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soundsgoodfeelslikeshit · 3 years ago

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Jealousy, Jealousy

Anonymous asked: Can i request where reader feels she's no longer good enough to be around the pogues because kiara doesn't like her and is jealous of how she is with them?

Summary: Kiara had always been jealous of Y/N, whether it be the way she looked, talked, carried herself, or the way she was perceived by the island. One thing Kiara could never get over was how she was with the other pogues. She had been around longer, leaving her closer to all of them making Kiara feel as though she was always missing some inside joke. After a night of drinking Kiara explodes, leaving an awkward tension between the group.

"Are you coming to the Boneyard tonight?" Joh B asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

"Uh, I'm honestly not sure. Promised I'd be home at a reasonable time tonight." You said with a slight laugh.

"Oh, come on what's one more day being out late?" JJ asked slinging his arm across your shoulders.

"J, you know how my mom gets when I break promises."

"Yeah guys, just let her stay home if she doesn't want to come. It's just one party." Kie said uninterested.

You shot a confused look to the guys and then looked at Kie.

"Don't sound so happy I won't go." You said with a laugh.

"No, no, no that's not what I meant at all," Kie said quickly.

"I'm just kidding Kie."

"But really, you should come if you can Y/N/N," Pope said as JB pulled into Kie's dock.

"We'll see."

..............................................................................................................................

"Y/N just let me know if stay at John B's tonight. I don't mind you going out, I'm gonna have an early night anyway." Your mom said.

"I will mom, I love you."

"Love you too, let us know if you need anything."

You nodded your head and headed to your room to change. You weren't exactly in the most party mood, so you just opted for a pair of sweat shorts and a swimsuit top.

By the time you had gotten to the Boneyard the party was in full swing. Everyone was drunk or having a good time with other substances.

You laughed to yourself as you went in search of your friends. Spotting JJ and Pope first you smiled and ran up to them.

"Hey, you made it!" Pope said hugging you.

"Yeah, my mom decided she was going to bed early, didn't want me to miss the fun."

"Well good, we're gonna have a bonfire after this back at the Chateau," JJ said.

"Alright cool." You said with a smile.

Your smile quickly vanished as your eyes laid on Kie, who was completely hammered and crying.

"Kie! What's wrong?" You asked quickly, helping the girl to sit.

"Like you don't know." She said with a bitter laugh.

"What?" You asked removing your hand from her back.

"Gosh you are so damn oblivious aren't you? You are what's wrong."

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you looked at your friends for help.

"Kie she didn't do anything." John B said coming to your defense.

"This is my issue! You all defend her and she has no faults does she?!" Kie screamed.

"Kiara, stop." Pope tried.

"NO! You can't tell me I need to stop! She's the reason you all make me feel like I'm missing something, some kind of inside joke. Little miss perfect everything makes me feel like I'm not good enough and never will be. I wish I could have the relationship she has with all of you, but that could only be accomplished by her having met you after me. Just another pogue born who met you guys first. I don’t like her.” She spat.

"Alright, I've had enough." You muttered turning to walk away.

"What? You can't stand to hear this because you know it's true? I'm sure you do it on purpose. You want the whole island to know of you like this cool, chill girl and that makes them think I'm stuck up because I'm not just like you."

"You sound so stupid right now! You don't have to be me, jealousy is a hell of a thing. If you listened at all while we were best friends instead of picking out everything about me that makes you feel terrible, you would know my life is far from perfect. I don't try and make you feel bad. Kie everyone has their struggles, especially with comparing themselves to other girls. This is by no means fair to just assume that you are the only one out of us who has them." You said and walked away this time done with the conversation at hand.

"Hey, where are you going?" JJ asked, running to grab your hand.

"I'm going home. I knew I should've stayed there. I'll see you guys tomorrow or something." You said with a sigh.

"No. She doesn't get to chase you off. She does not get the power. Let's go to the Chateau and lay down. I'm not letting you drive in this emotional state." JJ said looking at you worriedly.

He watched you carefully as your eyes filled with tears.

"It's fine J, go enjoy the party. My house is like 10 minutes away. I'll call my mom and have her watcha movie with me when I get home."

"I already know you were just going to sit in your room and ignore everyone for a week while you bottle up your emotions." He said taking the car keys from your hand.

You sighed and allowed him to help you into the passenger side. He gripped your hand after he got into the driver's side and began the short drive back to the Chateau. The conversation he tried to start quickly fell into an unanswered silence as you stared ahead at the road.

When your truck pulled into the Chateau's drive and JJ came and helped you out again even though you were more than capable of doing it on your own.

"Let's go get ready for bed." He mumbled against your ear, leading you to the spare room. You sighed when you knew the night would finally be drama-free.

"Want tea? Water? Beer?" JJ asked, causing you to shake your head in response.

You turned your back to JJ and unclipped your swimsuit top, bending down to grab one of his discarded T-shirts. Your shorts quickly followed suit of your top and you climbed into bed. Taking your phone you texted your mom to let her know you were staying at John B’s.

“Hey don’t shut me out,” JJ said reaching for your shoulder.

“I just don’t get it. I would never make Kie feel like that on purpose. I just I don’t know J.”

“Just try and get some sleep. We’ll figure it out in the morning. Sound good?”

You nodded your head despite knowing you would go home tomorrow morning.

..............................................................................................................................

You woke up and groaned. You didn’t want to deal with Kie or have to face the tension she created in the group. Tugging JJ’s arm off your waist, you stood up and looked around for some of your clothes. It was a mess of things thrown around on the floor.

“Hey what’re you doin,” JJ asked sitting up.

“Going home,” you replied.

JJ’s face contorted in confusion before he climbed out of bed.

“Hey. Look at me.” He said as he grabbed your chin.

“J I can’t right now, okay?”

“She doesn’t get this power of you. We can all make our own decisions.”

“I get that but I need to go home and see my mom. I’ll text you guys I promise. Can you help me find some clothes though? This place is a shit show.”

He chuckled and dug around before tossing you a bra and one of your shirts. You pulled out a pair of your panties and your shorts from the night before and headed to the bathroom.

Once you were changed you went to the kitchen to see John B leaning against the counter.

“Sup,” he said watching you.

“Hey.”

“Where ya going?”

“Home. My mom was expecting me home last night but J wouldn’t let me drive.” You said pulling your shoes on.

“Just so you know there are no harsh feelings towards you it’s towards Kie for acting like that.”

You nodded and looked at the floor. You felt him embrace you and you reluctantly hugged him back.

“I mean it, so stop beating yourself up for what she said and what she feels, okay?” He asked pushing you to an arm's length.

“Yeah, I got it.” You mumbled, “I’ll see y’all later.”

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After being home for a while you went upstairs to be by yourself since you’d sat with your mom for advice and to watch a random show with her.

Your phone was seemingly vibrating to no end when you arrived in your room. Picking it up you were getting a FaceTime call from the boys.

Deciding to pick up you saw them smiling at you.

“We couldn’t get you to answer any of our texts we thought we were gonna have to bust in your house,” Pope said with a laugh.

“Yeah sorry I left my phone in my room while I was with my mom. What’s up?”

“We wanted to have the bonfire tonight since it didn’t work out last night,” JB spoke.

“I’m okay, invite Kie though. Sure she’d love to have you guys all to herself. Maybe she’ll even replace my friendship.” You said sarcastically.

“Shut up, you know she can’t, it’s a different friendship between us and you and us and her,” JJ said with a glare.

“Ye-“ you started but you were stopped by your mom calling for you.

“Gotta go guys, but yeah won’t be able to make it out tonight. Love you!” You said before hanging up.

You sighed knowing that you were just making the decision easier for them by distancing yourself. If Kie didn’t like you and didn’t want you around you would be busy when they wanted to hang out.

..............................................................................................................................

A few weeks had gone by and you hadn’t seen the Pogues since the morning after the argument with Kie. You didn’t speak to Kie, but you occasionally spoke with JJ and the others every so often. Kie would never realize but you felt like shit ever since her outburst and you weren’t sure why but you didn’t feel good enough to hang around the Pogues anymore. It was obvious none of the other Pogues felt the way as Kie, they would have booted you from the friend group long before, but there was just the feeling that you could not shake.

.............................................................................................................................

Your days were pretty normal, helping your mom run her shop, surfing in the evening or in the mornings, fixing up various parts of your house, and sometimes going to the beach to relax and tan. This day however was not relaxing at all, all of the Pogues decided to make an appearance, Kie included. You looked in their direction before picking up your stuff and beginning to head home.

You were beginning to walk over the dune when Kie called out to you, causing you to turn and look at the girl. Folding your arms you waited for the group to approach. Kie greeted you with a smile, which you glared at.

"Glad to see you're happy you got what you wanted." You sneered at her.

"This isn't what I wanted." Kie defended.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's not. I gotta go," You said and turned away from her.

Kiara grabbed your arm and you began to pull your arm away from her.

"Do not touch me," You seethed, glaring at the brunette girl.

"What is your issue?" Kiara groaned, looking to the guys for defense.

"You are my problem, sorry to use your own words against you. You made me feel like I couldn't come around my friends, the people I treat and call my family because I make you feel like shit! Now I'm the one left feeling like they aren't good enough. So congrats Kie, you got what you always wanted! Them to yourself." You stated and with that, you walked away.

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shoutogepi · 5 years ago

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Jealousy Has Its Perks

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 10.4K holy shit im tired

[ ✘ (nsfw!), ☀︎ ] sin with a cute ending

themes : jealous,dom!shouto, brat,sub!reader, friends with benefits, degradation, quirk use, edging, overstimulation, general bdsm things, & a sweet lil confession

bio : Even though you’re not his, Shouto can’t help but turn green with envy when he sees you dancing on another man at the club.

author’s note : uhhhh can i get a hell yeahhHHH for jealous fwb trope? lmao my basic ass loves these. hope y’all do too <3

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🅂hinsou’s hands land on your waist, cold fingertips pressing into your exposed midriff and guiding your hips along with his. The circular motion has your head spinning, and you let your skull fall back onto his sturdy chest at the feeling of his semi brushing against your ass. Shinsou’s purple locks tickle your neck as he bends and presses his lips to your skin, sucking on the skin just hard enough to leave a ghost of a bruise. His hands cup your hips, squeezing the flesh there softly while his thumbs trace the crest of the bones.

The song blasting through the club changes, a novel and heavy bass causing your throat to vibrate. The sudden need to quench your thirst emerges, and you pull away from the handsome man regretfully. His lavender irises regard you with understanding as you point to the bar, holding up a finger to signal you won’t be long.

Your heels stick to the dancefloor slightly as you cut through the throngs of club-goers, and unsurprisingly a handful of guys attempt to stop you on your travels. Finding a familiar pink head of hair, you slip into the empty spot next to Ashido and let out a sigh of relief as your elbows land on the wooden counter. Perspiration makes the hairs at the back of your neck stick to your skin, and you fan yourself with a cocktail napkin as you attempt to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Not doing so bad for yourself, Y/N,” Ashido grins at you coyly, her words a tad slurred as her black eyes give you a once-over.

You let out a chuckle, painted lips curving knowingly. “Yeah, well… he used to have a crush on me back in the day,” you explain with a nonchalant shrug, finally giving your order to the woman behind the bar. You look at Shinsou over your shoulder, who has returned to his table of friends and is currently being shoved, high-fived, and noogied animatedly.

Ashido gasps exaggeratedly, her mouth turning from an ‘o’ of shock to a grin of delight. “Two heroes wrapped around your finger at once? I can’t believe you,” she laughs, perhaps too hard, because you have to hold her arm tightly to keep her from falling off her stool.

“Hey now, I’m a free woman!” You reason, thanking the bartender as they hand you an icy glass. “I can fool around with whoever I want, thank you very much.”

“Can’t argue with sound logic,” Ashido taps your glass with hers, throwing back the remaining contents of her drink. “You know, you should tap Bakugou, too. Last night, he Lord-Explosion-Murdered this pussy.”

You snort, the alcohol burning your nostrils as it leaks into your nose from the abrupt reaction to Mina’s words. All the pink-haired woman does is laugh with you, the both of you maybe a step past tipsy but not nearly blackout drunk. Not yet, anyway.

“Shinsou though, really? I’m surprised… I thought you were too in love with IcyHot’s dick to tap anybody else,” Ashido teases, poking your shoulder as a frown forms on your face. Her words are playful, but they send irritation surging through your veins. That asshole had cancelled your weekly appointment tonight, which is why you’re here at the club, prowling for a suitable replacement.

You shrug again, allowing the bitter liquid to drift past your lips before you speak again. “What can I say? He knows how to get the job done, and he’s sexy as hell.”

“You sound a little smitten. He must be pretty damn good,” Ashido wiggles her brows at you, a devious smile making its way to her face.

You disregard her comment, looking away from your friend with an eye roll. Smitten? Your relationship with Shouto is strictly physical. But maybe you had been a bit too disappointed when he’d sent you that text earlier. Shaking your head, you take a gulp of your drink, willing the intrusive thought to disappear.

Ashido’s phone vibrates and you watch her face light up at the message. After a brief moment, she stands, collecting her jacket and purse. “Hmm, seems like Bakugou is calling for an emergency meeting,” she winks at you, flashing you a rather lewd photo of the blonde that was clearly not meant for you to see as she walks away. “Give my regards to Shinsou! I wanna hear about all the nasty stuff he does to you with that mind control quirk of his.”

You can’t help but chuckle at that, sighing as you cross your arms. Would Shinsou really be enough to satisfy your cravings? His quirk does interest you sexually, but it’s unclear if he’d be willing to dominate you like that. He always seemed like the type to go with the flow… and tonight, you really need someone to force you to swim against the current, so to speak.

“Shinsou, huh?”

Speak of the icy devil. The voice behind you makes your body still, your eyes widening at his deep tone. The scent of his encaptivating cologne infiltrates the air around you, and a hand slides around your waist, pushing you backwards against his firm chest. You swallow, your tongue poking out to wet your lips in anticipation. What’s he doing here?

“Already forgetting about me, angel?” Lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his hand gliding across your torso until it reaches the other side of your waist, grabbing there and spinning you around. He catches you as you turn, snatching your wrist with his other hand to steady your half-finished drink.

You look up into his heterochromatic eyes, noticing a new emotion simmering there. Is that… jealousy? His cold breath fans over your flushed face, and you bask in the cool relief it provides in contrast to the stuffy club air. “It was you who cancelled our appointment,” you murmur, feigning innocence as you look to the side in a faux-bashful manner, “I needed to find a substitute. A girl has needs, you know.”

Shouto grins down at you, but it seems like more of a snarl as his eyes glare down at you with hostility. One eyebrow raised in mockery, he chuckles lowly. “And Shinsou Hitoshi is gonna do that for you? Are you sure he’s big enough to fill my shoes, angel?”

Your eyes wander back to the intimidating man before you, lingering on the ridges of his muscular form hidden underneath his button-up and slacks. Feeling brave, you down the rest of your drink, tongue rolling out and over the lip of the emptied glass. Shouto’s eyes burn as they follow the movement, his lips parting slightly while his grip tightens on your waist. Shooting him a playful smile, you tug your wrist free, placing the vacant glass on the bar. “What are you even doing here, Shouto?” You change the subject, hand reaching up to tug on his slim tie as a cheeky grin splits your lips. “You don’t like to have fun.”

The action causes him to lean closer to you, his face next to yours. “I was dragged here against my own will, of course— boy’s night. But would you believe my surprise when I saw my little minx walk in, all eyes on her in her skimpiest dress?” His baritone voice loud and clear despite the blaring music, his lips hover dangerously close. The hand you’d freed strikes your ass abruptly, causing you to jump closer to him in shock. His fingers hold the reddened cheek through the thin material of your dress, gathering you into his chest. No one seems bothered by the blatantly sexual action in the club, everyone distracted with their drinks and their own sensual pursuits. “And then, can you imagine how I felt watching her grind up against mind-control, watching him put his filthy fucking hands on what’s mine?”

You let out a heavy breath, delighted at how responsive he is. How possessive he is. “What’s yours?” You challenge, hands landing on his broad chest. His expression makes you press your legs together eagerly, your body starting to bend to his will.

Shouto’s hand leaves your waist to cradle the back of your neck, forcing you to bend your gaze to meet his. “Mine,” he whispers, his lips inching closer to yours by the second. Your pulse pounding, your fingers curling into the cotton of his shirt, your eyes flutter closed. His lips brush over yours, and then he pulls away.

A whine of protest escapes you, and you shove your palms against his chest in annoyance. But he doesn’t even budge, his fingers slipping into your hair and pulling your defiant face to look at him.

“Let’s get outta here, angel,” he nods toward the exit, releasing you and lightly smacking your ass again before his fingers settle at the small of your back, “I think I need to remind you who you belong to.” Shivers shoot down your spine at his choice of words, effectively drowning the bratty response you were so ready to quip at him. Without even a glance at Shinsou, you allow Shouto to guide you out of the establishment and into the crisp night air.

The brisk walk to his luxurious apartment is silent, but laden with anticipation. Your brain begins to ponder if his words had a deeper meaning. The two of you had been engaging in this affair for months now— you aren’t quite sure how it came to be. Your relationship had remained stringently physical, but you couldn’t help the butterflies that filled your stomach when he held you through the night, when his hands would rub your exhausted body tenderly, and when he would kiss you for hours before you’d slip into a satiated, peaceful slumber. And you did not dare to acknowledge the warmth that would blossom in your chest when you’d drowsily awake, still swaddled against his muscular chest with his arms around you as sunlight peeked through the blinds. Physical, yes— your relationship is only physical… regardless of the fuzzy feelings that ebb through you when you’re next to him.

And when he had proposed to have you come over twice in one weekend, you’d nearly panicked at the raw excitement that coursed through you at the premise. After much consideration you had denied his request, fearful that if you allowed yourself even a shred of further indulgence you’d be entirely consumed by the captivating man. He hadn’t overstepped that boundary since, and you weren’t sure if you felt appreciative or disappointed.

Your train of thought is interrupted as you reach the tall doors of his apartment building. The complex is perhaps one of the most expensive in the city— the lobby boasts flat leather sofas and sleek wooden tables. Lush tropical plants with leaves as wide as tennis rackets break up the space, magnificent orchids dotting the area just sparingly enough, and to top it off, an entire wall with running water rushing over the flat surface, creating a sheet of liquid that trickles quietly as you wait for the elevator.

Next to you, Shouto has his hands in his pockets, a blank expression on his face as usual. But after months of getting to know him, you can easily recognize the irritation lingering on his handsome mug. You are not able to think of any words that could possibly calm Shouto’s crackling, brooding intensity, but honestly, a large part of you desperately wants to find out what exactly he has in store for you. It’s clear that he has no intention of forgetting you were about to leave with another man, and his blatant acrimony brings a sliver of joy to you while jealousy oozes out of his every pore— you know you’re in for a wild night.

When the door closes with a deafening click behind you, your body freezes as you wait with bated breath. Sure enough, two large hands curl around your stomach, coasting down your pelvis in a V shape. His long fingers nearly graze your clothed slit, but he changes direction at the last moment, instead securing his palms on your inner upper thighs. He rubs the flesh there roughly, making your head fall back against his shoulder as you gaze up at him. His smoky eyes are already on you, a smirk decorating his pretty lips as his fingers work on your sensitive muscles. Thumbs brushing against the sides of your panties, his movements push the hem of your short dress up along your hips.

“You need to be fucked pretty bad, huh, angel?” He taunts, analyzing how your ass rubs zealously against his crotch. His smirk only grows as you nod, your hand flying up to grapple onto his bicep. “Bad enough to drop your standards so embarrassingly low?”

You snort at his words, turning your head so your eyes catch his. This asshole has some nerve getting jealous after he was the one who cancelled on you. “Shinsou is just as hot as you, Shouto,” you reply boldly, wondering what exactly the price of your words will be. How far can you push this envious beast? Will you be able to take his punishment?

Shouto’s expression darkens, allowing his hair to fall over his eyes as his stare falls to the floorboards. His hands leave your skin, and you whirl around ready to dish out another line, but he’s already a step ahead of you. He lashes out, yanking your body against his by swooping his hand underneath your thigh and cupping your bare ass. He lifts your body so your heels leave the floor, rushing to press your back flat against the drywall. He’s hoisted you up high enough to set your ass against the thin, tall table next to the door which usually holds his keys.

Your legs parted with him standing between them, he places his hands on the tops of your thighs. A low chuckle rumbles out of him, his tidy fingernails trailing up your flesh. “Just as hot as me, hmm? Is he really, Y/N?” His left hand jumps from your thigh to your cunt, the only barrier between you two your skimpy panties. The heat emanating off his palm catches you off guard, a moan tearing out of you as he easily cups your covered sex, sending a searing fever through your body.

“Fuck,” you whimper, hips bucking instinctively against his palm, your body hoping for some kind of friction. The heat makes your pussy twitch, stirring as a cat slowly pulled from a deep slumber.

He tilts his head, as if he doesn’t understand why you’re breathless. “Huh? What was that?” He wiggles his fingertips a bit, enjoying how you whine as the ends of his blistering fingers dig into your core through the material of your panties. Your wetness drips through the thin cloth to coat his hot digits, making it easier to glide them against you.

“More, Shouto,” you squeak, panting heavily as his fingers rub along your slit at an infuriatingly slow pace.

Shouto lets out a low purr of satisfaction at your plea, savoring how your smooth leg tenses up underneath his other palm. Your sweet whimpers are music to his ears, his right hand moving around your thigh to meander toward your ass. “No, baby. Not until my angel answers me,” he murmurs, ducking his head down and placing his lips against the delicate skin on your neck.

A wayward moan evades your gasping lungs as his tongue ravishes your flesh, his teeth scraping over the wet skin. Your legs wrap around his waist, wiggling your body forward so your soft breasts press up against his hard chest, your cunt inching closer to his crotch. “Ugh— nooo,” you gasp as a fingertip presses harshly against your core, just barely pushing your panties into your pussy.

“No? No what?” He laughs darkly, his breath tickling your sensitive collarbone. He draws back from you, his intense gaze focusing on the other side of your neck before he looks directly at you, a sinister glint in his eyes.

Your lip trembling, the brat you’d been so ready to let free is for once taciturn at his dominance. Your submissive nature leaking out in desperation, you whine when his fingertip recedes slightly, leaving your panties barely inside of you without the pressure you really want. “No— Shinsou’s not nearly as hot as you, Shouto!” You rush out, heavy breaths making your chest rise and fall swiftly, restless for his touch to return to you.

But Shouto does not seem appeased by your admission. In fact, his gaze becomes a glare, his mouth curling into a snarl as he grabs your hips, crushing your body against his. “I hate hearing another man’s name come out of your pretty little mouth, Y/N,” he growls.

You’re shocked by his possessiveness, your eyes widening like saucers as his teeth skim your pouting lips. His proclamation makes a cocktail of doubt and lust unfurl in the corners of your body, but you’re torn as you wonder if he really thinks of you as his. Before you can ponder the meaning behind his statement, his eyelids shut and he smashes his lips onto yours.

Your arms are around his neck in less than a second, all thoughts vanishing as your nails scratch his scalp through the short, buzzed hair at the base of his undercut. He groans against your mouth, eliciting a moan from you in response. He takes the opportunity in stride, his hot tongue thrusting into your mouth as hot steam puffs out his nose, his calloused hands squeezing your body carnally. Your lips dance with his clumsily, your other hand cupping the corner of his sharp jawline and pulling his lips closer to yours.

He pulls away from you as your hips begin to grind against his, his eyes still closed with his lips pulling back into a snarky smile. Your needy mewl of disappointment makes his eyes slit open, regarding you with a predatory gaze. He takes in your desirous expression, his stare cold yet sizzling with passion. “You let him defile your perfect skin, angel?”

The hickey Shinsou had left is barely even that— nearly indistinguishable from your skin tone— yet Shouto’s eyes make the flesh on your neck blister with his scalding intensity. Your cheeks flush red, his words fanning the fire inside of you as you bite your lip. You had hoped he wouldn’t notice, but now you realize it was foolish of you to even allow yourself to think his perceptive gaze would skip over something so blatant.

“This heavenly body is mine to mark,” he hisses, a hand fisting your hair and pulling your neck back roughly to reveal the hidden skin from the shadows. The vaguely purple mark now on display in the dim mood lighting of his entryway, more steam billows from the man as he sneers in contempt. “And only mine. Got it, baby?” He does not allow you to answer— his mouth attacks the bruise, harshly sucking the skin while he washes away any recollection of the other man with ferocious swipes from his strong tongue.

Your back bows, your body wriggling in his grasp at the surge of devastating arousal that pulses through you. You shriek his name, hands clawing hysterically into his shoulder and the soft hair atop his head. Your pussy clenches around nothing, making you very aware of the aching need for him to claim you building in your core. Your legs snag his hips closer to yours, his body crashing into you as he grunts, lips finally releasing your battered skin. Without a doubt, the once indistinct mark is now more akin to the remnants of a punch to the throat, the colors already eclipsing into a deep shade of violet.

The lust crackles in the air between you two like thunder, your body a savannah ready to receive the generous relief of the first deluge in months. God, it’d only been a week since you last saw the man, but the unmitigated yearning for him to ravage you is the only emotion you can process.

“Please, Shouto, I need you to fuck me,” you beg, the words slipping out of you like a wet bar of soap from your desperate clutches. You’re mortified at your shamefully wanton admission, your cheeks still red and your body flushed, nearly shaking. You are not accustomed to this submissive side of yourself, but the brat inside of you only watches on in avid curiosity. If he doesn’t escalate this tryst fast enough, you’re afraid your body will fold like a limp noodle in his strong arms.

Shouto seems just as affected as you, his pupils dilated and his erection painfully straining against the confines of his slacks. His hands leave your frame, going to loosen the collar of his shirt by yanking his tie loose and then beginning to unbuckle his belt. You lean forward, your lips meeting his again as your fingers eagerly land on his cheeks, beckoning him closer to you. He moans into your mouth, fist nearly ripping the leather belt from the loops on his slacks, the metal of the snake-shaped buckle klinking loudly as he discards it carelessly onto the tabletop. Hands trailing up your spine, he tugs the zipper of your dress down your back, effortlessly lifting your hips in one hand to slip the garment under your ass and off your legs.

The inferno of jealousy ignites once again as he appraises your figure, clad in a matching set of white silky lace adorned with satin ribbons on each hip and one beneath the valley of your breasts. You’d worn this and Shinsou had almost seen such a marvel? Seen your delectable body in this gorgeous lingerie that he himself had never feasted his starved eyes upon?

Unaware of his change in mood, your lips move along his, begging for him to kiss you back as your tongue swipes his full bottom lip. His palms slide along your back, moving to cup your ass cheeks as he picks you up. You nibble on his earlobe as he swiftly carries you to his bedroom, his fingers jabbing into your behind in response. He kicks open the ajar door forcefully, unflinching as the doorknob nearly cracks the wall. Sliding onto the edge of the mattress, he sits with you on his lap, your legs still secure around his torso. His rough palms glide over your hips, rounding your waist and seizing your breasts, lifting the flesh to sit more perkily on your chest in perfectly round spheres.

“Why are you so fucking gorgeous, Y/N?” He groans, eyes closing in pleasure as you feel his cock twitch beneath you. He presses his mouth to the supple skin just above the cusp of the bra, slurping and nipping and leaving a trail of pretty pink marks. “You’re damn ethereal, angel.”

You’re gasping for air, hips unabashedly rolling against his, the feeling of his strained length making your desire for him to fuck you senseless multiply. Your hands latch onto his broad shoulders to steady yourself, your mind spinning dizzily with desire and the prolonged buzz from your earlier drinks.

“Take off my tie.”

The command rouses you from your far-away state, your fingers slightly trembling as you work on the silky material of the tie. After what seems like an eternity, the knot loosens and the tie slides off his neck into your hands. Shouto’s lips cover yours again, instantly enchanting you so that you don’t notice the sleek item slip through your fingers.

All of a sudden your front meets the cool sheets, your lips ripped away from his. Instead your face meets his pillow, engulfing your senses in the sexy, virile smell of him. You moan into the pillow, ass pushing into the air as your cunt throbs between your legs, ready to be taken in whatever manner he decides. His knees land on either side of your hips, his bulge rubbing into your ass teasingly as his hands close around your wrists. Tugging them behind your back carefully, he loops the tie around the both of them and fastens the knot with a firm pull, jerking once more for good measure.

You swallow into the pillow, teeth poking out to capture your bottom lip when he trails a sole finger along your spine. He’d never tied you up like this before, and the concept excites you to the point that your arousal visibly permeates your white panties.

“Do you feel that?” Shouto inquires, rutting his hips against your bottom so his clothed cock rubs between your ass cheeks. He’s panting lightly, his palms groping your ass and pinching the skin torturously. “Can you feel how much I want you, Y/N?”

“Fuck yes,” you answer, your head turning to lay against the pillow so he can see half your face and hear your voice. “I want you too, Shouto— I need you.”

He sighs at your saccharine words, almost swayed by your submissive antics. If he gives in now, his cock could be in your tight hole in just seconds… But then he wouldn’t get to have his way with you.

“Mmm, you’re cute when you’re desperate, baby,” he remarks, grasping your hips and pulling you down the sheets. He maneuvers you over his lap, and your eyes bug out of your skull as you assume position, knowing what comes next— he’d only done this once before but the memories of that night makes your pussy twinge excitedly. Your arms tied behind your back, your face dangles perilously beside his ankle, your forehead almost skimming the wooden floor. Your body is stiff, and Shouto hums as his hands drift along every inch of your back, ass, and the backs of your thighs.

“I wanna give you what you want, angel, but I promised I would remind you who you belong to, didn’t I?” His words are phrased like a question, but his tone implies them as a statement. Unsure what he wants, you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue.

Apparently, that’s the wrong move, because his freezing hand slaps down hard onto your ass. A mix between a shout and a whine falls out of your lips, your fingers clutching onto themselves in apprehension. Your breathing picks up, ascending into a pant as his other hand caresses the reddened skin with a soothing heat exuding from his palm.

“Did you know I was going to be at the club tonight?”

His question catches you off guard, and you think for a moment before replying with a simple, honest “No.”

Shouto lets out a long sigh, his warm hand leaving your ass and making you tense in preparation.

“So you wore this little number thinking you would just show it to whomever you went home with?” Oh, that’s where he’s going with this.

Again, you’re not sure how to answer. Either way will be unsatisfactory— either you say yes and that would certainly result in a jealous smack, or you say no and he’d spank you for lying to him. You cannot come to a decision fast enough, and the next frigid slap across your other ass cheek steals your breath away as you whimper, your pussy clenching in sadistic delight.

“Answer me, angel. Or I’ll turn this flawless little ass of yours scarlet.”

“I bought it for you!” You blurt out meekly, your cheeks flushing with mortification. It’s not a direct answer to his question, but it’s more than enough to amuse him.

The warmth of his left hand feels hotter this time as it curves around your irritated skin. “Oh?” Shouto all but purrs, his brow raised in interest. “For me, angel?”

You nod, even though your head is below his eye level. “I was gonna wear it tonight, just for you,” you whisper sincerely, blush bright red as your thumbs rub over your knuckles in a self-soothing manner. Deciding you’re already deep enough into your embarrassing confession, you finish your thought with your eyes scrunched shut as you prepare yourself for what you know will come next. “But you rainchecked, so I… thought Shinsou might enjoy it instead.”

Shouto remains eerily quiet for a moment, your heartbeat accelerating wildly as he leaves you waiting, questioning just how he will react. Your body jumps as his left hand swirls around your hips, his arm resting on your back to gather your ass higher across his lap. The neat bows on your panties unravel at your hips, the cool air hitting your swollen cunt as the material is snatched away and discarded. He forces you to wait for another dizzying pause, the urge to squirm in his grasp tempting but you force yourself to stay motionless.

Tears spring into your eyes as his palm crashes against you, his arctic hand causing your body to thrash in recoil, and a strong gust of chilled wind slapping against your dripping folds. A shaky breath escapes you, morphing into a distraught cry when his hot thumb plunges into your aching core, rubbing and curling against your shuddering walls with spite.

“I thought I told you not to say his fucking name,” Shouto jeers, taking his thumb out of you to rub mercilessly betwen your petals, spreading your abundant slick with ease. Coasting down to your clit, he smirks as you sob, your legs quaking.

Your hips jut backwards on their own accord, forcing his thumb to penetrate your cunt again. You moan at the stimulation, squeezing the digit and grinding so it presses against your velvet walls.

He chuckles, pressing the finger as deep as he can and savoring the shameless wails the action induces. “How can you look so pure and act so naughty?” He wonders aloud, his frosty hand trailing along your thigh as he works his thumb inside of you. “You’re really just a little slut, aren’t you? Fucking yourself with my finger so brazenly.” He sighs as he feels your core clenching around his thumb, grinning as you whine at the loss of the digit.

“Please, just fuck me,” you exclaim, turning your face to look at his haughty gaze above you, “Make me forget about anyone else!”

Shouto pinches your inflamed ass cheek, forcing another whimper to croak out of your throat. “Aha, is that your game, angel? Want me to fuck you so hard I’m the only man you see? Fuck this little pussy so good no other cock can satisfy you, hmm?” He maneuvers your body effortlessly, positioning you to face him as you sit on his lap. The smooth material of his slacks irritates your sore ass slightly, but all you can bring yourself to do is nod, your arms shuffling behind you with the want to reach out and touch him.

His hands settle on the apex of your thighs, rugged fingertips soothing the skin there before he lifts your body, standing and placing you neatly on the floor before him. Casting an innocent look up at him, you shuffle to your knees, arching your back to your breasts and ass pop out for his aerial vantage point.

“You know what to do, don’t you baby?” Shouto snickers as he untucks his shirt and begins to snap open the buttons down the center of his chest, revealing his creamy skin to your lustful eyes. Leaving the shirt on with his abs on display, he undoes the clasp and zip at the front of his hips, slowly unveiling the delicious V tapering south below his slacks. You squirm in impatience, eyes glued to the trail of fine, bicolored hair he uncovers as his slacks sag tantalizingly slow. His thumbs slither underneath the elastic band across his pelvis, lowering the hem just enough to show you the base of his thick, hard cock. “Alright, angel,” he rumbles, and you feel a stray bead of arousal drip down your thigh at his gruff tone, “Convince me you deserve to have this cock in you.”

As soon as he shoves his briefs low enough for his length to spring free, your lips drown his cockhead with haste, your tongue welcoming his hot, heavy tip with eager flicks. Shouto groans when you suck abruptly, your cheeks hollowing as you allow his member to drive deeper into your mouth. His hand landing on the back of your head, you take that as your cue to leap forward, slamming the entirety of his impressive cock into your open throat as your nose brushes into his abdomen.

“Fuck, Y/N!” Shouto gasps, his hips bucking into your face and shoving the tip of his dick into the depths of your throat.

Tears beading in your eyes, you refuse to let up, releasing a loud moan that makes his cock vibrate. Shouto throws his head back, his fingers curling in your hair as his hips recede, leaving only the tip inside your mouth and you gratefully take in a breath of air before he shoves back in.

“You take my cock so well, angel— fuuuuck, just like that,” he grumbles, pistoning into your face at a slow, deep tempo, the back of your throat caressing his tip delectably as a fat tear races down your cheek. Your cheeks flush pink and your chest tightens from the lack of air, but Shouto’s low grunts falling on your greedy ears has your cunt pulsing with need, your spit trickling down your chin. Shouto’s rabid gaze locks with yours, monitoring your wet eyes and your pleading pout as he speaks, “You look so beautiful slobbering on me like this, my little slut.”

You flutter your eyelashes at him, humming on his length as you continue to bob back and forth. Your tongue lathering the veiny underside of his length, the promiscuous flavor of salty pre blooms on your tastebuds. Your head recedes back, keeping just the swollen head inside your mouth as you twirl your tongue in circles around him.

You pop his cock out of your mouth, and send him a closed-lip, coy smile as you smear the slick tip against your mouth. Shouto sighs when your half-lidded gaze meets his, your tongue poking out and curving to dawdle up and down his length.

“That’s enough, baby. Come here.” Shouto bends and picks you up from the floor, kneeling on the mattress and crawling toward the center with you in his arms. Your back collides with the silky sheets, your arms awkwardly stuck behind you with the tie rubbing your wrists. Shouto opens your legs, hovering over your body and making you suddenly feel small in comparison to him. Your cunt parts at the motion, exposing your twitching, saturated hole to him and sending a fresh blush to your cheeks. One hand propping himself up, the other stroking your cheek gingerly, he ushers you to look at him. He whispers to you, his voice calm yet enticing, “You want me to make you feel good, angel?”

“Please,” you implore, your voice hoarse and quiet from his abuse on your throat, “Please touch me, Shouto.” Your mind hazy with a lascivious fog clouding your senses, you can barely find the words to beg.

Even just his hands floating down to your breasts makes you shiver. Your lip between your teeth again, Shouto smirks at you as his fingers pinch the ribbon holding your bra together. Deliberately taking his time, he unravels the neat bow, examining how the silky fabric falls apart so smoothly. The bra cups fall to the side, exposing the smooth skin of your breasts to his feasting eyes. You release a string of mewls as his lips graze the marks he’d left behind earlier, darkening the blemishes with gentle bites. Tongue tracing around your areola, your thighs squeeze around his waist when the warm muscle brushes along a pebbled nipple. Pressing your lips together harshly as he sucks the pert bud into his mouth, your hips jolt against his. His hand kneads your other breast expertly, tweaking your nipple between his skilled fingers. The rough pads of his fingertips only make your nipples stand out more, scraping against you and sending your head spinning.

“You like that, Y/N? Want all my attention on you, don’t you, greedy girl?” Shouto purrs, your breast falling from his lips as he grins at your cheekily.

Swallowing another moan, your breath comes out ragged as you retort, “I could say the same for you, baby.” His fingers on your nipple press together in a pinch, eliciting a strained whimper from you.

Shouto chuckles, poking his tongue out to rove over your other breast, flicking the nub playfully before he speaks a single word. “Touché.” Drifting lower between your legs, his lips leave a wet path down your torso, nibbling and slickening your skin. His mouth littering your body with kisses, an artist eager to make a fresh blank canvas his own. Hot breath colliding with your glistening sex, he groans at the sight of you spread before him. “But damn, angel, can you really blame me?”

Without any warning, he thrusts his tongue into your folds, swiping vertically along your slit and dipping into your entrance with a moan, eyes closed as he relishes your sweet nectar. Your hips dig into the mattress as you struggle to handle the instant relief his touch provides, unfiltered noises of pleasure escaping you. One of his hands slides underneath your thigh to cup your ass and bring your body closer to his face.

Every time Shouto’s mouth is on you, you’re reminded of just how good he is at pleasuring you. He alternates between rubbing his tongue along your silky inner walls and curling the muscle around your clit, sucking the nerve into his mouth and applying just enough suction to steal your breath away. Your body reacts to his touch naturally, with each moan summoned true and raw.

His fingers prod your sex gently, coating the digits in your essence before they slide into your body at a snail’s pace. The friction of his touch inside of you makes your legs clamp around his head, eliciting a deep laugh from the man that reverberates against your clit. Your eyes roll backwards as he begins to pump the digits at a reasonable pace, knuckles curling deeply in search of that plush spot that makes you fall apart underneath him. Saliva mixing with your arousal, Shouto’s chin is drenched in the sinful concoction as he continues his hunt with determination.

“S-Shit,” you choke as his fingertips push into just the right place, your thighs gripping his head so tight you think you’ll crush him. But Shouto doesn’t seem to care, angling his wrist to gain better access, lithe fingers speeding up as his teeth graze your clit. His vigilant eyes fix on your face twisted in ecstasy, minding how your pussy begins to clench onto his digits in desperation, trying their best to suck them back inside. Your heels dig into his broad back as your body begins to squirm, preparing for your first orgasm of the night.

But just as you’re about to tip over the edge, Shouto pulls back. Your eyes fly open to look at him in distress, your lips parting with a gasp as your climax flees without a trace. “Shouto!” You hiss, regarding his sultry smirk in shock. This man has some audacity. “I was about to-”

He interrupts you, his fingers gliding back into your core without resistance, lips wrapping around your clit again. The sudden pleasure of the intensity stokes the mere embers of your previous orgasm with fervor, your head flinging backwards onto the pillow as your spine bows.

Your palms behind your back are slick with sweat, your hardened nipples cutting into the still air of the room as your body writhes on its own accord. Your thighs tremble ever-so-slightly on top of his shoulders, your eyes shutting again as you try your best to hold in your whimpers.

But Shouto doesn’t like that, his mouth abandoning your pearl to snarl, “If you wanna cum I’ve gotta hear your voice. I wanna hear you beg for me, baby.”

His dirty words send a new wave of humiliation crashing over you, your mind horrified at your body’s betrayal. Your submissive demeanor is by no means akin to your usual behavior during your weekly rendezvous, and you’re honestly impressed and shocked that Shouto had coaxed it out with such ease. Already you can feel the tension building in your core, your body happily receptive of his generous caress. Your chest heaves as you attempt to even your frazzled breaths, but once your focus switches to that, the pleasure increases exponentially between your legs. Your cunt quivers obviously, Shouto’s eyebrow raising as he shoots you a taunting look.

“I’m the only one who can get you so close so quick, angel. Aren’t I?” His mouth leaves your clit to speak but his teeth capture the nerve instead as he speaks, his hot breath steaming against your throbbing cunt.

Your chin against your chest, you nod vigorously, your hips inching closer to close the distance between your cunt and his mouth. Your fingers curled into fists against the sheets, your back sticks to the sheets with perspiration.

Shouto shakes his head, teeth releasing your aching clit as he clicks his tongue at you. “I said, let me hear you, Y/N.” His fingers pull out, the fingertips just barely inside as he rims your entrance, just enough to keep your pussy throbbing. He exhales, an icy breath rushing over your sopping sex.

“N-No!” You wail, your voice nearly breaking as your orgasm fades away once again. You were so fucking close! You let out another sob, tossing your head to the side in humiliating agony.

“There’s that divine voice of yours,” Shouto chuckles, nipping your inner thigh playfully. Taking his fingers away, his thumb replaces them as it glides over your soaked slit, dipping into your clenched core amusedly before tearing it away again. Your destitute whine only feeds his dominance, and he rolls his thumb over your puffy nerve gently, enjoying how your hips buck weakly in response. “Come on now, angel. Just tell me what I want to hear.”

Your chest jolts as his thumb presses down just a pinch, cruising down to rub your entrance brusquely. “You’re the only one that can make me so breathless, Shouto. Please,” your voice wavers as you grovel, eyes locking with his, “Please, make me cum! I need your touch, I need your cock, I— I need you!”

Shouto’s gaze flickers for a moment before he smirks, ducking down to kiss your clit softly. “See, baby? Was that so hard?” He murmurs, his words rumbling on your shivering pussy before his tongue parts your folds, driving deep inside you.

You scream at the intense bliss as his thumb works quickly over your clit, his tongue assaulting your velvet insides. Your thighs weakly tighten around his head, your body unable to stay still as the pleasure wracks through you. Lewd moans and swears tumble out of you as you grind against his face, thrilled by the way his tongue never tires. The pressure between your legs is back and faster heightening, your eyes flying open in shock at how astonishingly fast your climax is approaching.

“S-Shouto, I— I’m—,” is all that you can get out before you seize in his arms, your entire body spasming in ecstasy. Shouto only pins your hips down against the mattress with his free hand, forcing your legs to stay open as he continues to assault your cunt, tongue pummeling your tender core and thumb abusing your clit. You can’t even let out a moan because your lungs are empty— all that slithers out of you a string of shrill and broken cries. The pleasure thrums through your body from head to toe, your fingers and toes curling and splaying as sweat runs down your skin.

Shouto diligently continues to lap at your cunt, slurping up the fresh essence dripping out of you onto the sheets. When he pulls back all he can see is your blissed-out, flustered expression, and your nipples standing upright in arousal. Wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he tears the shirt off his shoulders in one swift motion. His slacks shed just as quick, he grabs your hips and throws you onto your front, your face once again in his pillow. “You came without my permission, angel. You wanna be a slut? I’ll treat you like a fucking slut,” he snarls, rugged palms coiling around your hips and forcing them into the air, bending your spine so your body transforms into a delicious arch.

Your heart slams against your ribs in apprehension, your mind still too woozy to make a complaint as his cock plunges inside of you. Your walls spread for his length welcomingly, your arousal and your cum lubricating your cunt. Your eyes roll back at the fullness— the stretch of him stuffing your cunt with his thick cock so delectably euphoric. You’re so wet that it doesn’t even hurt as he impales you, pleasure the only feeling coursing through you.

Shouto growls, your pussy hugging his length so snugly he has to take a moment for his head to stop spinning. “Fuuuck,” he utters huskily, sliding out halfway and inspecting how your cunt grips his slippery cock so desperately.

You cry out as he thrusts back in, the angle already perfectly locating your g-spot and making stars flash across your vision. Your body shakes as a palm cracks against your ass, more tears collecting on your lower lashes at the pain that hurts so good.

Shouto grabs the tie around your wrists with the other hand, yanking your body backwards to slap against his hard torso. Hands flying to your hips, he drills into you as he holds you upright against him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches, cunt trembling at the familiar tension building deep inside of you.

“You wanna fuckin’ cum already, don’t you, slut?” Shouto barks, a hand leaving your hip to hold your breast, trapping your nipple between his long fingers. The friction he provides is exquisite, and long, unabashed moans float out of your parted lips.

“Yes! Yes! Please— Make me cum, Shouto!” You howl, your toes curling at the sacred pleasure so close to peaking within you. Lips latched onto the claim he had laid on your neck, his teeth pinch your skin. His ragged grunts in your ear make your core clench around him, about to reach salvation for the second time.

“Do it, Y/N. I want my slutty angel pussy to cum all over this cock,” he commands, forcing your hips to crash down onto his so his tip jabs your g-spot harshly.

Your body collapses at his approval, cunt squeezing and fluttering and leaking onto him as you release a lewd scream. White hot bliss shoots through you as sinful tides of delirium pull you under. Your body trembles as the ecstasy pulses in your veins, your jaw unhinged and your eyes rolled into your skull.

Shouto pushes you forward so your torso falls flat against the mattress limply. His hips do not stall, continuing to push into your tightened cunt with determination as he drags out your orgasm. “Where’s my nasty little brat now?” He laughs crudely, slapping your ass gently and grabbing the reddened flesh, pulling your hips back against his. “Nothing to say, hmm?”

As if your brain is functional enough to form words. Your limbs feel like jello, wiggling with pleasure and shock as he advances his plight. Your throat is dry from all the panting, your ass sore underneath Shouto’s oppressive grip. But it feels so fucking good, you can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop.

Shouto sucks a breath in between his grinding teeth, watching how your ass bounces against his pelvis as his cock slides into your depths. Sweat dripping down his chest and along your back, his hold on you is tight enough to cut off circulation. His lip twitches as he recognizes his orgasm creeping up inside, and he groans as he pulls out of you abruptly.

You whine at the loss, but you’re silenced immediately as he flips your body and presses his lips to yours. His kiss is pleasantly soft, a harsh contrast to his rough hands which slide around your back and fumble with the tie around your wrists. His tongue pushes inside your mouth, searching for yours and caressing it at first touch. Once the silky material slips off you, his hands rove over your breasts, massaging the heavy flesh tenderly as his cock brushes along your slit. A string of saliva stretches between you as his lips leave yours, a hot, breathy sigh fanning over your face. “This beautiful body is all mine, Y/N,” he whispers, tip slipping between your folds and entering your cunt with ease.

Your eyelids flutter shut at the feeling of your aching hole being filled once again, but the pain makes the pleasure so much more enjoyable. His lips wander along your neck as he begins to thrust into you, your legs wrapping around his waist. He kisses along your clavicle and down your breast, tongue washing over your nipple as his cock brushes along your velvet walls so perfectly.

The friction has your eyes nearly crossed, and the pleasure only intensifies when Shouto guides your legs to rest against his chest, your ankles by his ears. The angle allows greater access, his thick member reaching new depths that elicit a sharp gasp from you. His left hand pushes your abdomen down slightly, his thumb travelling south to flick along your clit lazily.

“Shit, Shouto, I— s-so sensitive,” you whimper, your hand timidly reaching out to rest on his flexing abdominal muscles. The sensation of him dragging against your g-spot so sensually causes your bottom lip to tremble, a tear sneaking down your cheek to land in your hair.

Shouto’s large hand guides yours to land on your thigh, and he tucks his arm so his own hand covers yours as he pulls your thighs closer to him. “One more, baby,” he moans, the thumb on your clit speeding up.

The extra attention summons that familiar build up in your core, a long whine falling from your lips. “I can’t, I can’t,” you mewl but your body says otherwise, pussy tightening slightly as your ankles cross behind his neck.

“I thought you wanted to cum, angel?” He uses your words against you as he sighs, hips picking up to ram into yours. He holds his breath as you clamp down on him, your sinful expression fueling his impending orgasm. “You gonna make me finish on my own?”

The thought of him blowing his load into you has you biting your lip, your hips shuffling against his. Shouto moans, thumb circling your puffy nerve even faster as he continues to pound into you. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room, the only noise to interrupt that your huffs and moans.

Steam billows from Shouto’s nose as his eyes nearly close, his abs flexing out of his torso as he fights to keep his orgasm at bay. His heavy breath and visible restraint convince your body to give in, and you weep as you sink into euphoria for the third time tonight. Shouto’s right there with you, a strangled growl mixed with a moan ripping from his lungs as his seed spurts into you, his cock twitching and balls draining as he falls to his elbows above you.

Your body feels sluggish as your limbs tremble slightly, the high from your orgasm still clouding your brain as your arms wrap around Shouto’s shoulders. His cold breath refreshes the moist, flushed skin on your neck, long eyelashes tickling your jaw as your nails scrape carefully down his spine.

When he pulls out your body feels incomplete, but Shouto nuzzles into your jaw affectionately, his hands sliding between the damp sheets and your skin to hold you close. He scatters sluggish, persistent kisses along your throat and up your jaw. And when he moves to your face, they only become longer and more intimate, gently guiding you back to reality.

You sigh in content as you lean in to capture his lips, moving sweet and slow against each other. Your digits amble into his hair, combing back the soft tresses so you can see more of his charming face. He moans at your touch, pleased by the soothing sensation of your fingers feathering along his scalp. His own hand follows your lead, fingers steering a stray hair off your forehead and gliding into your tresses to hold your head in his palm.

The pair of you continue to kiss for who knows how long, touching each other tenderly and savoring the feeling of skin against skin. Your lips melding into one, cradling one another fragilely as if you mutually fear the other will break without your embrace. You could spend eternity like this, high off his ambrosial, tender care.

You are the one to pull away first, knowing Shouto would keep this going until morning if he didn’t think you’d come back down from your high. Not that you would mind that, but you should probably clean up the mess that your passionate session had created— his release beginning to trickle out of you onto the sheets. As he pulls back, the emotions swirling in his striking two-toned gaze shock you. His brow is slightly creased as he nibbles at the corner of his lip, eyes darting around your face.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, sitting up and scooting off the mattress, disappearing around the corner of the bathroom door. The sound of water splashing in the sink fills the silence as you sit still, closing your eyes as the cogs in your brain begin to turn.

Oh god, you’d been so shameless tonight— you’d taunted him and he had made you fall apart and beg in return, bending to his every command. Sure, he had always been the dominant one in your rendezvous before, but tonight was different. He had been jealous, when he had no right to be. But is that why your heart is beating so quickly in your chest? Suddenly you’re anxious, overthinking as usual. This is just sex, right?

But then, why did you leave Shinsou’s side so quickly at the bar when Shouto had been the one to cancel on you? And then there was that, too— why had he just ditched his friends in the middle of boys’ night when it was the reason he cancelled on you in the first place? And he had clearly been furious at the thought of you spending the night with another man. Was it because he knew Shinsou? Or was it because he wanted to be exclusive with you?

Well, if he wanted to be exclusive friends with benefits, isn’t that the same thing as dating? Would he ever date someone like you? Wait, would you even be willing to date him? Do you want him to be your… boyfriend? Your eyes widen and a pink girlish blush emerges on your cheeks at the label. What are you, eight years old? Why do you feel so giddy at the possibility of him wanting you, for more than your body?

Shouto strolls out of the bathroom just in time to catch that embarrassing look on your face, but he only smiles sincerely at you and it makes you blush even harder. What the hell? You’re extra submissive for one night and now you’re thinking about your feelings for him? Wait, did you just admit you have feelings for him?

He clambers over to you in the middle of the bed, a washcloth draped on his slender finger. He leans down and pecks you like it’s no big deal, humming as his lips linger on yours just long enough to make you want more. Your body jumps at the feeling of the damp warmth the towel provides, but you relax as the feeling soothes your aching core.

“Was that okay? How do you feel, baby?” Shouto asks softly, watchful eyes gauging your expression as you look at him. “You seemed like you were enjoying yourself, but, I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

You let out a breathless, mirthful chuckle at his concern, reaching out to put your hand on his strong arm. “No, I’m fine. And it was… great. Mind-blowing, actually,” you smile at him bashfully, hoping it was just as good for him.

Shouto’s eyes twinkle as he smiles back, nodding slowly. “It was, wasn’t it?” He helps you sit up, maneuvering you carefully off the bed and gesturing for you to use the bathroom.

After relieving yourself, you look at yourself in the mirror that hangs above the sink, vision falling on the massive bruise blossoming on your neck. You sigh when you inspect the purple mark, but when your gaze floats back to your face, you’re dumbstruck to find yourself grinning like a fool. Terror and thrill floods through you at the realization that if any other guy had left a mark this nasty on you, you’d be furious. And yet, having Shouto’s claim on you makes you feel like the luckiest girl on the planet.

Shit. Looks like you do want him to be your boyfriend.

You’re half expecting the reflection to show a stupid cartoon character with the way that your heart feels like it’s thumping out of your chest. Taking in a deep breath, you determinedly point at yourself in the mirror and breath out shakily, “You can do this.”

Exiting the bathroom, you return to find Shouto leaning against the headboard, the sheets pulled up to his waist and his fingers rubbing together awkwardly. His eyes on his lap, he almost looks anxious. But he notices your presence right away, peeling back the corner of the blanket and beckoning you to slide in.

Placing yourself stiffly on the side of the bed, you take in his confused expression. “I need to tell you something,” you say as steadily as possible. Man, that’s a scary sentence, even if you’re not on the receiving end.

Shouto’s lips part and he looks like he wants to say something, but he swallows whatever it was down and nods, his expression guarded. “I’m all ears,” he replies, placing his hand on the pillow in front of you.

With the spotlight on you, your throat feels dry as dirt, and you nervously shuffle, suddenly very conscious of your nakedness. “Um,” falls out of your mouth, anything to split the suffocating silence. Your palms are clammy, and your fingers delve into the folds of the sheets to hide your nerves. “I know this is gonna sound kind of lame, but… well, I um…” Shouto’s gaze is burning your face, your cheeks redder than ever as you will this humiliation to just end already. Sucking in another breath, the words blurt out of you. “I have feelings for you.”

The surprise on his features is unmistakable. All you can do is stare at him, frozen in uncertainty but strangely enough it feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest. A heavy one at that— one whose existence you refused to acknowledge until ten minutes ago.

“R-Really?” Shouto stutters, looking like he’s just seen a ghost with how wide his eyes are.

You aren’t sure how to take that response, but as soon as your gaze falls from his, his hand shoots out to latch onto your wrist. When you look back at him, a different emotion is painted over his face, one of… hope?

“I have feelings for you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, his own blush dusting over his cheeks. His eyes are soulful and hold nothing but candor and content.

Before you can process his words, his hands are rounding your waist and pulling your body toward his. A different kind of high bursts through you as his lips touch yours, joy storming through the both of you and warm, tingly static crackling between you. These kisses feel different— your heart feels like it’s about to pop, swelling with excitement and relief. Shouto begins to laugh against your lips, and the alluring sound infects you, too, as you join him with a giggle. The both of you are laughing at nothing in particular, but you don’t need a reason to let the noises of elation loose.

Once your laughter ceases, Shouto collects your chin in his hand and places a gentle kiss upon your grinning lips. When he pulls back, his eyes contain a wisp of that jealous fire that had consumed him only hours earlier, and he shoots you a mischievous smirk as he squeezes your ass playfully. “Do you think Shinsou could ever make you feel this good, angel?”

You roll your eyes, chuckling in exasperation at this man’s relentless, absurd envy. “Hmm,” you pretend to think for a moment before you lean closer to him, hands hung loosely around the back of his neck. “Shinsou? Never heard of him.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

you reached the end!! thanks for reading this long ass fic lmao, i know it was an investment. I hope the ending was not too cringe, I usually just end my fics after the nut but I wanted to try something new :’) be sure to lmk if you enjoyed <3

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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dulce-pjm · 4 years ago

Text

under the table

word count: 3.8k

genre: fluff

summary: you’re doing great! 100% amazing. a-okay! alright, no you’re not. but what does everyone say is the perfect cure for a heart that never had the chance to be broken? game night, of course! but knowing you, there will always be complications.

You’re at peace.

When things are like this, the universe is in harmony. You’re tucked away from the rest of the world, cuddled up under a blanket next to the thing most important to you, a relaxed smile across your face. You think you could spend the rest of your life here, content and happy. Safe.

But you’ve never been particularly lucky.

“The fuck is a board game club?”

“It’s fun, I promise!” Mina looks you up and down as she stands in the doorway of your bedroom. You know how you look, sprawled on your soft comforter in sweats and a grease-stained t-shirt. Your laptop sits beside you, a trashy drama playing in the background, while your hands are occupied with your phone and a large bowl of popcorn.

“But I’m having fun now.” You gesture to your well-planned setup, grimacing when Mina turns the lights on. “Dude. Warning, please.” She sighs, stepping into the room with a stern look on her face. You can already feel your stubborn resolve slipping.

Mina shuts your laptop and moves it aside, plopping onto the bed next to you. She takes your non-butter-coated hand in hers.

“Y/N, I love you. But it’s Friday night. We haven’t gone out in a month. A month!” You glare, offended she’d bring up the subject.

“Because you know what happened last time!” Mina opens her mouth to argue, but shuts it quickly. This discussion always goes the same direction anyway.

“This won’t be like last time,” she reassures, taking the popcorn bowl from you, much to your dismay. “I promise. You like games! It’ll be fun and tonight we’re betting, so if you win you might even have some cash to take home.”

“But I’m so happy here.” You cuddle your pillow childishly, puffing out your bottom lip. Mina is not amused. She sighs, massaging her temples.

“I didn’t want to do this,” she begins. “But you owe me, remember?” You cock your head, no memory coming to mind. She sighs in exasperation. “You dragged me to that stupid dance class last semester! By the end I thought I was gonna puke!” You scoff.

“Oh, puh-lease, you were practically drooling over the instructor. He was so hot I forgot about the pain. Too bad he has a girlfriend now. I stalked him on Instagram.” Mina laughs, a light tinkling sound compared to your usual guffawing, abrasive and obnoxious.

“So… you’ll come?” You take a moment to think, despite already knowing your answer. You were too easy to guilt-trip, you knew. Too trusting, too. But Mina was right, you did owe her. You sigh.

“Fine. I’ll come.” Mina’s entire face lights up as she cheers and hurries to her feet. Your joints creak as you heave your limbs off of the bed while Mina begins babbling instructions your way.

You were rather talented at board games. And silly banter. You might even have a chance at walking away with the money. This will be fun, you assure yourself.

“...So, yeah. Just bring ten bucks. And maybe change first.” Her eyes take one last glance at your outfit in light disgust. “Be ready in half an hour?”

“Mhmm,” you groan, stumbling to your closet. You sniff one of your old sweaters and when no ungodly stench meets you, you shrug it on in place of your tee. Mina thanks you before trotting out of the room, taking away your snack with her.

This will be fun, this will be fun.

Or, at least it better be. You make a mental note that, if this goes south, you aren’t leaving this apartment for the next six months.

After sprucing up your appearance and coating yourself with cheap perfume, you approach the supposed ‘board game club meeting’ (how the hell did that get approved, anyway?) with a newfound sense of confidence. Your smile is beaming, your shoulders are back and unbothered, your skin glowing. Wait, doesn’t that phrase mean you’re pregnant? You can’t remember. Not that pregnancy is even a remote possibility for you anyway. What with you never leaving the apartment and all.

You trail after Mina as she weaves through the library halls, before slowing in front of a corner study room. You’re astounded she made it here so easily, you had no idea this was even here. To your knowledge, this wing of the library was reserved for storage and staff.

Just as you’re about to follow her through the door, she spins to face you.

“You know, I’ve been thinking and you know if you really don’t want to go-”

“Oh my god, we’re here already! Let’s just go in!” You smile at her teasingly while she blushes. Despite how it might look to outsiders, you and Mina care about each other deeply. You appreciate how considerate she is of you.

“Alrighty then!” She turns back around and throws open the door, drawing the greetings of everyone else in the room. Your eyes land on Mark, Mina’s boyfriend, who’s already shot to his feet and pulled Mina in for a kiss.

You barely have time to scan the rest of the crowd before Mark’s wrapped you up in a hug, ruffling your hair. He’d always been friendly, definitely a little much for you. But his affectionate ways are perfect for Mina.

“Hey! Didn’t expect to see you here.” He finally parts from you, allowing you room to breathe. You shrug sheepishly.

“Well, here I am.” Your hands fidget nervously at the belt loops of your jeans. “So expect to lose.” Mark laughs, wrapping an arm around Mina. You suppress the part of you that’s immensely jealous of their easy-going relationship. You’ve never been able to achieve quite the same thing. Your relationships rarely lasted longer than a few months, at best.

“I believe it. You always outplay me in Monopoly.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder. “But Yoongi might give you a run for your money.”

Your blood runs cold. Chills travel across your skin. A fire fueled by anger and embarrassment that had almost sputtered out over the past month is suddenly reignited, a blazing furnace beneath your face and chest.

“What?” Mina’s smile becomes strained while you stand there, face void of emotion despite the thunderstorm raging inside. Her voice lowers to a harsh whisper. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming!” Mark, oblivious to the brewing conflict, smiles happily.

“Yeah, but his work thing got canceled, so I told him there was still plenty of room.” Pride beams off of his face. At any other time, Mina would congratulate him for his efforts to be inclusive and encouraging to their mutual friend. But right now, she was starting to be as panicked as you were pissed.

Your mind is flooded with memories of fun conversation, casual flirting, and, ultimately, anxious nights spent staring at your phone screen, waiting for a very specific notification to appear. But it never did. You’re starting to see red.

“God, Mark, I told you about this!” Mina turns to you, eyes frantic. “You know, if you just want to go back home, that’s okay. I’ll go with you, we can watch dramas and eat pizza and-”

“It’s fine,” you spit through clenched teeth. You force your fists to relax, allow a gentle smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes to settle across your lips.

“A- Are you sure?” Mina touches your arm with concern, forcing you to tear your gaze away from a certain someone across the room. You shrug nonchalantly, forcing your smile to go wider.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Y/N, you seriously don’t-”

“It’s fine, Mina.” She immediately clamps her mouth shut, knowing your will is set in stone by the harsh tone of your voice. She nods vigorously and steps back into the arms of a very confused Mark.

“Okay, okay.” She puts up her hands defensively before smiling and facing the rest of the group. “Who’s ready to get started?” She’s met with cheers and smiles as Mark settles into a seat beside her and starts dealing cards, leaving one empty chair, across from Yoongi.

You slide into it, meeting his intense gaze as he looks up from his phone. Not that it surprises you, but he appears exactly the same. He’s fucking gorgeous. His features are soft, yet when he meets your eyes with that piercing gaze and unreadable expression, he becomes sharp and intimidating. His greyish-brown locks just barely sit above his dark, umber eyes, effortlessly tousled. Even his taste is good, his outfit composed of a leather jacket and vintage band t-shirt, topped with a single hoop earring.

God, he is so perfect. Was so perfect, until he’d ignited your unending anger.

“Hey,” you mutter, words coming off much more bitter than intended. Whatever. It’s how you feel, anyways.

“Hey,” he replies. “Been a while.” His eyes never leave yours.

“Sure has.” Your nostrils flare against your will. “You doing alright? Gone on any more blind dates?” Yoongi’s lips twist into a scowl.

“Can’t say I have. You were the one and only.” The staredown between you two could start wars. The negative energy you’re generating sends a chill down an unsuspecting Mark’s spine.

Your brooding is interrupted when a shiny, white sticker is passed in front of you.

“It’s a name tag!” Mina explains, looking between you two anxiously. “You can decorate it. It’s fun.” You internally roll your eyes at Mina’s not-so-sly attempt to break up your silent argument.

You grab a stray pen to scribble your name, but just as the ink begins to meet the sticker, fingers tighten around your wrist. With his free hand, Yoongi takes the sticker from you, bringing it to his side of the table.

“Let me do it. Your handwriting is shit.” You grimace. He isn’t wrong. You work to get your mind moving, you’re already behind in the insult-slinging. After a brief moment, Yoongi releases your wrist and snatches the pen from your fingertips, dipping his head to start writing.

“So are your dialing abilities.” Yoongi pauses, his eyes lifting, a poorly built facade of confusion masking what you’re sure is smug pride. The little shit.

“What?” he asks curiously, pen lowering.

“You heard me.” You cross your arms and lean back in your seat, as if daring him to challenge you. This asshole had the nerve to pretend he enjoyed your company despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, treat you to a nice date, not call you ever again, NOT EVER CALL YOU AGAIN, and then pretend he didn’t know what you were talking about? God, you’d really dodged a bullet there. Or, you would have. If Yoongi had picked up the damn phone and taken a shot in the first place.

After a few seconds, a smirk plays on his lips and he shakes his head, returning to the sticker.

“I see you and Yoongi are acquainted!” Mark comments, throwing an arm over your shoulder while blissfully unaware of the situation. Oh, to be pretty and ignorant. “He’s a monster at Risk, let me tell you. He could probably take over the world if he really wanted to. Most of the time, he’s the lucky guy walking away with the payout.” Yoongi shrugs, eyes still focused on the project before him.

“Or you guys just suck.” Mark laughs, the boisterous sound rattling from his chest.

“Either way, he’s the guy to beat.” You nod in understanding as a plan hatches in your mind. You rub your hands together, not unlike a cartoon villain. Your fixed smile becomes slightly crazed and Cheshire cat-like.

Interesting. Very interesting. So, if you were to, perhaps, theoretically, make some private bets and win this game night, Yoongi would be out a shit ton of money? Now that sounded like fun, Mina be damned. Screw closure and moving on, revenge is much more gratifying.

When Yoongi finishes your nametag, you slap it on your sweater without so much as a glance, oblivious to the way his face falls.

If it took every fiber of your being, you were going to beat Yoongi’s ass, steal his money, and never ever see him again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Fuck!

How was it possible for somebody to be good at Candyland?! The game’s pure goddamn luck. But here Yoongi was, having claimed victory for three out of the six games played so far (you claiming the other three) and being well on his way to winning the seventh and final game: Uno.

You, Yoongi, and Mina are down to three cards each, while Mark and the other participants are too caught up in rambunctious conversation to care that they’re losing terribly.

Mistakes have been made. You had egged Yoongi on into raising the bets between you two from ten to fifty dollars. And now you were fearing you’d lose. But your will was still strong, refusing to give up so easily. And where there was a will, there were Draw Four cards.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?” Yoongi groans, reaching to draw from the pile. But at the last second, his fingers flicker back to his hand, slapping his own Draw Four card onto the table. You sigh, banging your head against the table without an ounce of embarrassment or true anger. That time had long passed. Now you were just exasperated.

Mina cries out in protest, but having nothing to counter with, she begrudgingly draws eight, eliminating her from the close race between you and Yoongi, having two cards each. Yoongi smiles apologetically, making you laugh quietly to yourself.

When he wasn’t being an ass, Yoongi still made pleasant company. He was nice and sarcastic and introspective, never failing to add something new to the conversation. Despite your initial resolve, you’d found yourself opening up to him once again, obnoxiously cracking your own jokes and telling wild stories from your past experiences. Whenever Yoongi smiled or laughed at you, your heart soared. If only he had called you back, things could be different.

But they weren’t. This is a war now. A war you intend to win.

“What are you doing?” The question startles you from the goofy selfie you’re taking as you wait for the play to make its way around the table. You set down your phone, ignoring the way that, in the picture, your eyes are straight ahead, meeting Yoongi’s, rather than directed at the camera.

“Texting my nephew.” Yoongi cocks his head, brows furrowing. “He’s five and has a tablet for some godforsaken reason. We just send each other pictures of ourselves making stupid faces back and forth. It’s silly.” You don’t know why you’re suddenly sheepish, heat rising to your face. It’s probably the bad air conditioning in this place. Yoongi’s confused expression melts into a soft smile, making the furnace beneath your cheeks blaze hotter.

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“What?” He shrugs, taking a sip at his soda. Your eyes narrow. What kind of game is he playing? Does he think flirting with you will distract you from the mission at hand? Because if so, he’s an absolute idiot.

“You’re an idiot!” you’re yelling just a few minutes later. Yoongi’s practically cackling from across the table, clutching his middle with one hand, the other holding just one card. You still had two, but no matter. It’s pretty unlikely he’ll be able to play his hand anyway. “The cookie is the backbone of the entire Oreo! Without it, the whole experience is ruined! Don’t disregard it so easily.” Yoongi only snickers more, his gums peeking out from behind his massive smile. He’s enjoying the way you get riled up so easily, how quickly he can get under your skin with the most meaningless of words.

“It doesn’t even taste good, Y/N. The least they could do is make it taste like sugar, since that’s practically all an Oreo is.” You roll your eyes.

“That ruins the whole balance. The only thing you could possibly add to an Oreo to make it better is peanut butter.”

“Peanut butter?” Yoongi leans forward in interest and slight disgust. You nod assuredly, finding yourself leaning forward as well.

“Trust me, it’ll change your life.” Yoongi looks at you earnestly.

“I’m pretty sure it’s you that’s the life-changer.” Your eyebrows pop upward, jaw momentarily dipping open before you snap it shut. No. No. You’re not falling for this again. You scoff and fall back into the incredibly uncomfortable chair, which only makes Yoongi smile proudly.

“Y/N, it’s your turn.” Mark nudges you and you barely acknowledge him, slapping your blue four onto the pile easily.

Yoongi looks at you oddly, lolling his head to the side.

“What?” you snap, giving him your best glare.

“You’re done with your turn?” he asks, expression turning slightly concerned. God, he was such a fucking tease.

“Yes I’m done, you dipshit. Play your turn.” You glance at your phone screen, seeing several notifications from your nephew and a scolding text from your sister for encouraging his behavior.

Yoongi sighs, drawing his card when he can’t play. When you glance up, there’s a smirk on his face once again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Yoongi’s smirk deepens.

“You didn’t say ‘Uno.’” You stare at Yoongi. He starts to snicker again.

“Fuck!” you shout, ignoring Mina’s many comments about ‘language!’ and ‘non-competitive dialogue!’ Yoongi laughs in your face, not even bothering to cover his mouth and try to spare you. You’re about to go ballistic, your fists clenched as Yoongi does the favor of drawing four for you, sliding them in front of you. God, you hate him.

In the end, neither of you wins. Some freshman with glasses you didn’t know took the victory, teasing his apparent girlfriend for losing. Who even let freshmen in here, anyway? The participants decide that the winnings will be divided between you and Yoongi, since you both won three games, and the mini-bet between the two of you becomes null, with neither of you able to fully stake your claim.

But you’re the one who’s really been defeated. You couldn’t even succeed in getting a second date with this guy, what made you think you could beat him in board games?

You give Yoongi a small, meek nod before standing to go. Mina left with Mark already after double and triple-checking that you were okay to walk home alone. You make for the door, open the handle as unexpected tears threaten to prick at your eyes.

You’re so pathetic. You’d let a fucking blind date get you so upset you’d barely left your apartment in the past month except to go to class. Could you really be faulted? You hadn’t had so much fun with someone in your entire life. You could feel the connection, the spark, between the two of you. You were certain this was the one that would last. So you took the leap, gave him your number, proposed a second date. But he never called you. Not once.

You’re unlikable. Unlovable. You don’t deserve to win game night, let alone to win at life or relationships or-

“Y/N, wait up.” Yoongi’s found his way next to you as you trudge out of the library, staring straight ahead.

Great.

“What is it, Yoongi?” You shoot him a dark look, only to find his ears tinged pink and his hand awkwardly scratching his scalp.

“Well, uh, I was thinking.” The sentence ends, thought hanging unfinished in the air.

“You were… thinking?” Yoongi jolts, like he’d forgotten you were here. His eyes never meet yours, contrary to his crude confidence from before.

“Yeah! And, um-” He sighs, taking a deep inhale through his nose. “I think we should use the money we won and go on a second date.”

What.

“What?” You’re openly gaping at him now. “Why?!”

“Because I really enjoyed our first date and I’d like another one.” You’re running out of air, sputtering on your breath.

“But- But you didn’t even call me! I asked you out and now you suddenly change your mind?” After an excruciating moment, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours, panicked rather than unreadable. The image is unsettling and unfamiliar. You’re starting to feel dizzy.

“Because you gave me a fake number!” You gawk at him in confusion. “Or that’s what I thought, until you were talking earlier and I put it all together.” He grins, seemingly finding his confidence again. “Your shitty handwriting made me misread your number. I almost thought it was on purpose until now, that you just wanted to get rid of me. But it was all a misunderstanding.”

The weight of his words settles on your shoulders, making your head spin. All a misunderstanding? All those stupid tears and endless nights over… a misunderstanding? You could laugh. You do, actually. The sound makes Yoongi jump as the two of you step outside, the night oddly warm despite the time nearly reaching midnight. A stupid, dopey grin spreads across your face.

Yoongi doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t think you’re stupid or unlikable. You’d done everything right, well, almost everything right. It’s humorous, really.

“So, uh… What do ya say? Tomorrow? Seven?” You smirk.

“Bold of you to assume I’m free.” Yoongi’s grinning too, enjoying the casual banter significantly more than the way his face grew flushed and he couldn’t seem to spit out what he wanted to say.

“Well, then cancel your plans.” His eyes flash wildly and you giggle childishly, taking delight in his antics. You nod, your cheeks beginning to ache.

“Tomorrow at seven.” Yoongi grins as you prepare to go your separate ways.

“Tomorrow at seven.” You spin and begin walking the other way, but not before Yoongi can call after you again.

“What?” You laugh, yelling at him from down the sidewalk, the streetlamps barely illuminating his figure.

“Check your nametag! And text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe!” You laugh again.

“I don’t even have your number, dipshit!” Yoongi sighs loudly, the sound echoing down the empty street.

“Just check the fucking nametag!”

“Fine, fine!” You giggle as you peel the sticker off your shirt. Your giggle intensifies when you see its contents.

Along with your name, Yoongi decided to draw a small picture that you could only assume was you, composed of an angry face, frazzled hair, and devil horns. And in the bottom right corner is a string of digits. You’re grinning from ear to ear as you stare at the piece of paper. You tell yourself to find a safe place to keep it when you get home.

“Goodnight, Y/N!” he shouts, figure fading farther in the distance.

“Goodnight!”

You practically skip home, your body singing with adrenaline and joy.

You muse that your world might never be in balance or harmony, not in your lifetime, anyway.

But with you beside Yoongi, you thought it’d be pretty damn close.

#bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts fluff #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #suga #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts x reader #fjdslkfsdl this took me too long #watching jk's live while editing this lmao #hope you enjoy!!

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bayern-moni · 5 years ago

Note

True or dare : admit your feelings to someone you like or kill them.

Gin: Slightly drastic, Anon, aren't you? You would certainly get along with Aizen-taicho.

Aizen: What are you trying to imply, Gin?

Gin: Nothing, taicho, nothing you'd understand anyway.

Aizen: However, Gin, weren't you the one who bragged about having no heart nor feelings? This Anon here suggests otherwise. Were you lying to me?

Gin: I have absolutely nothing like that! I refuse to be thought of otherwise!

Aizen, smirking at the uncharacteristic irritation showed by his subordinate: As you say, Gin, but the ask speaks clearly. You have to admit your feelings, implied you must also admit you have them in the first place, or just killing your special person like the cold-hearted snake you claim to be. Are you sure you could get that far? I guess Hakufuku would be against the rules, this time. Now that I'm reminded of it, it's time you'd finally confess your undying love bla bla bla to that Matsumoto, isn't it? This is as good as a chance as any.

Gin: Were you ever told you're a massive son of a bitch, captain?

Aizen, looking unfazed and smirking: More or less since the day we met.

Gin: I assure you, you totally deserve the title.

Aizen: So do you, Gin. So do you.

He sipped his tea.

Gin's choice: Admit it or kill

Gin was at loss. Completely and utterly at loss of what to do. He had to admit his feelings to Rangiku. He knew he couldn't kill her, he could never bring himself to harm her, let alone kill her (he didn't even want to think about such things). Physically, at least, because hurting her emotionally seemed to be something he had always been good at. So he had to confess. He wasn't given any other choice. But ... was it really so necessary now? He had already waited for 109 years, a few more years or decades to collect some ideas on how to do it couldn't hurt much, could they? There weren't even guarantees that she wouldn't slap him to death as soon as he just appeared to start talking after all the shit he put her though. Or worse, she could accept. Though, she did cry when he died so maybe he hadn't literally all the odds against him in this endeavor. He didn't understand how, because in his vocabulary one that became a metaphorically human-eating monster didn't exactly had the needed curriculum to be still loved like that, but if she wanted to go on doing it he certainly wouldn't complain. So, how does he do it? He could ask for some advice, given he was totally blank in the matter. Izuru? Nah, scratch that, the boy couldn't say something like that without blushing to death to save his life. Rangiku was obviously out of question. Aizen? He'd rather die (again). Tosen? Absolutely not.

Shit.

"What are you doing here, Gin?" asked the red haired woman, spotting him standing in front of her door with a so dumbfounded look to be almost endearing. Almost.

Shit.

"Rangiku! Long time no see!" he tried to buy some time while his mental gears tried to put together something that wasn't outright idiotic or suicidal. Rangiku raised an eyebrow, skeptical. She looked too much like Aizen when she did that, Gin thought.

"I'm here to confess" managed to say at the end.

"Search for a priest, then"

"No, not that kind of a confession!" he was horrified just at the thought. Wrong start.

"Oh, you finally resigned to admit your feelings for me?" There was a mischievous spark in Rangiku's eyes that forebode nothing good for him. But she looked too happy for him to back down now.

"That's right" he still looked uncomfortable and she had every intention of getting back at him by prolonging this status of his as long as possible. They had the same nature at their core.

"You do know this is the least romantic confession in the history of love confession, right?" Now she was truly amused. He cringed. He loved her, he truly did, but this thing of feelings expression just wasn't for him at all. He couldn't do anything to help it, he was born like that. And she knew it.

"Yes, but you still love me, Rangiku"

Fuck you, Hisagi.

"Of course I do" she smiled, a curve so radiant enlightening her face that her warmth spread around his icy heart as well. "But I'm still waiting for my love confession, dear" another amused smile "Otherwise, I'll tell Unohana-taicho it was you that stole all her medical gauze that time to make poor Kira-kun look like a mummy" He gulped.

"If I did that, she'll probably neuter you or something equally gruesome, nobody was so suicidal to actually defy her ire; so we can only guess how it's ending up on her bad side. Then, do you want to go on? Ah, I always wished for a day like this, I'm so happy, Gin!" Nevermind she had just threatened him if he didn't say anything.

He had truly never had a choice, then. But in the end, it wasn't so bad like his always too paranoid mind was dreading. She did love him, after all.

He smiled. Genuinely for once. And then he went down on his knee.

Gin had every intention of making this the most dramatic and tooth-rotting love confession Rangiku had ever heard. He wanted to be so sappy that Rangiku'd be laughing on the floor by the time he was finished.

So much he'd putting all those rubbish romantic comedies she so loved to shame.

Aizen: It went better than I expected. And here I thought you were going to confess to me.

Gin: If I didn't know better I'd say you are jealous, taicho. Just a few lines before, you actually sounded bitter like you thought of yourself like a nosy third-wheel between me and my lovely Ran-chan.

Aizen: I'm not, of course.

Gin: Sure you are. Nosy and third-wheel, I mean.

Aizen: Mind your words, Gin. Remember that I can decide to make you scrub every toilet in Las Noches anytime and you can't refuse. I even bought a new set of toothbrushes for you to use.

Gin: Are you aware that I did blow a hole in your chest and had Shinso poison you to death?

Aizen: I didn't die, though. It must mean something.

Gin: That you're more difficult to kill than an army of cockroachs? Seriously, taicho, how on earth did you think I was going to admit my supposed feelings to you of all people? We abundantly satisfied the second part of the ask by now.

Aizen: Love and hate are just different sides of the same coin. Merely preconceptions created by humans that didn't get to have their way. So it was entirely possible in a theoretical way.

Gin: ... Sure. And what about you killing me? It'd surely kill the mood, other than, well, me.

Aizen: I just wanted to show you how it's properly done. And in my defense, at the time I felt deeply betrayed.

Gin: Ooh, the understatement of the century. Should I also thank you now, taicho?

Aizen: Gin, you're being overdramatic. We're straying from the topic at hand.

Gin: That is you trying to guilt trip me into confessing to you?

Aizen: Exactly

Gin: You're wasting your time, captain. I'm already taken. Moreover, in your case I'd pick "or kill them" anyday.

Aizen: Where I'm from, It is called denial, Gin.

Aizen's choice: Admit it or kill

It was a night like no-one had ever seen in Hueco Mundo, the eternal darkness softly embraced by the light of brighter moon. The palace of Las Noches was uncharacteristically quiet and only a perturbed voice from the innermost hall of the court could be heard. This voice was smooth and full of emotion, a particular tone that belied its bearer's strangeness with such sincerity. The flow of words like a musical stream of sweetness.

"You are the only one that matter to me, your frame is so lovely that even gods invy you, your existence like a balm for my exhausted nerves. The way eternal shades reflect on the soft lines of your perfection warms my once dead heart like nothing else. You are my whole, you're the existence I couldn't live without. I adore you"

"Taicho, why are you talking to the mirror?" asked Gin and cleared his throat to hide his baffled expression.

"Wasn't the Anon the one who asked for us to admit our feelings to someone we like?" replied Aizen like nothing was wrong.

"And are you talking with the mirror?"

"Yes, I am"

"... Nevermind. I don't want to know"

Part of the Truth or Dare Challenge featuring Gin and Aizen I started yesterday. For the Anon that requested it, I really hope you like it or that at least it made you laugh. Bye bye, everyone!

#bleach #gin ichimaru #gin x rangiku #gin #aizen sousuke #aizen #bleach aizen #aizen x ?#rangiku matsumoto #rangiku #unohana #inappropriate use of tea cup and mirror #Aizen's fault #character meme #ask #anonymous #anon ask #truth or dare challenge #headcanon

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skybound2 · 6 years ago

Note

David x Michael, on a road trip, arguing over music choices (or whatever permutation of that you would like to use!).

Hey, so 500 years later, I know, but I’ve written a thing! Well, several things, sorta? This is basically a series of short ficlets each focusing on a different song, but all connected, and is basically a direct follow on to the response I wrote MONTHS ago for a different prompt (You Are My Sunshine)!

THANK YOU SO MUCH for the prompt, it helped get me out of a rut, LIKE A LOT. (Also, I had a TON OF FUN thinking up songs to set each piece too :-D)

Takes place in my Walk Unafraid universe sometime after Michael has gone full vamp, and is maybe just a little bit cracky ;-P

Hope you enjoy!

Billy Idol “Rebel Yell”

Michael frowns as the first few beating notes of the song start pouring out of the speakers. Before the first line is over, he’s a freshman again, shuffling into the streamer and tinsel decorated nightmare that was his first (and last) high school homecoming dance.

He hadn’t wanted to go. Would rather have been playing chicken with his skateboard on the highway. Or at home, babysitting Sam and rewatching that movie with the talking rats for the fiftieth time.

Or working on his math homework.

Really, just about anywhere else doing anything else would have been preferable.

But he’d made junior varsity on the football team (Thanks, he’s sure, to him being a year older than the rest of the freshman class. Flunking third grade. So helpful.) and even though he hadn’t played a second of that day’s game, it had been made clear that he was expected to attend that evening’s festivities.

To support his team. And school.

Rah rah rah.

He hadn’t given a rat’s ass about any of it, not when the girl he’d been seeing (if you could call one awkward make-out session ‘seeing’) had broken things off with Michael the day before, opting to go to the dance with Michael’s friend Keith instead.

The situation might have been less of a mess, Michael suspects, if the sight of his friend and former almost-girlfriend dancing together had sparked the expected kind of jealousy for Michael.

Which of course, it hadn’t. Instead, it had dosed Michael with a confusing case of adolescent ‘what the fucks’ when he’d caught Keith and Jenny kissing mid-dance, and he’d realized just who he was jealous over.

The whole thing had gone topsy-turvy not long after, in a spectacular (sloppy, messy, pathetic) fist fight between Michael and Keith on the dance floor to the tune of that damn overplayed Billy Idol song.

Michael had been suspended for two days following the fight. Which had been fine by him, as it gave him time to first come to terms with what he’d been feeling, and then to find a careful place in his psyche to shove said feelings into, to be dealt with never.

Three years later, Michael had moved away, the bond between him and Keith forever broken.

As the memories play back in Michael’s head, Michael finds that the old agitation, that bitter ache of confusion and loss he’d always felt in the past, is muted. The scene’s a faded sort of matte gray, instead of technicolor. Like it happened to someone else, and he’s just catching the repeat on late night TV.

Which in a way, he guesses it kind of had. The person he is now so far removed from who he was then as to be unrecognizable.

Different person or not, he still hates the song. (Maybe he hasn’t changed that much.) And so Michael’s lip lifts up in a sneering approximation of the blond singer’s trademark curl as he reaches for the knob and seeks out another station.

“Hey. I was listening to that.” The complaint from the driver’s seat is annoyed but without any real heat.

Michael keeps twisting the knob, not looking at his companion, skipping over white noise in search of something - anything - else. “We’ll find something else. Can’t stand Billy Idol.”

Even though Michael knows it’s not actually possible, it feels as if the temperature inside the car drops several degrees. Shock reverberates across the link between Michael and David loud enough that it bounces Michael’s brain around inside his skull, forcing him to turn his head away from the radio towards the blond as he continues to spin the dial.

David appears downright scandalized as he stares back at Michael, eyebrows making friends with his hairline. “You can’t stand Billy Idol?”

Michael nods, head tilting at David, confused by the obvious annoyance rolling off of him.

And also a little worried by how long David has kept his eyes from the road, regretting having let the blond take over driving duties at the last gas station. “Uh, yeah. Leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Can you watch the road, David? Don’t feel like getting up close and personal with the guardrail.”

David sneers, but turns his head back to the road, grumbling incoherent words beneath his breath that, try as he might, Michael can’t pick out.

Not that it matters, as when an audible sentence finally does work its way up and out, Michael’s still as confused as when all he’d heard was gibberish. “I’ve made a mistake.”

Michael frowns. “With what?”

“Making you immortal. I can’t spend eternity with someone who doesn’t appreciate Billy Idol.”

Michael snorts, his hand dropping away from the dial when he locates something less detestable to listen to. The fast pace guitar chords and beats of Mötley Crüe playing through the speakers as a backdrop, he leans back in his seat, head angled towards David, the better to watch the exaggerated play of disgust on his lover’s face. “Too late. No take backs.”

David’s frown deepens, but there’s a twitch at the corners of his mouth, like he’s fighting the upward tug of a smile. “Never too late for anything, Michael.”

Michael smirks at him, stretching his legs out and dragging his tongue across his bottom lip in a deliberate attention grabbing move that pulls David’s eyes straight to his mouth. “Yeah. Right. After how hard and long you fought for me?” Michael drags the words out with dirty intent. Feeling playful, and eager to wash away the lingering remnants of that earlier time, of that earlier life. He draws upon more recent, much more pleasurable memories, letting them hover at the front of his mind. The spike of lust that floods the air between them all the proof he needs that David’s on the same page. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

“So damn sure of yourself, aren’t you?” The question is spoken with careful neutrality that does nothing to disguise the visceral want pouring off of David.

A growl thrums across Michael’s vocal chords. “Pull over. Let’s find out.”

David does.

And they both forget all about Billy Idol.

Abba “Fernando”

Sated and settled back in the passenger seat on the road south, David knows what song it is from just the first couple of notes. He has no intention of subjecting himself to it, so he reaches for the dial only to have his hand smacked away by Michael. Shocked, he looks up at the man behind the wheel, the driver’s blue eyes alight with mischief as he starts to sing along with the music while David watches on in horror. “No. No absolutely not. Turn it off. Right now.”

But Michael’s hand stays covering the dial as his voice gets stronger. When he hits the title lyric he leans heavily away from the wheel in David’s direction and croons it in his face. David’s frozen in place by the disturbing sight. “Why do you even know the lyrics?”

‘You’ve met my mother and my brother, you honestly think I wouldn’t know the lyrics?’ The thought jumps from Michael’s mind to David’s, but Michael’s singing voice doesn’t falter at all as he sings about crossing the Rio Grande.

Under any other circumstances, David would be damn proud of Michael that his ability for telepathic multi-tasking has come along so far, but as is, he’s too distressed to feel much of anything else.

“Is this a method of torture? Is that why you’re doing this? Testing the waters? Because if so, bravo. Very effective. But it’s time to stop now.”

Michael cackles. Cackles! As he smacks David’s hand away from the dial again, the sound bleeding into an off-key “Liberty” with a devilish grin upon his face as he turns the volume up.

David sinks as deep into the leather bench seat as is possible, all the way against the door, trying to put distance between himself and the… horror happening on the other side of the car. “Just stake me. It would hurt less.”

The gleam in Michael’s eyes is pure evil as he sways towards David again, all his earlier concern for road safety seeming forgotten in his Abba-induced haze.

He manages to keep the car between the painted lines and away from any ditches as the song comes to an end - though it weaves a considerable amount. The smile on his face when he looks David’s way on the final note is wide and brilliant and blinding. Pleasant waves of giddy happiness echoing across the bond so strongly, that David’s own treacherous emotions race to sync up with those of his tormentor.

David hates himself a little for being so far gone on the bastard, but the shared laughter that fills the car between them feels good all the same.

Deep Purple “You Keep On Moving”

Another tank, another station, another song.

Michael smiles as the beat of a tune he never hears getting radio airplay hits his ears. He drums his fingers against his knee, mouthing along to the lyrics and bouncing his leg in time. Thinking it might be fun to finally learn how to play something other than his kneecap. The drums, or the guitar even. Or hell, why not both? He’s got nothing but time now, right? Why shouldn’t he spend it learning how to play a dozen instruments if he wants?

David speaks up when the song hits the third verse and Michael’s halfway through an imaginary worldwide tour as the next biggest drummer since Bonham. “Paul had a copy of this album.” He chuckles, once, the sound dark and heavy. “Two copies, actually. One he’d worn down to nothing. Sounded like garbled shit, but it was the only one he’d play. Said he was keeping the other ‘for posterity’ or something.”

Michael returns from his European stage debut and looks to David, trying to judge the meaning behind the story. The other man offering up information on the absent boys so rare, that he figures there must be a reason for it.

There’s not much light to illuminate him, the dash on the old vehicle mostly dark, but Michael’s eyes don’t need much light to see by these days. Not that it matters, as there’s nothing to read on the blond’s face, his expression that disconnected mask that Michael’s grown so familiar with in the past year.

“Think he bought the first one on account of the cover, but turned out he liked the music too.” David’s voice is muted - not so soft as to be wistful, but a next door neighbor to it maybe.

Michael digs through his brain, trying to recall what the cover looked like, but comes up empty. He prods at David for some help, snorting when David reproduces in Michael’s mind the image of the band’s disembodied heads floating in a wine glass of dark red liquid, with the tagline ‘Come Taste the Band’ scrolled over the top. He guffaws at the sight. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Paul was always easily amused.” The comment is said with a quiet intensity that peters out to a heavy silence, despite the song still rocking through the car.

It leaves Michael feeling like he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t be. He inches back and forth in his seat, tapping the leather seating between the two of them instead of his knee. “You, uh, you want me to change it?”

David glances at Michael, the expression on his face a little mournful, but not despondent or angry as it may have been in the past. “Nah. It’s a good song. Let it play.”

Michael nods once, and the song plays on.

Fleetwood Mac “Landslide”

“…”

“I - you can change it if you want.”

“Course I can.”

“…”

“Are you gonna change it or…”

“Nah. Took too long to find this station. Probably just be static everywhere else.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right. So…we leave it then?”

“Might as well. It’ll be over soon.”

“Okay.“ Michael takes a deep breath, uncertain about what he’s about to say, but unable to stop himself. “This was Star’s-”

“I know.”

“And you still don’t mind-”

“No. Should I?” The questions is flat. Unconcerned, but Michael doesn’t miss the way David’s face tightens when he asks it.

Michael moves his right shoulder in an awkward shrug. “Just got the impression you didn’t care for her much.”

David makes a low humming sound. “Liked her well enough at first. Liked her a whole lot less later on.”

Michael doesn’t have a ready response for that, knowing damn good and well why David’s feelings towards Star changed.

“You heard from her lately?”

Michael whips his head towards David, surprised by the question.“No. I haven’t.“

David hums again, fingers flexing on the steering wheel as he does. “Sure about that?”

“When exactly do you think I would have talked to her, David?”

“No clue. It’s why I asked.”

Michael thinks that’s a lie, but doesn’t call David on it. Instead, he settles back, letting Stevie Nicks serenade them for a few verses before offering what little he does know. “She calls my Mom sometimes. They…talk.” David’s gaze stays firmly on the road, though Michael can feel the way tension thrums through his frame. “Think she’s still with Laddie, wherever they went. I don’t - I haven’t spoken to her since she left.” It’s the truth, but for some reason it feels like a lie.

“She took Laddie back to his father I take it?”

Michael gives a noncommittal bounce of his head. “Think so.”

“Hmm. Maybe we should pay them a visit.”

Michael lets out a low laugh at the comment. “Doubt we’d be welcome.”

A sly smile that Michael knows can’t mean anything good lifts the corner’s of David’s mouth. “Never know if we don’t try. Could pencil it sometime after Phoenix.”

Michael rolls his eyes, knowing he’s being baited and not about to be caught. “Yeah sure. Why the hell not?” Michael smirks at the way David’s forehead scrunches up at the easy agreement. He means it - he’s curious enough about where Star ended up and what she’s been doing that visiting her isn’t the worst idea he’s ever heard - though he’s not so much of an idiot that he doesn’t know that David’s reasons for wanting to see her are far from benign.

No longer in the mood for the song, Michael changes the station.

Billie Holiday “You’re My Thrill”

David hums as he twists the dial through station after station of white noise. He spins it past an old jazz tune, but then twirls it back again, making an appreciative noise as a crooning female voice starts to spill from the speakers.

Satisfied with his find, he slouches back into the leather upholstery, eyes closed and an almost dream-like smile on his face.

From his spot in the driver’s seat, Michael goggles at him. “Seriously?”

“Michael Emerson, if the next words out of your mouth are that you don’t like Billie Holiday either, I’m leaving you at the next truck stop and you can find your own way back to Santa Carla. I don’t care how close to sunrise it is.”

The way his voice doesn’t falter when he says it brings Michael up short, making him think that it may be more than just an idle threat. (Not that Michael would let him leave him behind without a fight, but that’s beside the point).

Michael manages to keep his mouth shut for a cool twenty seconds, during which he watches David out of the corner of his eye. Watches as the bleached-blond, spiky-haired murderous vampire clad all in black - not a small amount of it leather, hell, there are spurs on his boots for Chrissakes - quietly enjoys the old-fashioned song. The disconnect between the image he presents and the one the song evokes makes Michael laugh. “Damn, what decade are you from, Old Man?”

“The seventies, Michael.”

Michael snorts, rolling his eyes. Not that David can see him with his own eyes enjoying the view behind their lids. “Yeah sure. You’re younger than me. Explains the occasional tendency to throw tantrums still.”

“The eighteen-seventies, Michael.” David says, calm and cool and not at all joking.

Michael’s hands on the wheel jerk sideways in surprise, sending the car swerving over the line before he can yank it back where it belongs. David’s eyes crack open at the disturbance, leveling a glare at Michael, but he doesn’t react otherwise. “Seriously?”

David smirks at him, slipping the cigarette he had stowed behind his ear down and to his mouth. He doesn’t give Michael an answer, just flicks his lighter open and sets flame to the stick, puffing on the end to get it to light, and settles back into his seat, eyes half-closed.

Michael molls the unexpected tidbit of information over in the space between verses. One particular thought standing out in greater relief against the rest. “Shit…you’re older than my Grandpa. By a lot.”

“I am. And if you want to be too one day, shut it and let me enjoy the song!”

It’s only the lingering shock of the information that keeps Michael quiet. It has nothing to do with the amber gleam in David’s eyes.

Really.

Besides, as far as old-as-sin songs go, it’s not half-bad.

Starland Vocal Band “Afternoon Delight”

Approximately one point five seconds into the song, David’s hand meets Michael’s as they both reach for the dial. David growls, fangs dropping. “I will break your hand, your arm, and all your fingers if you try and stop me from changing the station, Michael.”

Michael’s hand raises up in the air in a placating gesture that David doesn’t trust. At all. “Hey! I was trying to change it too.”

“Sure you were.” David twists the dial, spinning it through endless seas of static and snowstorms and a whole lot of absolutely nothing else.

“I was.” Michael’s voice is pleading, but there’s mischievous glint in his eyes that doesn’t match the sound.

David gives him a sideways glare. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

Michael breathes out a heavy-handed sigh. “So little trust. And here I thought we’d really been getting somewhere this past year.”

David rolls his eyes. “You forfeited all rights to musical trust after that horrendous ‘Mamma Mia’ sing-along.

“Hey! First off, it was ‘Fernando’, and second: you enjoyed that. You were smiling. I saw you.”

“That was a defense mechanism, Michael.”

“Liar.”

Which is true, but David’s not about to admit it. So he ignores him, and stops the dial on a patch of white noise; settling back in his seat to enjoy the scratchy sound of absence.

Less than a minute of quiet passes between them before Michael’s hand inches for the radio. David’s voice is curated calm when he says: “Try me, Michael.”

“Idle threat.”

“When have you ever known me to be idle, hmm?”

Michael scoffs, giving David a tilted smile that tells the elder vampire just how little Michael thinks of David’s threats. “Go ahead, tell me all the ways that you’re gonna torture me if I change the station. What’s it gonna be this time? Something more creative than holy water dipped knives, I hope?”

“You ever heard of ‘torpor,’ Michael?” David asks, dipping into the darker part of his psyche. To the blackened memories of his early life under Max’s so-called-care. Fully intending to shower Michael with the visual of being trapped - buried - deep beneath the earth in a impenetrable box, screaming for his maker to let him out. To let him go. Screaming until his throat runs dry, and the blood in his veins slows to a trickle. Skin gone paper-thin, and ashen. So desperate to be released that he’ll say anything. Do anything.

David doesn’t plan to exact such a punishment on Michael of course, but he’s not above a little mental torment. Especially not after being trapped in a car for two-hundred plus miles with Michael and his previously undocumented love of country music and disco.

But before David can so much as conjure up an image of a box or a handful of dirt, Michael frowns in his direction. “Don’t think so. That a New Wave group or something?”

A surprised bark of laughter bursts out of David, amused eyes latching onto Michael. “What? No, it’s-” He shakes his head, small peels of laughter leaking out of him as he does. David’s laughter grows in time with Michael’s confusion. The uncertain look upon the younger vampire’s face endearing to David in a way that it has no right to be.

David shakes his head, his plans to teach Michael a lesson forgotten. “You know what, never mind.”

A frown stays planted on Michael’s face for a while longer, the confusion fading at a snail’s pace. But he drops the subject, and the two of them drive on in silence.

A silence that lasts for the length of time it takes Michael to forget why the radio was off in the first place.

But David hasn’t. So really, it’s Michael’s fault that David launches at him, teeth bared, and the car is sent skidding off the road.

At least there aren’t any guardrails to hit.

And if the only casualty of the accident ends up being the radio, well, they were do for an upgrade anyway.

Preferably one with a cassette deck.

~End

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all-of-the-imagines-for-eve · 6 years ago

Text

Queen ~ B.H. (Part 3)

A/n: I’ll try to have the next part of Tattoo up today too :)

Word Count: 2,220

Who crowned you queen of-? You think you're too cool, making beautiful look ugly. The way you put yourself above me. You treat me like I got nothing on you, making beautiful look ugly. You ain't the ruler of my country.

Steve had his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close so he could whisper something in my ear. These last few weeks we had become pretty inseparable. He wanted to stay with me at all times to make sure I was safe and felt safe as well. And he liked my company. And I liked his.

Our bright moment was shattered when Billy Hargrove walked up to us as we walked back to Steve’ car. I froze, my body going rigid and my heart rising into my throat as the night of the dance flashed in my mind and all of what could have happened hit me like a freight train at full speed. Sensing my sudden mood change, Steve followed my gaze.

The second he saw Billy, Steve dropped his arm and we stopped walking. He put himself in front of me and I took his hand. He squeezed comfortingly and I pressed my forehead on his back. Billy flared at the intimacy between us. “So, what? You’re fucking Harrington now?”

Steve took a deep breath to restrain himself. “How about you get out of here?” He asked. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. And honestly, you don’t even deserve to look at her. To even think about her, okay? So just leave.”

Billy scoffed. “I-” He stopped and I peeked around Steve’s shoulders to see that he was running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t cocky or flirty or confident, which is the only three emotions he ever showed except anger. He looked upset. Nervous. “I just came to apologize.”

I moved out from behind Steve, intrigued. “What could you possibly think you could say to make anything you’ve done better? I’ve put myself on the chopping block, taking all your shit because you’re cute and popular and giving me attention. I’m done.”

Sighing, Billy looked at me very seriously. “Look, Y/n, I… I like you. A lot. And I’m not used to that feeling. It’s hard for me to process and deal with and understand. You do things to me that I… you don’t take all my shit. You don’t fall at my feet. I have to work and I enjoy the challenge, but less than I do other girls. I just want to have you and it’s so frustrating how tantalizingly close I get without actually getting anywhere. I just…”

Feeling Steve’s eyes on me didn’t help stabilize my emotions, but I managed to take a second to process this before I responded. Stable and sure and collected. “I don’t care. About how you feel or what you’re thinking. I won’t be one of those girls who lets herself get hurt simply because she won’t recognize bullshit when she sees it. While you were too busy acting like we’re five, I… I found someone worth my time.” I reached out, taking Steve’s hands and I felt his eyes on me.

Billy reared back. “Harrington?” He spat. “You think HE is going to make your time worth wasting? You think he’s going to be able to make you feel as good as I can?”

A scoff spilled out of me. “Is that the only basis you can claim? You’re better at sex? Shit, Hargrove, when the fuck are you going to start thinking with the right head?” Steve snorted. “Grow up. Relationships aren’t all about sex. You couldn’t love someone if you tried. And,” I added, letting Steve’s hand go so I could approach the bulky blond, shoving my finger into his chest and leaning closer than even I felt comfortable being, just to really get in his face. He looked at me and I paused, shocked by the genuine, pure wanting in his eyes. He looked like a kicked puppy or a child deprived of his Christmas presents after counting down the days for months. He was vulnerable, and I was the only one who could see it. I reminded myself that I was probably the only one who would ever see it and my bitterness came back. My eyes watered as I remembered back to the night of the dance. “Not only would I not ever have sex with you even if you were the last man on Earth, but I GUARANTEE that Steve could pleasure me better than you could even imagine yourself doing. His actions won’t be tainted by alcohol and memories of dark hallways and unwanted advances.”

I stepped away and moved back to Steve, who wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to him, pressing his lips to my forehead comfortingly. The two of us walked and I relaxed against him, completely at peace.

Feeling Billy’s eyes on me the whole way.

Who made you the queen? No. Who made you the queen? Who made you the queen? Who crowned you queen? You think you're too cool, making beautiful look ugly. The way you put yourself above me.

The rivalry between me and Billy only grew as his contempt for me became worse. He had come to me time after time, doing everything he could think of to apologize. There are just some things you can never truly make up for. Even if I wasn’t with Steve - we’d made it official, finally - and my heart wasn’t taken, Billy Hargrove had done something terrible to me. Without Steve, it would have been infinitely worse. My pride wouldn’t allow it, but m heart wouldn’t even begin to consider it a possibility now.

When Billy had finally accepted that he had lost his chance, his anger at himself for fucking everything up turned to a torrent of misery poured down on my head. Really, his bullying only proved to me how right I had been to stay away from him in the end. He still hadn’t learned.

It was getting bad though. It went from sneered comments all around school everytime he caught Steve and I together to glares that were so piercing and hateful people around him grew uncomfortable just being close. From that, it grew to Billy tripping me or pulling my hair or ramming me into things as he passed. Then he moved onto shouting things at me, spreading rumors and throwing miscellaneous school supplies at me and so on and so forth.

Until we got here.

Red spray paint decorated my locker, ‘SLUT’ splayed out vibrantly for everyone to see. I ignored it for two whole days before Steve got upset and started cleaning it himself. “Just leave it,” I mumbled, so tired from all of Billy’s beating down that I was actually starting to believe it. My confidence had waned and I felt weak and vulnerable, like all of the darkest secrets I didn’t have had been splayed out for the whole school to see. People looked at me with such disgust that it was hard not to cave in and just believe that I was disgusting.

Billy Hargrove had done the one unthinkable thing. Something that would make me loathe him relentlessly until the day that I died. Something worse, to me, than anything he had already done or tried to do.

He had ruined school for me.

He had derailed my reputation and tore at me until I was nothing but a bleeding, weakly pulsing pulp. And then he had smashed me into nothingness. For my entire life, school was the only place I felt safe and significant. I was the top student. Nice and innocent and sweet and impossible to hate even when it was just as impossible not to be a little jealous of me. Of my grades and how I got along with everybody and handled things well. Just things I’d been told over the years.

Through abuse and anxiety and finding myself in the chaos of life, only one thing had been constant and good. Only one thing had made sense. School was a routine, a system. Once you figured out how the machine worked, you were no longer a cog but one of the people working the machine. Driving and running it. It was a wonderfully powerful feeling.

Now it was all gone.

I had never been so depressed in my life.

Catching Steve’s wrists, I pulled him away from my locker. “I said to leave it, Steve!”

My boyfriend looked at me, taking in the dead expression on my face and the lack of life in my eyes. The sag of my shoulders, the droop of my body, how my eyes wouldn’t leave the red words. He caught my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You don’t believe this, do you?” I shrugged. “Y/n you are so amazing. Good and beautiful and smart ad strong. Please don’t let this rip you apart. He doesn’t deserve to be able to affect you this much.”

Pulling away from him, I took the rag out of his hands and moved to my locker. He went to take it away from me again but I moved my hand out of his reach. “No,” I snapped. Steve sighed, instead settling to wrap his arms around my waist and rest his forehead on my upper back. “No,” I repeated, pulling away from him completely.

A moment of silence settled as I felt Steve’s eyes on me. “You’re no going to let him ruin us too, are you?” My eyes watered. “Y/n… I-”

“Trouble in paradise?”

I whipped around to face Billy so fast that I think it did something to my brain. I stormed over to the smirking blonde, chucking the stained rag at his face. He swatted it away, his face twisting in disgust.

I had had every intention of keeping my head and making him look dumb with my words as I always did. I had every intention of cussing him out and screaming at him until he felt so small that he hated himself more than I ever could times one hundred. I wasn’t planning on hitting him.

But I did.

My fist planted in his jaw and he was so shocked that he was on the ground, not even having prepared to take a hit. I straddled him and his hands moved to grab my waist on pure instinct. But this wasn’t a sexual or intimate experience. I wailed on him, my eyes watering and my vision going red as I punched him again and again, relentlessly.

Billy was well bloodied and students had stopped to gawk in pure shock, everything frozen except me and Billy before Steve pulled me off. I was breathing deeply and finally all the things I’d kept inside came pouring out. I cursed him out right then and there, my tears falling freely as Billy groaned an looked over at us as Steve dragged me away, not quite unconscious yet.

He looked scared. Terrified. Broken. An after all the Hell he had put me through, I was glad of it. What a sick way to think, enjoying another human’s pain. This is what he made me...

Steve pulled me into a side room and away from the chaos outside but before we were totally gone, I saw one of Billy’s friends help him up and begin to walk him out of school. Steve put his hands on either side of my face, guiding my eyes to his.

His eyes were so soft and warm and loving that I skipped right over the self hate for giving into my anger and I started bawling, the self pity coming up as everything that had been hitting me so hard as I silently took it came out all at once. Steve held me until I was done.

When I grew quiet, he pulled and looked at me with a small smile. His fingers brushed my skin, wiping the tears away. My fists were bruised and bloody and my eyes were red and puffy and I was a mess, but I had never seen so much love in a person’s eyes in my entire life. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Steve actually had the audacity to chuckle. “Sorry? Princess, I’ve been wanting to pummel him for so long… I thought you’d get mad at me for doing it though. So I just focused on being there for you and protecting you and making sure you felt safe and were guarded. Y/n, that was awesome. Shocking, and a little scary. But hot as FUCK.” I blushed, smiling shyly. “I didn’t know my girlfriend was so badass…” I chuckled and so did he. After a second his face grew soft again and he leaned close, pressing his forehead to mine. “I love you.”

My insides exploded with light and warmth. I had only heard those words in moments of dramatics when I’d done something amazing for someone or in sarcasm or loud declarations from goofy friends who never stuck around. I had no family other than the parents who ignored me or beat the shit out of me, so I’d never heard the words genuinely come from someone.

He spoke them quietly and slowly. It was a secret, just for us. He wasn’t putting on a show or giving an over the top sign of appreciation. He was telling me a special message, just for him and from the heart.

Pulling him close, I whispered just as sincerely, “I love you too.” And then we kissed and it was like that secret became a promise neither of us had to speak but both of us wholeheartedly meant. And everything was okay.

FTL: @iwannadiehere @alexa-playafricabytoto

#steve #harrington #billy #hargrove #joe #keery #dacre #montgomery #stranger #things #x reader #imagines #imagine

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vitanes · 6 years ago

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“But I still want you,” Damien utters, his voice cracking on the last syllable.

It takes all of Will’s willpower not to look up at Damien. He knows the sight would break his heart and he doesn’t need that now. He has to make his point clear.

“That doesn’t change anything,” he whispers, keeping his voice as steady as possible. Looks down at his lap and notices his hands fidgeting. Immediately stops the movement and takes a deep breath. He can’t let Damien see how affected he is. It’d only make him push harder.

“It’s… it’s not fair.” Damien honest to God sniffs and Will catches a glimpse of him hovering closer from the corner of his eye. He moves the chair he’s sitting on further back, to keep the distance and Damien must notice because he freezes in place.

“Life isn’t fair,” Will says and his fingers start playing mindlessly with the hem of his shirt.

Damien clears his throat, probably to draw Will’s attention but he still doesn’t dare to lift his head up.

“I’ve been trying so hard to be better, though,” Damien’s voice sounds small and shaky, but at the same time there’s a petulant note in his tone.

And yeah, Will can give him that. It’s been six months since they talked things through in that same kitchen they are in now. It’s been six months since they gave it a second chance and Damien has been making effort. He’s cut off his toxic friends, stopped drinking and started treating their relationship as well… a relationship and not his dirty little secret. But it’s not enough. May sound cruel, but there are only handful of moments in which Will has felt truly happy.

Other than those, it’s just been exhausting.

It’s not to say that Will doesn’t love him. Because God, he does love him and it’s tearing him apart, that love. He’s never felt anything like that before for another person, so consuming and excruciating. That’s why he can’t look him in the eye right now.

He flexes his hands and sighs. “It’s just not working.”

“What?” It’s a simple question and there’s just as plain answer to it, but the soft way in which it is spoken, makes it so much harder to voice out for Will.

“Us.”

A few beats of silence and then, “Bullshit.” And Damien is angry now, he shuffles his feet and inhales sharply. He’s letting his emotions overtake him and it’s one of the many issues Will has been dealing with.

He needs to be the composed one. Always.

Dragging a hand over his face, he mutters, “I’m fucking tired, Damien. This whole thing between us has always been toxic and fuck, it still is. You still get into fights and I have to patch you up every goddamn time. I told you to talk with Ruby, how she deals with her anger issues but you didn’t listen. And I just can’t catch up to you, you know?” he pauses and lets out a bitter laugh,” One moment you fuck me into oblivion and make me feel loved, things seem fine and I think ‘well, maybe it’s not that bad’, but then then the next one you start talking about killing yourself and you disappear for days at times and never fucking give a sign of life and I just keep worrying because I don’t know what the fuck you did. And then you are back like nothing is wrong. Or you keep unloading so much shit on me and I can’t take it. I’m your boyfriend, not your therapist. I can’t handle your mood swings, your suicidal fantasies but it’s like sometimes you can’t shut up about it and it triggers me. And no matter how many times I tell you to stop, you keep pushing, you get fixated and it’s so bad for me, mentally. Like, I can’t give you the support you need. I’m sorry but I– I can’t,” he stops talking once he realizes his hands have been shaking and he counts to ten in his head before he can think of continuing.

“Yeah, sure I would be happy to be the person you come to with your problems, don’t get me wrong but it’s like this constant rollercoaster and I have my own shit. I can’t be your only source of mental support because I’m not shaped for it. I’m weak myself and you are so, so much emotional labor it’s draining me. We just aren’t good for each other. And on top of that, you still do drugs, don’t,” Will lifts his hand up, sensing that Damien wants to interrupt him. “Don’t feed me lies, please, the foundation of our relationship was built on you not being able to love me when you were sober. Shit, I don’t even think I properly know you because of that. And turns out, it’s truth, huh? You barely can be with me when you are, indeed, sober,” his voice is bitter at this point, devoid of any warmth.

It really hurt, when Will noticed that Damien has still been doing drugs. First few times, he tried to brush it off but then it just got unbearable. Damien’s been hard to deal with without other substances but with them? It’s then when Will was the most worried that the next time he’d see Damien, he would be in a coffin.

“It’s not that,” Damien says, bringing Will back from his thoughts. And at that he almost looks up.

“Then explain.”

“My head, gets too much and I… drugs help me escape it,” he sounds pathetic and watery, it’s pretty obvious by now that he’s crying and Will’s hand itches to reach out, to comfort him.

“There are specialists for that, Damien. You think drugs help you but you haven’t seen yourself after them, it always gets worse.”

Thing is, being with Damien is hard. Because he has days when he completely shuts Will off, is unreachable both figuratively and literally speaking. He has days when he goes on rants, his mind working mile a minute but it’s all too messy to even comprehend, though Will indulges him, even when it takes a dark path. And then in between, when they are both too exhausted by Damien’s outbursts, their communication is clumsy. There are way too many things they don’t talk about, choosing safer topics or just a shared silence. It’s suffocating in a way.

“You know, I look at Ruby and Jieun, Paul and Nino and get jealous because despite having problems they make each other happy, fulfilled. I find myself wanting a relationship like theirs, not a constant turmoil. I can’t do it anymore,” he explains, in a calmer voice this time. Gentler, to ease Damien into Will’s definite decision. “I don’t want picture perfect, it’s unrealistic, but I want genuine and healthy and this isn’t it,” he adds, deciding to stare at Damien’s socked feet and his heart aches. He really thought they’d be able to build something. That they’d prove all the doubters wrong, show everyone who wrote their relationship off at the mere beginning that they could create something beautiful.

Someone has once told him that he’s too much of a dreamer and this situation is the best example.

They are both quiet for a few minutes, Damien seemingly processing it all in his head and if not for his harsh breathing, it could pass for one of their quieter moments.

“You– you won’t even look at me?” And there it is, broken and full of emotions. Knocks the wind out of Will and he can feel how his vision gets blurred and eyes start burning because he isn’t able to stand letting Damien go. It’s as if someone was cutting a part of him out, violently. The realization that he is the one doing it is deafening and he has to close his eyes. To prevent breaking down.

In the end, he never sees how Damien has looked thorough the whole conversation, nor does he see him moments before he walks away.

Damien doesn’t fall down to his knees, doesn’t start begging Will to give it another try. He must understand the finality of Will’s words and it makes Will love him even more.

He starts breathing again only after he hears Damien leaving the apartment – Will has registered him taking his coat and shoes but not staying inside to put them on – and the first few exhales are painful. Cross that out, his whole chest just hurts as if there has been a giant hole carved out and Will thinks he won’t be able to live.

Like really, he wants to die. That’s how bad it feels to leave Damien, that’s what he meant by calling this love consuming. Will can’t even imagine how his life is going to look like now and it nearly kills him. It’s as if he hasn’t lived before Damien. Can’t even remember how it was like, these two years or so ago. The only thing he knows is that thinking about reality without Damien feels cold and empty. And he nearly loses it.

Then:

He hears three tentative knocks on the door frame and his head shoots up, for some reason expecting to see Damien even though he knows it’s impossible.

He’s met with a worried look on Paul’s face and isn’t it funny, how it’s always Paul being a witness to all groundbreaking shit concerning Will and Damien?

He must have heard everything that went down, Will realizes. But there isn’t any ‘told you so’, not a trace of happiness. Only concern. And it reassures him, in some twisted way.

“You okay?” Paul asks and frowns. Probably understands how inappropriate and out of place this question is. Paul opens his mouth to maybe add something but Will beats him to it.

“No, but I will be,” he lets out, his voice trembling and only then do tears begin streaming down his cheeks. He finally lets them.

Paul doesn’t hesitate to cross the distance between them and pull him into one of his bony and awkward embraces.

Will hurts all over but maybe, just maybe he can believe his own words. He just needs some time.

#day 1 #30 day writing challenge #original story #writing #mine #writeblr #writers on tumblr #ocs

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starduztz · 7 years ago

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♏️ Scorpio in the houses

🏠1st house (= your ascendant)

you want to shock people with your appearance

there’s a tendency to create a physical mask with your appearance that hides all your inner feelings

may have give some seriously intense sex vibes

you want to come off as mysterious, passionate and sexual, there’s a huge want to control people’s perception off you so that they don’t find out the real you

extreme self control, you are self aware that your own intensity can be overwhelming

controlling your emotional expression equals strength to you

approaches new things with suspicion

can make people uncomfortable due to their intense presence

may have a bitter or resenting attitude

it’s either all or nothing cause you’ll die trying

projects powerful, magnetic and almost mysterious energies

🏠 2nd house

you have intense feelings about money, you either love it or hate it

very possessive about your earnings

can treat people close to them as objects or possessions if they feel insecure and avoids bonding emotional with people close to them

might get jealous over others amount of money or possessions

doesn’t like talking about their money situation with people, very private about their money

why should people get to know about the things you have or don’t have in life??

collects or buys things that others might think are strange or bizarre

you might use unconventional ways to earn money

🏠 3rd house

you prefer to hide your most private and inner thoughts

sarcastic!!

small talk wth you quickly turns into a deep conversation, like one minute it’s about the weather and then you hit them with the frightening reality of climate change

you can easily obsess over things in your head and become engulfed in new interests and passions, you need to investigate and get to the bottom of things

very frank and honest about things

everything that you think and say are beliefs and opinions that you strongly believe in

you have a very creative and different way of thinking

may dominate conversations too much and be a bit too intense with how you communicate

you judge people very hard when they don’t do as you tell them to

🏠 4th house (IC)

wanting to be in control at home

might end up in extreme or unconventional home situations with family/the people you live with

you are comfortable with the extreme, possibly a person that’s very comfortable in their sexuality and dealing with strong emotions

when you go home you kind of like to hide away from the world, because of this you want to create the perfect home environment for yourself

never mess with this person’s family!! they will hunt you down for it

private about family matters

may be the dominate or one of the dominate people in the family/household

🏠 5th house

you seek out intense experiences that makes you feel deep things

a freak in the sheets, aka you like to experiment and explore with sex

you are attracted to the emotional complex, these people intrigue you

emotional intensity!! you are super down for that

very sensual

you want to solve mysteries in life, might enjoy hobbies where you research a lot

might try to change your partner and be a bit too possessive and intense

can have a hard time letting go of loved ones, especially if you have kids and they start to grow up and become independent

🏠 6th house

serious about work, aka obsessed with it

might be too intense for others to work with which is why you usually work best alone

coworkers might find you intimidating

maybe working with research, science or finance would be good for you?

everything in your daily life is about finding intense depth both emotionally and spiritually

might be extremely focused on details, but this obsession you prefer to keep to yourself

you don’t like showing people the process in how you get shit done or achieve things you just like to showcase the final result so you don’t reveal anything in between or any possible struggles you’ve dealt with

has a strong need to control your own life

you help people by snapping them out of self pity and bringing them back to reality, this may make you come of ass cold

🏠 7th house (Descendant)

you are attracted to power and status

might get jealous and possessive with romantic partners

you want a partner that’s so strong that not even you can control them

can have a hard time treating your partner like an equal

having a successful relationship is something that you value and feel like you need in order to feel fulfilled in life

you fall hard for people and truly understand the depth of love but can become insecure when your jealous and possessive instincts become too much

you attract very dark and mysterious relationships that are full of emotional depth and intimacy

🏠 8th house

you have a hard time opening up about your feelings/opinions about other people

people might think you are stuck or in a serious low but you always manage to get back up no matter how many times you fail or fall

you don’t like sharing money and finances with your partner

you get power and control by making money, owning things/people and with sex

very intutive and can be very good in bed because you pick up fast on what your partner likes

but you can also use sex as a weapon in relationships and use it to control or manipulate people

you provide a super intimate, loyal and sensual intensity for your partners

🏠 9th house

unconventional beliefs and practices intrigue you

you love educating yourself on subjects that really interest you and showing people how to be in control

your emotions are very connected with your spiritual and philosophical beliefs

can have issues with being practical because you communicate in such a abstract and deep way

might manipulate people into doing bad things

you look for people that are open to your beliefs and your intellect, which can make your views and beliefs quite narrow because you don’t surround yourself with new and different beliefs which can enrich/transform your own

🏠 10th house (Midheaven)

very ambitious and workaholic tendencies

success is very easy with your amazing focus and strong will, as long as your extreme emotions and destructive behaviors don’t get in your way

comes across as powerful and strong in the public eye

will do almost anything to achieve their goals and to make an impact

can easily become drained when they give too much energy into their work and don’t take time to relax

they can go through difficult or challenging situations and still be able to deal with them because they know that no matter what they will survive

taking risks and changing in life can be a great way for these people to heal emotionally

thrives when they learn to balance intellect with their feelings!!

becomes easily frustrated when they aren’t allowed to indulge or get what they want in life

🏠 11th house

you want to/try to surround yourself with dynamic, powerful and energetic people

you want friends that share the same views as you

very picky about who you befriend, but once friends you are super loyal

obsessed with your dreams and will work hard to reach them

you prefer facing your problems with other people in a group setting than by yourself

you don’t like to focus too much on your own feelings, instead you want to experience hardships with others so that the feelings becomes more relatable and even generalized so they are easier to handle because then they don’t feel so personal anymore

however you don’t like the things that you share with your friends to reach people outside of your social circle, you are private and secretive with your group of friends

can have issues with their own identity and because of this they might have issues relating to other people when they can’t even relate to themselves

strays away from too deep and personal subjects, they like it easy and breezy

can be possessive of friends and too dominating and not letting them be or become who they truly are!!

🏠 12th house

you can find strength in things that other people might look past or shy away from

are all your feelings on lock down?? cause I mean they are very much locked away, with like 3 or more locks. you might wanna unlock at least one or two just a friendly tip

somewhat of an underdog because people really don’t know how powerful you are and you might even miss it yourself

you have a mysterious aura

has issues separating your own feelings with other people’s feelings, they can easily get mixed up

very open to other people’s emotions and energies

#scorpio cusp #scorpio #by moi #astrology

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carmillatheninth · 8 years ago

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On Kierark, Toxic Relationships, and Fetishization

I am honestly alarmed by how many people ship Kierark (not to mention Kierarktina). Tumblr prides itself on being “woke,” and yet it’s a rare blog that DOESN’T ship them. But why? It’s toxic and unhealthy. Why is it that so many people don’t see it? Well, today I’m going to outline all the reasons why this ship is messy and abusive.

Let’s start with the first place we see them: “Bitter of Tongue,” one of the Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy novels. Granted, we don’t see much of them and it makes sense for Kieran to seem unfriendly around a Shadowhunter (or rather, a Shadowhunter-in-training). But then we get this observation from Simon, “[He] could not tell if the tight grasp of Kieran’s hand was affectionate, anxiety, or a wish to imprison.” First lesson in witnessing abuse: if it looks like abuse, it’s probably abuse. Also, why would that suggestion even be there if it wasn’t a very real possibility? Sure, this seems a bit flimsy, but it’s reinforced by what we then see in The Dark Artifices.

Let’s move on to Lady Midnight: The very first interaction we see Mark and Kieran have is when Kieran leaves him a note in an acorn saying, “Remember, none of it is real.” He knows Mark is in a fragile state of mind and he knows how much Mark has missed his family. And what is his response? Tell him it’s not real! That is a classic example of gaslighting. And we immediately see the impact it has, as Mark believes it and has a set back.

The next significant moment is when Mark, Emma, Julian, and Cristina go to the Lottery and Kieran follows and meets Mark in the coat closet. He spends the entire time guilting Mark for doing THE VERY THING MARK WAS SENT THERE TO DO. He’s mad Mark is spending time with his family and trying to solve the murders, even though he knows Mark only has a limited amount of time to do so. Mark immediately turns apologetic, EVEN THOUGH HE DID NOTHING WRONG. This is a manipulation of Mark’s emotions and further gaslighting.

Shortly after, Kieran spies on Mark and Cristina and gets jealous that they’re literally just having a conversation. The second he gets a chance to do something (Mark letting a faerie secret slip), he immediately sells Mark out. This is fucked up for two reasons: 1. Kieran reveals he thought Gwyn would force him to return to the Wild Hunt (and thus, Kieran). This is incredibly selfish and completely takes away Mark’s choice. If Kieran cared about what Mark wanted, he wouldn’t have tried to take away his choice. Even Julian, who would do ANYTHING to keep his family together, doesn’t do that. Kieran only thought about what HE wanted and fuck whether or not that’s what Mark wanted to (remember, at this point, no one knows what Mark will choose). 2. HE SOLD OUT THE BOY HE SUPPOSEDLY LOVES KNOWING THERE WOULD BE SOME KIND OF PUNISHMENT. We know, given that Kieran admits it and faeries can’t lie, that his only goal was to get Mark back. He didn’t give a shit about Gwyn’s secret being slipped. It was just a convenient turn of events. HE SOLD MARK OUT FOR ENTIRELY SELFISH REASONS. In doing so, he betrayed his selfishness and Mark’s trust.

And then, of course, there’s the infamous whipping scene. When Julian volunteers, Kieran ACTUALLY AGREES TO THIS. Defenders say he doesn’t view family the same way, so he wouldn’t understand that this was wrong. BUT, faeries know what family means to Shadowhunters and, more importantly, Kieran knows damn well what Mark’s family means to him.Therefore, THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR THIS. He doesn’t even feel guilty for what happens; he’s just upset Mark no longer trusts him and even hates him (I’ll provide more proof of this later).

Parallel to this, another pattern emerges: Kieran supports Mark’s insistence that he’s a Shadowhunter until other Shadowhunters are around. Then suddenly, he’s only a faerie. This has a very possessive air to it; Mark can only embrace his Shadowhunter side when it doesn’t threaten Kieran’s claim on him.

And now we get to Lord of Shadows: The first we hear of Kieran, we discover he has murdered Iarlath for whipping Emma and Julian (very clearly to try and win Mark back over). At first glance, it seems that he’s trying to make reparations. But, consider this: Iarlanth would never have whipped Emma and Julian had Kieran not sold Mark out. He still isn’t taking responsibility for his part in that day, showing he doesn’t really feel guilty (here’s that proof I promised). He’s just upset he doesn’t have Mark anymore.

But, let’s be fair, Mark does something alarming here too: his first instinct upon finding out Kieran is going to be executed is to refused to help him. He says he knew Gwyn wouldn’t let it happen, but then Gwyn never even shows up to the rescue. Perhaps, maybe, he didn’t really believe Gwyn would save Kieran. You want one half of your ship leaving the other one to die? Okay, then. And then, Mark only goes when Zara calls his honor into question the same way Gwyn did when he refused to help. HE’S DOING IT TO PROVE HE HAS HONOR. In what world is that a good thing in a relationship?

After the rescue, we come to the point where Kieran agrees to speak before the Clave and must swear fealty to someone. He swears fealty to Cristina and ACTUALLY TELLS MARK HE DID IT TO SPITE HIM. Even when he doesn’t remember witnessing Mark and Cristina getting close, he STILL pulls this shit. (Now would also be a good time to point out that losing one’s memories does not equal character development or redemption. If he does’t remember what he did, he can’t redeem himself from it. It also begs the question: why remove his memories in the first place? The Unseelie King didn’t know anyone was coming to rescue Kieran (let alone his ex), so what was the point? To try and trick us into thinking Kieran is having character development? Well, it didn’t work.)

Okay, let’s call Mark out for something again: he lies to Kieran about the break up so he will help him. While Mark had legitimate reason to not trust Kieran and it was for a very good cause, this is still a messed up thing to do. And it’s certainly not the kind of thing healthy relationships are built on.

Next, let’s get to the sex dream scene. First of all, it should be noted that, even when Kieran is making Mark have a sex dream about him, Mark is still thinking about Cristina. That’s telling, to say the least. But let’s get to the real issue with this: Mark tells us that Kieran used to do this for him in the Hunt, “but this time was different.” BUT THIS TIME WAS DIFFERENT. But what’s difference between those times and this one? Easy, Mark wanted it those other times, but not this time. KIERAN FORCED A NON-CONSENSUAL SEX DREAM ON MARK. No, this is not technically rape. But Kieran had zero consent and Mark clearly felt less-than-good about it. This is a VIOLATION. THIS IS NOT OKAY. Even if, as some people have said, Mark is the one who made it sexual, Kieran was still the one awake and in control of the dream. He knows Mark is asleep and therefore cannot consent. Either way, THIS IS A NON-CONSENSUAL VIOLATION.

Speaking of things that are not okay, Mark tells us something else about he and Kieran’s Wild Hunt days. They used to have terrible screaming fights. If this wasn’t unhealthy enough, we find out none of them were ever resolved because they just devolved into (presumably) sex. They had terrible, horrible fights that they NEVER RESOLVED. This is so very clearly toxic I can’t believe anyone can overlook this.

Remember when I said Kieran doesn’t care about what Mark wants? I have more evidence of that. Mark tells Kieran he’s not sure about their relationship anymore and asks for some time and space. And what does Kieran give him? Not time and space, that’s for sure! Yes, they’re both stuck in the Institute, but it’s really not hard to avoid someone in an Institute. This was Kieran once again ignoring Mark’s wishes and doing whatever the fuck he wants. At the very least, this is disrespect. At the very worst... well, would you want your significant other to do this shit?

“But they can’t keep their hands off each other when they’re together!!!” Hate to break it to you but PHYSICAL ATTRACTION DOES NOT MEAN THE RELATIONSHIP IS HEALTHY OR NON-TOXIC. People are attracted to people who are bad for them or who treat them badly ALL THE TIME. It is no where NEAR enough to base an entire relationship on, especially when it’s so unhealthy in so many other ways.

And all this brings me back to my original question: why do so many people still ship this? If it was a guy doing this to a girl, you’d all be up in arms. Not only that, but you claim you want good same-sex rep and yet ship things like this. Newsflash: same-sex relationships can be abusive, unhealthy, and toxic. They aren’t automatically perfect by virtue of being same-sex (and before you make any assumptions (as Tumblr is wont to do), I am a lesbian).

I can only come to one conclusion: you don’t really care about same-sex rep at all. You just have a fetish for white M/M relationships. And that pisses me the hell off. If you cared about same-sex rep, you would ALWAYS call it out when it’s unhealthy. (And no, I don’t think that was the point Cassie was trying to make, as she seems pretty hung up on them. But I think it’s clear she shares your fetish because we have countless Malec stories (of course, Magnus is Indonesian, but it’s still M/M) and keep getting Kierark content, but no Haline content. Interesting.) I am absolutely disgusted with “fake woke” Tumblr, only caring about things when it doesn’t interfere with their ships. Honestly, if you can read this whole thing and STILL feel okay with shipping Kierark, don’t call yourself an ally. You’re not. You just fetishize the M/M experience.

I have the terrible feeling that Cassie is not only going to go through with Kierark, but force Kierarktina down our throats. But I will never stop being vocal about how toxic, unhealthy, and abusive this ship is. I hope I’ve woken some of you up to the reality of this ship (remember, everything I listed was CANON FACT), but I won’t hold my breath.

UPDATE: So, I finished QOAAD and I have some additional comments. I’m not saying Cassie read my post and decided to retcon all these issues (for all I know, QOAAD was finished before I wrote this post). What I AM saying is the way Cassie addresses the issues I laid out in this original post is, quite frankly, bullshit. (Spoilers ahead.)

I don’t think Cassie knows how to write a redemption arc. Kieran’s redemption arc is made entirely of retconned canon, instead of actually showing him change as a character. Let’s begin with the only bit not related to his relationship with Mark and Cristina.

Apparently, Kieran was a very kind prince to his subjects. I know he’d been sent to the Wild Hunt because the Unseelie King viewed him as a threat, but this makes no sense with his character. Prior to this, Kieran has pretty much never been shown as being selfless or kind to anyone. Kieran says he did was kind for selfish reasons, which makes more sense to me. But then every character around him insists that he was kind because he cares, despite there being literally no evidence of this.

What pissed me off the most was when Mark said Kieran sent him that “Remember, none of this is real” not in Lady Midnight to comfort him. Mark says he remembers Kieran whispering that to himself while in the Hunt to help him cope with the horrors.

The problem is this doesn’t line up with what happens in Lady Midnight. When Mark receives the note, he has a breakdown. It sets back all the progress he’s made reacclimating to life with his family. He doesn’t connect it to anything he’s heard Kieran say before. He doesn’t even remember it at any point along the way. Mark literally never brings it up until Kieran finally admits he was wrong to do that. You can’t just say “Oh, I knew this was what you really meant all along” when your canon disproves this. If this was what Cassie had meant to be the truth all along, she would’ve addressed it far sooner.

Another instance of this is when Mark claims Kieran told Gwyn that Mark shared his secret with Cristina to “save his life.” But... from whom? Mark isn’t in danger from his family. Cristina shows no sign that she’s going to kill Mark and use the information for her own purposes. Gwyn wouldn’t have known Mark shared that secret unless someone told him. So how is Mark’s life in danger? How is Kieran going selling Mark out to Gwyn saving his life?

Remember how I said memory loss isn’t the same thing as a redemption arc? Neither is a magic pool that forces you to experience the pain you’ve put others through, and thus develop empathy. It shouldn't take this much for a supposedly good person to realize they’ve hurt people. This is such a cheap tool to further a redemption arc, and all is does is undercut any of that “progress.” Cassie is basically saying that Kieran never would’ve realized he’d hurt people without magical intervention and that is... not encouraging.

This makes even less sense, because Cassie was already setting up a more believable redemption arc. Kieran agrees to still testify before the Clave after he realized Mark had lied to him in Lord of Shadows. Why throw away a natural redemption arc in favor of something that makes your character seem void of empathy without a magic mirror to the soul?

Cassie has every character suddenly praising Kieran and talking about how much he’s changed. Even though he’s not really that different. But we’re expected to believe that Julian has just forgiven him? Julian Lives-And-Breathes-Vengeance Blackthorn? Cristina gets to speak for Emma and say she’s forgiven Kieran. That’s not for her to say.

I’m just saying, it’s not a coincidence that Emma being pro-Kierarktina is on page 666.

Mark forgiving Kieran makes sense. Mark letting him back into his heart is out-of-character. Cristina finding Kieran attractive makes sense. Cristina suddenly falling in love with him is out-of-character.

Do you know why Herongraystairs works? Because all the characters have genuine chemistry and you can clearly see why they love each other. Cassie literally has to spell out why Kierarktina works. This means she doesn’t show it well enough. Which means they fundamentally don’t work as a polyamorous relationship. As Emma repeatedly refers to the relationship as a “hot faerie threesome,” it just feels like more fetishization on Cassie’s part.

So, even though I knew this was going to happen, I’m still disgusted and disappointed. I even tried to keep an open mind, but Kieran’s redemption arc just does not work. Why should I want a character who doesn’t feel empathy without magical assistance anywhere near Mark and Cristina? If Cassie had really worked for a redemption arc, maybe it could’ve worked. I probably still wouldn’t have liked it, but I could’ve somewhat accepted it.

Honestly, after all the shit he pulled, the only redemption arc I would’ve accepted was Kieran sacrificing himself for Mark, Cristina, and the Blackthorns. It would’ve had more impact and the characters could’ve actually reflected on real character growth, rather than insisting to the reader that Kieran has changed.

So anyway, fuck Kieran. Kierarktina really kept me from loving this book as much as the first two. All three of the characters involved have to be out-of-character for the relationship to work. And I just can’t support bad writing like that.

#kierark #mark blackthorn #kieran of the hunt #kierarktina #the dark artifices #tda #cassie clare #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #lady midnight #lord of shadows #bitter of tongue #queen of air and darkness #qoaad spoilers

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