly, pleased by your reaction.

To taunt you further, his hips nudged forward, just until his tip breached your entrance. At the sound of a sweet moan leaving your mouth, he pulled back, then pushed back in, again and again, not breaching you past the tip.

It was sweet, delicious torture.

"Okay," you hissed out, unable to take it anymore.

You tilted your head, lips trailing along his jaw, kissing at the soft, short hairs there, until you found his ear.

"Keigo," you growled.

Immediately, you felt the way he stiffened above you, muscles going tight beneath your hands. A barely audible gasp escaped him.

It had been a while since someone said his name. He was the villain Hawks, now. Keigo was dead, according to him... but not to you. The blonde haired boy with crimson wings and big smile would never die as long as you were alive to remember him.

"Please give me your cock," you uttered softly, lips moving against the shell of his ear as you spoke.

Surprisingly, you didn't hate how desperate you sounded. If it sounded sweet in your ears, then you could only imagine how it sounded to him.

You had barely finished your sentence before he was shoving his hips forward, filling you to the brim in a split second. Your voice was caught in your throat, but Hawks let out a startlingly loud sound, bellowing out a roar into the darkness of your bedroom.

You trembled beneath him, shaken by his roar and by his girth filling your insides. His wings twitched fiercely, lifting up into the air for a brief second before fluttering back down to a relaxed position.

"Oohh, fuck," Hawks wheezed.

He gave you, or maybe it was for himself, a second to breathe before he started moving, pistoning in and out of your heat fiercely: halfway out, back to the brim, the skin of your hips smacking together noisily.

One of his hands had purchase on your thigh, holding on for dear life, while his other hand was fisted in the bedsheets by your head, the grip looking tight enough to rip the fabric.

Your legs were hoisted high on his waist, heels digging into the backs of his thighs. Your nails dragged down the backs of his shoulders, leaving behind pale impressions, and nearing his wings.

No one said it, but you both felt it: finally.

Destiny, soulmates, and all that nonsense was bullshit to you. Hawks made it clear he never believed in fate; whatever happened was because of choices, your own or someone else's, that shaped each and every outcome.

But, in that moment, your unity felt like destiny. His weight above you, his warmth, the smell of his skin, felt familiar, felt like home. His breath fanning out in hot wisps across the skin of your neck, his manhood nuzzled deep in your core, felt like harmony, like it was meant to be.

Maybe, you were just stupidly aroused, to the point that sense and reason was lost. Maybe, Hawks was just so good at this, that he already had you drunk on the sensation, drunk on him.

But, you decided that you didn't care what the answer was, just as long as he didn't stop.

"Fuck. You feel so good," Hawks praised, leaning up to look down at you.

"You like that? 'm I making you feel good, baby?" he slurred, huffing out breaths between each thrust.

"Keigo," you whined affirmingly, or maybe scoldingly, maybe somewhere in-between. His words were embarrassing; but, you didn't want him to ever stop talking.

He leaned down, nuzzling his forehead affectionately against your temple. It seemed to contrast the vulgar words he spewed.

"Fuck, yeah. Say my fucking name," he grunted.

The hand gripping your thigh tugged you down a little, putting you a bit further beneath him. It changed the angle slightly. The fact that he even considered that was enough to knock the wind out of you. But, now, with him reaching all the best places, his hips were doing that quite well.

He laughed darkly at the way you cried out sharply, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

"Right there?" he hummed. "Right fucking there?" he added on immediately with a particularly harsh thrust, clearly demanding an answer.

"Yes!" you almost screamed, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice.

Every time he plunged back inside, bringing your hips impossibly tight together, a smacking sound echoed around the room. He buried his face in the divot between your neck and shoulder, alternating between slurs and nibbling on the soft, sweaty skin.

"Feels so fucking good," Hawks groaned. "So fucking warm 'n soft. Ya' feel that - feel your juices dripping all over the fucking place? Yeahhh - all over my fucking cock."

He lapped a wet tongue up the side of your neck, teeth biting gently at your jaw and cheek before rising to hover against your lips.

"Look at me," he demanded softly. The skin of his lips touched yours as he spoke.

You almost didn't realize that you had closed your eyes. The pleasure was overwhelming, making it near impossible to force your eyes open.

You could picture him perfectly in your head. Still, you weren't prepared for the sight of him when your eyes fluttered open: Hawk's handsome face, looming over you, cheeks flushed red, fangs peaking out between parted lips, messy blonde locks flopped over his sweaty forehead.

"Don't look away," he demanded in a low growl.

It likely wasn't intentional, but he sounded more pleading and less demanding. Still, you were eager to comply. Even if he hadn't requested it, it would have been difficult to look away when he was wearing an expression like that.

Your hands clawed down his back, venturing lower and lower until they reached his shoulder blades, where beautiful, heavenly plumes grew. Hawks cried out, eyes squeezing shut, when you dipped your hands down and slid one along each wing, tangling digits in the feathers.

"Ohhh, fuck," he snarled.

You whimpered when he dipped his head down and bit at your lips before forcing his tongue inside. His command for you to look at him was briefly forgotten as he kissed you, if the harsh motions of his tongue could even be called a kiss.

The swift pace he had set became brutal suddenly, and he was smacking his hips against yours almost violently. Something slithered between your bodies, and you realized faintly that it was a feather.

The soft little quill curled between your bodies and found purchase against your clit, rubbing at the bud almost like a fingertip. That touch got your grip on his wings to loosen as the pleasure became almost blinding.

Hawks pulled back from the kiss with a wet smack, looking down at you almost angrily. You had gotten used to that look, and recognized it as pure lust. Maybe, he was a little mad at you, in his own way.

"Grabbing my wings? You fucking brat," he snarled. There was no venom, however, just animalistic lust.

You wanted to bite back at him; but, the sensations between your legs made it near impossible to think properly, let alone speak. His feather was flicking at your pearl, sparking white hot pleasure, while his cock pummeled your insides, burning aching pleasure at your core.

Somehow, you found the strength to return your hands to his wings, curling fingers and palms beneath the lower end where the appendages jutted out from his back. You grabbed on, felt the feathers fold and twitch between your fingers, making room for you to settle in, almost as if they were working against him.

Hawks cried out, head falling back; but, his pace didn't falter once.

"Fuck, oh fuck," he whined, head nearly smacking into yours when he came back down.

"Holding on like that, gonna make me-" Hawks cut off, moaning shamelessly, breath fluttering out across your cheeks.

Gods, he looked beautiful like that: eyes clouded with lust, cheeks and the tops of his ears tinted red, mouth hanging open. You didn't look much better, laying there and just taking everything he gave you, and loving every fucking second of it.

Normally, his hair was blown out and brushed free from his face. It was cute seeing long strands clinging to his forehead and brow. You could see short, fluffy strands clinging to his neck, skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat.

He could easily jostle his wings or use a strong hand to push you away, to free himself from your grasp; but, he didn't. It felt good, too fucking good, to possibly do that. But, that didn't stop him from bitching about it.

"-touching my fucking wings," he snarled, sounding almost unlike himself, breathless and senselessly aroused, as he growled into the shell of your ear.

"-knot you as punishment," he threatened, words slurred and growling. "Yeah - make you take all of it."

It became clear to you, then, what you had felt earlier, while sucking him off. Perhaps, it shouldn't been so surprising that he could do that. Still, the promise was enough to make you cry out.

Hawks laughed darkly. "That's not a punishment, is it? No, nooo - you would like that."

You weren't sure if it was his words, or the thought of what he intended to do. Maybe it was the way he growled at the end of his sentences, or the feeling of his feathers shuddering in your grasp. But, before you knew it, your orgasm was creeping up on you.

"You want my knot? Hm? Fucking say it - hgnnn," he demanded, words drawling out into a low growl that rumbled through his chest.

"Keigo, please," you sobbed.

"'Please' what?" he snarled.

You barely heard his response. Your orgasm was suddenly overtaking you, so strongly that you could only hear your heart thundering in your ears. Your eyes fluttered shut and you trembled helplessly beneath him, fingers releasing his wings to claw down the skin of his back, trying to find purchase in his skin.

His feather never ceased pinching at your clit; Hawks hips, however, began to falter, feeling you come undone beneath him, tightening and gushing. You failed to feel him swelling at the base, his own orgasm approaching rapidly.

"Oh fuck - oh fuck," Hawks chanted, panting above you like a wild dog.

Without separating, he hiked your leg up and turned you over onto your side, nuzzling into the space behind you. There was barely a second where his pace faltered, and suddenly he was pressed up tight against your back, snarling into your neck while he continued jackhammering into you.

"I need to hear it," he uttered harshly.

Weakly, you reached down between your sopping wet thighs and pushed at the feather that never stopped fluttering against you. It felt good, so, so good. But, it was bordering on painful. The little plume refused to obey your weak protest, and continued flicking expertly at your bud, sending shockwaves across your body.

"-need to hear it," he added on again, insistently.

As your orgasm started to wane, you remembered his request.

Hawks' legs were tangled with yours, resting on his side behind you, sweaty chest slotted against your back while his hips fucked into you feverishly. He had one hand curled over your hip for leverage while his other arm was tucked under your head.

He was panting wildly, nearing completion, fucking into you so fast and hard that it almost hurt. You could hear his wings flap once, stirring the air around you.

"Baby - fuck - please," he sobbed, so fucking close that it was starting to claw away at his insides. He buried his face in the back of your neck, wheezing harshly between sharp moans.

You felt deliriously high, insides still churning in mind-numbing pleasure, skin silky with sweat. You could feel his harsh breaths fluttering out against your neck, felt his hair tickle your skin, felt what he was begging for, prodding at your entrance.

"Y-yes," you stammered, arching your back to try and meet him. "Knot me, Keigo, pleas-"

He pushed it in just in time for his orgasm to take him. The gland at the base of his cock swelled, locking you two together, and Hawks let out a harsh cry that rattled your bones.

The sob you made at the sudden fullness was drowned out by the sounds Hawks was making behind you.

Hawks' sharp cry faded into low moans that stuttered past his lips, one right after the other, as if he was helpless to stop them. The hand that had been holding your hip lowered until his arm locked around your waist, holding you close. His cock throbbed against your walls, gushing his seed in hot spurts.

Even when his orgasm seemed to wane, Hawks couldn't stop shuddering behind you, low wisps of pleasured sounds leaking from his mouth and fluttering across your skin.

It was only when his cock stopped throbbing that he finally went quiet and the feather fluttering at your pearl ceased. The blinding pleasure slowly faded into blissful tranquility, leaving you in the soft ambiance of the ceiling fan, Hawks' breathing, and the bustling streets outside.

In awe, you stared ahead as some of his feathers fluttered free from his wingspan and floated around the room, caught in the breeze from the ceiling fan.

Hawks held you close, panting into your neck, barely an inch of your sweat soaked skin not touching.

Most of the time, guys pulled away as quickly as they could when they were done. Feeling him linger felt nice, warm, comforting, especially when he finally started to calm down, and you felt his lips trail up your neck before nuzzling behind your ear.

"You okay?" he uttered lowly.

"Yeah," you replied softly. "Are you?"

"Still feels good," he answered hoarsely.

"Mmm," you agreed.

You wanted to close your eyes and sink into the sheets; but, you didn't want to look away from the sight of his feathers floating around the room. He must not have realized yet, for he surely would have pulled them back by now.

His arm left your waist so he could free his hand to wander, smoothing over your belly before rising up your sternum. He palmed your neck softly before smoothing over your shoulder, down your arm, then over the curve of your side, briefly squeezing the meat of your behind.

That hand then lifted to brush the hair out of your face and away from your neck, freeing up more skin within reach of his lips, which he promptly peppered with kisses.

Sensitive from such powerful orgasms, your sensitive skin prickled at the feeling of his short beard hairs, and you couldn't hold back some giggling and twitching, which did nothing to deter him.

When he was satisfied, his arm returned to your waist, bringing you in closer as if such a thing was possible.

"Is this... your first time?" you asked him softly, hesitantly.

"What? Having sex?" he blurted, laughing a little.

"No," you sharply retorted, snorting at him.

"Knotting?" he answered with a chuckle. "Yeah. Never wanted to be like this with someone before."

You slid one of your hands over his forearm, the one curled over your waist, until your fingers touched his knuckles. He opened his fingers, letting you intertwine the digits to caress his hand.

"Good," you hummed. "I'm special."

Hawks laughed breathlessly, his chest trembling softly against your back. "Yeah... Yeah, you fucking are," he agreed in a quiet whisper.

Everything was quiet for a little while. Hawks eventually realized he lost some plumes and drew them back into his wingspan. You could hear the feathery appendages shudder softly as he stretched them out, wiggling the masses, before drawing them back in.

He relaxed behind you, pliant and lazy atop the sheets, occasionally blessing your skin with a kiss: a rough one on your shoulder, a soft one on your cheek, a wet one against the shell of your ear. His other arm was still beneath you, making for a decent, albeit hard, pillow.

It was possible that his knot had already gone down by now; but, if it had, you hadn't noticed, and didn't care to move or to tell him to move. You didn't want the moment to be over quite yet.

"Soooo," Hawks uttered suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He carefully drew his arm out from beneath your head and propped an elbow up so he could lean elevate his hand against his palm and look down at you.

"How was that?" he asked, and you, of course, noticed his cheeky tone.

You groaned in response, highly suspicious of where this was going.

"Better than-"

"Don't you fucking say it," you interrupted him sharply, turning your head a little to look back at him, just in time to watch the wicked smirk on his face turn into a pout, an annoyingly adorable pout at that.

You sighed and turned your head back, away from him, uttering quietly, "yeah, it was better."

Hawks hummed happily. "Better than-?" he cooed, cutting himself off intentionally to tease you.

Testing the waters, you gently pulled away from him, confirming that he had softened and slipped out with ease. You lifted up into a seated position and shimmied to the edge of the bed. Hawks hadn't moved an inch, you realized, when you paused to look back at him.

"The best I've ever had," you sighed at him. "Happy?"

He closed his eyes, beaming a smile at you. "Yep!" he chirped, wings twitching subtly behind him.

"Are you staying, pretty bird?" you dared to ask, just a little fearful that he would take that opportunity to see himself out.

"I sure hope so," he replied. "Or are you the kind to throw men out to the cold when you're done with them?"

You leaned over the bed to give him a playful, harmless smack on the top of the head. He let you, smile not faltering and not flinching in the slightest.

"I might start tonight," you teased.

Still, you gently pushed his hair out of his face, preening him until you were satisfied, and stood up. You couldn't help but stare at him for a moment, spread out on his side, beautifully naked and looking happier than you'd seen him in ages.

"Gonna clean up. Keep the bed warm," you gently commanded him.

Just as you turned away from him, you felt his hand wrap around your arm, stopping you from retreating. You jerked back just a little, not expecting that sudden touch.

"Be mine," he requested.

It was possible that Hawks intended for it to come out demanding. It was, just a little bit; but, there was no missing the plea there, the fear that you were going to tell him that you belonged to no one, or that you didn't want what he was asking for.

You looked at him over your shoulder. The stern face he was making startled you a little. He was always joking about something, making dumb faces so people would underestimate him. It was rare to see him look like this, and you realized-

He was serious.

You gently peeled his hand off your arm. "I was yours when you stole my cigarettes, asshole," you beamed at him, a little bit more venomously than you intended.

That didn't stop Hawks from grinning like a madman.

"Fuck, babe. I love that dirty talk. Let's go again."

For some reason, that got you laughing. "Fuck off."

"Fuck me?" he teased.

You laughed again. "No."

[cryptiql]

cherry starbursts

pairing: bakugou/reader (male reader in mind but is gender neutral)

warnings: none, i think?? lots of cussing though, courtesy of lord explosion murder

words: 3.6k

a/n: yuzuya's audios giving me so much brainrot...gonna be thinking about this all week. also the way this started out as god tier writing but gradually turned into shit at the end 🏃 nonetheless, i hope i did this gremlin man justice </3

a contemplative hum tickles your throat as you observe the paragraph laid out before you, the pads of your fingers tingling as you trail them across the pages. on the occasions where you've found your nose nestled deep within them, a muted scent of pears and sawdust would invade your senses, and the urge to rest your head in the plains of your chemistry textbook would become overwhelming. however, the threat of being cuffed over the head by a rolled up magazine makes you think twice about slacking off, so you begrudgingly slump back into your seat with a resigned huff. the clock in your dorm is no doubt ticking away like always; the second hand rounding at great speeds while the minute and hour hands crawl by at a sluggish pace; but you aren't there to hear it.

instead, you reside in bakugou's room, basking in the unencumbered atmosphere created solely by his diligent efforts to keep his space clean and organized. it's just the way he is, you have to remind yourself. not because you stubbed your toe on his dumbbells last week and he felt sufficiently guilty as to make sure nothing was in your path the next time you visited. that would be silly. all that considered, bakugou's room isn't much different from your own—save for the few comfort objects brought from home that give off a hospitable air—but the lack of stimulus it holds is apparent. anything that could disturb your tranquil study date has either been stored away or placed beyond your reach.

damn him, the bastard! he's completely oblivious, you silently muse, bracing your elbows on the desk to plant your face in the palms of your hands. you chastise yourself at the same moment for forgetting your headphones, but in your defense, bakugou screaming for you to hurry up had prompted a hasty departure. if he had the patience to wait two more minutes. . .

rather than finishing the thought, you pull the textbook closer, hoping that somehow the enlarged print will stick to your brain like a temporary tattoo. you only need this information long enough to pass the exam, but once it's over, you swear you'll never mention anything chemistry related unless it's the bond between you and your neighbor. the idle scratching of pencil led against paper erupts from his side of the room, lessening the static in your head by a fraction, but it doesn't last. he mutters something unintelligible under his breath as you spin in your chair to look at him in desperation.

he remains ignorant for the next minute or so, only glancing up at you briefly before returning to his notes. your nostrils flare as you reach down to untangle your laces and pull off your shoe. you chickened out last time this happened, but being ignored has successfully fed the flames of your frustration, and you simply will not stand for it any longer. you blame your sleep-addled mentality for the lack of better aim, but it stokes your pride when bakugou flinches as your shoe hurdles past his shoulder.

"the hell was that for, dumbass!?" he growls, his eyes narrowing into slits. you respond with a high pitched whine; one that would be considered overexaggerated in his opinion, but in yours, was perfectly reasonable when being held against your will to study a subject that has no business being this tedious. "sukiii, i'm booored."

the blonde makes a 'tch' sound, positioning his arm in a warning manner before throwing his pencil at you, which you manage to catch easily. you revel in the deflated expression he wears, twirling the pencil between your fingers and kicking a leg over one arm of the chair. all this, while never breaking eye contact, was sure to break through to him. you're hopeful, what with the way katsuki's gaze—gradually failing to hide his infatuation—travels over your build from head to toe. whether because you giggle at his reaction or decide to kick your feet like a giddy child, he snaps out of his trance with an all too familiar scowl and shuts his own textbook with unnecessary force. his demanding stare is fixated on you as he tosses it haphazardly to the edge of the bed.

"give me back my pencil, idiot." he completely ignores your previous statement and jumps straight into business, as always. "give me back my shoe first, hot stuff." you challenge, smirking in a way that you very well know gets him hot under the collar. the teasing endearment will either put the odds in your favor; earning you your shoe as desired, and perhaps the lovely little blush that often dusts his face whenever you flirt with him; or seal your fate in hell where the everlasting flames may burn similarly, if not just as hotter than bakugou's explosions. it has taken years of practice to uphold your smug attitude in the face of his unyielding rage; nose wrinkled and canines grinding. even now, he is the image of perfection—a powerful god emblazoned in brimstone and baneful inferno—and you, a mere lover of art. after a moment, bakugou's resolve seems to falter. his piecing glare relents only slightly to give way for a pensive expression as he sighs, gently rubbing along the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. he throws you your shoe while standing from the bed, and as you slip it on, he shuffles over to his clothes drawer to pull out his own pair of sneakers. this prompts you to raise a brow inquisitively, but your silent question is left unanswered up until bakugou claps a hand on your shoulder and grumbles.

"c'mon, i'm fucking starving. there's a seven eleven nearby that's got spicy ramen."

and just like that, all thoughts pertaining to the test have been pulverized to dust by katsuki's unrelenting fists. the promise of food after hours of relentless mental abuse has you brushing off the sudden change of inclination in seconds, meanwhile the hothead to your right mulls over it during your trek through the empty hallways, stuffing his arms into the holes of his jacket. he had been able to overlook your constant fidgeting and intermittent noises of vexation, but too soon it became obvious that you weren't getting anywhere with the session. he would have simply offered to help if not for his own inability to concentrate, which had made itself known within the last half hour when he caught himself staring at you between taking notes. so what if he found your pouting cute? just maybe, he had started to fall in love with the way your brows furrowed at the instance of a misunderstood question; the absentminded tugging of your earlobe; the way your eyes looked without seeing, as if the smallest things held the greatest importance. sure, the tapping of your nails against a desk was a bit much, but he could always put a stop to your fretting by lacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand. just maybe, your bashful reactions made him want to hold you closer; to see you lounging across his lap—a throne befitting for a king—with your rose hued cheeks nestled in the crook of his neck.

not that you needed to know any of that. no fucking way would he endow another reason for you to tease him when the list was already so long.

curfew isn't for another hour, but bakugou would rather not waste time dawdling, so he uses this as reasoning for hooking your arm with his and practically hauling you out the exit. he mutters something about you being "too fucking slow" and "leaving you behind if you don't keep up", but the fact that he's dragging you along at all shows that he would have no problem resorting to desperate matters. the right amount of groveling and or compromising might mean a piggyback ride to the store, but regardless of how tempting the idea is, you decide not to further burden your friend with carrying you.

the towering shape of heights alliance becomes more and more like a speck of dust as your journey continues, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your already weary mind. you eye katsuki's side profile, noting the distinct lack of malice upon his handsome features, and smile softly to yourself. friend. it was the first word that occurred to you, albeit the least desirable and in no way comparable to the term that caused your heart to flutter within the confinements of your ribcage.

you aren't together. you don't know if you'll ever be, but when the the milieu; brimming with chaotic screams, booming laughter and disorderly merriment belonging to that of your closest friends; is whisked from the narrative, katsuki looks at you differently. whatever fragments of disdain and spite tend to crumble within the first few seconds and are replaced by an emotion that was unheard of ever having manifested in the depths of his vermillion hues. it holds a semblance to adoration, perhaps even respect, and for as long as you can recall, that is all you've wanted to see from him: to be regarded like no other.

sure, it's not like how you dreamed—he isn't very affectionate in public, though you doubt he would be even if you were together, and it always stings when he shrugs your affections off with a deriding comment—but that's just it. it's not a dream. after every scornful remark; after the day has passed and the dwindling moon takes its place in the evening sky, breaking through the curtains of his dorm; he'll kiss your hand, your blooming cheeks, your lips, all to atone for it. where no one else can see, he treats you like a divine being, and part of you wishes to think that it's because he's selfish. a bit of possessiveness has lead to many nights of a shared bed, ruffled sheets and smothering cuddles, but who are you to complain? everything he gives you is more real than any well-constructed reverie.

he may not be yours, and you may not be his, but no one else will suffice for either of you, and that is the unspoken truth.

the minimal bitterness in the autumn breeze makes for a refreshing atmosphere with the only discontent being the hunger that claws at your stomach. bakugou has never been merciful towards anyone, let alone the self-acclaimed nuisance who interrupts his studying with half-baked plans of adventure, but you're ever so grateful for the rare times where he is.

you know you won't have to wait long now that the smell of milk bread and takoyaki trickles into the air, much like the faint pitter patter of raindrops on the concrete. the shower is horribly ill-timed, but you hardly mind, especially when the droplets cling to bakugou's eyelashes like crystalline gemstones; glimmering faintly with every blink as they catch the suns rays. it settles below the horizon, only a sliver of golden yellow to be seen dancing in the tree boughs above, and the fuck if the way it illuminates your not-boyfriend's visage isn't absolutely breathtaking. the glimpse of honeyed skin and kissable lips—pulled into a pensive pout—draws you in deeper, and deeper, and oh god i've been caught—

"you got a staring problem, dumbass?" he grumbles, a roseal color dusting his ears that he swears is from the cold.

even his offensive nicknames are laced with an abnormal tenderness, and knowing that you're the only one with the privilege to hear it causes your chest to swell with delight. you nibble your bottom lip, hoping that it will somehow hide the fleet of giggles bubbling in your throat, but it does no such thing. "yeah, it's weird. whenever i see something beautiful, i just feel compelled to stare at it."

you don't need to look at him to know you've struck a nerve, but you do anyways, and his face grows redder under the intensity of your teasing leer. he sputters, curses falling from past his lips like a waterfall, and rips his arm from your grasp to cradle it as if you've burned him. any sane person would have backed down the second mini explosions began flaring up from his palms, however, you are perhaps the exact opposite, as to be expected when surrounding yourself with the infamous bakusquad, who (excluding bakugou) procured one braincell to share amongst themselves. years of having to put up with and, by extension, learn how to effectively handle bakugou's fits have proven to be time well spent.

you remain none the wiser to the concerned stares of others as he spouts a line of insults; incomprehensible from behind his curled fist pressed tightly to his mouth.

"you-you can't just say that kinda shit out loud, dumbass!" and although he may seem mad, he's already dragging you down the street. you test your luck by huddling closer and resting your chin on his shoulder, your steady pace never faltering.

"is the katsuki bakugou stumbling over his words from a little compliment?" it almost feels like you've won, but then the blonde proceeds to cover your face with his still damp hand. the little shit had timed it perfectly so that your open mouth would taste the saltiness of his sweat—quite the contrary to its sugary caramel aroma—and if you weren't so preoccupied by the resonance of his cackling laugh, you might have spent the rest of the trip gagging and complaining about the whole ordeal. he hardly seems bothered, wiping your saliva on his trousers and going forth with that customary lumbering strut, which always has you torn between fawning, chortling or questioning if he has fucking weights down his pants.

nonetheless, you can't help but murmur how cute he looks as you swing your free arm in tune with your steps.

by the time you've arrived at the shop, the sun has long since disappeared; welcoming hues of purple, navy blue and hints of orange to dapple the heavens, along with the foretelling of stars. you can't begin to describe how lucky you are to be living in a city with such beautiful scenery, even when the thin clouds of smog from factories often hinder your view of it. the fluorescent lights from the 'open' sign flash sporadically, casting a cobalt glow to dance across your dazed expression. katsuki watches with intent, chuckling at how easily distracted you can get as he tugs you inside by the cloth of your shirt.

the person behind the cash register spares a customary greeting before returning to their magazine, and bakugou makes a beeline for the intended isle, something akin to excitement radiating from him. he wears it much differently, and it resembles is go-to callous guise in almost every way, but you're able to detect the slight shift in demeanor as if its the easiest thing in the world. you hardly register that he's removed himself from you until the distance grows too large to ignore, and you shuffle over to the place beside him with a newfound adrenaline. the crisp air of the corner store heightens your senses as you tap your foot to the pop song playing overhead.

the only other sound is of katsuki examining the ramen and deciding what level of spice he should get, encouraging you to ponder what sort of hellish nightmare he has planned for the rest of the group. it was just last week when he dared kaminari to try some of the noodles, and the poor boy had spent ten minutes weeping in snot-nosed agony that you would have to be insane to put something that hot in your mouth. bakugou had laughed at his misery and carried on eating with vigor, mocking the others for their weak taste buds.

after a beat of silence, you decide to test your luck again by poking is shoulder, as well as batting your eyelashes at him and cocking your head to the side.

"can we get some candy?"

bakugou waves his hand dismissively, which is all the conformation you need before rounding the corner to peruse the variety of sweets on display. you immediately spot the marked parcels of sour gumdrops and assorted licorice and giggle to yourself as you pick them out, unaware of the gentle smile the blonde wears in regards to your child-like glee.

"yeah, just don't eat it all in one sitting. you go through that shit way too fast—it's unhealthy."

you won't bother commenting on his strict, motherly advisement, because you know it's in his best interest. he's grumbled about "stuffing your body with all that garbage" on numerous occasions, and while the hypocrisy might have annoyed you at one point ("and i assume gouging yourself on spicy ramen is completely different?") you realized rationing your candy would benefit both your health and your wallet. you nod, despite knowing he can't see, and idly feel for your back pocket, wondering just how much katsuki plans to stock up. money isn't exactly an issue, so you suppose it doesn't matter, but the amount of packets he normally brings back is downright criminal.

"don't be shy," he eventually says, "i'm buying. you're responsible enough not to buy out the whole store, right?"

your confusion overwhelms the urge to roll your eyes at his sarcasm, but there also lies a hint of elation that he would offer to buy.

"i figured i'd be paying as compensation for messing with you." you stand on the tips of your toes to poke your head over the isle, feeling very tempted to ruffle his hair whilst he gathers the packages of ramen into his basket.

"nah, you can pay me back in some other way." his eyes flick upwards to meet your devilish smirk, and he turns away with an affronted noise, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"oh? i can't wait to see what you have in mind~."

and there go the sparks. they last but a few moments before katsuki composes himself, presumably because he realizes making a scene won't help the situation, but he still throws a glare at you from a distance as he beckons you closer. it seems like he's gotten all he needs, so you hastily grab whatever sweets are left on your mental list and rush back to the counter. a comfortable silence sits between you both as your items are checked out, and in that time, you observe the significant difference between pre-late-night-shopping-run bakugou and food-deprived-study-date bakugou. his shoulders are more relaxed, as is his facial appearance, and you'll be damned if you ever forget the way he smiles when he catches you looking from his peripheral vision.

it's soft and unguarded and leaves you struggling for breath as he waits for the cashier to turn away, then promptly laces your fingers together. what? katsuki takes the bag and pulls you effortlessly; like a ragdoll; a mere toy at his disposal; out into the brisk evening. his thumb brushes the back of your hand, making you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it, and he titters freely. what? the streetlamps glint brightly, flickering at random intervals as you travel onward at a leisurely pace. the roads closest to U.A. aren't as packed as the ones deeper into the city, and thus you are the only two souls to be found, save for the few cars that speed by under the faint luminescence of nearing traffic lights. katsuki squeezes your palm, then slithers his hand out of your hold to replace it at your waist, methodically caressing the skin there in a way that has your knees buckling. you sputter witlessly, attempting to catch the thoughts that flee from your mind like birds to the wind. the blonde is nothing less than ecstatic to be the reason for your flustered state, and he takes full advantage of it by leaning in and hovering his mouth just inches from your own.

"i'll take my payment now." and oh lord, you think. he doesn't have to ask me twice. your lips collide with his, molding together like melted toffee; just as sweet and addictive. you've shared kisses before; ones that left you bruised and scrambling for a coverup the next day; ones that felt like fire but were tinged with honey that soothed your throat; fleeting ones that were never enough. you were sure that your need for affection would never truly be satiated unless it was from the boy you held most dear, and with the moon as your sole witness, katsuki was happy to oblige.

"starbursts. . ." he huffs after pulling away, massaging your hip to subdue your dissatisfied hum. "you taste like cherry starbursts."

he doesn't seem to mind by the way he leans in for another kiss, and another, and another, until you're a jittery mess in his arms. you press against his chest, a wistful sigh escaping you when you part once more.

"not that i'm complaining, but where's this coming from? you're usually not so touchy." the last bit of your utterance trails off as bakugou presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there. moments pass, and when he finally pulls away, its to hide his blush by walking ahead of you. "i should be able to kiss my partner whenever i please, shouldn't i?" he doesn't even give you a chance to catch up, because his words have you rooted to the spot. what urges your feet to move is the haughty smirk he tosses over his shoulder, and even then, the race has only begun; your demands for him to stop echoing down the street as you chase him.

cheeky bastard.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

Hello 🥰 Could I ask for a scenario where Levi discovers that his s/o needs to cuddle a stuffed animal for sleeping? 🧸 Thanks 🥺💕

This turned from fluff to fluffly hurt comfort in seconds, sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy this

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Warnings: mentions of death and grief

Tags: fluff, hurt/ comfort

Teddy Bear

The dark corridor was merely illuminated by the tiny flicker of a small flame. Hot wax dripped in not too sheer droplets on your thumb, solidifying at the touch as it burned blotches on your tender skin. The feeling stung excessively, leaving an unpleasant numbing behind that you just couldn't ignore even if you tried your best to.

Your night gown felt foreign on your body as it slipped off either of your shoulders once you tried to align it on your form. You were sure you could see it being pumped from your intense heartbeat as you approached the all familiar wooden door, anxiety forming in knot at the pit of your stomach.

Almost every surviving scout had gone through something similar after a certain expedition, that you were sure of. The anger that grief would bear along with it was an enormous bargain to handle on your own and over the years with only a shattered, hammering heart you've had to deal with great losses. You had basically signed up for it.

It had been days since you had gotten out of your room, or let alone sleep. In the span of three enormously long days, you had sat there, eyes dry and shot open as you stated at the wooden ceiling, with your breath hitched on your throat. Any tear had distinguished; whether for the amount of ones you had shed at the scene or in the following days. The only thing left behind was pain and sorrow, grieve and despair.

You loathed that your dorm room, once bubbling with the laughter and tingling giggles of your friends was now bathed in a numbing silence that deafened. As despicable as it could sound you also loathed that there was no one you could trade to have the dorm bed beside you occupied with it's rightful owner once again.

You vividly recalled nights that you and your best friend would lay in silence as you'd tell her all about your forming relationship with Levi, or the way that her eyes looked under the grazing moonlight, awestruck to the sight of you falling in love and even much more eager to get to experience that on her own.

You still recalled how she'd clutch your stuffed bear in between her bosoms, already eager to let you know that her dreams never consisted of peaceful cottagecores nearby rivers unlike other girls'; uncertain as she was for her future she'd rely on her feelings to make her dream of a better future when she'd experience falling in love freely, passionately. And now, with whatever left of her burried six feet under the ground, you knew she would never get that chance that she had so longed for.

So in a way, what you were about to do was comical, ironic and it felt disrespectful to your fallen friend. Your guilt on your upcoming actions ripped through your bowel, causing horrid growls to ring through the paper thin walls of the headquarters and yet, you needed the mellow touch of your lover.

You had turned down his despairate attempts of comfort for a short amount of days in hopes of coming to terms with the loss of your best friend on your own. It was still so hard to get a grip of this new reality that you were forced in, and as reluctant as Levi was, he was all too familiar to the pain of being robbed off of someone of great importance to your character. He had granted you enough space for as long as your sorrows needed to stop burning lumps at the back of your throat, always promising you would be able to find him whenever you wished for.

Along with your hand mellowy knocking on his door twice came a wave of nausea in the pits of your stomach.

"It's me" you muttered. "I can't sleep."

As the door ripped open, the look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know; you were already past the stage of feeling empty and lost. Grey eyes bore into yours with endearment, his own exhaustion hid behind the soft expression of his face. With his brows not furrowed as per usual and his cheeks glowing in the faintest flustered color he stood there calmly, taking your form in for some silence filled moments. Reluctantly he shot his arm to the small of your back, bringing you closer, causing your jaw to clench as it came in contact, ever so slightly with his head.

"I can't do this on my own!"

"I know. That's why I'm here."

His soft voice cooed you as he guided you inside his office, pushing you ever so slightly to help you move faster.

You reluctantly sat on the bed, feet trembling as they barely touched the ground beneath them. The edge of your nightgown swayed as you rocked your feet back and forth in anticipation of what was to come, seeing that you barely had any chance to sleep in Levi's embrace at all; it was only natural for your mind to wander in territories of barely experienced feelings. Nevertheless the newfound warmth in your heart awoke from the comfort that the thought of this action provided you.

Soon enough, your eyes watched as Levi slipped out of his grey wash button up shirt, casually slipping into a loose fitted shirt. His hands came to loosen on his belt and undo the buttons of his military pants; the sight of relief that escaped him was more than enough to confirm to you how long he would have waited to free himself from the uneasiness of military clothes. In a way it felt like you were both saving eachother.

By the time he plopped himself into the bed, dragging your body to accompany his onto the feathered mattress, your eyes were already heavy with sleep. It seemed like Levi's aura was therapeutic, watching his meticulous nighttime routine play out in front of you was set to distract you from your sorrows.

Tonight was going to turn your to be a difficult night, that much Levi knew of; you had seemed his silent comfort, his wordless affection that present its way in the form of his hands around you, bringing you closer to him at any given chance. Tonight he had to be the one to hold you with your back against his chest, the smittening sweetness of the way his lips felt nuzzled against the crook of your neck awakening all of his protective instincts.

But as you cuddled his arm, bringing his somewhat clenched palm under your cheek, Levi's eyes shot wide open.

"Please be my teddy bear." You mumbled in between exahusted, half asleep words. "I burried my teddy with my friend, to keep her company."

The half smile that curled up on his caused an eeree heat to spread throughout him as he nuzzled his pointed nose on your nape, rubbing softly as he puffed hot air out of his nostrils. He wasn't surprised that as calm as he was this heat rushed through all of his body, engulfing him in the tender embrace of sleep.

[smellyfootboy]

SMELLY ENCOUNTERS WITH ETHAN PT 1

I was having a New Years Eve party. I only invited a few friends as I like to keep my parties pretty personal. My friend, Ethan, was sometimes pretty cocky and would kind of bully me a bit but I didn't mind. I always thought it was kind of hot but never acted on anything with him. But boy did I get my chance that night after the party. Everyone else had gone home but I asked him if he wanted to stay a little longer. He was a little drunk and I wanted him to be safe. I was also hoping that if he slept over I would get to see him barefoot. He had only ever taken his shoes off in front of me but never his socks. I remember how strong his feet would smell and how much it turned me on.

We walked into my bedroom and sat on the floor.

"Man what a night.." he said. I was out skating all day and then came right to your party."

"Damn. You must be tired." I said.

"My feet are i can tell you that." He said.

I could already smell them through his beat up converse but just fantasized about how amazing they smell up close.

As I stared at his feet, I noticed his bulge in his pants. He would always brag about how big his balls were and this is the first time I really noticed.

"You can take off your shoes if you want" I said as non chalantly as possible, hoping that he didn't hear the eagerness in my voice. He almost looked excited at first but then toned it back a little.

"Well... I wouldn't want to stink up the room" Ethan laughed and looked to me for my next response.

"Trust me ethan. I have a high tolerance for bad smells." I said.

Ethans eyes lit up. He started to reach for his shoe. And pulled it off. Then the other one. The smell immediately filled the room. Not like when his shoes were on. This was so much more powerful. His socks were orange and black. You could see the sweat marks in the toes. I was practically hypnotized.

"Guess how long I've been wearing these socks..." Ethan said with a grin.

"Ummm I don't know..." I said nervously.

Ethan crunched his toes up and down a bit. I could tell Ethan was still very drunk.

"Go on guess. And while we are at it, why don't we make things interesting and each time you guess wrong you have to get a bit closer to them. "

Oh my God. Was I dreaming ? I'd been fantasizing a foot experience with Ethan for years. This was a new level of dominance for Ethan. I loved it. No way I was gonna pass this up.

"Ummmm... 2 weeks?" I guessed. Knowing I would be wrong.

"Come on, not even I am that gross... come on... get closer..." Ethan said.

I moved a little closer. The smell was so strong. It was Heaven.

"Hmmm. 10 days?" I asked.

Ethan smiled.

"Nope. Now inch closer but this time put one of my socks in your mouth. Don't think I haven't noticed you staring my feet before, boy. "

He pulled a sock off and threw it at my face.

"What... I'm not doing that ... your feet? What are you talking about. That's gross. " I said. I couldnt believe this was happening.

"Fine. Then I'm going to just drive home drunk because you don't like my game...." Ethan said as he started to get up.

"No! Fine I'll do it." I said.

"Ok. But because you said no first, you gotta stuff both in your mouth. Here let me help you."

Ethan pulled off his other sock and grabbed the one next to me that he threw. He stood above me and turned them inside out and rolled them them a bit, smelly part out. Meanwhile his huge bulge was inches from my face. I could smell his balls pretty good. He inched a bit closer and his bulge was literally rubbing against my nose. What a manly smell. He reached down and opened my mouth and stuffed his rank socks in so hard that it almost hurt. The taste was so salty and almost sweet. I could tell the converse that he wore were old. He sat in front of me. Only a few feet away. His big bare feet smiling up at me.

"How does that taste?" He asked.

"Mmmph gwwwd" I could barely speak.

"OK. You have one guess left boy. Get it wrong and you are really gonna get it." Ethan said while wiggling his pudgy toes.

I could barely breathe. My mouth was so stuffed. All I could taste was his feet.

I held up 5 of my fingers. Ethan shook his head smiling at me. Then he waved me to come closer. I inched closer.

"Nope. That was your last shot. Even closer." He grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me down until his feet were right in front of my face. My nose was centimeters from his toes. I almost forgot what fresh air smelled like. Ethan moved his foot so that my nose was right in between his toes. The smell was insane.

"The answer, if you were wondering, is 4 days. Pretty strong for 4 days, huh?" He laughed.

He kept moving his foot around, my nose taking turns between each of his toes. I could feel toe jam in the side of my nostril. I was completely under his control. The smell was so intoxicating.

Ethan reached down and pulled his huge balls out of his shorts. My eyes widened. They were shaved. But not freshly shaved. Slightly stubbley. He looked down at me as he tugged on them.

"Now let's think of a new game..."

[hufflesmonsters]

New Beginnings

A/N: hi, just dropping in to say I’m writing again >:D enjoy this slow burn. Also, surprise, it’s not a lizard man story though I do have one in the works so there is that.

~*~*~*~

Torren swung the ax down, splitting the log in two. Sweat beaded his brow as the sun bore down on him. He stuck the ax down in the wood stump and stood, wiping away the sweat with the back of his hand as he looked up at the sky. Just past noon, he’d have to get a move on if he was going to be on time for the kings summon. If he even wanted to take the job, whatever it was. If King Richard the second wished to hire a mercenary, it surely couldn’t be for anything fun. He clearly didn’t want to waste his own men for this, which meant that Torren was likely going to die during his job. 

And yet… the money he would get if he lived. He could retire, and finally live his dream of being the towns hermit to its fullest potential. As in, he only ever comes into town on stormy nights to buy ten kegs of ale and disappear for another three months. He grew his own food, hunted his own meat. Of course he kept messing up his tomato plants which meant he had to go into town to get those, but once he can figure it out then mission Hermit was a go. 

Stepping back, he grabbed the shirt he had draped over a nearby branch and walked towards his home. It was a nice little shack, one he’d built from scratch back when he was just a young boy. He had found the location by accident really, one minute he was being chased by his elder brothers, the next he was standing in a clearing with a pond and no one in sight for miles. At first it was just a cool hideout, somewhere he could go to get away from his crazy family and village bullies. But over the years he spent more and more time here, fixing it up and expanding the facilities. Next thing he knew he had completely moved in and claimed the land officially as his. 

Tossing the shirt on the couch, he walked into his bedroom and opened his dresser. He wasn’t sure what he’d need really, if this was a quick trip, and he hoped it was, he’d only really need two shirts, pants and his washing supplies. He already had his armor on, his swords were already by the door, polished and ready to go. He grabbed the shirts, extra pants, and his bag of supplies and stuffed them into a bag that he could tack onto his horses saddle. He’d grab a small coin purse for food and drink, which should cover him for his trip if he was careful. If he ran out of coin he’d only have to offer to chop wood for inns or something like that. 

As he turned to leave, bag in hand, he stopped by the kitchen and grabbed the oat bag for Sweetie. Most of the time she was content to just chew on grass, or even break into gardens and devour everything in sight. But oats, how she loved oats. 

The sun glared at him as he exited the house, he stopped briefly to lock it up before continuing down the path to the pasture. He could already see the giant grazing peacefully, black tail flicking away bugs as her dappled gray coat shone silver in the sunlight. She was truly a magnificent horse, holding a presence without even trying. She was a draft horse, one of the few capable of holding a full grown orc. And she was an absolute sweetie, hence, her name. 

“Got something for you, Sweetie,” Torren called as he entered the stall part of the pasture, grinning as her large head shot up, ears pointed forward and nostrils flaring. She smelled the oats like sharks smell blood in the water. With a graceful trot, she soon stood in front of him, towering over him by two feet. She bent down and nuzzled his cheek lovingly, snorting into his ear as he tried to shove her away. “We don’t have time to cuddle, girl. The King wants us at the castle by midday tomorrow.”

Sweetie snorted and stood upright again, flank twitching as she moved past him and into the tacking area. She was smart, smarter than most horses he’d met. She waited patiently as he began to saddle her, taking his time to secure the bag and oats in a place where she couldn’t get to it. She was tricksy, especially when it came to oats. But she also knew that those were a night time snack, something that he wouldn’t just give out unless they narrowly avoided death and allowed her to have something to chew on while he fought off a panic attack. 

He slid the reins over her head, patting her cheek as she opened her mouth to allow the rod to go in. Once she was fully outfitted, he lead her out of the stalls and closed the doors behind her. He swung up onto her back, and settled in. Gathering the reins, he clicked his tongue and set off down the dirt path that lead into town. The castle wasn’t too far, if he traveled nonstop today he’d be able to make it before midday tomorrow. Talk to the king, get the job done, and they’d be home before they knew it. 

~*~*~*~

Reaching the castle, Torren almost turned back around. He’d heard the rumors, how King Richard the second seemed to… overcompensate. The walls around the kingdom were large, but not as large as the damn castle. It towered over everything, almost as if it was a direct challenge to the gods. It was also very, very ugly with its pale brown coloring and lack of windows.

Showing his summons slip to the guards at the gate, he slowly made his way into the kingdom. It was another thing that irked him about King Richard, he was a man with “purist” beliefs. No race other than human was allowed past the walls without a proper invite. There was no trading, or apprenticeship allowed between humans and others. Which raised another red flag about this job offer, why would a king who hates his kind specifically ask him to complete a task for him. 

Torren tightened his fist on the reins as he watched the crowd wearily. He was going to die, either here or on this job if he wasn’t careful enough. The townsfolk weren’t bad, they looked more open to him than the guards did, but he didn’t dare interact with them. Not even to the young children who waved at him for the guards were watching him just as closely as he was watching them. 

Reaching the palace, he climbed off of Sweetie’s back and handed the reins over to the stable boy, a warning look in his eyes. If they mistreated her, he would rip all of their spines from their backs and beat them to death with it. Torren turned to look at the guards that approached him, back stiff as he towered over them. It was almost laughable, how they escorted him into the palace. 

The inside of the castle was just as ugly as the outside, the same beige walls, no decorations whatsoever. Whoever helped the king design this deserved to be publicly executed. Knights stood at every corner, some seemed to be standing at random places the further they got in. It was almost as if someone had just told them to pick a window and stand. The guards increased as they drew closer to the throne room, all of them standing at attention as they stopped in the middle. The guards beside him stood at attention, hands over heart and back straight. 

One of the guards announced the arrival of the king, everyone else following in salute. Torren looked up in expectation for the infamous King Richard the Second. Looking, looking, out of confusion, his gaze drew down to the floor when an irritated cough sounded. 

Oh, oh gods… 

Torren had to physically bite his tongue as he took in the sight of King Richard the second. No wonder the castle was so large and hideous, this man barely stood past a humans waist. He recalled an old nickname for the king, one that was immediately outlawed in the towns surrounding his kingdom. Little Dick Jr, the bane of all of Pufort. 

Torren knelt in front of the tiny king before any more offense could be given. And he had a lot to give at this moment in time. “Your grace,” he said stiffly. 

“Rise,” came the nasally response. “Do you know why I've called you here, orc?” Dick Jr asked once Torren towered over him again. 

“No, m'lord.” 

“I am a king without a queen, I'm basically a laughing stock in all the kingdoms!” Torren was willing to put money on it, that wasn't the reason why, but he knew better than to say that. “But there's a princess, locked away in a tower due east. And she will be my bride.” 

“And you wish me to retrieve her?” Torren asked for clarification. That didn't sound so hard at all. 

“Yes, it's a week’s journey all together, the roads are treacherous, but I'm sure you're no stranger to that,” again, nothing dangerous. “And then of course there's the active volcano and lava surrounding the castle and the dragon guarding it.” Ah, there it is. 

“I see, that doesn't sound too difficult for me,” Torren said, lying through his teeth. He could handle bandits, he could even sneak past a fucking dragon. But lava? An active volcano? That was something he'd never experienced before and wasn't too keen on the idea. 

“Perfect, we will discuss your payment when you get back. Godspeed, I wish to be married by the end of the month!” Little Dick Jr clapped his hands twice, alerting the guards that he was done talking to the half orc. 

Torren bowed his head and turned to make his leave. If he walked fast enough, he could get out of this city by the time the king reached the stairs. The guards had attempted to follow him out, but after they had to literally run to keep up they quit. It wasn't like he was going to do anything anyways. 

He eyed the gods awful bust of Dick jr. and contemplated tripping into it…

No, no. Not yet. 

~*~*~*~

If there were small miracles, Torren may have found one. Sweetie was in perfect condition when he had retrieved her, granted she had been touched by the stable hands and she made sure to voice her displeasure by biting his shirt and nearly throwing him into a mud pile. Sweetie was a sweetheart up until she had the wrath of the gods placed upon her. 

They had made their way out of the kingdom as fast as they could, and Torren was grateful that the guards didn’t give him an official escort out of the kingdom. Though, he had noticed several guards watching him carefully if he lingered too long in an area. Sure, there was traffic, but he was an orc, that was an unforgivable crime don’t you know? He half expected to get harassed when he passed by the front gate guards, but he was uncomfortably surprised to find that they did not. 

Oh, he was going to die on this mission. He should have gotten his affairs in order, who was going to take after Sweetie when he was gone? His brothers were half a kingdom away and his neighbors didn’t know he existed. Now, he was realizing as he traversed the hills, it was a bad time to be a hermit. Sweetie was smart though, maybe she’d find a new hermit to adopt and go about her life. 

Okay, maybe he should focus on traveling and not his soon to be untimely demise. 

Torren had just crested the hill overlooking the neighboring village when a shout came from his right. Looking over, he was wary to see an elf making his way over on his own sturdy steed. The elf seemed friendly enough, though most elves he met rarely stayed friendly. He paused and waited for the elf to approach, keeping a hand on his dagger just in case. 

The elf wasn’t bad looking, kind of handsome really if Torren was being honest with himself. Tall, a bit taller than most of the elves he met, golden skin that would make King Midas jealous. Long brown hair braided back in practicality rather than aesthetic, though it was a tad too ornate for pure practicality. He was dressed in simple leathers, with elven embroidery up around the shoulders, partially obscured by the cloak he wore. 

  “Hail, friend! I see you came from Pufort, a fine accomplishment for those of us considered too “unpure”,” the elf gave a laugh as he settled beside Sweetie. “Gavril, merc for hire,” he introduced himself as he put his hand out.

“Torren,” Torren said as he took the hand and shook it once. A mutual respect was given to the elf, some mercs stuck together, especially those around Pufort. The land wasn’t known for tolerance, mostly the guards fault, and so it wasn’t common to see many mercs who weren’t human. “What brings you to Pufort?”

“Ah, but the king, of course!” Gavril gave the man a bright smile before his smile dropped. “Better to talk here than in the village. Less ears.”

Torren felt his heart drop at the comment, dear gods was this the end? He hadn’t even made it out of Pufort yet! Gods, the amount of fun his brothers would have when they find out that he died in Pufort of all places… 

“I can see you’re freaking out, fear not, I am not going to say “long live Dickie”,” Gavril let out a laugh, and Torren didn’t appreciate it, like, at all. “He hired me a month back, and when I disappeared he chose to hire you.”

“And I should believe you, why?” Torren actually did believe him, it was just the dick move that Dickie would pull. But he was a distrustful man by nature, and so grilling the elf it was. 

“Why would I lie? Being here in of itself is a death sentence for me if one of his guards spots me,” Gavril shrugged. “No, I felt as if the job was far too… strange for me to complete without the full story.”

“And that story was?” Torren raised a brow as he shifted on Sweetie, who snorted in warning as she grazed. 

“The princess, she’s apparently the daughter of the neighboring kingdom, Aster. I did my research and went to them with the information on Richard. They don’t like the idea of an unsavory man such as him “rescuing” their daughter in such an unhonorable way,” Gavril leaned a bit as his voice dropped. “I was riding by, coming back from another business that I had to attend,  when I happened to have heard he had another summons, I thought it was only fair to let you know about it all.”

“And what, exactly, are you hoping to inform me of other than the princesses misfortunes?” Torren leaned slightly in despite himself. 

“I’m to meet another fellow, a minotaur by the name of Jardor. He was the princess's guard before she was imprisoned so she’d be more trusting of us. Her parents hired me to take her Aster instead of Pufort, and their offer is extended to any other mercenary hired by Richard.”

“And this is legitimate? How do you know they won’t cast you off to Richards' wrath once they have their daughter?” 

Gavril nodded as he sat upright. “A fair question, I, myself, found myself doubting it. However, I asked around their former employers and found that they were actually credible. I understand that you have no reason to believe me, but if you are curious you are more than welcome to come with me to meet up with Jardor.”

“And where is he?” Surely a minotaur would be noticeable around a place like Pufort.

“He was smart enough not to come to the welcoming land of Pufort,” Gavril said with a grin. “He’s in Halder’s Rest in the neighboring village, Stonewall, I believe.” 

“And you just happened to be riding by Pufort and saw me?” Torren raised a brow as he leaned back. 

Gavril let out a soft laugh. “Fair enough, I might have been lingering around to see what the little man’s reaction would have been.”

“How? You couldn’t have been allowed in the city.”

“It’s actually fairly easy to sneak in if you find the really dumb guards,” Gavril said with a smirk. “If you talk fast and use big words to explain away things, they simply just let you in.”

Torren shook his head, “very well. I’ll come with you to this Jardor, but I make no promises that I will join you.”

“Of course,” Gavril gave a bow to his head. “Now, what do you think are the odds that these kind folk will allow us to rest in their undoubtedly comfortable inn?”

“‘Us’?” Torren looked at the elf with furrowed brows. Surely he didn’t think they were going to travel to Halder’s Rest together, did he?

“Yes, ‘us’,” Gavril said with a raised brow. “Surely you didn’t think I’d just abandon you to these unwashed masses, did you?”

“Yes?” Torren wasn’t sure who he pissed off up there, but he was fairly sure he didn’t deserve this kind of forced upon companionship here. 

“Oh, my friend,” Gavril gave a sympathetic pout before clapping Torren on the shoulder. “You’re stuck with me.”

Gods help him.

~*~*~*~

Turns out, the good folk were not willing to rent out their plentiful rooms to two distinguished gentlemen like them. So, seeing as the guards started gathering around them once they exited, the duo had opted to camp out on the spacious planes outside of the village. Pro: it was a nice night out with the stars shining bright; con: there were wolves and they very much were eyeing them as a snack.

Luckily for them, the wolves found a rather unfortunate deer and left them alone for the rest of the night. After that, the sleeping got easier, though Torren still kept a hand on his dagger under his pillow. And if he noticed that Gavril did the same with his staff, well, he wasn’t going to be one to talk. 

The morning was a tense affair, Gavril had cooked and while it smelt delicious Torren wasn’t one for accepting food from strangers. But his mother also raised a gentleman with manners so he ate anyway. And it pissed him off more that it was, indeed, delicious in all honesty.

They set off not long afterwards, mounting their steeds and making their way to Stonewall, a village that was a good two hours away. Both Sweetie and Torren did their best to ride ahead of Gavril and his steed, Farren, however the two seemed to be professionals Thorn in his Side, for they stayed right on his heels, humming a stupid little song.

Torren really pissed off some of the gods. 

But, by the Grace of the gods, they finally made it to Halder's Rest with minimal spats. Or, "character building" in Gavril's mind. The vast difference between Aster's civilians and Pufort's was easily spotted. Where an inhuman was hard to see even just passing through in Pufort, it was hard to not see them in Aster. From vendors, to guards, to just a milk maiden lizard girl. 

It felt… welcoming. 

"Halder's Rest is just down the road,'' Gavril said as he led Farren though the bustling roads. 

Torren let him take the reins, not sure if he should run or not. He had no idea really what sort of situation he was walking into. One kingdom was going to be pissed off, that was for sure. Either Pufort or Aster, and he wasn’t sure which one was better. Aster wasn’t known for its military, sure it had it, but no one had seen it in action in well over a hundred years. They preferred to stay diplomatic in negotiations, and somehow it’s worked so far. And yet, he feared what Aster would do if King Richard the Seconded got his grubby little hands on their daughter. 

But another part feared what the King would do to him if he failed to deliver the princess. He wasn’t the first mercenary, and even Gavril admitted he was cheating death when he hung around Pufort waiting for Torren to leave. Pufort was well known for their military power. King Richard was always willing to fling a fleet at a neighboring kingdom, or hell, even his own people, if he felt there was even a hint of offense at him and his legitimacy of his rule. 

He should run, Torren realized. Like now, right now-

“Hey, there he is!” Gavril said as he pointed at the minotaur guard that stood outside the inn with his arms crossed.  “Jardor!”

Jardor looked up with irritation on his face. He was big, even for a minotaur and just as uniquely colored. Most minotaurs that Torren had come across were either brown or black with white colorations. But Jardor was a multi-colored minotaur, white based but he had russet, black, brown and gray mottled on the skin that was exposed through his armor. His horns were wide and angled high, making him more imposing.

“Stop calling attention to us,” the guard hissed as they drew closer. “You could jeopardize the mission.”

“Oh, please,” Gavril rolled his eyes. “There’s only milkmaids here, it’s not that dangerous.”

“The king could find out and send his fleet,” Torren hissed at the elf. 

“Exactly,” Jardor snorted as he shifted his stance. “Our success depends heavily on stealth. Until we deliver the princess back to the capital of Aster, we are not out of the weeds yet.”

Gavril sighed heavily but nodded. “So, are we heading out or is there other business we need to attend to first here?”

“We’ll head out, most of the pleasantries can be exchanged on the road,” Jardor said as he led them to the guards stables and pulled his draft horse out of the stall. As he mounted, Torren surveyed the town. It was a nice place to be, he supposed. But he still preferred his privacy.

“I don’t believe we met,” Jardor said to him as they set out. “I’m the Princesses’ guard, Jardor Stoneskin. And you?”

“Torren Azorrn,” Torren said finally. “Just got hired from the King-”

“-and poached from me once he left,” Gavril interjected with a cheerful grin.

“Yes,” Torren agreed with a heavy sighed. 

Jardor snorted and shook his head. “Of course,” he sighed. “I apologize for him, he was supposed to go home and then make his way back here. Though I am glad he did make the detour, I doubt I would have survived the trip with just the two of us.”

Torren found himself smiling as Gavril let out a gasp of mock hurt. “It is nice to have a more level headed company,” he agreed as Gavril mumbled to himself as the two men snickered. 

“I will have you two know, I am pleasant company!” Gavril said as he steered his horse next to Sweetie. 

“Of course, my friend,” Jardor said evenly with a placating smile. “Of course.”

“Why did you have to return home, anyways?” Torren asked with a raised brow at the elf. He had only mentioned business arrangements, but going home was an entirely different thing “Was that the other business you mentioned earlier?” 

“It was,” Gavril said defensively. “I have people at home who were waiting on me, had to let them know I’d be back for good later than anticipated.” 

Torren nodded and left it at that, he wasn’t going to judge people for their personal affairs, he knew that if he was still in contact with his own brothers he’d be doing the same. They lapsed into a silence after that, save for the occasional direction change from Jardor the other two were content with just following him. Finally, Torren found himself speaking up. “Jardor, if you’re the princesses’ guard, then why aren’t you with her?”

“Ah, there are two princesses in Aster, the one who is heir to the throne and the second in line should anything happen to the eldest sibling,” Jardor said. “The princess I served was the second in line, though she loathed the whole thing,” he added with a soft smile. “When she was...cursed, I was ordered to stay behind and help protect her sister.”

“So she’s cursed?” Gavril asked with a frown. “You didn’t mention that.”

Jardor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I, yes, she’s cursed,” he said stiffly. “The sooner she comes home, I’m sure she’ll be closer to breaking that curse.”

“Isn’t true love usually the factor in those curses?” Gavril asked with a furrowed brow as Torren studied the minotaur. 

“Yes, but that is not the case here,” Jardor said with such confidence neither mercenary knew what to do with that. 

“So what is this curse?” Torren asked. “Why was she moved to such a remote location, surrounded by lava and a dragon?”

“It was considered necessary by the Throne, it was not my place to question it,” Jardor said stiffly. 

“So you did disagree,” Gavril noted. “Which means it likely isn’t a curse, and that makes me so much more intrigued, don’t you feel the same, Torren?” 

Torren didn’t comment. But he did note that the minotaur was clearly hiding something, and that made him all the more wary of this job. He should have just stayed home. 

“Must you grate on my nerves, elf-boy?” Jardor snapped as he looked at the elven mercenary. 

“Ah, elf-boy is actually my younger brother, a cute lad but not nearly as annoying as me, elf-man,” Gavril said with a grin, but it dropped quickly in the wake of a grim expression on his face. “Look, we can deal with a dragon, and even the lava. But if she’s cursed, we need to know exactly what we’re walking into.”

“Nothing dangerous,” Jardor promised, and the two men relaxed just a bit at that. The situation was weird, but Jardor radiated a trusting aura that it was hard to suspect they were walking into a trap. At least for Gavril, Torren always assumed there would be a trap involved when he traveled with others. “Just let me take the lead when we get to the tower, a familiar face will help her.”

“How long has she been locked away?” Torren asked finally. 

“Seven years,” Jardor said with a weary look in his eyes, and deeper down, pain. “It’s high time for her to come home.” He nudged his horse, kicking her into a faster gait as they made their way out of Aster and into the wildlands. “That said, we’re a three day journey away from the tower, it’s in a remote part of the country that few travel by. We shouldn’t face any resistance before the volcano.”

“Well then, let’s get ourselves a princess,” Gavril said with a smirk at Torren as he sent Farren barreling after Jardor. 

Torren sighed heavily and patted Sweetie’s neck, “let’s get this over with,” he said to her as he nudged her side gently, a gentle permission to run with the other horses, a permission that she gladly took as she galloped next to their two companions. In just three days, he’ll be fighting off a dragon surrounded by molten lava just to rescue a princess. That was the only certain thing he knew about this mission, if there was a curse, if they could get her to Aster before the King found out, if he still was getting paid.

Gods, was he still getting paid?

~*~*~*~

[eye of the tiger blasting]

Jardor kept the lead, forging ahead when Gavril decided that bickering with Torren was a Lovely Idea. Both men, both adult men, were constantly five seconds away from getting into a slapping fight that escalated when Gavril, a four year old apparently trapped in a twenty eight year old's body, claimed that Torren had hit him. 

Jardor just let it happen when Torren really did hit him. 

Setting up camp was a horrid affair, all three of them were skilled in camping, but those skills had varying degrees. Jardor could put up an excellent tent, but the sleeping cot kept getting tangled and eventually he just laid out on the mess with a stoic resolve. Torren was an expert in putting out his sleeping cot, but his tent kept falling out on one side and eventually he just moved Sweetie over to help keep it propped up with the promises of getting her an extra big bag of oats. And Gavril would put his tent up, but in the process of laying out his sleeping cot the tent would fall. When he’d try to put the cot up first, the tent would fall and he’d have to find his way back out again. And so, in a moment where his remaining two brain cells bumped together, he tied his tent up to the branches of the tree keeping it up and elevated while Torren glared at him from the inside of his lopsided tent that was beginning to smell of horse.

The morning didn’t help anything either. 

Torren, used to years of cooking and traveling by himself, had woken up early and made himself, and only himself, a nice breakfast. The other two, woken by the pleasant smell of bacon and the heavenly sizzle of fresh eggs being cooked, came out of their tents with growling stomachs and crushing disappointment when they spotted Torren eating it all by himself. Jardor was disappointed, Gavril was dismayed. The two had to fend for themselves, Jardor splitting a piece of jerky with the elf as they glared subtly in Jardor’s case, and blatantly in Gavril’s. 

When they finally set back out again, it was in lesser spirits than the day before. They were less than a day away, according to the smell of sulfur that got increasingly heavier as they traveled on. Gavril could see why no one had rescued the princess prior till now, the lands around the volcano were barren, the roads treacherous by hungry wolves. It was dangerous even for the three of them, he couldn’t imagine a merchant or a lone adventurer braving this land.

Well, maybe Torren.

But everyone else would be fucked.

Jardor let out a soft laugh up ahead and slowed to a stop at the crest of the hill. He glanced back at the two catching up, a light shining in his eyes as he grinned at them. “We’re here,” he announced as the tower, tall and magnificent, loomed below. It wasn’t exactly just a remote tower, Gavril could make out some crumbling structures of a once beautiful palace. He wondered, hoped really, that it was still stable and safe for the princess, surely her parent’s wouldn’t have dumped her into this hell hole if it was unstable. He paused, actually, he’s met some gods awful parent’s. It was a high possibility. But that was neither here nor there, the tower was still far enough away, but they would arrive there within the hour if they paced themselves. They still couldn’t spot the dragon, and none of them were willing to go head on against a fucking dragon.

Torren opened his mouth to speak, to ask what the plan was in case the dragon reared its head. But before he could utter a single word, a horn sounded from behind them. The three turned on their steeds to watch as a troop of soldiers made their way towards the tower, banners flying high, and armor glittering in the sunlight. 

Pufort. 

"Fuck," Gavril said with pursed lips. 

Fuck was right. 

~*~*~*~

Princess Amirah was absolutely, and positively bored. She had nothing else to paint, unless Harold suddenly changed their mind about her painting his scales. She’s run dramatically through the hallways a dozen times this morning, and really she wasn’t feeling it for a thirteenth time. All the books have been read, a countless amount of times. At this point she could quote the books and she did, constantly, to Harold as they cleaned their teeth from their meal each night. Harold never spoke as to whether or not they enjoyed it, but she assumed they would have put an end to it by now if they didn’t. 

She sighed heavily as she paced her room, paint brush in hand as she tried to figure out a new canvas. There was still some room on the window sill, maybe even the dresser if she painted small enough. She paused by the open window, the smell of sulfur no longer bothered her as she breathed it in. She barely remembered the smell of fresh, clean air. Or the sound of bustling streets, the maids coming in with sweet hushed words, her mothers hugs…

Amirah shook her head and smacked her cheek chastisingly with her paint brush. No, no thoughts like that, she’s survived seven years without those things, she can survive many more. In all honesty, she probably could leave. It wasn’t like anyone was going to come looking for her of all the princesses in this unholy tower. They were more likely to go for the skinny blonde overlooking the ocean than her. Which was fine, she was the second born princess of Aster, her sister was always considered the prettiest, the fairest, the princess that all should aspire to be. 

Amirah made it her mission to defy that expectation. She hated the princess duties that her mother and sister had forced her to attend. She hated the expectations that were expected of her as the second in line to the throne. To marry a neighboring kingdom, to secure an alliance between the two. To have their heirs and continue the bloodline. It all made her squeamish honestly. In a perfect life, she wouldn’t mind marrying and settling down on her own terms with someone that she truly loved. But she didn’t have the perfect life, she had her mothers expectations and her sister's legacy. 

She was honestly safer in the tower than back home. 

A strange sound filled the air, and a frown pulled at her lips as she looked off outside. She adjusted her glasses as another horn sounded, a horn of all things. Why would a horn be here, who was blowing the damned thing. They were going to wake Harold up!

Leaning out the window, Amirah let out a gasp as banners crested over the hill. Banners that belonged to Pufort, the kingdom ruled by King Richard. In the distance, she spotted three men charging ahead of the group, and hope glittered in her heart as she spied familiar horns. Was Jardor really here? She didn't know who the other men were, or what she assumed were male honestly she knew some beefy female knights, oh gods was Clarissa here? That would truly make her day. 

Before she could speculate, however, a loud roar filled the air and shook the ground. Clinging to the wall, Amirah looked up in slight fear. She knew that roar, and what it meant. A challenge, anyone who wanted her, had to go through them.

May the Divines bless their poor souls.

[yashimolala]

⎡can you hear me now?⎦ toji f.

➵ pairing: fushiguro megumi & fushiguro toji (familial) ➵ word count: 1,278 words ➵ genre: fluff/angst ➵ author’s notes: I like writing these two because it's amusingly painful. ➵ warning(s): manga spoilers

I. Three Megumi’s delicate stature sits still on the floor as his emerald green eyes observe the movements of his father’s large, rough hands, beaming with excitement. 

Toji was crafting out something for him - he didn’t know if it was a toy but if it was anything from his father, he would be more than glad to receive it.

The man smiles upon noticing this. His son’s eyes shone like how they did when he looks over books that he can’t read yet, or when his puppy snuggles towards him.

A hand hovers over the small child’s erratic hair and ruffles it into a mess more than it already is, watching as his plump cheeks are brushed with the tint of pink from the unexpected display of affection. A small burst of laughter escapes from the man. 

“Be good for me, won’t you?”

Strangely enough, Megumi nods, despite not understanding much of what he said.

“That’s my good boy.” Toji whispers under his breath, taking him by the chest, and pulling the child in to a warm embrace. The kid was astonished by the unexpected action, but his small hands soon grasp on to his back, burying his face into the man’s chest.

His father’s sweater had the faint scent of oranges, and a spritz of cologne. The warmth brought him solace.

He wishes he could stay in this moment for a little longer.

II. Four

It was 9:39pm.

Megumi’s eyes flutter open when he hears a knock strike gently on the wooden sliding foor. A small hand comes up to rub on his eyelids, before slipping out of his blankets to check on his father.

He then picks the tin can up, and holds it to his lips, tied by a red string to the other can that was in his Toji’s grasp, going through the wall so his father could speak to him without having to go anywhere.

“Pa…pa?” The man perks up upon hearing the meek sound of his son’s voice. A smile pulls on his lips, proud that he could teach Megumi words that wasn’t vulgar, remembering how he accidentally slipped out a string of cusses around the toddler.

“Heya, Megumi.” He responds, leaning against the wall with a sigh of relief. “I hope you’re doing well even if I’m not home at most times. But, Tsumiki is not that bad to be with, right?”

He could picture his child nod twice in the other side.

“That’s good. I wonder if you can read bedtime stories now. Do you want me to buy you more picture books? Tell me so I can try out asking for a raise. Maybe I could even take you out to a fun fair sometime. There’ll be bunny cotton candy, rides with elephants in it, and owl stuffed toy in the booths.” He goes on and on through the night, listing off what’s on his mind.

Halfway, he comes to think, Megumi might have fallen asleep now. He stops rambling and takes it to himself to stand up from the floor. He heaves a small sigh before settling to leave the balcony.

“Papa…?” The child’s voice peeks out.

Toji’s eyes widen. He reaches for the can once again and holds it against his ear.

“I love you.”

The pronunciation was slightly off, but clear enough for Toji to understand what he wanted to say.

His eyes are almost brimming with hot tears, lips twitching with the familiar ache lingering around his scar. “I love you too.”

He wants to stay, but he can’t.

He has to go.

“Good night, ‘Gumi.”

III. Four (2)

It’s his day off.

Toji sinks into the comfort of the couch as he attempts to nap.

Keyword: attempt.

Perhaps, he was getting too used to the exhaustion in his job that he becomes restless himself when he’s not tired out?

His attention is caught when he could hear the light pitter-patter of Megumi’s feet pace on the floor as he approaches. Curious, he sits up to see his child who jolted in surprise from his sudden movement.

The kid was holding a picture book that he bought him a week ago. He raises an eyebrow, and realizes what Megumi wanted to tell him. His child was rather quiet, as he notices. Even told that he looks like his father whenever he scowls.

“No.”

Megumi averted his gaze away, lips pursing into a small pout.

He eyes the visibly glum expression of his son, a small pang of pain tugging at his chest. Closing his eyes, he heaves a light sigh and gently pulls Megumi into his lap.

The book rests on his hand, and he flips to the first page, starting to read the story softly. “A long long time ago, there lived an old man and an old woman.”

As the tale unravels from Toji’s lips, the boy eventually starts asking questions whenever he pauses, to which the man would patiently answer. They went on and on until afternoon came.

Megumi’s jade green eyes – the same color as his – they were glimmering with joy, even more whenever he looks up.

His chest swells with happiness. He could feel a small smile creep up onto his lips.

The kiddo fell asleep right on his torso, face buried in the material of his sweater. He rans a hand through the erratic tresses of Megumi’s hair, mapping the soft strands lovingly with the rough prints of his digits.

‘I just can’t say no when it comes to you, huh.’

IV. Five

It’s been weeks since Toji last spoke to Megumi through the tin can telephone.

The boy waits until it’s 10pm at night, before he decides to slip back into his futon, only for no one to knock on the window, or a sound to quiver through the string.

Until that night came.

“Megumi.”

A voice rises in the darkness to call out for him. The boy slowly stirs awake, finding himself crawling towards the tin can.

“Mmnn?” He sleepily hums.

“Papa’s going somewhere, okay?”

A slight pause takes over the conversation before the child asks. “Where?”

Toji’s eyes were a striking shade of emerald under the moonlight as he gazes at the night sky, head leaning against the icy surface of the wall. He takes a deep breath and responds, “Somewhere far away.”

“Okay.” Megumi says. “But, we’ll still read bedtime stories together, right? You promised me the other night.”

The man bites the ‘yes’ down his lip, knowing too well that he couldn’t refuse his son’s requests. He readies himself to leave.

“Megumi. Papa has to go now.” He informs.

“But-“ The boy’s cries were futile. No matter how it hurt Toji to leave him like this, there’s no turning back.

“See ya later, ‘Gumi.”

V. Seventeen

Megumi pushes a hand on his wound to apply pressure, a small act of preservation before he blacks out. Beside him lies a tin can telephone that connected to the other wall.

It was utterly annoying. He doesn’t know why but he had the urge to take it.

He slowly picks the small thing up, careful not to injure himself further and props it next to his ear.

Red was blurring his eyesight and he doesn’t resist as the darkness takes over him.

“Hey. What’s your name?”

“Fushiguro.”

“Not Zen’in huh? Good for you.”

The boy wakes up to a dream. He knows that it isn’t real. But.. he could hear someone speak in the other side of the wall.

“Live for me, Megumi.”

The scent of oranges fills his nostrils, and he closes his eyes once again, relishing in the little solace it brought.

Inspired by this art  ^

❥ It’s actually funny how the story of Momotaro is a folktale – which means it is a work of fiction. Now I’m starting to headcanon that Megumi has resorted to reading nonfiction because he does not want to be reminded of the bedtime stories that were read to him by Toji or Tsumiki. ❥ The titles of each shot is the indication of how old Megumi is in the scene. ❥ Also, planning more of this because why not. =p

[scullydubois]

Only the Light Ch. 20

20/? | AU where Melissa moves in with Scully after Scully’s abduction | angst, msr slow-burn, occasional fluff | currently: mid-s3 (canon-divergent) | T | 4.7k | previous chapters | read on ao3 | tagging: @today-in-fic <3

I now present to you a chapter that is filled with more angst than Chris Carter could ever dream of, and for that, I am truly sorry. 

Scully and Mulder's foray into domesticity with Emily is interrupted by the past catching up to them. Faced with despair, they cling even tighter to each other.

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

Scully is granted maternity leave, though it’s only for two weeks, which Missy let her know is “a piss-poor bargain.” And she knows this is true, but she also has more incentive to stay at her job than ever, so she’d like not to lose it. The fact that advocating for herself and her child would mean risking her job is a mess in itself, but one lone woman can’t be expected to take down the patriarchy, and besides, she’s already tried and failed. 

As for she and Mulder, they hide their flirtation in plain sight. Mulder’s perpetually present in body or spirit, but his behavior never reveals anything more than it did before. Every morning he swings by to say hi, brings Scully coffee and a bagel with full-fat cream cheese, and checks if Emily’s picked up any new words. Personally, he’s working on “alien” and if you ask him, she’ll get it soon. She knows that it refers to her UFO stuffie, so sounding out the letters can’t be far behind, much to her mother’s dismay.

On Wednesday of the first week, he shows up at 6pm with takeout carbonara from a local Italian joint. His presence makes every Scully girl happy, but it makes one in particular the happiest, and Melissa realizes that there are definitely things her sister has failed to mention. She doesn’t question it, but watches with glee as the situation unfolds. 

After that first night, Mulder keeps coming back with dinner and refuses to let either sister shoulder the cost. On Friday, he stays for a movie too and gets to participate in Emily’s nightly tucking-in ritual (a tickle on the left foot, a tickle on the right foot, and a big smooch on the forehead). 

Saturday afternoon, he joins them for a stroller push through the park, earning some serious side-eye from Scully when he suggests that they stop at the playground because, according to the mama bear, “Em can only take six steps at a time, Mulder.” So instead they buy hotdogs from a vendor and eat them on a bench, Emily sandwiched between her mother, her aunt, and her...Mulder. They couldn’t ask for more.

That night, Mulder hangs around after dinner because what else is he gonna do? Go home and watch old baseball games until he falls asleep? A new leaf has been offered to him, and he’s gotta turn it. 

He’s baffled when, upon announcing that it’s Emily’s bathtime, Scully goes to the kitchen and switches on the sink. 

Scully raises an eyebrow at him. “What, your mother never washed you in the sink when you were a baby?” 

“Not that I know of...I have a hard time envisioning myself ever fitting in a sink.”

Scully scoffs. “I forget. You were a Vineyard boy.” 

Before he can come up with a smart response to that (as if there actually is one), Missy pipes up. “Oh, I bet you were the kid that took baths with your mother,” she teases. “Care to confirm or deny?”

“If I did I blocked it out of memory, thank god,” he testifies. 

Having spread a towel on the counter, Scully strips Emily down and perches the girl on her hip. She sticks her hand under the faucet. 

“That’s not too hot, do you think?” she asks Missy, who tests it as well.

“That should be fine.”

Mulder joins in too, and immediately regrets it. He shrinks away from the water, shaking droplets all over the room. “Jesus, Scully! Are you trying to boil her?”

“Babies lose heat quickly because of their body surface to weight ratio,” she says matter-of-factly. “They’re more susceptible to the cold.”

“I think the cold will be the least of her worries,” Mulder quips.

“If you really think it’s too hot, I’ll turn it down…” There’s a concerned crease beneath her eyes, and it makes Mulder feel bad about his joking.

“No, no, you know what you’re doing,” he assures her. “You’re her mother.”

As she lowers Em into the sink, Scully’s heart twinges. Her. A mother. How many times will she have to hear this before it stops feeling like news to her? 

One week and bathtime has already become routine. Missy fills a plastic cup and pours it gently over her niece, the water cascading down Em like she is nature’s own. Scully soaps her palms, then glides over her daughter’s skin with such care that its memory may blight any future affection Em is graced with. And then another waterfall, and the gentle brush of a wash cloth against eyes and nose. 

Scully squeezes a penny’s worth of baby shampoo into her hand, looks to Mulder. “Come on, get in here. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, are you?” she says with a smirk.

He smirks back and shakes his head as she lifts his open palm and shrinks her accumulation to a dime. “Although, technically I am getting my hands cleaner…”

She boops him right on the nose with a shampooed finger. He laughs.

Missy smiles. Oh, to see destiny play out right in front of you. “Someone’s cracking dad jokes,” she points out, unable to resist. This observation is much too on-the-nose for the pair (quite literally for Mulder), who simultaneously blush but say nothing.

Mulder wipes the shampoo from his nose and plants it on Emily’s head, joining his partner in making soapy circles over the girl’s tuft of strawberry hair. Scully’s full attention is directed toward her daughter. As soon as the lather is sufficient, she dons the lifted lilt of motherhood. “Okay, time to rinse! Missy, will you do the honors?”

Missy turns the faucet, fills the cup, and lets it flow over Emily. Mulder and Scully wash their hands off in the stream. 

And as Scully leans for the towel, a splash of red dirties its fresh white surface. Mulder notices it first. He points at his partner’s porcelain face. “Scully, you’re bleeding.”

Her hand shoots to her nose. Sure enough, it stains her fingers. “Shit.” She turns away, goes for a tissue. “I haven’t had nosebleeds since I was fourteen,” she tells them, as if that invalidates this one. She wipes away a glob of blood, her stomach turning. “Missy--” her voice shakes involuntarily, “--will you dry Em off?”

“Uh-huh.” She nudges Mulder. “Will you grab a new towel from the linen closet?” she whispers, not wanting to further upset her sister.

Mulder goes off without a word, and Missy squeezes out Em’s hair as best she can. “What a pretty girl!” she gushes. “All clean!”

“Yee!” Emily throws her little fists in the air, injecting joy back into the room. 

“Time to put your PJs on, and get a tickle, tickle, smooch.”

Mulder scrambles back in with a new towel, skirting around Scully, who remains occupied with her own situation. He slides the soiled towel away and helps Missy swaddle Em. Mulder ruffles the little girl’s hair, and she laughs like a music box. 

“Mol-dy.” She spits it out in halves, as if she’s been rehearsing. 

Mulder’s eyes water with recognition. “Mulder? Mul-der? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

“Moldy,” the girl declares again, certain of herself.

Missy adjusts Em on her hip, smiles at Mulder. “Looks like you’re Moldy now.”

Mulder bites his lip to hide his overwhelming delight. “Yeah, I...I never thought I'd be so happy to be called moldy.”

Next thing he knows, Scully is at his shoulder with a tissue stuffed up her nostrils. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Em called me Moldy,” he tells her, full of satisfaction.

“Oh.” It comes out relatively unimpressed, but really, she’s just distracted. “Missy, will you get a diaper on her before there’s an accident? I would but I’m still--” She gestures to her nose. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Missy smiles at the baby in her arms. “PJ time, Em!” They go off toward the bedroom, a happy pair.

As soon as Em is out of sight, Mulder spirals toward his partner, panic-stricken. The glee of moments ago has evaporated. 

“Are you okay?” He touches her hair, shoulders, and the familiar small of her back, unsure of where he should land. 

“I’m fine, it’s fine.” Her grip on his elbows--keeping his hands firmly placed on her waistline--suggests otherwise. 

“You’ve got to see a doctor,” he pleads. “This could be...”

“This could be what, Mulder?” The steel in her blue eyes is a death grip. She’s never liked being told the obvious. 

“Scully…” He sighs, rubs his neck, wills her to say what they both know. When she doesn’t, he takes his hands off her and wrings them together. “The Mufon women...they said it would happen to all of them eventually.” He’s careful not to lump Scully in with their group. 

“And what do they know?” she retorts. “One of them was sick. One.”

“Okay, well, don’t you think it’s better to be safe than sorry?” he reasons. “You have Emily to look out for now.”

Scully rolls her eyes. “Don’t guilt trip me. It’s a nosebleed. Those happen all the time for completely benign reasons.”

“Yeah, but they don’t happen to you. You just said--you haven’t had one since you were fourteen.”

She clenches her jaw. He’s right, and she’s playing the fool. His position is the one she would take if this were anyone other than herself. She’s gonna have to lose this fight with as much grace as possible.

“Fine. I’ll get it checked out, but they’re gonna think I’m insane for coming in because of one nosebleed.”

“That’s a nice change of pace--you being the insane one for once.”

“Well, you’re the one who wants me to go, so you’re not out of the woods.”

“Good, I’ve finally got some company!”

Scully smiles in spite of herself. “Yes, yes you do.”

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

It happens very quickly, as most calamities of life can be said to. This gives it the unreal quality of a nightmare that might soon be woken up from, if there is any justice in the world.

Scully snags a doctor’s appointment for three days after the initial nosebleed. By the time she walks into the waiting room, one nosebleed has quadrupled into four, and her minor concern has snowballed into abject terror. 

Margaret Scully drove into the city to watch Emily so Missy could join her sister. Scully insisted that she would go alone, but Missy wouldn’t accept this. She threatened to tell Mulder the details of the appointment if Dana didn’t let her go, and that was enough to earn her a spot in the passenger seat. Scully can’t take the thought of Mulder witnessing the worst--let alone her reaction to the worst. 

And so it goes something like this: they are taken to an exam room, at which point Scully explains her situation to a nurse, including that she has recently learned she is at high risk for cancer. The nurse assures her that such a diagnosis is highly unlikely, but makes a note for the doctor. The doctor comes in with knitted eyebrows and listens to Scully describe the aftermath of her abduction experience with a heavy emphasis on the convoluted but substantial claims of the Mufon women. She asks if Scully has had any other symptoms, to which Scully replies that it’s hard to tell because she has an infant in the house and thus, a marked lack of sleep. 

The doctor laughs, but it’s not a haha laugh, more of an I feel your pain. She agrees that the women’s claims are concerning, but tells her patient not to fret. They’ll take all the precautions, run any test that might assuage her worries. There’s a quip about how it’ll be on the government’s dime since it covers Scully’s insurance, and then the doctor leaves to order an MRI. 

A full body MRI, which Scully has never had, and which she hoped she would never require. There’s no deeper sickness than one that cannot be pinpointed, and no greater fear than of the unknown turning into the worst case scenario. 

The MRI is completed that same day. As she slides into the machine, Scully thinks of Betsy Hagopian and wonders how she’s doing. It has been many months since she stood outside an exam room and watched Betsy enter one of these. Has fate been kind to her?

For a few minutes, her world is limited to the mere inches between her face and this life-saving yet life-ruining contraption. It is noisy and sometimes bright and altogether disorientating. She is glad when it’s over. 

The images return almost immediately, and maybe it would all have been okay if Scully weren’t trained in radiology herself, if she wasn’t able to recognize the glaring speck of light in her nasal cavity for what it is. But that one glance is all she needs to know that waiting by the phone isn’t an option. 

“It’s a tumor, isn’t it?” she blurts as the radiologist tries to escort her and Melissa from the room. “In the nasal cavity. I have a M.D. I saw.”

“Your doctor will call with the results,” the radiologist insists, standing by the open doorway.

“No, no, you can’t do this to me,” Scully sputters. “I know what I saw, and I don’t have any time to waste.” Her eye twitches in a combination of stress and anger. “I have an infant daughter.”

The radiologist sighs, pity on top of pity. “Perhaps your doctor will talk it through with you now.”

“Yes. Please.”

And it is talked through, though there’s no need to make it complicated: nasopharyngeal carcinoma. Inoperable, and just barely in the realm of treatable. That’s the kicker, the coyote in the pasture, the cloud covering the sun. In the words of Scully’s doctor, it is auspiciously rare. And in Scully’s brain, it is the bottom she’s been expecting to drop out from under since she held her daughter in her arms.

Melissa drives home. The sisters cannot fathom how they will tell their mother. Cannot fathom ruining her blissful time with the granddaughter she’s just met. When they turn onto their street, Scully swallows hard and coughs on her own spit. “Will you do something for me?” 

Missy looks over, eager to do anything she can, yet terrified by the possibility of the request.

“Will you take me to Mulder’s?” Scully mumbles. “I would just take the car but...I can’t face mom right now. I don’t want to risk it.”

Missy bites her lip. “And what am I supposed to tell mom when she asks where you are?”

“The truth,” Scully says curtly. “She doesn’t need the backstory.”

Missy drives past their building, though she’s not completely sold on her sister’s reasoning. “Don’t you think she might wonder why you aren’t coming home to your daughter?”

“I know she’ll wonder, Melissa, I know all of this,” Scully snaps because she needs to. “I don’t care.”

“Okay.” Missy’s voice is barely perceptible. I don’t care; she knows how low her sister has to be to say those words. 

They complete the drive in silence, Scully biting her nails--a habit which she has never possessed, and perhaps just acquired. The car idles as Missy pulls up to the curb of Mulder’s building. 

“I can pick you up when you need it,” she tells her sister as she pulls herself out of the car. “I’ll bring Em.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Scully says, closing the passenger door and edging toward the building. Missy hears a thanks float toward the car, then her sister is gone like a teenage girl embarrassed by her mother.

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

They sit on Mulder’s couch, muted. Words cannot fathom the injustice of this situation, nor can they suffice as empathy. Their hands are clasped together, a throughline of strength between them. This is what they need now; the most primitive language of all.

Scully’s watery eyes brush Mulder’s face. His own eyes, more pained than usual, look into hers. Without a word, she drapes an arm around her partner’s shoulders and scoots into his lap. He is surprised but not distressed. What else is left for them, now?

She is tiny, so tiny. And she is his. 

Their eyes meet once again, speaking in tongues. Scully nods, and then Mulder does too. This is it. This is it.

Permission granted at last, Scully’s lips travel to her partner’s jawline. The first time her lips have touched his body, and this is where they go. She is a constant box of wonders, a fortune he can never predict. Her lips are much like he has fantasized they would be: wondrously soft and silky, stroking him like they have always meant to be there. Yet he couldn’t have imagined the urgency with which they burrow into his skin. As if she’s making a mental map of his bone structure. He never expected that she would want him this much. 

His hands find her hips and grip the cotton of her shirt between his fingers. It is enough to tear her away from his flesh. Mission accomplished. His breath travels past her ear, hitting her neck. It is shallow and warm as he breathes her name. Her real name, the one her family calls her. She breathes his own back to him, like a bird responding to a mating call.

She feels his lips on her neck, wet and aching. It feels like God. This is the most blasphemous thought she has ever had. She throws her head back, exposing the whole of her skin to him. What is holiness, if not this moment?

He showers her in tattoo kisses, and she lets him, she lets him, she lets him. This is not just what she wants, but what she needs. No one will save her now, she knows this. So she has decided not to be saved. 

Her shirt ripples as he clutches it. “May I?” He is breathy, awe-struck. 

“Only if I can do the same.” Always about equality, his Scully is. He lifts his arms, lets her strip him first. He is fraught with the temptation to feel insecure, inadequate, but this is not about him--this is all for her. There is no time to dwell on this anyway. Scully takes in the sight, then puts her own arms up with a hint of impatience. He pulls her shirt over her head, and goosebumps adorn her as the air hits her bare stomach. 

It is unimaginable, the significance of this moment. All Mulder can do is keep going, lest the emotion hit him and he find himself blubbering all over her. His hands travel her body...it is slender and white, but so solid, so strong. Cartilage forming ligaments forming joints connecting bones. And her skin, stretching over her hips and framing it all. The masterpiece that is Dana Katherine Scully. 

He fears for the day she will cave in on herself. Already, one of his hands covers her whole rib cage. Right now he can cradle her body comfortably against his own, but the day will come when a single cautious touch will crush her, and his heart along with it. He wants her as she is now forever.

Seeing that he wants to pamper her, Scully lets herself be pampered. He showers the taut length of her collar bone in kisses. The vibration resonates throughout her bone structure, and already she can feel him in places she’s only fantasized about having him. He is going to heal me, she thinks. If anyone could heal her in any way, it would be him doing this. 

She shows her gratitude by kneading circles into his soft tissues, so tense from all their days chasing ghosts. The sinew relaxes beneath the pads of her fingers, and she feels like she has solved the most important X-File of all. 

Mulder traces his way along her spine. He has never touched her here, nor ever even fantasized about it, and there is an erotic tension--like a needle about to drop on a record--that neither one of them could have seen coming. Inevitably, his hands converge at the hooks of her bra. She arches her back in approval. He slides the hooks away from each other, and both of them feel the release. She shimmies off the garment before he can pull it out of the way. No secrets, not anymore.

Mulder didn’t expect to cry and is aware that most women wouldn’t take that as a positive sign, but seeing her, like this, knowing what they both know, tears feel like the least he could offer up. She is...beautiful is too weak a word to describe it. He needs to invent a new word to capture the essence of his emotions, the reverence with which he views her. He is not a religious man, but he will worship her until the end of time. 

He has known this, intuitively, for a while, and now he’s putting it into practice. He wants to do everything he can for her, give her everything she wants. Yet he doesn’t know how to, and this scares him. She has always slipped through his fingers, always turned on a dime just when he thought he figured her out. Tonight is no exception. How was he to know that he’d be on his couch with a half-naked Scully in his lap?

He fears the tears will offend her, so he nuzzles into her heartspace, his nose pressed against the heart that is--by the grace of that God she worships--still beating. His lips meet the plush of her left breast. 

Where does he go from here? The dusty routine he’s used with other women--the few who have given themselves to him or let him hand himself over--is not worthy enough for Scully. He could never touch Scully in the ways he’s touched the women before because she is not like the women before. There is no mere giving or taking here, no detached exchange of commodities or pleasure for the sake of pleasure. This is survival. They are symbiotically keeping each other alive.

A drop of water hits Scully’s skin, slides down the curvature of her breast. She shudders. A tear. That’s what it is, she realizes. Mulder is crying. It’s a baptism of unfortunate proportions. 

She cups her hand against his chin, tilts it up so his bleary eyes meet hers. She rests her forehead against his. “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She kisses each eye closed, his lids fluttering beneath her lips. “It’s okay.” 

His breathing steadies. He is quite certain that it is not okay, that it never will be, but he listens to her, lets himself pretend. 

Hands still on his chin, she careens their lips together. His mouth on hers; a godsend. They caress each other for a moment, then Scully opens wide, and Mulder does too. They are reflecting. 

If Scully could compress herself, pushing every particle of air out of her lungs and into his, she would. As a sort of thank you, for everything. For what he has done, what is doing, what he will do...She will never have to live without him. She knows this now, and it makes this easier. But he will have to live without her, and so she must make sure he gets the memories he needs to carry on. This is how grief works, she’s acquainted with it. These moments, these feelings, these bated breaths and tender touches, will be his survival mechanism for awhile. Until the day when he can throw them off and go on without her ghost. It will happen one day, and she will be glad that he made it. 

She feels him pressing against her stomach, which is certainly not where she wants him. “Fox…” Her hands hover above his belt. She unzips his fly first, her hand warm against him. He is dizzy with want as her fingers curl against his belt buckle, loosening it with confidence. In a sweeping gesture,  she pushes his jeans off his hips, exposing him. The thrill she feels, seeing him big and bare in front of her, is a new kind of livelihood. She’s overcome with the desire to take him in her mouth--and that has never, never been her first instinct. She ducks down, but he stops her.

“Dana, no. You.”

She doesn’t need to hear it twice. She sucks in a breath, arches her back, and slides onto him. Slowly, gasping as they go. 

“Am I hurting you?”

Scully shakes her head, lips parted. It has been nothing like this before...nothing so fulfilling. She crosses her ankles, binding them completely together at last. 

Unity triumphs against the self, their union abolishing the world’s insistence on the solitude of the individual. This is what it’s about, isn’t it? Being joined, not only in spirit, but in body? Knowing that whatever horrors are to come, he will feel them as she does. Her dwindling will be his too, her losses an equally empty space within him. 

She is teetering on the edge of something she can never come back from. She is not afraid. 

She careens her fingernails into his back as the pressure builds. If it doesn’t come to a head, she’ll die right here, she thinks. 

She barely registers the cathartic noises coming out of her, though they give Mulder great delight. He thought she would be quiet, and the fact that she’s not trying to hold anything in--after holding everything in for so goddamn long--is the most moving part of the experience. 

And they want this to go on forever, but they want the release. Mulder swivels his hips into her, bringing them both closer to climax. Scully curls against him. 

“I’m sorry,” she cries into his ear.

“What?” He nearly pulls out of her, fearing that she’s hurt. 

“No, no--” She scrambles to stay with him. “This--” she pants “--is so good.” She lowers her lips onto his as confirmation, then speaks into his open mouth. “I’m just sorry to be the one to go.”

He frames her ribcage, thumbs arching toward her belly button. “Fuck, honey...don’t say that, don’t even think that…”

They won’t linger on the choice of pet name, the tenderness with which it settles over her, nor the absolute devastation of her words. There is simply no time. 

Scully hides her face in his neck as the wave breaks over both of them. There is no world anymore, only the two of them on this couch. They have forsaken the physical realm, ascending to heaven in time with their heartbeats. 

Mulder understands then what his reciprocal means when she says she needs proof to believe. Now that he’s been there and felt it, he knows that heaven exists, and holy shit, what does that mean for the life he has lived and the time he has left? What did it mean for Samantha?...What will it mean for Scully?

They collapse into each other, a melted mass of skin and bone. Two becoming one, becoming two again. Mulder strokes the back of his partner’s head, presses his lips to her temple. Her chest rises against him in jagged breaths.

“You are the only proof I’ll ever need that this life is worth it,” he murmurs. “Just you.”

Scully looks up at him, tears running down her cheeks. He kisses them away and wraps his arms around her. “I don’t know if you got the memo, but I love you, Dana Scully.”

She rests her cheek against his. “I love you too, F--Mulder.”

Mulder chuckles, his amusement shaking both of them. Scully closes her eyes and snuggles into him. He puts his hand over her heart, feels it beating steadily into his palm, and longs for it to stay like that forever.

[bibbykins]

Retroactive Redamancy (M)

A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC. This fic does have some darker scenes which I will detail in the warnings. This fic wasn’t as difficult for me to write, but we all have different triggers, so please take care of yourself first above all else. On a lighter note, I am extremely happy to be finishing the soft yandere series. Is this the last of my soft yandere fics or this au? Absolutely not, I have a ton of fun writing yandere and this au, but I am also looking forward to the other fics I plan on posting. All of my wips have some yandere elements, but in varying degree. I hope you will continue to support me and have a great day/night and stay safe in these trying times!

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst

Word count: 11.9k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Hoseok x reader

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood, graphic descriptions of domestic abuse (not done by Hoseok), graphic descriptions of injury on the mouth/tongue, mentions of trauma, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of puke, penetrative sex, cunnilingus, cumming inside *** all sexual acts mentioned are consensual ***, unhealthy relationship, toxic relationship

Summary: You both swore you would never see each other again. It’s funny how fate works, even when you have to go through hell to make it work. His house was just a random house as you stumbled out of a cab, blood pooling in your mouth. You had no expectations for him to catch you when you fell, and most importantly, protect you when you needed it most. He sat you on his throne and called himself your knight. Is it wrong of you to love him again for it? Is it wrong of him to keep you? Is it wrong of you to want to be kept? 

The act of loving back.

It was the way he looked at you. It was the way he made you feel like the only one in his world and him the only one in yours. It was love. But that's the tricky thing about two people loving one another. One person can decide it is no longer a shared love. In a split second, it is unrequited.

---

“I-I don't understand.”  Your bottom lip quivered as Hoseok stood in front of you. In any other situation, he would've knelt down and consoled you, but this was an outlier in that pattern, “You said you wanted to be with me for the rest of your life.”

“For the rest of my life here.” He gestured to your hometown surrounding both of you, “Now I have to go back to my life.”

His life? But this was his life. Right?

He said you were his world and now he couldn’t wait to explore another universe, any universe away from you.

That's when it hit you. All you did was keep him company as he studied abroad. He was a college sophomore testing out the waters of a new country, and you were a high school senior, browsing for college and falling head over heels for this man the past nine months.

"You must have a lovely girlfriend at home, huh?" He remained silent, guilty. You let out a breathy laugh, “Oh, I see.” You sighed, the tears finally toppling over and hitting your cheeks, “You're scared to be alone.” He remained silent, “What kind of man are you back home that you call this here a different life?” Guilty silence, “I love you, and you don't know a damn thing about me I bet.” Your lip quivered, "That's what I get for being the other woman." You spit the words out, more angry with yourself.

“You're angry, I get it.” He spoke softly as he reached for your hand and you recoiled sharply, “You hate me.”

“I'm hurt.” You snapped, looking him in his eyes full of guilt, “I could never hate you, just like you could never love me. Just like how you refuse to tell me where home is for you. Just like how you refuse to tell me about your family. Just like how you refuse to fall in love because you are so afraid of the other person not catching you. Well, I have just hit the ground, and I hope you're fucking ecstatic.” Your tears didn't hinder your words but made them hit harder in Hoseok’s eyes. 

You were always so observant. He wondered where life would take you with that talent. Where you wanted to go with that talent. He made sure he never knew.

You were only in high school. You were just 18. You would forget him.

“I can't believe how much I love you.” You sighed, “I'm so fucking pathetic. I'm sick of this.” You sniffed and he braced himself for the final proclamation of hate, “You have a great life in mystery land with a mystery girl and achieve all the things you want to with your mystery major, and I will do the same, okay?”  You took a deep breath, “Do great things in life.” You told him before turning on your heel and walking away.

It would have been easier on the both of you if you hated him.

----

Hoseok was now in his first year of graduate school. He was the director of human resources at a large company. He was wealthy, smart, and he loved to have company, even if it was not his ideal companion. There was a certain whisper from his past that kept him awake after an exhausting one nightstand.

The void in his heart was semi-filled as he stuffed his dick inside someone else. Hoseok had established a pattern of getting a secretary into bed and then the secretary would quit once their declaration of love was effectively denied. He could not admit to himself why he rejected each confession, but he knew it had to do with a certain girl he had denied himself further access too at an attempt toward redemption. Despite this unspoken wound on his heart, he was expecting to do the same cycle of his with his soon to be former secretary Jiyeon on this cold night until he heard a knock on his door, a persistent one.

“Give me one second.” He pecked the girl's neck at the table, expecting it to be the groceries he ordered.

Upon opening the door, Hoseok found something else. He found a girl with a thin sweater and sweatpants shaking. She had a face mask and her eyes were downcast. 

When you heard the door open you looked up, “H-Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?” You were baffled, “I-I didn't know you live here, but I need a favor.” He knew who you were. He knew the way his name came from your lips. He knew how the syllables roll off your tongue.

Hoseok drew a breath, trying to make sure he was living and breathing at this moment. He couldn’t imagine he had been dreaming about you this time. All his dreams of you were blissful. Although, this setting of you needing something from him could very well be in his dreams. 

It was really you. The not so forgotten dream girl he abandoned in favor of his fear of commitment. You looked different. You looked hurt. What were you doing here? How did you even get here? Why were you here after years of being apart?

You, on the other hand, felt a mixture of relief and dread. On one hand, Hoseok was a sore spot in your romantic history, but he was officially the best boyfriend you’ve had, albeit, by default. On the other hand, you were in pain and you wanted nothing more than to cry and be coddled, but feeling secure that this man would not hurt you physically was enough.

It was really him. The man who turned his back on you. The man who was still as beautiful as the day he left you, but now was absolutely not the time to focus on that,  “I need to use a phone or charge mine.” You squeaked and Hoseok looked at you in bewilderment, and you assumed it was due to not recognizing you, “It's y/n.” You offered but he was still stunned, as you saw a beautiful woman linger behind him, “Look, I don't care who you're fucking right now, please let me in.” Your voice was quaking, desperate. He had never heard it like this before.

 He stepped to the side as you scurried in, “Jiyeon, leave.” The girl balked and he turned to her with a stern eye, “Go.” The girl scoffed as she slammed the front door behind her.

“Where's the bathroom?” You immediately asked, bottom lip beginning to tremble as the pain set in.

“Y/n, what-" He had so many questions

“Later, I promise,” Your voice shook as your body still was, “Bathroom, please.” Your mouth sounded full almost and Hoseok studied you to find a line of red down your neck. 

It was dried blood, but upon further inspection not all of it was dry.

“You're bleeding!”  He spoke incredulously as he went to take your mask off. You wanted to fight it, but you were exhausted, “Don't even think about fighting me. You're hurt.” He read your mind as he pulled the mask down with a steady hand. The mask revealed a busted lip and a cut tongue that was now oozing blood, “Holy shit!” The man went to grab a rag as he held it to your lip, “What the fuck happened?!” He led your shaky legs over to a barstool in his kitchen.

You sat down, slumped over, looking at the rag to see small amounts of blood blotting the fabric. You were no longer gushing. That was good, “I didn't know where else to go.” You were muffled against the cotton, “This was the first place I could find. I had no idea you would- you would be here.”

Hoseok took a look at you. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your cheeks were stained with pure tears. Your nose had traces of blood on the nostrils. Your hands were bruised with open slices that stopped bleeding. Your shirt was torn on the stomach and shoulder. Your feet only had socks on them as your sweatpants had even more dry blood.

Hoseok shuddered at the thought of what happened. He wondered if someone did it. The notion made his blood boil. He took a look at your hand and saw an engagement ring. His blood was no on fire. It didn't take a genius to see what happened. To put two and two together.

You followed his eyes and scoffed, “Pretty, huh?” You mused, lifting your finger up, “You should feel it when someone makes you slice your tongue on it.” You spoke flatly as Hoseok wet a paper towel to clean your chin.

You let go of the rag, the blood now dry and finished pouring out, “What happened?” Hoseok asked softly as you sighed.

“I have poor, poor taste in men.” You sniffled,” No offense.” You offered to the man in front of you,  “I am a victim of my poor judgment.” You sighed, and coughed as the thickness of your own blood sliding down your throat before it finally hit you, “Holy shit that hurts.” Your hand stroked your throat as Hoseok caught glimpse of faded bruises along your neck.

“How… How are you here?” He pressed a cold hand to your neck and you flinched before relaxing against his touch.

“Alive or in your home?” You giggled before coughing, “Sorry, not funny.” You breathed a small sigh as a wet cloth began to wipe away the blood that dripped onto your neck, “I went to University in Ilsang about two years ago. I fell for a man who could never love me, call me a creature of habit, but his parents did love me. I am quite the parent charmer, so he proposed, we moved just outside of the city, and began to plan the wedding.” Your cocky smile fell as you wiped a drop of blood from your mouth, “But the funny thing about being the girl of his parents' dreams almost always means I am not the girl of his.” Hoseok could feel his body heating in rage, “She is sexier, wild, and full of life, so she tried to take mine away, much to his approval.” You felt a tear try to squeeze past your swollen eye, “Call me a pacifist, but I prefer to be broken up with rather than beat.” Hoseok could finally see your face now with all the blood gone. You hadn't changed much, still as beautiful as the day he met you, “I won't bore you with the gore, but it was without purpose. I got a job in the city here as well as a scholarship for the university, so I was planning to leave anyway. However, running from my old apartment covered in blood and begging a taxi to take me as far as he can is not how I planned to make the move.”

“You mean she attacked you and he just let it happen?” Hoseok clenched the cloth in his hand.

“He… uh, held me down.” You shivered, all feigned strength and nonchalance absolved as you realized the gravity of your situation. You were homeless, beaten, and your job didn't begin until after the New Year thanks to a paid holiday break you still got compensated for, and now felt extremely thankful for, “God, this is so fucking crazy."

“We need to call the police!” Hoseok, in contrast to you, was fuming. How someone could ever lay a hand on you is something he would never care to understand. He just wanted to see them burn.

“No point.” You sighed for the nth time of the night. You opened your mouth to elaborate but was cut off by your own coughing as the blood in your tongue tried to make its way down your throat again. 

Hoseok didn't hesitate in putting his hand in front of your mouth. He felt your blood splatter onto his hand, “God, give me his name.” He murmured as you coughed into his hand.

“I'm sorry.” You coughed again, before pulling away from his hand, “That is so gross.” You looked to his bloodied hand.

There was something almost primal with the way Hoseok felt the need to take care of you. No matter how many years went by or the amount he fucked up with you, his instinct to keep you safe has not changed, much to his dismay. Throughout the years, he did his best to stay away from you, but he found himself more than horrified by the result of this.

You were in his kitchen, beaten and coughing blood into his hand. He was trying to remain calm as he wet a towel to wipe your neck, but his knuckles turned white on the sink when he turned the faucet. He needed to know the names of the people who did this. He needed to tear them down.

Hoseok brought a white rag into your neck and the cooling sensation of the water made your eye flutter closed in bliss. He savored the moment of your care-free look. He missed it. He carefully rid your neck of your caked-on blood and he was happy to see your beautiful skin again.

You let him brush the rag against the corners of your mouth and on your cheek, cleaning you. He turned the rag to a clean side and pushed your cheeks lightly opening your mouth. You got the hint and reluctantly stuck your tongue out, but the feeling of the cool cloth on your wounded tongue made up for it.

You were beautiful, even more so now that he could see your face, “There you are.” He murmured, “Doesn’t look like your face will bruise.” He mused as he cleaned your tongue, “Tongues heal pretty quick and the cut isn’t too deep either.” His first aid training from last month was proving pretty useful.

“You think so?” You asked him before looking into his eyes.

Hoseok returned your look. His face lit up as your innocent eyes looked for confirmation. In your eyes, Hoseok could see all that he denied himself. He could see the number of times you cried without him there, the times you giggled and he wasn't there to tease you on how cute it was, and the times you proclaimed to love someone who didn't deserve it. But no more. Hoseok had you here now, and he was dead set on keeping it that way. You were the one.

Hoseok was always so warm, and his eyes showed as much when he returned your gaze with the same smile that made your heartbeat, “You'll be just fine.” He touched your cheek softly and you relaxed fully for the first time this whole night.

There was something about his affirmation that made you feel like everything would be okay. You would start your new job and be the person you always wanted to be. You would be more than a beaten girl on your ex’s front porch. You would be able to close your eyes and wake up to a new day. This night will be in the past one day. You have a future ahead of you. These are all the things that seemed impossible hours ago. These are all the things Hoseok reminded you of in just four words. 

With this in mind, you decided it was time to let go of tonight. Let go of the pain and the suffering for just a moment.

You felt your bottom lip tremble and you let it happen as you felt your chest give as you let the sob jump out of your mouth. You let go of the rag you held and gripped the soft shirt Hoseok was wearing and pressed your forehead against his chest. You took a deep breath and felt the long-withheld tears pour down your cheeks as you hiccuped and sobbed against his chest.

If Hoseok wasn't so in love with you, he would think you were breaking down. However, he knew better. You were still his y/n after all. This is how you rebuilt. This is how you let go and face the future. This is how you heal. You express emotion in the most physical way you can. You find peace in watching the pain dry from your eyes. 

He wrapped your arms around you as you cried into his chest, clutching onto him for dear life, “You never change.” He mused as your shoulders shook, “Still my strong girl, even after all this time.” He stroked your hair as you sniffled.

You had stayed like this for a while. You let hell loose on Hoseok’s shirt. For a moment, it was like you were together again. It was as if you went back with him instead of all those years ago. You went to school with him and moved in with him. You would flaunt the love you two shared in glee as you spent your life with your first love. There would be no one else. Just him.

While this fantasy was nothing but, at this moment, you remembered how right it felt to be in his arms. Maybe you had been obsessed with him these past few years. Maybe you still loved him like you were still a teenager

Little did you know, he often dreamt of the possibility. 

“I-I thought I was gonna die there!” You sobbed.

Hoseok only held you tighter, unable to even bear the thought, “I'm never letting you go, y/n.” He cooed, “You have to know that.” 

A possibility that no longer seemed too out of reach.

Hoseok held you for hours before he felt your grip relax and your breathing even. Your weight was fully on him and he was happy to see you trusting him enough at this moment to fall asleep. To feel safe enough to rest. He wondered when the last time was that you slept peacefully. 

You stayed in this position until he was sure you were asleep. He lifted you in his arms as your head drooped against his shoulder. He carried you to his bedroom with the lightest step as he laid you down. 

Not one to overstep boundaries too much, Hoseok opted to sleep on the couch after tucking you in. He laid down and he wondered about all the ways he could make that bastard ex of yours pay. 

You woke up purely on your own. No alarm. No paranoia. No nightmare. Just your internal clock, which you were delighted to find was still functioning. You opened your eyes and yes, everything hurt, but you were still comfortable. 

You sat up, and that's when everything really hurt. You cried out as you put your hand to your aching head. Crying always gave you a headache. Paired with the beating from last night, your head was hell.

Hoseok raced down the hall to get to you. You looked up to see him out of breath and holding a bottle of water with a small pill in his hand, “Be careful!” He softly scolded as he handed you the pill and unscrewed the cap on the bottle.

You took the bottle from him as you popped the pill marked with the brand of a painkiller into your mouth before drinking the water. You had only then just realized how thirsty you were and began gulping it.

“Hey, hey slow down.” Hoseok’s hand lightly caressed your nape and you slowly put the bottle down, now half empty.

“Sorry, my-” You winced, your tongue proving to be quite sensitive.

“Talk lightly, you’re healing.” Hoseok cooed and for a moment you were brought back to the ridiculous reality you were brought into. You were in your first love’s bed alone after being nearly killed by your ex-fiance's side-chick. Now, the man who broke your heart was nursing you back to full health and treating your wounds. You wondered if you would wake up soon from this fever dream. Although, the pain on your tongue told you this was all too real.

“My throat was raw.” You with your tongue barely touching your mouth, making your speech much slower, “Is what I was trying to say.”

“I figured as much, you had a rough night to say the least, sweetheart.” Hoseok smiled at you reassuringly, “But here we are, a new day, a new chapter.” He gestured around him, “Now, your phone has been going off quite incessantly since I charged it, is there anyone that you were hoping to hear from?” 

You thought for a moment. You moved to South Korea on your own and the only friend you made became your fiance, now ex. His mom would call from time to time, but no way were you talking to her. Your family was long gone, so that’s out of the question. All you had was your new job, but it was a Saturday morning. You shook your head.

“Do you mind if I look at who it is?” He asked and you shook your head, the pounding of it having now subsided, letting the light vibrations of your phone on the nightstand register in your eardrum. Hoseok reached over and took your severely cracked phone into his slender hand, “Who is Oh Sookwang?” He asked, noticing the way you tensed up, “Ah, so that’s his name.” He noted as part of the work that he needs to get done once the workweek begins.

“Wh-What did he say?” You asked hesitantly. Hoseok also hesitated as he scrolled through the texts he sent, “Is it bad?”

“It’s certainly bad for him.” His voice was much colder now with his eyes transfixed on the phone, “It seems he wants to know if you’re dead.” He spoke flatly, “He also wants the ring back for Minyoung.”

You scoffed, unsure of what you expected. You clenched your fist and felt the gold band of the ring dig into your finger. The diamond has specks of your blood dried onto it by now. He probably didn’t even want it for Minyoung. It was probably going to serve as a trophy for another woman broken under their hands. It was a sign of the torment they were capable of inflicting with all the money and the power their feuding parents could give them. You ripped the ring off your finger before throwing it across the room. 

Hoseok watched as the diamond fell out of the ring and onto his bedroom floor. He rolled his eyes at how cheap of a ring this other man dared to present to someone so extremely out of his league. 

“The world is just going to keep turning under his discretion, isn’t it?” Your upper lip twitched in rage.

Hoseok leaned down and kissed the top of your head, “Not while I’m around.”

You looked up at the man who stood before you, “His family is powerful, and so is hers, it’s useless.”

Hoseok chuckled lightly before ruffling your hair, “Look around, babe, I’m powerful.” 

----

It had been a little more than a week before you agreed to stay with Hoseok. On one hand, he was your first love and heartbreak but on the other hand, you had nowhere else to go. The apartment you planned to move to was detected by Sookwang and for your safety, you decided to not sign the lease. Not like Hoseok would let you.

It had been almost a month since that night now. Your company extended your leave due to the circumstances you were faced with and Hoseok arranged his schedule so he could stay home until you went to work.

He had been quite the caretaker. A doctor he trusted came to make a housecall and gave you a clean bill of health, meaning no broken bones or internal bleeding. You screamed the first time he touched you, so you had to hold Hoseok's hand throughout his assessment. The trauma of it all had not hit you until another stranger had to touch you. Hoseok offered to take you to a counselor but you declined, not ready to say it out loud yet. Even so, you eventually did see someone for coping practices and a diagnosis you had already known.

Being with him again was nostalgic in its own way. Sometimes it felt like catching up with an old friend but then other days it felt like you were picking up right where you left off. Of course, you knew you had no business getting into another relationship after just ending an engagement. In reality, though, the engagement ended long ago, you had just stayed around like a loyal punching bag.

“I forgot how good of a cook you were.” You smiled at Hoseok and the fact you could speak without feeling an ache, “You've only gotten better too, no fair.” You pouted at him.

Hoseok took off his apron, moving to join you at the table, “It's just chicken parmesan, not rocket science.” He ruffled your hair, “Cutie.”

You looked at the man across from you and smiled at the way he settled in, “So, tomorrow you go back to work, right?” You asked as you shoveled the food into your mouth.

“Yes, but I could very easily-” You pouted at him reusing the same line. 

“No.” You reiterated, “We are both working tomorrow, remember?” Hoseok closed his mouth in defeat. You had made a good case about needing to return to work and move on this past week that he could not deny, “Be excited, it's cementing this new start.” You smiled reassuringly.

His face softened at you beaming grin and he smiled back, defeated, “I am excited, just worried.” He sighed.

You knew why. He was scared of you getting hurt or your ex trying to finish his lover's job, “You already reported them, so it's okay.” Hoseok nodded at your words, happy with how calm you were now compared to when you found out what he had done.

That was a rough day. You turned on the news to see the fall of Sookwang’s family corporation and Minyoung also went from heiress to most wanted. They were both under investigation for the attempted murder of an unknown female and embezzlement. There had been outside corporate lawyers and criminal lawyers called to the case. You screamed and cried that day, Hoseok taking the brunt of your misdirected anger. You feared taking the stand and that's what really drove your tantrum.

Hoseok grimaced at the memory, protective instincts kicking in, “You could at least tell me where you work or your job.” He grumbled.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “I told you I will.” You pointed your fork at him, “After a week, because otherwise you will show up or send someone to not so discreetly watch me.” You watch Hoseok slump, guilty, “And you will tell me all about your job then so I don't run to you whenever I get scared.”

“But I want you to run to me if you get scared.” He pouted this time, “I can't bear the thought of you being alone.”

“I can just call you, doofus.” You reached you his hand across the table and watched as he relaxed at the contact, “If I make you my crutch, I will only prove people like Sookwang and Minyoung right.” You mused sadly, “I gotta be better than that.”

Hoseok bit his tongue. He wanted to say that you were miles above scum like them. He would kill them with his bare hands if he didn't have the basic human rationale he cultivated ever so slightly. His morals weren't there, but he couldn't take care of you behind prison bars and he couldn't take you away into hiding and still make you happy. He also couldn't incite violence in fear of you comparing him to Minyoung. He had weighed his options very heavily and was extremely grateful he had the power to ensure the legal system would not fail you. With this, he chose to discipline scum with proper justice and corporate murder.

“You already are.” Hoseok squeezed your hand and stared into your eyes. The feelings he had just looking at you was hard to contain. He would give anything to kiss you again and have you as his, but he knew you wouldn't believe the time was right.

“Thank you.” You stared back at him with an almost equal amount of love and care. You were on your way to the right time. He just knew it.

“I'm sorry that I ever left you.” Hoseok blurted out as you began shaking your head.

You stopped him from speaking any further, “I'm glad you did.” You cut him off, “I needed this all to happen to be who I am now.” You smiled a bit, “It's clichè to say, I know, but before yesterday I considered not taking this job just because I was scared people would be mean.” You mused, “But I lived and at some point loved a man who literally wanted me dead, so what more could a disgruntled coworker or a mean boss do to me?” You picked at the pasta briefly, “I was much too spoiled before all of this. Everything I had was handed to me.”

Hoseok's face scrunched up, “You're the most hardworking person I know.” He spoke up, “You work for everything you get and you still deserve more than that.” 

“These past two years, I would wake up and feel ashamed for breathing.” You felt the pressure in your eyes, “I felt bad that I was still alive because I was causing all of this trouble.”

“None of that was your fault.” Hoseok gripped your hand tightly, “You were not the bad guy in that situation.”

“And logically, I know that, but it just gets to you after a while. Except for today,” You finally looked up at Hoseok and beamed just a little, “I woke up and I didn't even notice the pain, I looked out the window and saw a beautiful day. You smiled at me and everything was okay.” You watched as his signature smile grew, “I wasn't just an abuse victim, for the first time, I felt like a survivor.”

“You are.” He confirmed with and encouraging squeeze.

“And if being one means all this shit had to happen, so be it.” You affirmed to both Hoseok and yourself, “These next few days are gonna be rough, but Dr. Lin says I'm getting better at shaking his hand without shaking the rest of my body.” You giggled a bit before looking at your hand, Hoseok stroking the tan line where your ring used to be.

“The moment you feel uncomfortable, come home.” Hoseok pleaded, “You told them what happened, right?”

You sighed with a nod, “Yeah, they got the emails Dr. Lin drafted and they were actually really kind about it.”

“Good, but even if they weren't, you could work with me.” He offered for the millionth time and you rolled your eyes, “I know, I know, I just want to make sure you're safe and happy and eating right and hydrated and-”

“I am capable of doing so by myself too.” You pointed your fork at him, “I really appreciate you, Hobi, but you have to trust me.” 

Hoseok rested his case in favor of how happy you looked to start this mysterious new job and the fact that his old nickname slipped from your lips for the first time in years. You knew how to play him like a fiddle and had no idea. The last thing he would want was for you to hate him so he even opted to not research you to figure out what your job was. All you said was that you were freelance before they hired you which gave him nothing.

The next morning you woke up at the crack of dumb. In the mirror, you checked your tongue, the wound healed and the uncomfortable stitches you had a week ago fully dissolved. The whole incident felt like a distant nightmare now. All marks from it fully healed, and now only the scars remained. 

You heard Hoseok walking down the stairs, most likely to start the coffee before making breakfast. You had been staying in his guest room, for the time being, your bathroom was in the hall and he could see the light under the door, indicating you were awake. He had offered you the other bedroom with its own bathroom, but you wanted to get used to leaving your room a little more. 

It had been a long while since you put on makeup with a motivation revolving around self-care and confidence as opposed to masking clumps of busted vessels and capillaries lingering beneath your skin. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face as you applied eyeliner and checked your work in the mirror. There was something therapeutic about painting your face with a much lighter intent. You were excited, and for the first time in a while, you could feel your nerves buzzing and the butterflies in your stomach blooming from their cocoon. 

You also hadn't put this much effort into your hair this entire time. Hoseok would sometimes brush your hair after a shower, mostly out of habit from when both your hands had been wrapped up. However, beyond that, it was kept in its natural state, which you figured was mediocre at best when paired with your naked and bruised face at the time. Hoseok always talked about how beautiful you were, but this was the first time in a while you felt anywhere close to it.

There were no bruises on your face, your dark circles were not even half the horror they used to be, you didn't even have to slather foundation and concealer in an effort to cover an open wound. Your face had never felt so soft, scabs no longer present. You looked at your finished look and squealed to yourself. You looked nice. Your clothes were also stylish, in typical Hoseok fashion, he had surprised you with a new wardrobe beyond all protests, and you couldn't deny how nice it all looked on you. You had called him ridiculous for approaching you with a measuring tape, but the fit was no joke with how it hugged your figure.

“Breakfast is ready!” He called from downstairs and you smiled, excited to show him how you looked.

You nearly pranced down the stairs and to the kitchen to see Hobi with his back turned, getting coffee, “Oh y/n, did you want-” He turned around and was met with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, “Holy shit.”

To him, you were always beautiful, but you were glowing this time due to your chipper mood. You smiled brightly at him as he took in your appearance. From the stylish high waisted black slacks with a flowy lavender blouse. The black pumps you had only accentuated your confident stature. Your face had light traces of makeup, but it had been growing to be more and more radiant. He took note of the necklaces you wore to compliment your skin complexion. Everything you were fit you so well, his mind was plagued by sinful thoughts of taking them off.

You weren't holding up well either. Hoseok was stunning no matter what, but this was the first time in a long time you had seen him in a suit. His hair was styled perfectly with his brown hair tousled in waves. His suit was well-fitting and the dress shirt managed to outline his muscles. The rings he had on next to his watch made you weak in the knees for some inexplicable reason. The glasses he wore only added to his sugar daddy aesthetic. Were you a gold digger or in love with this man?

You blinked away the question once you registered his profanity, “Is that a good holy shit?” You teased as you sat in front of the plate he set on the table.

“You're a goddess.” He groaned and you giggled, while he walked over with two coffee cups.

“And you're exaggerating.” You poked his nose before picking up your fork, catching sight at the tan line on your ring finger.

Hoseok watched your smile drop a little, “Y/n, are you alright?” His face showed very evident worry.

You looked up, snapping out of your trance, “Yeah, just this dumb tanline.” You huffed, “It's so blatant.”  You held up your hand to Hoseok, although he knew about the line all too well.

“I can put a ring on your finger.” You choked on your coffee at Hoseok's blunt words, “Y/n!” He made a move to stand and help you but you shook your head as you coughed.

“People will think I'm engaged.” You regained composure, “They'll ask me all kinds of questions.”

Hoseok would be lying if he said that was a bad thing. This would keep any intruders into your relationship with him away. This would keep you closer to him. He shrugged, “Engaged or not,” He placed a quaint box on the table, “I already bought the ring so…” He pushes the box toward you with a cheeky smile, “It's winter now, so you can just wear it until it fades.”

You chuckle as you take the box, “This might be more romantic than my proposal.” You joked, “He spelled it out in roses with candles around it.”

“You hate roses.” Hoseok pointed out and you nodded with an eye roll, “You know what?” He grabbed the blue velvet box and went around the table. Before you could ask what he was doing, he knelt down on one knee, taking your hand, “Y/n L/n, will you stay with me?”

You giggled, “I would be honored.” He beamed at you as he opened the box to reveal and black diamond with two smaller traditional ones on each side with a silver band which he slid on your finger, “I used to dream about this in high school.” You admired the ring, “I had a whole dream board for our future wedding.” 

Hoseok chuckled at this, “You really loved me, huh?”

You frowned as he stood to go back to his side of the table. Without thinking you gripped his hand, making him turn back to you, “I'll always love you, Hobi.” The words jumped out of your mouth before you could even consider the weight they held and the terrible timing it was. Your ex wasn't even in prison yet. His sentencing had yet to come and here you were like a blushing schoolgirl pining after Hoseok all over again.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was over the moon. He knew it, but to hear you say it was a new experience in and of itself. You were almost there. Almost ready for him to have you. For you to have him. He saw the worry creep on you face and then dissolve when he gripped your hand back, “And I, you.” He simply said before kissing your knuckles and then returning to his seat.

When it came time for you to go via the driver Hoseok insisted on you having, he hugged you tightly, “Call me if you feel anything other than excitement.” He let out a shaky breath before letting you go from his embrace to grip your shoulders, “Text me whenever you can just how you feel, okay?”

You smiled at him reassuringly, “If I get a papercut, I'll let you know the moment I put a bandage on.” You proclaimed dramatically and Hoseok whined, “I will call you if I need to, okay?” He nodded, “Do you trust me?” Another nod. You cupped his face before bringing it down to kiss his forehead softly. When he lifted his face it was dusted with a light brush, “Have a good day at work.” 

Hoseok took the chance to kiss your forehead this time, “You have the greatest day at work.” He spoke softly and you nodded before exiting through the front door.

Coming back to work was always a sore spot for him, but now that he had you back, it felt even worse. He was already missing you. On top of that, Jiyeon had quit so he had to be his own secretary for a while. He wondered how Taehyung did it for so long. Due to this new workload, he had no idea what his schedule was.

Hoseok looked up as he heard a knock on the glass door of his office. He always kept the blinds down, so he blindly let the visitor in with a call. Namjoon emerged with an exasperated look on his face, “You forgot, didn't you?” When he received Hoseok's response if an eyebrow raise he sighed, “Our fully recovered CEO is having a meeting with all the department heads with our newly wrangled Behavioral Scientist.” An ignorant blink, “The dude is like your new right-hand man Mr. Director of Human Resources.” 

“Oh right!” Hoseok stood, “Our expert in body language for sitting in on interviews.” He nodded, “What's his name again?”

Namjoon shrugged, “Who knows, but CEO Kim said he read her like a diary she was so impressed.” He smirked, “Maybe he’ll smell what an HR nightmare you are right off the bat.”

Hoseok walked over to the door Namjoon stood in the way of, “Hey, hey, I'm a changed man, remember?” He walked out of his office with his colleague, “I have all I need at home.”

His friends teasing tone dissipated as he remembered the shaking girl he encountered just a week ago, “Oh, that's right, how is she?” Namjoon asked, genuinely concerned.

“Better.” Hoseok smiled at his friend, “She starts her new job today, and she's been doing a lot better.”

Namjoon nodded, “When we all met her, she did real well.” He sighed, “Not sure how anyone would ever want to hurt her, but that guy's as good as dead anyway.”

“That much I made sure of.” Hoseok confirmed.

“Jeez, you sound like Tae and Jimin.” Namjoon laughed.

“Just you wait until it's your turn.” Hoseok teased as they reached the conference room to be met with the other five of his friends which was weird since three of them were not higher-ups in the company.

“And I thought this was a director only meeting.” Namjoon mused.

“She said she wanted her favorite boys here.” Taehyung smiled, “This new hire seems to have her struck, said she sees em as another child already.”

“She's too caring for her own good sometimes, watch this dude be some discount medium who claims he can read aura's.” Yoongi scoffed.

“She's not one to be wowed by parlor tricks.” Jin pointed out.

“She has been on morphine for the past couple days though.” Jungkook pointed out.

“You guys give her no credit.” Jimin sighed, “She's still a businesswoman.”

“But she's also a human who extended Hoseok's holiday leave because so that he could stay with his angel.” Yoongi chimed back in.

“Well, I'm excited nonetheless.” Hoseok sat down as Namjoon did before hearing the door open.

CEO Kim walked in with a warm smile, “Hello, boys!” The old woman in her late 60's cheered and was met with a chorus of greetings, “Lovely of you all to make it here. I've been healing just fine before you ask.” She looked at Taehyung in particular, “Gonna take more than some kidney surgery to get me down.” She joked with a light giggle, “Anyways, I'm absolutely pleased to introduce our new addition to HR as the Employment Analyst," She looked out the door, “Come on in, dear.”

You walked through the door, palms already warm. You looked down for a moment, “Good morning!” You lifted your head only to be met with awfully familiar faces, “Oh my.”

“Y/n!” Jungkook was the first to chirp as the other men were completely floored.

The CEO smiled cheerfully, “You know her? Perfect!” She clasped her hands, “My dear here has had a rough adjustment, so do make her feel welcome!” You graciously smiled at the sweet old woman.

“H-Hey guys.” You twiddled your thumbs, “Fancy meeting you here.” You smiled weakly. 

“Y/n, here is a student and is here to help our HR find and keep only the best of the best.” The CEO beamed brightly, “Anyways, she will be working will be working for Mr. Jung.”

You looked at Hoseok and he gave you his signature smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

After the meeting was adjourned, Hoseok made his way to you with the same smile he had before, "You're fantastic." He patted your head affectionately and you giggled.

"You're too much." You stuck your tongue out, "I'm going to go set up my office." You smiled before exiting the conference room with quaint smiles and bows to the remaining 6 other men in the room. The company was eccentric, to say the least, but at least you had familiar faces to rely on.

"You know, you are surprisingly relaxed." Yoongi mused, catching Hoseok's attention.

Hoseok was even then, only partly paying attention as he was caught up in his lovelorn bliss, "Well, of course, why wouldn't I be?" He sighed.

The other men exchanged looks, "Do you not know your reputation?" This snatched Hoseok back to Earth.

"Yeah, she's definitely going to find out," Jungkook added, earning a glare.

Even so, Hoseok knew the men were right. You would not be pleased to find out about his promiscuity, especially in the workplace. You would have every right to be angry, but he still hoped you would understand that he was only trying to fill a void he created by abandoning you. He was a new man.

"That, plus you have secretaries to interview today." Taehyung chimed in, "My darling was kind enough to call them in after Jiyeon called me, hysterical, before quitting." He shot a glare to Hoseok.

"Actually, I think y/n's first task is to interview said, ladies." Namjoon fought the emerging smile on his face as Hoseok nearly went pale.

Jimin spoke this time, "Hobi?" He caught the man's attention, "Run."

Needing no further instruction, he made a dash for the elevator.

"Oh, hello." You caught the attention of a beautiful chestnut-haired woman, "Can I help you?" You smiled at her as you carried a box to your office adjacent to Hoseok's.

She scanned your form before letting her guard down. You should've been offended by how quickly she wrote you off as a non-threat, but you let it go, "I'm looking for Jung Hoseok." She flashed you a smile, a very fake one judging by the stiffness in her face.

You shook off the insecurity planting itself in your psyche before it could latch, "He's in a meeting, but I'm a new worker in this department so I could-"

"They hired you?!" She quickly cut you off, "I didn't even get a chance to interview yet, and they gave the assistant position to you?!" She threw her hands up before her eyes landed on the ring you were, "Wow, are taken women his thing, or something?" She sneered. You felt your throat close in panic and rage all at once. You watched in hidden horror as her face seemed to morph into Minyoung's. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and replaced it with a quaint smile, a very fake one, "Actually, I'm the new Employment Analyst." You quipped, "I believe I'm your interviewer in fact." The woman went pale, "I'm still setting up my office, but you are very punctual, I'll give you that." You smiled at her, "I am nothing if not fair, so if you would like to take a seat while I set up, I'll be right with you." You gestured to the chairs outside the door to your office and she took the seat slowly. You closed the door behind you, stalking to your desk to place the box on top of the mahogany only to slump down into a crouched position with an exasperated sigh.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, blowing it out through pursed lips to prevent yourself from hyperventilating, "Get it together." You curse yourself. It had maybe been 10 minutes and you were already hiding under your desk, "Fuck, why did I think I could do this?" You closed your eyes in defeat when the door slammed open, startling you.

"Y/n!" Hoseok's voice caused you to internally panic and hit your head under the desk.

"Shit!" You scolded the pain, "I-Is my interviewee still out there?" You wondered aloud as Hoseok rushed to your side.

"I sent them home." He sighed before lifting you to sit on your chair and wordlessly began to guide you through your breathing, just as he had a million times before, just as he had when you were still in high school and especially in the last month.

You worked through the breathing and felt yourself seethe. You were more frustrated than angry, but still angry. Why did this random girl affect you so terribly? Why did Hoseok send her home? Why couldn't you just keep it the fuck together?

"Well, I suggest you leave," You sighed out as your chest rose and fell at its usual pace, "I have more coming."

"You can just cancel them." Hoseok shook his head at the thought of you interviewing a shamefully specific demographic of women he hired, "I want to find the candidates on my own." 

You studied his face. His lips were pursed, eyes were looking at your cheek, not eyes, and his grip on your shoulder had noticeably stiffened. Your face scrunched in disappointment, "Why? It seems they all fit your credentials." You spat, more bitter than you intended before sighing again as silence befell the two of you. You shut your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts before opening them halfway to look down at your hands clasped together tightly, "I can't do it again, Hoseok." You muttered softly, "I'm not stupid, I know what you do in this office, but I can't do that again."

He met your eyes this time, obviously worried, "What do you mean?" His brows furrowed.

"Be the afterthought." You bit out, "I will not compete with all these women and end up…" exactly like yourself. You swallowed your last words because they would hurt the both of you too much.

"Angel, I would never-"

"Just go, okay?" You forced yourself to say, not looking at him, "It's my first day of work and we've already breached professionalism." You breathed out with your lips pursed, "I have interviews to do." You looked at Hoseok and he didn't meet your eyes as he left, dejected.

The interviews went terribly for both parties you would say. Most of these women had no experience being an Administrative LLP Assistant and if they did, they walked out on their last jobs. A lot of the women were quite kind, after noticeably sizing you up, but then you had some women who thought they could interview you as well. It was awfully reminiscent of when you first encountered Minyoung. 

By the end of the interviews, you felt like your eyes were beginning to cross as your tongue began to sting. It wasn't a real sting. This much was confirmed when your neck also began to sting and you let out a shaky breath. You stared at the excel sheet of employee evaluations and found yourself wondering if you would be able to work at home.

You shook off the very fantasy since you barely had a home to begin with. You needed to look for a place. Your heart squeezed at the thought and you put your hand on your chest. You felt stupid for wanting to leave Hoseok, but you also felt stupid for wanting to stay with a man who had such a specific and insatiable taste. 

The day dragged on and you actively avoided Hoseok when your lunch rolled around. You opted for a granola bar at your desk and it was just as indignifying as you thought it would be. Your job turned out to be mostly excel sheets and productivity reports and it wasn't until Hoseok knocked on your door that you realized it was time to go home- Hoseok's home.

The car ride was painfully and noticeably silent in the beginning. You didn't look at Hoseok and he couldn't bear to meet your eyes as the driver even looked uncomfortable. It wasn't until you realized you were at Hoseok's place that you even moved.

You dragged your feet to the door as the day's event swirled in your head. The women reminded you scarily of yourself, pining after someone who would never pine after them. Some of them were rings too and you wondered if it was because their home life was like yours had been. Had they just wanted to feel desired for once? Who are you to judge them when your ex is piecing together the life your ex-fiance destroyed. How are you any better than them with Hoseok? 

Even if you love him, it doesn't mean he loves you or doesn't plan on finding more thrilling endeavors outside of the lovely little home he keeps you at just like Sookwang had.

The bile in your throat pushed itself against you at the very thought and when Hoseok opened the door, you ran to the bathroom, hand over your mouth.

He quickly ran after you only to see you on your knees in front of the toilet as you heaved a cried. Immediately, he held back your hair as you hurled your guts, thoughts, fears, and sadness out of your body after holding them in for a day. It hadn't been the first time you've thrown up with Hoseok present, so he knew exactly how to clean you up as you cried.

However, this time, you gripped his dress shirt, surely causing wrinkles, and looked at him, "Please don't leave me." Your bottom lip quivered, "I can't, I can't be alone, I'm so sorry." You cried into his chest as he rocked you back and forth, "You're-You're all I…" You let out another sob

"I'm all you have." He mused and you nodded, "Just as you are all I have." You hiccuped and he kissed your head, "I've loved you for years, I will not be stopping, whether you like it or not." He stroked your hair as he closed your eyes.

He should kill Sookwang. He's never been so sure of himself. Hoseok clutched you closer to him as you shook violently. He should kill Sookwang for not only hurting you but for making you so distrusting of everyone, even him. The love of your life. Sookwang instead would spend his life in prison- or lack of life. It was merciful, Hoseok should rip him to shreds and let you do the same to Minyoung. However, the only thing more important than doing that was having you as his, at last.

He was all you had finally. It would remain that way.

After an hour of breathing exercises and mouthwash, you were in your bedroom. You stared up at the ceiling and yet, all you could see was Hoseok's face. You cursed yourself for this. It was like you were back in high school again. You were embarrassed by how easily you fell for him again especially after what Sookwang did. You closed your eyes and moted how warm you felt just thinking about all Hoseok has done for you. 

You weren't an idiot. You had dated him before. You knew he was terrified of a commitment then, but now, it almost seemed as if he craved it. It was a complete turnaround. It wasn't healthy. Logically, you knew that, right? You knew that this connection was obsessive on a good day, but he made you feel so safe. Your first day at work went terribly and you had just wished to go home to Hoseok's loving arms. Instead, your mind had morphed him into Sookwang.

Hoseok was the opposite, however. Sookwang had been sheltered and starved, so he settled for you as a wife and other women as a lover. Hoseok, however merely settled for one night stands in search of stability. He was loving and attentive, maybe a little too much. Even so, he hadn't brought home any women, or left your side, in the past month. He only ever seemed to look at you while you tried to assess your situation. 

You weren't ready for a relationship, you thought. But how the hell do you know what's good for you? 

Look at your past logical decisions, such as getting engaged. Maybe Hoseok knew what's best for you. Maybe you knew that wasn't healthy. Maybe you didn't care.

If you were going to regret this, you were going to have to do it first.

You sat up, letting the covers fall off your body as you ripped them off your legs. Before you could even begin to dissect your mindset, your legs carried you in front of Hoseok's door. It was already in the evening. You wondered if he was going to make dinner or leave you alone for the night. Should you not bother him? You shook your head before bringing your wrist up to knock on the door.

It had been the softest knocks Hoseok had heard in his life. His eyebrows scrunched together. Had he forgotten the cleaning lady was coming today? He could've sworn she comes Tuesday mornings?

"Come in." He nodded towards the closed door as it opened ever so cautiously.

He immediately sat up as soon as he saw it was you, "Hey, Hobi." You smiled at him shyly. 

Hoseok visibly relaxed as he gestured with a flick of his wrist for you to come near him. You walked over to his bed, "Sorry to intrude." You offered wearily, as he guided you to sit next to him, "I just…" You drew in a breath, as his arm wrapped around your waist Before I say anything, I just need to know what you want." His head tilted to the side in confusion now laying down next to his seated form and you groaned in frustration, "Do you...want me?" You forced out and it seemed he finally understood what you were trying to figure out. He leaned over you with a smile.

"I love you if that's what you're getting at." Your breath hitched at his boldness, "Don't act like you didn't know."

It was your turn to be confused as the man of your teenage and adult dreams leaned over you with a satisfied smirk, "You only said it that one time and I didn't think that you…" You avoided eye contact, "Would want used goods." 

He gripped your chin in an instant for you to see his jaw clenched and stern eyes, "I wish you could see what I see." He closed his eyes, letting his irritation diffuse as he leaned closer to you, "What no one else deserves to see." He hovered over your lips.

You were hypnotized by the passion and found yourself left with no option but to grip both sides of his face and bring him down to you. His lips connected with yours slowly at first but it quickly grew into a frenzied expression of how starved you both were to be craved by the other. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his wrapped around your waist. He moved you to where he was laid in between your legs and you gasped when his pelvis had accidentally brushed against yours. 

Hoseok broke away from the kiss for a moment, lips swollen and chest heaving, "Fuck, baby, I better go get dinner started before we end up doing something that-"

You pouted at this, causing Hoseok to immediately halt at the sight, "Hobi," You whined as you gripped his bicep, "Don't you want me?" You batted your eyelashes at him as his resolve crumbled.

"More than anything, angel." He was quick to say as he dipped his head down to place light kisses on your neck.

"So show me." You breathed and it was like something snapped in him.

He gripped your hip with a determined squeeze as his mouth opened eider to harshly suck the skin of your neck between his teeth. You groaned at the sensation, heat quickly pooling between your thighs. The hand on your hip reached up as he began to unbutton the lavender blouse. He had never touched you like this before, so when the shirt left you open, only a bra of the same color shielding you, he had to pull back to look at you for a moment. He studied every mole, freckle, or mark he could see as he slipped the shirt from your shoulders. He kissed down your stomach as he made quick work of the slacks he bought you, nearly salivating at how close he was to your clothed entrance. 

You arched your back, obedient as ever when his hands caressed your waist, sliding behind to unhook your bra. He let out a shaky breath when your top half became full bare. His hands gripped them both, softly pinching both nipples as you let out a mewl that spurred him to lean down, taking one of the buds into his mouth, tongue encircling it as your back arched again while you let out a whine. The sensation of his mouth and hands shooting straight to the area where you wanted them most. He let his teeth graze the bud before sucking and you could no longer suppress the moan that was clawing at your throat. He let the nipple go with a lewd pop as he studied your body again before moving to caress your hips and thighs. He watched the flesh squish under his touch and you squirmed a bit, "So fucking beautiful." He breathed, transfixed by your nearly bare body.

"Hobi." You whined, as his eyes wen to your heated face. Your bottom lip was caught in your teeth as your thighs shifted beneath him.

"Yes, my love?" He mused as he slid the last piece of fabric you had down your legs, watching as your pussy became exposed to him. Your breath hitched when he spread your legs as his fingers went to spread you, "Do you want me to taste you?" He hummed, mouth mere millimeters away from your opening.

You pet out a breathy moan at the anticipation, "Yes, yes, please." You huffed out only for the very breath to be stolen as his tongue dove at your sex like a man starved. 

Hoseok had never expected you to be so needy, each time his tongue moved you would whine out, wanting more and more. Never did he fine eating someone out to be so erotic as he did with his hands keeping you in place as your upper body twisted in pleasure. You would squeak when his tongue would dance around your hole, tempting him to finally plunge it in. He felt how tight you were and was instantly addicted to the feeling of you around him. He fucked you with his tongue as he let you move your hips to meet the thrusts of the muscle. He almost brought a hand to play with your clit but opted to make you cum with his mouth alone.

You had never been eaten out like this before. You could hardly keep up with Hoseok or the sensations he gave you as he entered you with his tongue. Never in your life have you felt so euphoric, the sensation sent tingles down your body and straight to your clit which he flicked with a stiffened tongue before you could even blink. A long-forgotten coil began to tighten in the pit of your stomach as he spread you as wide as you could go, his hands on your knees as he sucked on your clit, tongue still ruthless as it explored your pussy. You could hear him nearly slurp. You normally would be embarrassed, but all you could feel was what Hoseok gave you, and you wanted more. 

As if he read your mind, Hoseok began a ruthless rhythm of long-stroke that brought you closer and closer each time until you let loose with a scream of pleasure, your body shaking as you came. Hoseok placed a kiss on your clit that made your hips jump, "Hobi, fuck me." You breathed out, chest heaving as you crept down from the enormous high. The man hesitated, fully intent on letting you rest and taking care of himself in the bathroom. He was ready to tell you this until you let out another cute whine, "Please, babe, I want you to make love to me." You whined out and how could he possibly say no?

"I can't say no to you, baby, that's not fair." He spoke, eyes lidded as he stripped himself at lighting speed, moving his length along your slit as he groaned lowly at the contact. When he pressed the head against your entrance and you moaned lightly he nearly blew his load. By the time he slid all the way in, he had to take a moment to collect his thoughts. He looked down at you, eyes barely open and mouth panting. He then watched himself as he slid slowly in and out, his hardened member eventually all the way in your tight walls, "You're so beautiful." He groaned as he set a slow pace, "I love you so much." He leant down to kiss you as he fucked you gently and when you moaned into his mouth he couldn't help but speed up.

"Hobi." You moaned out sweetly for him as he fucked you, "Feels so good." You gasped out as your hands went to press him closer to you as he ground deeper into, more desperate. You could feel the bed shaking as he sped up more and more, calculated thrusts now becoming sloppy as you could feel another orgasm on the edge of breaking free.

He could tell you were close to as you squeezed him, "You gonna cum again for me, angel?" You gasped, nearly squealing as you squeezed around him, cumming hard enough to send him over the edge, "Fuck, fuck!" He moaned in pure ecstasy as he came inside of you, riding out the highs you both shared.

"I love you." You mumbled through tired lips pressed against his ears. He slowly slid out of you and that's as far as you remember before passing out.

You woke up with soft lips against your shoulder as the early morning peeked through the curtains. Your eyes slowly opened as they flicked around to find Hoseok in your peripherals, "Oh, you're awake." He mumbled, mouth still trailing over your bare skin.

"Mmph." You murmured, turning over, "Good morning." You placed a lazy kiss on his toned chest as you nuzzled into him.

The sleepy chuckle he let out vibrated in his chest, "What do you say we work from home today, hm?" 

Your eyes snapped open immediately as you shot up, "Work! I forgot!" You exclaimed as your eyes darted across the room looking for a clock, "I can't just not come in on my second day I-"

"Baby-"

"I must look like such a slacker! I can't believe I-"

"Angel, I-"

"How did I not set my alarms before I just went to sleep all willy nilly?! It's mmph-" Soft lips landed on your own as you melted into the kiss in spite of your moment of panic. His lips massaged yours until he felt your naked form relax on his own. 

This was all he needed. He was all you needed. This moment was the epitome of what it meant to be reborn in the arms of someone else. It was always meant to be this way. He was an idiot for thinking you were anything less than his soulmate. He was a fool for looking for comfort when he should've been looking for you all these years.

Once he felt your body fully depend on him, he broke the kiss ever so slowly, "It's 6:00am." He mumbled against your mouth, "I'm offering to have us both work from home today, so I can let the office know I will be conducting your orientation off-site." The smirk that twinkled on the corner of his mouth did not go unnoticed by you before you nodded. 

You watched with twinkling eyes as Hoseok made the call. You laid your head on his bare chest as you heard the rumble of his deep voice making orders to accommodate for his absence, "Hobi," You murmured when he hung up the phone, "Were you ever expecting to see me again?"

The hand he had stroking your hair faltered as his heart sank at the mention of the past. He was an idiot to be scared enough to ruin things with you. He was a fool to deny himself the bliss of loving you back, "No, not at first." He spoke honestly, "But I missed you every day." You smiled at this while he stroked your hair, "Something was missing in my life, and I tried to find it in other women when I was too scared to look for you."

"Oh, I hated you so much." You stifled a laugh.

"You said you could never!" Hoseok huffed as you leaned your head up to look at his pouting face.

"Not real hate, babe." You smiled softly, "I mean heartbreak hate." You mused, "I never wanted to see you again, but I never stopped wondering about you, and when I moved to South Korea, and especially when I was with… you know, I let my mind wander to how we could've been." 

"Well, it's me and you now and forever, angel." He placed a kiss on your forehead, "Nothing will ever come between us again, not even ourselves." Hoseok spoke with determination you were smart enough to know the implications of. Not that you had plans to ever leave, but even if you had they would be for naught. You knew his power. You were sure he only scratched the surface with Sookwang. It should scare you.

"I know you won't let it, even if anything tried." You breathed, blissful as he pulled you in for a passionate kiss. It wasn't healthy how he thrilled you. How much you loved being so secure in his arms, even if he was also securing you within his clutches. Chains or not, they were much too comfortable for you to object. You had the autonomy you wanted. You had everything you needed at the snap of a finer. Sookwang gave you hell and Hoseok led you to the pearly gates.

You weren't dumb enough to overlook the resounding clink as you were locked in heaven with the man you loved. 

The very man who finally loved you back.

Ko-fi

Masterlist

[noodlyfun-blog]

Mystics and Malice

I have new stars that fly above me. They’re bright; the brightest is green like Gugo’s hair. They form no constellation  but make a foundation. I sit in a tall tower, surrounded by lightning on the top floor. Nothing is keeping me inside but I like looking out into the distance. Way off is a visible island, the sea is no longer infinite and dark, over it I can see the old stars of my dreams. Odd that they sit over land now when they used to just rest over sea. Primary color is a deep blue, blue like the oceans. 

The tall Viera, illuminated in a dull orange by candles, sighed deeply and closed her diary. She hadn't been keeping up with her dreams as she had wanted and knew she had forgotten some details; but dreams are temporary like these days spent in a city. Alaria took one last look around her makeshift tent; her tea kettle resting over a small fire, a couple empty chairs across from her, a small table with only an assortment of odds and ends resting atop, and a depressingly empty jar next to her that simply read ‘Tips’. It was a rough night outside the tent with rain falling in sheets and thus it was a bad night for customers. The woman stuffed her diary back in her bag and replaced it with a single night-blue teacup. She'd at least enjoy a sip of hot tea before making her way through the cold night for the ship.

Alaria had just lifted the hot kettle when a pair stumbled their way into the Viera's tent. She couldn't make out too many details of the two as they both had their own drenched cloaks wrapped tightly around their faces. Neither had a tail nor discernable ears. They were neither very small nor very tall. Neither seemed to acknowledge the Viera at the other side of the table, their wide eyes darting in every direction and to each other. Alaria couldn't tell if they were shivering from the cold or trembling in fear. She decided that it must be both. 

"Welcome my dear new friends. Please have yourself a seat." The two jumped in surprise when Alaria spoke in her sagely, mysterious witch tone as they realized they weren't alone. 

"You're both in luck as I was about to read my leaves. Come grab yourself a seat and share a cup of tea with me." The two were hesitant and just stared at the Viera with wide, fear-filled eyes but she got a better glimpse of their faces. They both had gray eyes and the same nose, clearly siblings, maybe twins. The Viera smiled at them while placing the kettle on the table. "Come now, it's very warm." 

The promise of warmth loosened the two up and they tentatively stepped deeper into the tent, eyeing the flap they entered warily as they sat. Alaria rose to her feet and blew out all the candles except one and extinguished her little stove taking the fairly lit tent into a barely illuminated haven. She returned to her chair to see the pair more at ease with the lights dimmed. 

The Viera returned to her chair and pulled out two more tea cups. She filled all three cups with hot water before opening a jar with loose tea leaves. She sprinkled a fair amount into each cup. 

"Now while those are heating up, how about you tell me your names my new friends? Mine is Alaria, reader of the stars and teller of the moon." She spoke barely above a whisper with a sing-song seer voice. The two removed the cloaks from their head to reveal dirty but young faces, they both had to be a few years younger than Alaria. One sported some face around the face that barely passed for a beard and the other had a ring through their nostrils and long, red hair. 

"I'm Erryl and this is my brother Philipe" said the one with the piercing with a soft voice. Philip looked upset at being introduced. Alaria paid him little mind and motioned at the cups. 

"Erryl and Philipe, how wonderful for the stars to guide you to me tonight." She lowered her head slightly. "Now I want you two to think of a question that you need answered. Feel with all your being and concentrate on it as you drink your tea. And please don't drain your cup entirely, try to leave a thumbful." 

Alaria studied the two from behind her own cup as they drank their tea. Philipe seemed relieved to just have something warm, but his eyes barely left his sibling and the tent flap. Erryl mouthed a silent prayer as they brought the drink to their lips and drank with their eyes tightly closed. The pair had some mud caked on their faces, probably from hiding. What clothes she could spot under their cloaks were barely better than rags. The two were also thin. She frowned that she didn't have any snacks to offer. 

The Viera’s long green ear tilted toward the sound of boots splashing in the streets outside. She couldn’t make out how many pairs of boots were running out there nor the shouts being muffled by the rain and the tent. Erryl opened their eyes and Philipe tried to crouch lower into his chair at the sound outside but thankfully the boots seemed to run right past Alaria’s little tent.

"That should be enough tea for now." Alaria said to the pair as she pulled a couple spoons from her bag. The two turned their attention back to the Viera just as she had hoped and she handed them both a spoon. "Now swirl those leaves in your cups. And remember to concentrate. We want to make sure you get an answer." 

Philipe half-heartedly turned his spoon in the cup, paying much more attention to the outside of the tent. Erryl had returned their full attention to theirs and swirled and swirled, the spoon occasionally clinking the edge of the glass. Alaria watched them but began putting a few items in her bag. Normally there would be some expected theatrics as she tried to cultivate a mode, but tonight was not the night for it. Instead she spent a minute gathering whatever was in reach until finally telling them "Stop. That should be good." 

Alaria rose to her feet and leaned in behind Erryl, placing a hand on their shoulder for comfort, to gaze into the cup. They watched as the leaves settled into place; Philipe's leg began to twitch. The leaves danced and danced as Philipe’s leg bounced faster and faster and the rain dropped harder and harder. But as the leaves finally settled into their place, Alaria gave a big “hmmm” and squeezed Erryl’s shoulder.

“Ahh a wing.” She said tracing the outline of a wing with her fingers. Erryl leaned in more closely and even Philipe calmed down to watch. 

“What does the wing mean?” Erryl asked softly.

“It means you need to find your freedom. You are caged; held down by some oppressor.” Alaria says barely above a whisper. Both siblings’ eyes dart first to each other and then the Viera.“You may be crushed from a danger unless you find your own wings and fly to your own freedom.” 

“The Hikari Family wants to kill my brother!” Erryl blurted at the Viera; her voice cracking with a plea.

“Quiet Erryl! We can’t trust anyone!” Philipe interjected, his voice strained. 

“You heard her though! We need to run!”

“What do you think we’re doing?!”

“Please! You have to help us. We have nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Please!” Alaria saw tears forming in Erryl’s eyes. Their brother looked absolutely exasperated. She pulled Erryl in for a quick hug.

“My dear new friend, you were guided into my tent tonight.” Alaria gave her most reassuring smile to both of them. The pair shared an uncertain look with each other as the Viera grabbed her bag. "I have a ship docked right now and we go back a-sea in two nights time. You can hide there and then we can get you out of the city." 

“And you’d help us just like that?! Erryl! We can’t trust this woman! There’s no reason for her aid us, no reason for her to not sell us for some gil!” Philipe pleaded with his sibling. Meanwhile, Alaria had already begun stuffing her bag with some of her things.

“Philipe. If she were to turn us in, she would have already. She’s done nothing but kindness for us.” Erryl reasoned. 

“Listen to your sibling Phil. I can tell that neither of you are armed so you’ll want to stick close.” The Viera had made it to the flap of her tent and opened it. “Come on then. Let’s open your wings and fly out of this city, hm?”

With a resigned sigh, Philipe relented to following their new guide out of the city. Alaria prayed her tent wouldn’t be moved by morning so she could collect it; she had grown rather fond of its ugly purple cloth. It was a long and harsh trek with bitingly cold winds and sharp downpour of icy rain as the three wove their way through backstreets and alleyways. The Viera kept an open ear and cautious eye to avoid any armed looking guard on their hike. Unfortunately for the trio, the cold rain made for empty cobblestone streets which meant no hiding in crowds. Fortunately though, the weather made the street lanterns nearly ineffective; their orange glows dimmed or dead in the winds.

No crowds meant slower movement as to not be seen. They had to have been sneaking their way for at least a bell in this miserable weather before finally spotting the docks across a bridge. Alaria ducked behind a box as the other two hid behind some barrels; one guard stood stoically in the middle of the bridge with his back toward the group. They could try and find another way across and into the docks but Erryl and Philipe were waning with each step. It was clear to Alaria that they were exhausted and needed rest.

There was only one clear solution Alaria sighed. She motioned for the others to stay down as she stood straight up. A small line of purple aether began to swirl around the Viera’s right wrist. She summoned all her anger toward those who would oppress and the line of aether became a pool encompassing her wrist. She invoked all the loathing she had for herself and the pool of aether swallowed her entire arm. She called forth the malice toward Her and the aether shot from her arm. Alaria glared at this man as her violet aether shocked through his body. He crumpled there and the Viera strolled toward his body. Maybe he was still alive but it didn’t matter to her as she rolled his limp form into the black waters below. She beckoned the siblings and they continued along.

Finally they had made it. Only Boone stood guard but his was a giant with an axe; only the foolhardy would dare tempt him. He grunted as the trio made their way aboard.

[timextoxhajima]

Member: juyeon bec idk

Genre: fluff and lots of uwu because i’m feeling it :<

Category: Playlist Feels One Shot

Word Count: 1.7k

“time will be frozen for us”

most people associate something with someone. 

be it the watch your father gave you, or the stuffed plushie that your mother used to play with you before you fell asleep. 

yours was the sound of the door clicking open, even when it’s past midnight. 

usually you would’ve rolled yourself out of bed and ran for the door like you had five seconds left to live, but the ache in your back and the mild headache throbbing inside your skull was making the regular chore too much of a hassle.

“i’m back-- oh?”

you take a deep breath, legs warm under the blanket and the night light of your room painting the walls an amber yellow. the shuffling of his feet against the floor tells you he was walking towards the bedroom where you were stuck to your bed, and you look up at him, one arm under the pillow.

he looks down at you, his blank expression quickly replaced with worry and concern when he realises you wouldn’t be in bed on any other normal day, especially not when he’s returned from his busy schedule.

“are you... okay? i was expecting you to jump on me or something when i walked through the door,” he doesn’t bother to put his bag down, his free hand dropping his keys on the nightstand next to the bed near to you. 

the feverish sensation washes through you with each small breath you took as he presses his palm onto your forehead, and flips it over to press the back of his hand.

“aw... no,” he kneels down next to you and lays his head on the mattress, pulling your hand into his. “are you aching anywhere or is it just fever?”

“my back’s aching and my head’s going to kill me if it doesn’t go away soon, otherwise i’m fine.”

juyeon pouts and trails his eyes from your face to your fingers, playing with the edge of your nails while you let your fever runs its course.

“okay, well...” he pulls away, and him taking his warmth with him makes you feel slightly empty. “i’m gonna go make you some tea before i hop into the shower and--”

“noooo juyeon,” the whine was so annoyingly apparent, you couldn’t stop the laugh that ran up your throat as you reached out and grabbed his wrist.

juyeon smiles and chuckles at your whining, thumb reaching down and brushing your forehead. “no tea? what is it you need then?”

you gulp and start to press and play with the veins and knuckles on his hand. “i want to go out and see some stars.”

his face brightens, but dims back into confusion and disapproval, despite the smile never once leaving his lips. “stars? it’s one in the night, sweet pea. and on top of that, you have a fever.”

“what if i said i knew stars would make me feel better?” your other hand finds his wrist and you gently tug on it, your neck slowly aching from the need to look up at him even though you were lying down. he scans you from head to toe, and he watches you with skepticism while you fiddle with his hand.

“pleeeeaaaassseeeeeeee?” pulling up his palm to your face to let him hold your cheek, the pout on your lips only making you wonder if it was the fever talking. 

you see a flash flit across his pupils, and he sighs in defeat, his heart completely giving into what you wanted instead of what you needed.

“yay,” you giggle and use his arm as a support to sit yourself up. 

“but we are coming back once your ache starts to worsen and if you sneeze -- just once -- and we’ll come back immediately, okay?” he helps you off the bed and he hands you one of his sweaters to pull over your already thick, baggy shirt. “you’re lucky my schedule tomorrow isn’t in the morning.”

you bare your teeth in mischief with a smile, and the sight of him wrapping his fingers around the car and house keys makes you feel instantaneously better.

the pick-up truck was given to you by your father, and that was the thing you associated him with. he’d always wanted to get you a nicer, newer car, but all the memories you had with your parents in that old vehicle was just priceless. 

you were lucky your boyfriend knew how to work his way around cars, else your father would’ve sent the pick-up truck to be dismantled. 

juyeon throws some pillows and blankets into the backseat of the truck while you get in the passenger’s seat, and it wasn’t a surprise to see him climbing onto the cargo bed and spraying some disinfectant on it.

the drive to the field nearby was nothing short of juyeon telling you how his day went; and you couldn’t help but laugh at eric falling off the chair during the vlive they did in the evening. 

the boys weren’t the only ones who actively teased him about it. 

it wasn’t long before the pick up truck rumbled it’s way through the tall grass of the field and away from the trees that lined the roads. you were short of sticking your entire head out the window like a dog, the cold, midnight wind brushing past your skin and leaving light, delicate kisses. naturally craning your head to look upwards, you immediately start to gape and wander at the beauty of the little markings the heavens provided you. 

once in the middle of the field, juyeon pulls the car into parking and turns off the engine. you walk round the car and open the backseat to take some of the pillows while he took the blankets, and the both of you throw it into the cargo bed. he picks you up and you crawl under the blankets, eyes starting to glue themselves to the breathtaking view of the sky. 

the entire vehicle jerks when juyeon hops in on his own, and he crawls under the blanket with you, arm sliding under your neck and around your shoulders to hold you close to him. 

your right ear presses against the left side of his chest, and his slow heartbeat becomes music to your ears, alongside the peaceful chirping of crickets in the grass all around you. 

juyeon had brought you out to stargaze on your first date, in this very spot, with this very pick-up truck, and it’s been your favourite place to heal since then. you don’t remember a time coming here without juyeon either.

the scent of grass and dew filled your nostrils and the gentle breeze was making it all the more easier to breathe. you would’ve caught a cold if you were alone, but the blankets coupled with the warmth you were feeding off juyeon was enough to make you forget about your fever. 

“if you’re uncomfortable or you feel your fever getting worse, we’re going home, alright?”

he whispers into your hair and pecks you on the crown of your head, his free arm reaching behind his head to prop it up atop the pillow. your left hand circles around his stomach, and your legs start to tangle with each other’s under the blanket. 

“i could totally sleep right now,” you smile into the material of his hoodie, and you snuggle into his comfort as if you weren’t already glued to him like tape. 

“it’ll be really funny if we both fall asleep here and we’ll get cooked by the morning sun when we wake up tomorrow.”

you laugh at his comment, and your eyes automatically open again to revel in the gorgeous sight of faraway planets and stars. 

you stay quiet against him for how long, you weren’t sure. time always seemed to fly past like it was nothing when you were with him. though it made you sad sometimes, to know that every second couldn’t be pulled into eternity, but you also knew that juyeon must’ve been someone special for you to feel so happy with, you couldn’t feel the effects of time. 

his gentle fiddling with your hair and circling on your shoulder drives you further into bliss, the scent of him starting to mix with the calming dewy scent of nature. 

if only this really could be your eternity. the things you’d do to drag this moment out forever. 

time did it’s job and continued running relentlessly, and juyeon squeezes your shoulder to tell you that it was now three, and you needed to get home to rest up properly.

you were reluctant at first, but wherever juyeon was, it would be home to you.

juyeon lets you shower first, so by the time he was in bed with you, your spirit was already half gone into the wonderland of dreams and cotton candy.

instinctively, you lay your head on his chest again, palm flat right next to your nose and his arm absorbs the warmth of your neck, fingers resting on the skin of your shoulder. 

“are you feeling better though? after seeing the stars?” his voice rumbles through his chest, and you grin to yourself upon knowing that you heard it through his skin. 

“i don’t need to see stars to feel better, i just had to find an excuse so the both of us won’t pass out so early.”

you feel him shift his head and a small laugh exposes itself as little bursts of air into the crown of your head.

“aw,” he cooes, kissing you on the forehead. “i’m sorry i’ve been so busy these few weeks. my schedule will definitely lighten up in a month or so, so please bear with me, would you?” 

you hear the apologetic tone in his voice, and it breaks you a little. angling your head upwards, you push yourself up with enough effort to peck him on the lips for comfort.

“i’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes,” you return to your previous position and snuggle even harder if it was possible. “even if it takes a million years.”

his left hand finds the one that was on his chest and he interlocks his fingers between yours, the sensation drilling warmth and bliss throughout your entire nervous system.

“if that’s your way of saying ‘i love you’, then i love you too.”

[yodawgiherd]

Incantation of Incineration

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Ok so this work is inspired by an INCREDIBLE fanart I've been blessed to see, do yourself a favor and check it out too - > https://twitter.com/NxngOna/status/1386048795595743239 Mwah, perfection Anyway, rating is M, so beware.

(It's also quickly cobbled together because its a heat-of-the-moment thing, so forgive me if you find mistakes :> I'm far from perfect.)

This had to work.

No, who was she kidding, this wouldn’t work.

It never did, no matter how hard Mikasa tried, how deeply she dug in the library, how much she searched on the internet. Magic was a myth, and it would never work, which saddened the goth girl to no end.

She was fascinated by the supernatural ever since she could remember, devouring magazines, tv-shows or books dedicated to the topic with unhealthy speed. Maybe she was a tiny bit obsessed, but that was okay. Her parents didn’t mind, as long as she kept her grades up, and because Mikasa was very bright that was not hard to achieve. In her free time she kept experimenting, she kept trying, she kept searching for a way to make it work.

To no avail.

No ritual worked. No spell changed anything. No incantation had any effect. Still, she wouldn’t give up. It carried her through high school and it stuck with her in college too. To Mikasa it didn’t matter that goth went out of style, that magic was a forgotten thing for all of her classmates. It was an ethereal thing, bigger than life, something that enhanced the mundane and boring existence.

And today, her faith was rewarded.

Mikasa was studying in a library by herself, having an exam coming up, when her session was interrupted. A small girl appeared, hair shadowing her eyes and an enigmatic smile on the youthful face.

“Hello,”, she said, “Do you like black magic?”

“I.. Uh…”, nervous, the goth pushed an unruly bang that escaped her pigtails behind one pierced ear, “Why do you ask?”

A frown entered her features when Mikasa realized that this was a college library, no place for a small girl.

“Wait, who are you? Where are your parents?”

The girl ignored all this, rudely.

“If you do like magic…”, she leaned closer, “Check the “Worlds Religions” section, the third row.”

“What are you talking about? H-hey!”

Not answering, the girl turned and walked away, disappearing between the bookshelves. Completely dumbfounded,  Mikasa sat for a while, wondering what kind of strange experience this was. Honestly, she should ignore that. It was a child, probably making fun of her because of the way Mikasa dressed. It meant nothing.

Maybe.

Most likely.

But what if…

“Screw it.”, two words that fell from between the goth’s lips and she was putting her stuff back in the bag, throwing it over her shoulder, and walking towards the religion section.

Deftly, her fingers ran along the covers as she searched, taking care that none of her rings scratched the books. Third row, was it? Eyes sliding over one book and then the next, Mikasa felt an uneasiness in her stomach upon finding nothing. It was a joke then. The girl….

Here.

This book didn’t belong here. Sure, it had a cross on the front, but that was the only marking. No title, no text, no explanation, only black leather and silver cross imprinted into it. Looking left and right, Mikasa made sure that she’s alone before grabbing the book and opening it, eyes widening immediately.

There were spells scribbled on the pages, strange words that made sense to her only because of the life-long obsession with the occult. Not that Mikasa didn’t see books like these before, but none of the spells in those worked. Yet this one – it appeared so suddenly, and the girl was so mysterious…..

Biting her bottom lip, Mikasa quickly stuffed the book in her bag, leaving the library right after. Studying could wait, her pursuit of magic could not. Nobody noticed her little thievery, nobody called out for her, and when she was walking home, a new hope was blooming in Mikasa’s chest.

Turning the key in its lock, she wasn’t surprised to see that her parents weren’t home. They worked long hours, days sometimes, and Mikasa was used to being alone. Kicking off her heavy leather boots she beelined towards the bedroom, shutting the door after herself. Bag dumped at the foot of the bed, Mikasa pulled out the book and sat cross-legged on the floor, truly studying it.

There were so many spells in the book, so many rituals, it made her head swim. Some were amazing, some terrible, some made her shiver, and other gasp in excitement.

“No point in getting worked up over nothing.”, she calmed herself, “If none of these work….”

A test then, a trial run of one of these, to see if this was real or yet another hoax. Randomly opening the book, her grey eyes slid over the text, taking in the chosen pages.

“A demon summoning ritual.”, she read out loud.

Okay, fine.

It was a fairly basic spell, and Mikasa had everything required. Chalk to draw a pentagram on the floor. Candles in each corner of the star. In the middle, a small bowl waited for her offering. Mikasa kneeled above it, as described in the book, a knife in one hand. Going by the instructions, she was supposed to cut herself, deep enough to bleed. That was fine, but the placement of the required cut was strange. Not a hand, as she usually did, this one had to be on her face beneath the right eye.

Well, Mikasa was determined.

Reading from the book, she began the ritual. The strange words made no sense to her, but it wasn’t the first time that she chanted something without understanding what. The spell was long and tedious to pronounce, luckily she had plenty of experience with speaking tongue-twisting words. Higher and higher her voice climbed until it was the time for the climax of the ritual. Gritting her teeth, Mikasa dragged the knife over her face, catching a few drops of blood into the bowl. Planting it back in the middle of the pentagram, she waited with bated breath, waited and….

Nothing happened.

Satan damn it.

A wave of sadness washed over her as Mikasa sat back on her heels, clutching the book to her chest. This was her best shot by far, and it didn’t do anything. Maybe it was finally time to accept that black magic simply didn’t ex…

A sudden explosion followed by black and red smoke threw her and Mikasa landed on her back, knocking her head against the floor. Her vision was swimming, but she could see that someone was standing in the middle of the pentagram now, a tall figure that angled its head back, a breathy chuckle coming.

“Damn, it's good to breathe air again.”

That voice. That damn voice. So deep, it rumbled through her entire being, tingled some parts that Mikasa didn’t even know existed. Pushing herself up on the elbows, Mikasa was about to ask what is going on when the being looked straight at her.

And she was lost.

Those green eyes pierced her, went right through any sort of mental strength, and dug into the deepest parts of her being. Not even giving her time to think the being moved, fast as a shadow, and suddenly her body was covered by someone. Falling back from the sudden assault with a yelp, Mikasa turned on her hip, still clutching that stupid book to her chest. Fearfully, she raised her eyes and finally saw what the hell did she just summon.

It was a demon all right. A man no doubt, naked from the waist up but (luckily) wearing black pants with multiple leather belts. Nothing strange on his body, at least from what Mikasa saw, but his head was quite a different story. There were horns on the top of his head, black and curved. Strange markings ran down from his emerald eyes, a bit like cuts, heading down the cheeks. Studying it, studying him, Mikasa realized one thing.

Their faces were damn close.

“So you are the one who summoned me?”, the demon asked, a smug smile crossing his admittedly very handsome features, “A girl?”

Mikasa’s throat was dry, so dry that she couldn’t even answer, but the demon didn’t seem to mind. He was looking at her too, eyes roaming all over her face and a certain satisfaction appearing. A strange ringing sound to her left, and suddenly there was a hand touching her, sweeping away hair that fell into her eyes.

He had claws, she realized, claws and torn shackles at his wrists. And while the claws did look sharp his touch was gentle, not hurting her in the slightest.

“A pretty girl at that.”, the demon continued his monologue, “Very pretty…. Beautiful …”

There was hunger in his words now, a primal one that made Mikasa shiver. She had to do something, otherwise this demon would devour her. Gathering all her mental strength, she clutched the book tighter and spoke.

More like squeaked.

“I-I am y-your master now! You c-came because of my c-calling, that ma-makes you mine!”

“Is that so?”, the demon wasn’t bothered by these words in the slightest, more like pleased if she read his face correctly, “Tell me, beautiful…”

Closer, closer he moved and now their faces were practically touching.

“Do you feel in power?”

Unable to speak, Mikasa shook her head as her lips trembled in fear. A single tear rolled from her eye, realizing that while she may have conducted the ritual, she had no idea how to control the demon. Yet before the tear could splash against the floor the demon caught it, a gentle claw swiping across her slightly bleeding cheek.

“There is no need to cry, pretty girl, I have no intention of hurting you.”

“Y-You don’t?”

“No, you are way too beautiful for that, I wouldn’t dream of tainting that. And…”, his nostrils flared as he took a lungful, “you smell wonderful.”

His head dipped low and suddenly it was on Mikasa’s neck. Lips parted and sharp teeth grazed the skin, making her think that despite the earlier words he might still hurt her. Instead of pain a soft kiss was planted on her neck, forcing a gasp from her throat. That sound pleased the demon.

“W-What are you doing?”, Mikasa choked out.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but you can’t expect me to come all this way from hell and want nothing in return….”, claws appeared again, this time on her upper thighs, dancing around the lace of her stockings, “There is an ocean of pleasure I could drown you in, my beauty, and I’m feeling generous tonight…”

Retreating from her neck the demon faced her again, the green eyes scorching with intensity.

“What do you say, mortal, want a taste?”

No! – her rational half screamed.

But…

He was so beautiful, so unreal, he was everything Mikasa dreamed about. Dark magic was real, it summoned a demon for her, one that was offering her pleasure. Those damn claws on her sensitive skin, the aftertaste of his lips on her neck, the delicious heat his body produced, pressed so close to her….

“Y-Yes.”, Mikasa found herself saying, unable to stop it, “I do.”

The smile that appeared on the demon’s lips, that was the epitome of smugness.

“Good.”

Without further ado, he crashed his lips into hers, finally kissing her. Mikasa was taken aback by this, head lolling back and jaw wrenched helplessly open. The demon’s tongue slipped into her mouth, abnormally long and dexterous, wrapping around her own in one slick motion. At the same time the claws moved, repositioning from her thighs to between them, pressing against her heat. Overcome at several places, Mikasa moaned out loud.

Black panties nudged aside, now the tip of the claw was teasing her wetness directly, building her frustration up. She couldn’t do anything, hands uselessly hanging on the side, the book cluttering on the floor. His tongue was everywhere in her mouth, taking it as its own home, even brushing against Mikasa’s throat. How long was that damn thing?

By the time he finally allowed her to breathe Mikasa was panting, eyes wide and cheeks boiling red. Observing the fruits of his labor, the demon noticed the blood still trickling down, his tongue sweeping out to lick at it.

“Delicious…”, he purred, gently caressing the tiny cut that was already healing, thanks to his tongue, “You taste wonderfully too.”

“P-Please…”, was all Mikasa could say, begging with her eyes more than with her words.

“Oh? Is there something you want?”, the rubbing grew even faster, forcing her to arch her hips and moan again.

“Please!”, she practically screamed, tilting her hips for a better angle.

Deciding that he had tortured her enough, the demon slipped a single finger inside her, exploring the fluttering walls. The penetration made her gasp wonderfully, eyes sliding shut from the intensity.  She was tight, tighter than he expected, making him frown.

“I don’t think that I can go all the way with you tonight, my beauty.”, he sighed, “It would hurt you too much.”

Summoning a single braincell to work, Mikasa cracked an eye open.

“W-What?”

The demon’s answer was a grin.

“Not to worry, I have many more weapons at my disposal.”

A second claw joined the first one, scissoring her open, and Mikasa lost control of her voice. With her mouth occupied by frantic breathing, the demon attacked the neck again, biting into the skin. She was so pale and colored beautifully beneath his teeth, and he chuckled inwardly imagining all the bruises that were sure to bloom on her.

There were wet sounds in the room, squelching as he fingered her, her body being such an amazingly reacting toy. Pulling his fingers out, the demon admired the trail of wetness that connected them to her twitching womanhood. Mikasa’s blood tasted wonderful, so how about….

The long tongue was back in action, she realized, watching as the demon licked his fingers clean from her essence, an expression of pure joy appearing on his features.

“Now this… This is something else.”, his eyes found hers, a wicked grin on the demon’s face, “I need to taste you properly.”

Faster than a snake he was gone, head appearing between her stockinged legs. With a quick swipe of his claw the demon snapped the waistband of her panties open, throwing the ruined underwear away. Grabbing Mikasa’s asscheeks he spread her open for him, planting his face exactly where she wanted it to be. Right against her throbbing sex.

If the abnormal demon tongue felt amazing in her mouth, having it down there was indescribable. Licking at her glistening outer lips first, he glided everywhere on the wet skin, cleaning it. And then he was inside. The long muscle slid into her, writhing around and Mikasa clasped her hands over her mouth just in time before a loud scream ripped its way from her throat. This was incredible.

Nothing ever came close to how the demon’s tongue made her feel. Never in her life did Mikasa experience this much pleasure because the tongue reached everywhere stimulating the entirety of her sex in long strokes and vibrations that she had no idea how he produced. Her eyes rolled back, her chest contracted, her legs clenched around his head. Relentless in his pursuit of Mikasa’s sweetness, the demon kept tongue-fucking her with a clear purpose in mind. To speed it up, to reach his feast faster, a single claw dragged over her swollen clit, pressing and rubbing and….

Mikasa lost it.

Complete whiteness washed over her vision as she came, her inner walls contracting wildly around the demonic tongue. She pulsed and pulsed and produced more of that delicious nectar that he eagerly drank in, not letting even a drop go to waste. Mikasa’s blood was delicious but this was beyond delicious, it was the best thing that he ever tasted and the demon couldn’t get enough.

When her body began to calm, a frown entered his handsome features.

“Oh no, this won’t do, I need more.”

Mikasa didn’t even get a chance to talk before the tongue slid inside her again and she screamed, eyes shutting and features contorting. Apparently once was not enough, and the demon was intent on making her come on his face again.

This was going to be a long night.

In the end, Mikasa lost count on how many times the demon made her cum. Not tiring, not needing a break, he kept pleasuring her, toying with her clit and abusing her sex. She was lost in an unending stream of happy hormones, drowning in that ocean of pleasure the demon promised her. His grip on her was firm and Mikasa’s hips were grounded, the demon didn’t allow her to move away from him, holding his prize close. Only when she was truly done and couldn’t do it anymore, when she whined in discomfort instead of pleasure did he pull back, sated.

For now.

Completely done and spent Mikasa was practically passed out, body unresponsive and eyes closed. Hands circled her, easily picking her up and carrying her a short distance. She was gently deposited in the bed and someone pulled the covers over her before a kiss was planted on her forehead. And then a heated whisper entered her ears, pushing its way into the brain even through the curtain of absolute exhaustion.

“If you want more, my beauty, you know where to find me.”, another kiss, this time on her lips, “I’ll be waiting.”

Finally, the darkness overcame her completely.

When Mikasa woke up, hours later, she thought that it all must have been a dream. That delusion lasted for only about a second before the rest of her body woke up, the ache in her lower regions demanding that she accepts the reality. Lifting the covers, Mikasa’s eyes shot open.

Her body was still fully clothed, as the demon didn’t bother with disrobing her, only her panties were gone. There were bruises, so many bruises on her upper thighs, the small part left uncovered by the stockings littered with bites. Her neck received a similar treatment, judging from the ache.

The pentagram was there, albeit the candles were snuffed out, the book lying innocently in the middle. Mikasa tried standing up to get it, only to realize that her legs refused to carry her and she fell back into the bed. Despite all this ache, despite all the unknown, Mikasa’s lips spread into a smile as she eyed the book.

The goth girl and her green-eyed demon are going to have so much fun together.

[icanshouyoutheworld]

Bakugou x fem!reader // ch.1

This is a style of fanfic I'm experimenting with - please let me know if you want more! Also, my inbox is open for haikyuu and bhna requests!

It’s been years since you’ve seen either Bakugou or Midoriya. You can’t help but think of them now, as you pedal down the street towards U.A. It’s your first day of school, having gotten in through recommendation, and a roiling mix of excitement and nerves rolls through your stomach.

You bet Bakugou will be there. At U.A, you mean. Back when you were all kids it’s all he went on about, wanting to be a hero, wanting to be the next All Might. Which, really, would have been all well and good if he wasn’t such a bastard to everyone he met. To Midoriya, in particular. You can clearly remember, even now, the way he’d kept himself on a pedestal above Midoriya at all times. Never taking an offered hand, never stopping to consider the weight of his actions and the damage they left behind.

You’d lost contact with the both of them during middle school after having moved away. It was only to the next city over, but it was far enough that you’d had to go to a different middle school. At first you’d kept contact with the both of them, willingly with Midoriya and grudgingly with Bakugou. You’d tried to put the two of them in a group chat with you but Bakugou wouldn’t have it and left immediately. Not long after that, you completely lost contact with him.

You always wondered how he was doing, but you weren’t sure if it was out of nostalgia for times-gone-by or genuine concern. Either way, Midoriya hadn’t ever really said more than the standard kacchan is doing just fine!! and not long after that you lost contact with him, too. You later heard from a friend who knew people at their middle school that Bakugou had broken Midoriya’s phone and, though you didn’t believe that the boy who kept a note of everything hadn’t thought to take a note of your phone number, you didn’t push it and eventually let it go.

That’s just how life goes really, people come and go.

Until now anyways. 

You’re almost certain that Bakugou is somewhere beyond the giant, gleaming doors to the entrance of U.A.

You release a slow breath; nervous but unable to fight the wide smile.

You’re finally here, afterall. After dreaming about U.A for so many years, dreaming of entering the hero course, you were finally about to live the reality.

By the time you’ve made it to the sliding door of 1-A your heart is thudding in your chest. From the stairs or from the apprehension? You don’t really know. You’re not sure you care, either. The elation of actually being here trumps everything else.

“I can do this,” you murmur under your breath. You place a hand over your chest, above your heart, feeling it pound and channelling that fear into excitement. I’ve got this, you think. I can do this.

You curl your fingers into the handle and slide the door open.

Bakugou is there. You were right. 

But thinking he was going to be there is one thing, actually seeing him is something else entirely.

He looks exactly how you remember him. Older, sure, but he’s exactly the same.

Your stomach bottoms out, your throat goes dry. You don’t know what to think, what to feel. You know you should be pissed off. Pissed off for how he treated Midoriya over the years, pissed off for how he refused to keep in contact with you. 

But you aren’t. If anything, you’re a little taken off-guard by how good-looking he is.

As soon as the thought registers in your mind, Bakugou’s eyes meet yours. 

They’re a burning red, and the intensity of his stare startles you for a second. A tall boy with glasses is lecturing him, clearly unperturbed by the fact that Bakugou is no longer paying him any attention and continuing to rant about Bakugou’s obviously-unchanged bad attitude.

Bakugo is sitting leaned back in his seat, his right leg thrown haphazardly up onto his desk, his hands stuffed low in his trouser pockets. He isn’t wearing a tie, his shirt is untucked and unbuttoned at the top, looking the absolute picture of disobedience. 

Though, you can’t help the way that your eyes are drawn to the rounded points of his collarbones that are framed in the V of his open collar. 

Bakugou still hasn’t spoken, neither have you. The students in the room continue talking, the world continues spinning, but you and Bakugou are frozen. 

He slowly lowers his leg off the table, leans forwards and opens his mouth as though to say something but is immediately cut off.

“y/n?” A voice says behind you. You jolt in surprise, not having expected anyone to come up behind you, and the voice immediately registers. It’s deeper than you remember, but there’s no mistaking it.

“Midoriya?” You say, with all the incredulity you were trying desperately not to show. You definitely hadn’t expected Midoriya to be here. He didn’t even have a quirk! Unless… unless, he’d lied to you? But… No. Midoriya wouldn’t lie to you like that, would he?

“Deku?” Clearly you weren’t the only one in shock. “How the fuck did you get in?” Katsuki yells, his voice as gruff as it is in your memories of him. 

“I-” Midoriya starts. Bakugou’s desk squeals across the floor as he stomps to his feet and shoves it away in a burst of power. Whatever haze of surprise had come over his face when he saw you was long-gone now, replaced by blazing fury and gritted teeth. The skin between his eyebrows pinches as he furrows them in anger. Midoriya squeaks as Bakugou grabs him by the front of his shirt. 

“You don’t even have a fucking quirk, stupid Deku!” Bakugou growls.

“Y-yes, I do!” Midoriya shouts back, standing his ground despite the tremor in his hands and unsteadiness of his voice. “You saw it!”

“You-”

“I earned this!” Midoriya continues, cutting Bakugou off. “I can become a hero!”

Bakugou sucks in a sharp breath, up close you don’t miss the flash of hurt across his face. He feels betrayed, you realise. The same as you do. You don’t hate Midoriya for it, you don’t even know what his quirk is. Maybe it just materialised late? But you can’t shake the uneasiness lodged in your gut. 

“I see you haven’t changed one bit?” You snap at Bakugou, sucking your teeth with a sharp tut and yanking Bakugou’s arm from Midoriya’s uniform. 

“What’s it to you, y/n?” Bakugou says sharply, shoving Midoriya away with a deft movement just to show he can. Midoriya stumbles back into the corridor for a moment, before righting himself and sheepishly fixing his clothing. 

“Ah, right. So you do remember me, then? I was beginning to think you’d forgotten.” You cross your arms over your chest and glare at Bakugou. Though, on the other side of the corridor sunlight is catching the swirling motes of dust, making them glitter the sort of gold that seems to set them on fire. Bakugou’s hair is caught in the light, in the gold, fly-away strands of his already unruly spikes glowing with it. It’s distracting, for a second you half-forget you’re meant to be angry.

“Ah! You got in! I knew you would!” A girl has come up behind them, her bag bouncing against her back as she jumps up and down, cheering for Midoriya. As frustrated as you are with him, you’re glad at least Midoriya seems to have made a decent friend. 

With a loud huff, Bakugou turns away. He shoulder barges you, very obviously on purpose as he returns back to his seat but you don’t give him the satisfaction of stumbling to the side. He’ll need to try harder than that if he wants to get you off-balance. You’re nothing like the girl he treated like an underling when you were kids. Given the right opportunity, you were more than confident that you could kick his ass, knock him down a peg. God knows he needs it.

“This isn’t a place for socialising,” another voice drones from behind you and, really, you need to stop letting people creep up on you like this. First Midoriya, then his friend, and now… Ah. The teacher. Well. You can’t really fight with that. 

Although, teacher may be a stretch. You recognise Aizawa immediately, even through the mess of black hair covering his face in mussed clumps from where he lays on his side in a bright yellow sleeping bag. He looks like some sort of overgrown larvae. 

“This is the hero course,” he says flatly, pointedly sucking a pouch of juice empty for emphasis. “It’s taken you far too long to quiet down.” He slowly peels himself out of the sleeping bag and gets to his feet. “Time’s precious, you lot are wasting it.”

Aizawa pins you with a dry look and you hurry to take a seat. Which unfortunately turns out to be the one right behind Bakugou. All of the other’s are taken, though. Midoriya and his friend had rushed for a seat at the same time, and managed, somehow, to seat themselves before you.

Bakugou’s eyes follow you as you walk around him to your desk. His lips are pursed in a scowl, his nostrils flaring slightly as though he’s restraining himself from something. His shoulders bunch tensely as I sit behind him. 

“I’m your homeroom teacher,” Aizawa continues. “It’s nice to meet you. Now, put your gym clothes on and head to the grounds.”

Bakugou’s back jolts with a scoff you don’t hear.

Then, he turns his head. His profile catches in the light, catches the red of his eyes, giving them a rich, liquid quality. A shadow accentuates his sharp jawline as he speaks.

“You’re going fucking down,” he threatens, not once breaking eye-contact. 

You stand from your seat and, before you can even question where the confidence has come from, you slap his shoulder as you walk past him.

“You can try.” You wink.