#despite being well aware of it all. hes not being coerced in any way hes making this decision for himself

[iantosource]

okay i get ianto's past relationships weren't always the healthiest but saying hes NEVER been in a consensual relationship in canon is just making things up

[kaszuma]

Oxygen is all we need | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 5 of “Certainly Yours”

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x fem!reader

summary: you rarely see soshiro be breathless on the battlefield. And the one time you did, it was coerced by a sentient Numbers Weapon you had created.

warnings: NSFW explicit scenes with plot, mentions of sexual m/f activity, Fingering/handjob with Combat Suit on, Semi-public fingering/handjob, Hoshina being a little feral, slight description of gore for dissecting combat suits, mentions of injury for Hoshina, SPOILERS for Kn8 manga

wc: 7,719

–

note: Please tell me if I missed any warnings. There's kind of a lot. NSFW part was originally gonna be some soft lovemaking type of writing. But I figured I could save that for a future part. Went too feral on his Number 10 Combat Suit from reading the manga lmao. This is not proofread

–

Soshiro Hoshina, was an enigma.

He had always been that way to his peers. He was no different to you, now that you had been privy to see a small part of his life that people have yet to pry open.

Despite the laid-back persona he'd exemplify, you were always aware of the disciplined and hard working nature he hid beneath the surface of his jokes and smiles. And his everyday life only showed a fraction of this side of him that no one seems to pay attention to.

All except you of course, who had been keeping an eye on him well before the two of you started dating.

It started in the little actions he'd take. From the early hours of the morning, he'd wake up on the dot just to grab a cup of coffee before the day had turned busy. The privacy of his office had been made neat, filled with finished paperwork that he'd arranged the day before. Leaving room for him to swing his sword in the training rooms until the cool nights of the summer where even cicadas started sleeping early.

His comrades? Fast asleep in their bunks. Unaware that the Vice Captain was sweating. Recreating the battles he's faced in the wake of an emergency. Where Tachikawa's base had been left in his hands.

Every failure, every mistake, every mishaps he had allowed. He had made sure to embed the consequences deep into his body. Making a vow to never let anyone catch him off guard. Kaiju or humans included. And although it was a rare sight. Even you, his lover. Had not seen him work himself breathless.

Not once had you caught him wheezing to catch up. His hard work, hidden under people's watch.

His efforts were definitely there. But no one had been able to see his training first hand. Leaving people to chalk it up to simply talent, or the bloodline of his ancestry belonging to a family of generational Kaiju Slayers.

But his hard work, though hidden. Had not all been in vain. As he of all people knew deep down that he worked–no, strived to become better. To prove his existence in the field. And you, had strived to make it happen in the wake of Kaiju Number 10 readying itself to be weaponized upon your command.

It had been a few days since you and a team of technicians had decidedly worked on converting Kaiju no. 10 as a plausible weapon. A suit befitting for your lover to wear.

The first time you had seen its deformed body, trapped in a tank for containment. It had chilled you to the bone. When it briefly made eye contact with you. As if it knew something deep within your body that you hadn't known yet. Its one eye continuously staring at your form, in a strange admiration. Similar to how it looked to Soshiro.

Admiration was one thing. But said admiration coming from a potentially dangerous Kaiju was another. Such is the way of their line of work.

Surprisingly, anytime the tank had been registered open. You had not seen Kaiju no. 10 struggle at all in its restraints. Not at all bothered at the mere fact that its life was threatened to be converted into a weapon. The plates of armor, although mangled. Had not shown any signs of tension. And each incision you'd make was relaxed. The formation of the modified Combat Suit was simple. Unrestrained, even. To the point that it would obediently let you slice it as you wished. To shape and mold it to the combat suit you wished to make.

Hell, it even went as far as to talk you through it when you were removing the last bits of his shattered headpieces. Leaving the core and its surrounding muscle fibers intact. Beating, breathing like a heart. “So this is the one huh?” You heard it's gurgled laughter. As if you had not been cutting it open for hours by now.

Soshiro and a few soldiers were stationed right behind you. A team of other technicians and scientists assisting your movements to place the armor pieces together. The tension in the room was heavy, weapons readied in the case of an emergency. But like always, the Kaiju had all but stayed completely still. Obedient with a few laughs here and there for the hell of it.

“Even his woman is a weapons creator. I really did make the right decision to join forces with you, Swordsman.” Kaiju no. 10 had spoken. And you look over to Soshiro wearily at the way it had so easily figured out your relationship with him. It’s as if it read his mind, which both startled and irked your lover to no end.

“Shut yer’ trap. By the time she's done with you, you're as good as obedient to me.” You had seen the way Soshiro had glared at the dismembered monster. And the way his voice had lowered an octave. It made you momentarily forget that you were in a room full of people.

You purse your lips. Trying not to focus on his smooth voice. Not when you were potentially busy dealing with a Kaiju that had not been fully weaponized yet.

You had all but shook your head. No, get your mind out of the gutter.

“Stop provoking each other.” You spoke, pulling away at the last bit of veins connected to the hardened plating. "I'm trying to work here.”

You let out a sigh. Eventually taking the last muscle fiber and attaching the last bit of the Kaiju’s parts onto the mold of the suit. Its shape fully formed right besides its old carcass that had been readily discarded afterwards. The Combat Suit took ages to cut apart. With its armor far too hard to penetrate with just a scalpel alone. But somehow you and your team had managed. And all somehow went according to the blueprints you made.

The suit was the right size. The plating was sturdy, amplified with shields and wires that would support its structure. And the fact that it had an added limb for a tail. Its extension beautifully connected to the lower end of its spine that completed the look.

Number 10 had not made a single sound as it had likely died from being weaponized. Like the rest of the Kaiju before it. And you mentally pat yourself on the back for a job well done for making quick work of him.

Or at least..that's what was supposed to happen. “Wear me, swordsman. I want to fight something already.”

Huh?

“It's still speaking?” You had felt yourself be pulled back. Soshiro had wasted no time getting in front of you. Hand already on the hilt of his swords, as the weaponized Kaiju stared straight back at him. This time, instead of a mangle corpse, it had been a combat suit. Capable of speech and thought processing.

“Why is it still sentient?” He had glanced back at you. And you can see the faint traces of his still fresh bandages wrap around his lower neck, within the zipper of his jacket.

“I don't know.” You had spoken truthfully. “We've never had to weaponize a sentient Kaiju before.” You had replied. Weary of the tension in the room. Soshiro's back had all but blocked your view from the Combat Suit. And it laughed when the rest of the technicians also backed up. Cowering behind some of the soldiers who already had their guns raised. Pointed straight at the tank that held the completed weapon.

“Is it safe to use?” Soshiro asked.

“It should be. The rest of his core can't sync up to his body anymore, so I doubt he can kill anyone right now.” You explained. Not once had Soshiro looked away from the suit.

You had watched as Soshiro wearily stood straighter. This time, raising his hand so that the rest of the soldiers would lower their aimed weapons. And although they had been hesitant, they had done exactly that. With the weaponized Kaiju not reacting at all in fact.

“Well this isn't good..” He whispered. Skeptical about letting you get any closer to it as the Kaiju inside of it seemed ecstatic. Screaming praises towards you, excited that it might be worn soon. And Soshiro twitched, his smile irritated more than usual.

“It..probably needs a bit more time to adjust in the combat suit. For now, let me work on it alone.” You had suggested, seeing the skepticism of the other technicians who did not want anything to do with the suit who is very much still alive.

You had no doubt that no one wanted to work on the weapon, especially since it was still very sentient. Now in possession of solidified upgrades to strengthen its use in combat. If it was still able to formulate thoughts despite having been completely mangled as a weapon. Kaiju no. 10, now had the means to breach the combat suit's limitations. In the case it did lose control. And when you were working with an unidentified threat, there's a high chance it wouldn't hesitate to attack.

Meaning, if the higher ups wanted this weapon usable for Soshiro. Then you were the only one who'd be willing to work through the weapon’s new kinks and pieces. To stop it from getting wild and uncontrollable.

It had obediently let you work on it the first time. You were positive that it wouldn't be a problem now. Right?

“...Are you sure about this? I don't mind if it doesn't become usable ya’ know? It ain't worth risking your life like this.” He had briefly brushed a thumb to your cheek. Forgetting that there had been an audience of officers just behind them.

Though it seems Soshiro did not care much about that. More worried for your safety, in all of this.

“Calm down swordsman. I'm not interested in killing the woman who's bound to make me stronger. It'll keep things..Interesting.”

Soshiro had looked over to the tube that held the weaponized Kaiju in place. It didn't even register in your eyes when he had unsheathed one of his blades. Pointing the tip directly at the cross section on the combat suit's chest. Where the eye had been placed. “Keep talking and I'll slice you to ribbons ya’ little-”

But before he could threaten number 10, you had crossed your way over to lower his weapon. A gentle hand on his bandaged chest that had been healing for a few days now. “I will be just fine.”

“You heard him, he won't hurt me.”

“And ya’ sure about that?” He had a strained smile on his lips. Bordering frustration as he had not once moved his gaze from the suit.

“If he planned to, he would've attacked me way before I could dice him up to make armor out of him.” You had given him a small smile. Despite your own skepticism.

“I'll be fine..” You reassured him again. And silence took momentary peace in the room full of weary people. The others had not been convinced in the slightest.

Soshiro had a minute to take in your words. His hardened gaze softened momentarily as it met your pretty face. And as usual, you did not falter when you spoke confident sentences. Strong-willed and unafraid as you were. As self-confident as ever it seems, befitting for someone who worked closely on the defense force despite not being a soldier. You were troublesome indeed. But he had no doubt you'd be able to make something out of the living Kaiju he and Captain Ashiro worked so hard to kill.

He couldn't help but let out a sigh. Placing his blade back on his hip. “Fine. But, I'm staying here with you, so…”

“Get him ready, and I'll be the one to break him in for ya.”

–

It had been a few days since that incident occurred. After a few talks with command, you had been granted access to a private facility where the necessary tools and materials were given to you to fix Number 10's control over the weaponized suit. Having been quickly transferred to a private facility that no one but a select few had access to.

Surprisingly, Soshiro had done well on his promise. Leaving the Tachikawa base to stay with you on a daily basis in the case that Kaiju no. 10 would attack. Likely having already explained the situation to Captain Ashiro long before you had worked on adjusting the suit’s flaws.

Soshiro was usually a patient man. But being a Vice Captain of an entire division, you did not want to waste a second of his packed schedule when he was already so busy with his other responsibilities. So you wasted no time as you continued to limit the weapon's control over its armored body. Thoroughly eradicating its ability to disobey order from its wearer, but to no avail.

So far, all you had been able to do was to limit the monster's movements, down to a singular point which was its tail. The limb seems to have a mind of its own, and it did not bother to listen to any of you nor Soshiro's commands. Demanding that they let him battle a Kaiju to test out his new uses. And the moment Soshiro had declined. You weren't spared from Kaiju no. 10's complaining either. Constantly yapping in excitement for a battle that had yet to start.

Although it wasn't nearly as controlled as you liked, command had apparently dubbed the weaponized combat suit as usable enough for Soshiro to handle. And despite the dangers of its early prototypes, they were both given the permission to do a test run within the indoor training grounds provided near the labs.

Which is what leads you today, alone once more in an enforced room no less. Watching Soshiro step into the small pod, where wires had connected the Weaponized combat suit onto his body.

And from the control panel right next to it. You are able to grasp a few readings of his vitals. All seemed stable thus far.

“Are you sure about this? Wouldn't it be safer to have soldiers on standby for the simulation?” You had stood up from your chair. Brows scrunched the moment the combat suit had zipped closed around his body.

Your eyes had glanced over at the way his suit had all but molded to his form. The armor plating had fit distinctly to his chest. And his arms and legs had no trouble adjusting to the heavy heat of Kaiju no. 10's muscle fibers. The ones you had distinctly measured to fit his body. A combat suit made only for him in mind.

And he looked damn good in it. You thought.

“I’ll be fine sweetheart. I'm confident ya’ made it safe enough for me to wear it.” He had spoken through the standard respiratory mask he wore. And you could hear each audible breath he took in. Calm and steady unlike the buzz in your head that kept glancing down your lover's abdomen.

You had half a mind to look away. To not focus on the ridges of his plated hands. The hardened steel that covered his abs. And that damn tail on his back, that traced the ridges of his neck and spine.

Fuck.

Here he was, trusting his safety to the very core of your days worth of handiwork. And all you were thinking about is how you wished his hands were unbuttoning your blouse. And worse.

“Sure.” You stutter.

“Let's just hope it syncs up with your brain waves..” You had distracted yourself. Forcing your eyes to face the screen instead of his body. And you could see the way Soshiro had visibly slackened when he had noticed the way you had turned away from him. And this abruptness had made him frown a little. Thinking that the suit might've scared you to bits. A far cry to the actual thoughts swimming in your mind.

“Your woman here is quite talented in strengthening me. I see why you can't ignore her.” Kaiju no. 10 spoke to him. A chuckle sounding out from the small intercom he wore. Luckily you were too distracted to hear its comment.

“You show hesitation. If I had been the one in control, I'd show no restraint to your woman and take her as mine..” Soshiro had heard it's voice in his head. And flashes of their synced brain had shown him a brief future where you had pinned her under his arms. His clawed hands gripping at the plush of your thighs, and he'd carefully start to taste the droplets of slick that would caress the skin nearest your-

He shook his head.

“Quit yappin’ or I'll have you decommissioned before you can ever become useful to me.” He had stepped forward. The wires disconnecting from the skeletal structure of his armored back. And Soshiro could feel the weight of the weaponized combat suit completely engulf his body. That tail of his, which previously belonged to Kaiju no. 10. Was swinging around haphazardly, out of his control. Like it had been excited from being worn. After days of laying dormant in the table to be operated on.

But if Soshiro had to guess. It was likely this excitement had stemmed from the thoughts the Kaiju had dug up from the very back of his brain. Thoughts that he had kept for himself in the darkness of his room where no one would disturb him.

And a monster having access to that?

Shit.

He might not hear the end of it.

If only he hadn't put that image inside his head. Who would've thought that syncing his brain waves with a sentient combat suit would have him thinking sinful thoughts. In broad daylight too, where the suit could monitor every muscle and bone in his body. Each reaction recorded and documented for a report.

He had heard stories that this was a common side effect that the Weapon Numbers had. The non-sentient ones had at least some form of memory of their previous users. The difference was, number 10 was more talkative. Straightforward even. It had just been his luck that the monster somehow managed to resurface a few of his thoughts that he buried deep within the very corners of his brain.

And here he was, in a situation that made his body unbelievably breathless and hot. Alone and in front of you.

“Vital signs are okay..but your thermal readings are higher than normal.” You had spoken. Shaking away the tingling sensation you felt from seeing him in the Combat suit. More worried about his well being this time.

But Soshiro couldn't seem to look you in the eye. A strained smile seems to have overcome his features as he felt the heat travel from the pit of his stomach, all the way down to the valley between his legs.

Shit.

Now was not the right time for him to harden.

“Is everything alright?” You had walked up much closer to him. And you can see the telltale signs of breathlessness in him. Odd considering he had never been caught breathless like this. And the moment you had come closer in proximity, he took a singular step back.

Which didn't go unnoticed by you.

In actuality, he was lucky that your eyes had been focused on his face. His pants were loose, no different from the standard uniform all officers would wear. But if you looked hard enough, you might be able to see the signs of his printed heat. Carved on the fabric nearest his thighs.

“Just peachy.” He answers with a chuckle.

“He's just..a little noisy that's all.” He had cleared his throat. Feeling the familiar sensation of his erection start to throb. And another wave of uncontrollable thoughts had washed over his mind. Likely a result from No. 10 sharing its desires to him. No, rather than sharing its thoughts, it most likely resurfaced his feelings that he kept hidden from his lover.

It hadn't been that long since you had officially gotten together. Save one date or two during the rare occasion that they'd both be off-duty. But never had they been intimate in that way before. Hell, he didn't even know if you were a virgin or not.

He flinches. Suddenly feeling the shockwave of heat skim across his armored body, making him falter from his movements to back away. And he falls forward. A hand on your shoulder to steady himself before he could completely stumble.

“Soshiro!” He had heard you speak. The palm of your hand against his chest. But his mind was dazed. His name on your lips had made his pants feel awfully tight. And his ears had warmed slightly, removing the respiratory mask on his face so that he could breathe more evenly. “M’ fine..”

His tone had not been convincing. And you could feel the quick breaths he'd take to make up for the lack of oxygen that took up all the heat in his body.

Damn you, Kaiju no. 10. Soshiro could practically hear it chuckling.

“Stop lying..” You had spoken exasperatedly. “Is he talking to you right now?” You heard him give you a hum.

And such a curt reply makes you wonder. Finding it odd that Soshiro, who was normally talkative and easy-going, had all but quieted down. Your question remained unanswered as he was too busy hearing the words of the Weaponized suit in his head. Urging him forward which had left you clueless to the thoughts in his head. “Your hesitation is cowardly. Move. Or I will, swordsman.”

And he purses his lips at the thought. His head leaning against your shoulder. Hand abruptly moving to palm the small of your back to pull you much closer than before. And he gritted his teeth at Number 10's coercion. “Don't touch her.”

His growl had made you flinch. And you can see the way his fangs had showed up from the way his teeth had bared. The low baritone of his voice had been unlike him. Heavy and out of breath. But somehow the sound shot straight down your core. And it makes you gulp.

The reply had clearly not been for you. And such actions would provoke him enough to pull you closer. That and you had found it strange for him to be acting in such a way. You had assumed as much that Number 10 would be talking to him. Though exactly what they had conversed about you hadn't had a clue. Only going off in the little hints of emotions you’d find surrounding his body and face. But that had been impossible too.

Not when he had his nose buried on the crook of your neck where the scent of your subtle cologne had wafted thoroughly. Leaving a mark that made him want to do as Number 10 had desired. Or better yet, provoked him to do it.

“Soshiro..” you called softly. Running your hands through his dark hair starts to worry for both his physical and mental state. It was common knowledge that Weaponized Kaiju would put a strain on its user. And you did not want to risk his life for an early prototype that had yet to be perfected by you.

To your better judgment, you had led him to lean against the control panel. Gently letting his back hit the surface of the table. And you had slowly unwrapped yourself from him. Reaching to the keyboard which will let you issue a command to get him ejected from the Weaponized Kaiju.

But before you could reach to press a few buttons, he pulled you back. Strong hands wrapping at the softness of your waist. Gingerly pulling you back, closer to him in proximity to prevent your escape. Your spine was pressed up against his chest where you could feel the sturdiness of his suit against your shoulder. And your frown at your lover's unusual stubbornness. Not one to often find him resisting any actions you'd issue when it came to testing weaponized materials. “Soshiro, just hold still I need to-”

You flinched. Stopping your sentence midway.

The sudden feeling of his teeth sinking into the nape of your neck had overridden whatever words that wanted to leave your mouth. All but too focused on the feeling of his teeth taking a bite from the skin of your very neck.

Surprisingly, his bite had not been enough to draw blood. It was softer than you anticipated. One that oddly made you yelp in a pleased manner. And just as quickly as he marked the area, he moved to lick away at the reddened state your skin had been left in. Which you had not expected, placing a hefty hand over your lips to strangle any noises your throat attempted to make from his intimate actions.

“Soshiro, wait.” You had flinched again.

Feeling his lips trail kisses southward. Down from the nape, all the way over to the pulse point on your neck. He had hummed, giving your skin a few kitten licks. Before he immediately sank his teeth into your skin once more.

Leaving red marks that left you jolting against him. Your head leaning back to press closer against his shoulder. Likely to let his teeth sink deeper, if he wanted to. But Soshiro, even in this dazed state, remained disciplined. Rigid as he didn't let the bite intensify in fear of injuring you. His only intent was to leave ravishing red marks that proved to him that you were his. A warning to the Kaiju that threatened his place beside you.

“Mm..sorry dear. You're jus’ way too fuckin sweet.” He mumbled against your skin. His tail, which had previously been quiet, had now wrapped itself loosely against your leg. As if trying to pull you closer to Soshiro's body. The same sentiment seemed to have been shared between Kaiju No. 10 and Soshiro. And you wonder if this had been the result of their minds syncing up. The conversation they would have in their head remained a mystery to you as they worked in tandem to challenge each other further. And you had hesitantly tried to pull away despite not wanting to stop.

“We're still at work..” You had whispered out. Breathing heavily as he licked and sucked on your neck. Leaving purple marks on the wake of his careful lips. Even in this state he had been meticulous. Leaving careful bites that only ever felt ticklish and pleasant. And he pulled you closer, halting you from escaping.

He had not been rough at all in the way he had so easily painted your skin with his masterpieces. And although his grip was firm. All you needed was to push him away. To stop him from going further. But you hadn't moved a single inch away. Let alone stop him.

“I know..I just..” He breathes heavily against your jaw and ear. Taking your free hand to drag it behind you. Guiding your touch to trace the ridges of his abdomen. Reaching all the way down to the softness of his pants. And you feel the cold zipper of his clothes graze against your fingertips.

But more importantly. Something warmer had touched her fingertips. And you could feel the shape of his length under the confines of fabric. Painfully hard and tight from his size. And you feel your breath hitch the moment you had realized why exactly he had been heating up so abnormally since he wore the suit. The strangled sound of his groan had been muffled by his lips pressing thinly together. Biting back the soft sighs as he guides your warm palm to press harder against his crotch.

“Jus’ tell me to stop.” He whispered.

“Tell me you don't want this..” He breathlessly groaned. Suddenly finding relief that your hand had cupped the very place he had been craving friction from. The texture of his pants made him shiver as you had delicately traced the imprint of his hard-on. As if all but admiring the large warmth in your hand. And you realized that your body showed no signs of stopping. Giving into the inhibitions that that struggle through the restraints of your logic.

And although you couldn't face him right now, you spoke softly. Immediately in your reply. “I want this..”

Soshiro had taken a moment to glance at you. And he sees the redness of your cheeks bloom against your skin. Chest heaving just as much as he was when he had started thinking about the pleasure in his body. Number 10 had seemed to read both you and him so easily that he didn't need to hold you both in place just so something would happen. The work is already being done in place as you suddenly press yourself further into his erection.

Without warning, you start grinding your hands against him. Moving it up and down, feeling the way the fabric rolled against your palm and the traces or dampness. Ones that alluded to sticky mess he made underneath the fabric.

A hiss came from his mouth and Soshiro couldn't help but pull you closer by the hips. His enhanced hands, one that had been strengthened by the weaponized suit, would likely leave bruises on the handle of your hips. If he had been too caught up or careless in his actions.

So he faltered, moving his hand away from your body. Instead, deciding to prop itself up on the surface of the control panel they leaned on. The other hand, which had still made contact with your hips. Had caressed you hungrily upon your own touches. Holding back his urges to grab you too tightly lest he breaks your body from his strength alone. An idea likely from Kaiju no. 10 who had oddly quieted down from his actions. Whether it too can feel the effects you have on him was a mystery to him. One of which he had greedily just decided to ignore for the time being.

He'll save the lectures for later.

“Fuck-” He had sighed out. Feeling your fingers start palming him harder. Rubbing his crotch vigorously. Enough to cause him to squirm in place. His eyes had momentarily opened. Squinting around for any cameras or recording devices hidden in the training room. Luckily, there was conveniently none. Likely a result of keeping Weapons 10 a secret in the case they get infiltrated by a Kaiju.

Not that it was a problem for him. He'd wipe any footage he finds later. And everyone would be none the wiser to their endeavors.

His focus had solely fixated on the way your fingertips felt upon his crotch. His hips have grown desperate. Moving to grind against your hand to get more friction out of you. But to no avail, the fabric was in the way. And right now, his only thought was that this moment, although as pleasing to him as it did to you, had been the worst time for the both of you to start in.

He had it all planned out too.

He'd take you out on a date on his off-duty. Make you wear a pretty sundress that he could easily peel off. And focus on your pleasure for the rest of the night should he be allowed to do so.

But this had been too different from his plans. Far too risky and sudden for his liking. His pleasure had been amped, and he had felt the careful touches you'd do in order to please him. Touch and palm his dick until it was beyond the point of arousal. Make him spill an early load in the confines of a training room no less.

But he'll be damned if he doesn't please you too.

“Ngh..You too sweetheart..” He groaned. “Let me make you feel good too.” He whispered, trying to regain a sense of control when his crotch had surely been sticky and wet from all the precum that damped his own boxers.

The hand that had hesitated in gripping your hip had slid forward to your stomach. His fingers tracing down the crumpled blouse that had tucked into the standardized pencil skirt that you had worn. And time and time again, it had not failed to grab his attention in each waking moment you decided to wear the damn thing.

The way it had hugged your figure, where he'd sneak a glance at the curves of your stomach and hips. His thoughts couldn't help but darken, admiring the way you had always managed to capture his attention. Unwarranted and without warning.

He didn't hesitate to pull your skirt up. Trailing the fabric directly above your navel until it revealed the pretty underwear you wore. And his textured fingertips traced his name on the waistband of the fabric. Playing with the mere shudders you'd make upon his touches. Your hands, which had busied themselves by touching Soshiro’s crotch, had stilled for a moment. Giving him a stellar opportunity to make up for lost time. It was his turn now.

“Keep yer legs open for me sweetheart..” He had whispered out. Immediately running his hand through the valley of your clothed core. Feeling the dampness of the underwear, stain his coarse fingertips with your slick. Your inner thighs which had quivered against his light touches had glistened as a few droplets slipped past his fingers which made the skin of your thighs all the more tantalizing to watch.

He'd like to admire it more if he were being honest. He could tell number 10 had been all the same as his tail trailed up further onto your thighs. Gripping the skin to keep you in place. But right now, it wasn't the ideal setting for such a thing. Had this been a perfect world, he'd have taken you somewhere more comfortable. More private to please you. But right now, the suit isn't responding to any of his commands. And the best way to shut him and his damn urges up was to do this as quickly as possible. He'll have to make up for this at a later date. For now, all they needed was each other's touches.

“Soshiro..wait, I've never-” You threw your head back. Pausing when the hand that had moved to palm your cunt had suddenly invaded your space. His fingers had slipped past your waistband to quickly pinch at the sensitive bundle of nerves above your entrance. Your clit throbbing to meet his touches as you clenched against nothing in particular. Leaving Soshiro's own pulsating erection shuddering from your lack of touches. Far too distracted to continue your previous movements. Pinching your tender clit had made Soshiro groan in response. Feeling just how wet you had gotten for him despite only touching you just now.

“This your first time?” He whispered. Kissing you squarely on the shoulders. Trying his best to calm your nerves at the new feeling he was giving you. His hand was far too occupied at touching the quivering spot between your legs. And he starts rubbing circles with his fingers. Pressing down on the nub of your clit which made you moan and buck your hips in response.

“Shh..S’okay. Let me take care of ya.” He breathed next to your ear. “I won't enter ya..just focus on the pleasure.” He sighed out. His fingers were already making quick work of your entrance which had not wasted any more time than he should have. Weary that anyone could walk in and see them doing other things that didn't involve number 10's prototype testing.

Immediately, he didn't hesitate to run his hands through your fleshy lips. Mixing the liquids of your slick to help satisfy the itch your heat had felt. And the noises you made when you spoke his name had all but proved to encourage his touches further. Stretching your cunt wide open to make way for his fingers.

And you had all but yelped the moment his movements had made quick and distinct touches to your cunt. Your entrance trying its damndest to swallow his fingers whole that had so easily helped build up the euphoric high your core desperately chased after. But to no avail, his fingers teased. Slipping past the entrance just to help you fit his fingers in much easier. Testing out whether you can take the stretch of his fingers or not.

Despite the strain on his pants, his hand had expertly rubbed and felt your fleshy entrance. Squeezing the slick out of you as it had completely dampened his fingers and the underwear that had threatened to slip past your thighs.

The shaky moans you'd let out was followed up by a finger slowly prodding at your cunt's entrance and without warning his coarse gloved hands had invaded you without struggle. His finger easily made it past the slippery exterior he worked so hard to prep. All for this moment. “Nghh..Soshi..ro..feels good.”

“I know sweetheart. You're close right?” His own shaky breaths had replied back. His fingers suddenly pistoning in and out of your sopping wet core. Invading and reaching spots no one, not even you had reached before. And your head throws back against him. Hand immediately palming his clothed dick to encourage him further. The unfamiliar feeling of a string coiling around the pit of your stomach had formed. And it threatened to spill out from your cunt like a glass cup that had been too full.

“Mmm..let me touch you too.” You had managed to let out between sighs. Your legs are shivering at this point. And you feel your underwear slip down to pool against your ankles. No longer struggling to keep itself up against your inner thighs. Revealing the lewd scene of his fingers penetrating your cunt. You hadn't even realized he added a finger until he started moving it in a scissoring motion. And you had half a mind to give up on your endeavors to match his euphoria.

But you have always been quite a stubborn person. Even when you had carefully tiptoed around each other. You had been bold in your endeavors. And you were bolder now, more than ever.

“Shit- hold on a second..mmm..” Soshiro had felt the way your hand had reached to unzip his pants. And your palm had gradually encased his dick with the warmth of your fingers. Massaging his erection directly to feel the ridges and veins it naturally had. The tip of it was a raging red that dripped pearlescent drops of his precum. Bubbling at the slit to land on the floor below them.

And Soshiro couldn't help but groan. Imagining that it had been your cunt that had engulfed his dick in languid motions.

Number 10 didn't need to coerce him this time. Getting lost on the feeling as he bucked his hips to meet the sensations you dished out. But despite this, he did not falter in his actions at all. Completely enamored that he could touch you and feel you all at the same time. Driving his mind into a short circuit the minute his fingers managed to reach deeper into your cunt. Finding the hardened button of your g-spot that only makes your vision blurry.

“uh…ahh..I'm close. Soshiro..I'm close..” You had closed your eyes, your movements beginning to turn sloppy as you tried to keep up with his pace. And your shaky moaning had increased in volume since then.

Soshiro could feel the telltale signs of your release. Feeling your cunt squeeze onto his fingers which had been knuckle deep into you at this point. And he too lets out a shaky moan when he feels his semen drip down more steadily from his dick. Leaving the liquid dripping between your fingers and soft palms. “Me too..”

“Just..keep your voice down dear.” He spoke slowly. Burying his face unto the crook of your neck before bucking his hips wildly into your hand. Letting him control the pace in which you had massaged his dick. And he began seeing stars. Your moans had been crystal clear while his fingers stretched you open. Grinding up against your cunt whilst his thumb pressed deeply against your clit to further push you on the edge.

And without warning, you had arched your back to scream.

Soshiro hadn't realized this as you both came. The release for both of you had been so intense that he had forgotten all about Kaiju no. 10 who was still silent but active within his suit. Silently snarling and listening in on the intensity your pleasure had dictated the scene. Number 10 had not been perfected as a weapon, So it still had somewhat of a mind of its own. Able to control just a part of its tail upon being worked on for days on end.

And surprisingly, he made himself rather useful when its weaponized tail wrapped around the jaw of her mouth. Muffling your pleasured screams before you'd be found out by any passing officers outside of the training room.

Your body convulsed at the feeling.

The euphoria traveling in shockwaves as your ivory essence had pooled between your thighs and his hand. Coating it with the liquid that you had not thought you'd be able to reach without Soshiro's expertise. Luckily, his dick was much the same.

Shooting out thick semen that had stained the skin of your calf to create a messy picturesque sequence that he's sure would be number 10’s leverage for the next time they try to test him as a prototype. And that had been all Soshiro needed to know for a sigh to escape his lips. His weird suit sure had its ups and downs he supposes. But if this were to happen again, he'd rather keep you as far away from him when he's wearing this suit for the next time around.

“Sorry..” You had heard Soshiro breathe out. And you watch him in the corner of your eyes. As hair clung against the sweaty sheen of your cheek. The tail that had muffled your mouth slowly retracted upon Soshiro's command. And you could've sworn you heard a faint laughter from within the Number 10. As if he too had been satisfied by such an event.

“What for?” You had smiled. Glancing at the way your lover had breathed heavily. Taking in the steady breathes he needed after the passionate event you had both experienced. And his face had gingerly lifted up from your shoulder. A baffled look crossing his features.

“I didn't mean to attack you like that..I-” He paused. Feeling the way the Combat suit had finally cooled down. Signaling that it had been shut down. Likely because it had not been fitted for a better power source yet. So it turned off on its own before Number 10 could even make another snide comment, one of which Soshiro was sure he'd be doing just about now. Had he the actual power capacity to do so.

And he grits his teeth upon the suit slowly opening up to reveal the compression shirt he wore underneath it. Finally his control had been mostly back. With Number 10 no longer plaguing his thought process.

“Damn this Kaiju..” He whispered. Removing his fingers from your core. And you flinch upon the loss of his warmth.

“It's fine.” You shook your head.

“Was it the Kaiju giving you ideas? or was it all you?” You had asked. Suddenly it was strange that the researcher in you would surface after just touching each other so lewdly earlier. But you couldn't help but wonder. He had acted strangely upon putting on Number 10. You'd only assume they had a spoken agreement earlier when Soshiro had looked protective almost, in the way he had held you.

“Most of it..yeah..” Soshiro had admitted. Awkwardly looking away knowing that he might've crossed boundaries with you. He'd be remiss if you didn't get a little bit angry at the sudden attack. And he wouldn't blame you if you had not wanted to be anywhere near him ever again.

But you surprised him once more when you moved to kiss him on the lips. Unchanged in the way you felt when you had consented to his advances. It was partly your logic that encouraged him. It was partly your fault too for not stopping him when he asked. Now you both were held responsible in submitting a fake report that would inevitably be submitted to command. And such a kiss that spoke those very sentiments leaves him breathless, trying to catch oxygen before it could leave him panting for another.

“Good. I'd be pissed off if you told me you didn't want me at all.”

“Did’ya really think I didn't want you?” He sighed. “I just..wanted you to feel special. Unlike how I treated you before..”

And you couldn't help but smile. Knowing how hard Soshiro had likely been working a lot harder to make time for you despite the nature of their work. And that fact alone, has been enough for your cheeks to flame. His efforts have been enough for you for some time now. Unbeknownst to his better judgement.

“It's fine..just make it up to me another time.” You had spoken softly. Wrapping your arms around his neck. And he in turn hugged you just as tightly back.

“I will. I promise you I will, sweetheart.” He spoke. Leaning back in to capture your lips despite the slight fatigue the suit has done to his body. The heaviness didn't matter much to him anymore. And damn the suit if he had to beat into submission on a later date. Number 10 may have had a grip on him this time, but next time around he won't be the one dictating his desires.

He'd do it himself. Properly and in a much better setting, where he wouldn't be panting like a puppy in heat.

His breathlessness had been a rare sight indeed. But Oxygen was all he needed to kiss you breathless too.

[choerypetal]

Lost Souls / Sejanus Plinth

summary : You were Coriolanus's closest companion, much like Sejanus. While you and Coriolanus seemed to embody the ideal image of true love, the snowfall couldn't dispel the lingering shadow of a phantom, preventing anyone, including Snow, from witnessing the genuine happiness you sought. Consequently, you were implicated in Coriolanus's criminal act, coerced into playing a role in his misdeed alongside Sejanus, only to be betrayed. What if this entire ordeal was a meticulously crafted plan to make Coriolanus face the consequences of his actions and instill in him a yearning for a love that was forever out of reach? The roots of this scheme trace back to District 12, where Sejanus fled, ultimately reuniting with the one he truly loved—you. Two fractured souls, both attempting to escape a haunting past that seemed destined to linger.

ps: english isn't my first mother tongue language so i deeply appolagize for the small errors etc. (which will be corrected shortly) also this story was requested by @anonys-world! hope you will all enjoy. + pls do not copy my work without proper credit as it can be marked as flagged or being ban if doing the case, thank you!

Snow embodied the ethos of his era—a man rooted in tradition when deemed necessary, yet undeniably a shrewd egotist with a proclivity for favoring purity over squalor. In his aspirations for the presidency of Panem, he envisioned himself alongside a woman he once loved and now considered his closest confidante, Sejanus. Sejanus played the roles of both friend and foe in Snow's perception, especially when faced with the earnest plea for forgiveness. This plea stemmed from actions Sejanus himself had committed, contingent upon Snow's willingness to acknowledge his own transgressions. However, Snow staunchly denied any possibility of having erred, viewing Sejanus' contrition as nothing more than a theatrical display in his own eyes.

Fortuitously, Sejanus managed to elude capture, albeit not without difficulty, as he had been keenly aware of his vulnerability during Snow's attempt to eliminate another tribute. Subsequently, when he found himself compelled to take the life of his closest friend. The revelation of these events came to you, ensnared in the intricate web woven by Snow's devious plans. You, too, were drawn into the narrative when Coriolanus's name was invoked in a plea for release, a plea tinged with the assertion that the situation was a grave misunderstanding. Contemplating how this news would reach you, it was likely to be delivered abruptly, considering Snow's peculiar interest in your affairs. This was a certainty that Sejanus was intent on ensuring. And for Snow, it wasn’t enough. 

On a rainy day, you discovered that Sejanus had managed to find his way back home, despite your exile and nomadic lifestyle. Luck favored him, when he had heard that a small group of familiar Peacekeepers aligned themselves to escort you from your current dwelling. This meant that Sejanus had to navigate through various deals and threats to pinpoint your new residence. However, even with his friend Snow's assistance, it was clear that no amount of persuasion could make Snow divulge the truth. Conversations with him only yielded a cascade of lies. Thus, Sejanus began his journey to find you– Find home. 

While you held onto a glimmer of hope that Sejanus would come home, it wasn't because he sought to return to his District and face a father intent on shaming him as a distasteful and ignorant child. Sejanus's primary aim was to reunite directly with you. He longed to hear the soothing cadence of your voice, feel the delicate touch of your fingers in his curls, and share deep, comforting embraces, all while listening to your soft singing. However, this desire became complicated as Snow's intense animosity toward the Plinth escalated, leading him to harbor resentment towards you as well. Consequently, both of you became the targets in the crosshairs of a man driven solely by aspirations of wealth and power. 

Before his departure, Sejanus had intended to pen a letter expressing the sentiments he had shared that night. The letter encapsulated his commitment to stand by you even before tending to the needs of his own people. He envisioned a future building a family with you, whether it meant establishing a life beyond the District or securing an apartment in the Capitol with you at his side. Regardless of the path chosen, Sejanus planned to formalize the relationship upon his return. Despite the vehement hatred from his best friend, Snow, Sejanus remained indifferent, embracing his own pride. The prospect of witnessing Snow's rage only fueled his determination, understanding that Snow would never comprehend a love as profound and meaningful as the one he sought with you.

It was in that same day, you received the letter, and read it as followed: 

                 Dear, Y/N. 

How I yearn to be in your presence. My comrades and I successfully completed our duties ahead of schedule, taking strategic measures in our actions. When our commander learned of my last name, suspicions arose, prompting him to curtail my Peacekeeper duties and training. At my father's urging to return home promptly, little does he know that I won't be heading to District 2 but to our shared sanctuary with you. Fear not; I've discovered through fellow Peacekeepers that they aided in your escort right after the Games. My love, please be patient as I make my way back to our home. I'll be reunited with you soon.

Love, 

Sejanus. 

The letter was a gift from Tigris, and as you held it, you couldn't shake the suspicion that it might not be Sejanus's handwriting, at first. Yet, as you read the words and felt the essence of his expression, it became clear that it was indeed his authentic account transcribed on paper. Unbeknownst to Snow, the spectacle of witnessing his best friend's hanging was merely a staged performance. Sejanus, genuinely fearful that any Peacekeeper might release the cord prematurely, managed to escape District 12 right after the act. Consequently, as long as Snow remained alive and well, both of you would need to conceal yourselves, disappearing from sight to avoid any further repercussions. 

"I disclosed nothing to Snow." Tigris asserted during her visit to assist you in unpacking at your new home. "He's only kept tabs on your well-being and made sure to update you on Sejanus..." Despite recognizing Tigris as a friend, a twinge of sympathy welled up within you, understanding that she was acting only to bring joy to her cousin. With the realization that she still had some family left while you faced complete exile, survival instincts kicked in, overshadowing any sense of pride. "As long as he remains unaware that Sejanus is alive, I'm content with the information." You quietly expressed, hoping not to arouse suspicion when Tigris communicated with Coriolanus in the future.

Sejanus's journey appeared to be heading north. As he received updates about your whereabouts, he understood that in a short while, he would be left alone. The companions who had accompanied him would return to their respective Districts. However, for Sejanus, a compelling need drew him back to the person he cherished the most. This individual had once too, been broken by the actions of Snow, experiencing a sense of betrayal and utter brokenness that could only be healed by genuine love. Sejanus's plans centered around reuniting with the one thing he loved above all else—you.

Arriving home, he was aware of finding you peacefully asleep. Not far away, a cabin caught his eye, and a wave of relief washed over him as he noticed the subtle glow of light inside. It signaled that life had continued to thrive. Approaching, he made his way to the front door, eager to be the first to comfort you as you shed tears in your slumber. These were tears he would gently wipe away, planting a tender kiss on your cheek. After all, the two of you were nothing more than broken souls, central figures in Snow's machinations, destined to be reunited for a chance at living in undisturbed peace. 

The knock on the door that evening caught your attention, and though you suspected it might be Tigris with her usual errands, Sejanus casually heard your voice, responding with a quick "Coming." A surge of relief and comfort washed over him, and excitement filled him at the prospect of seeing your beautiful and now rested face. As the door began to creak open, your face and entire body froze in place. Sejanus smiled at the sight of you, standing right in front of him. You wore your usual flowery dress that he adored, but this time, Sejanus's hair had been shaved into a style that brought out the depth and honesty in the color of his eyes. "Seja—" you began to speak his name, only for him to chuckle at your disbelief. "But Tigris told me you would only arrive later—" He cut you off, gently cupping your flushed cheeks with his hands. His face drew closer, his breath mingling with yours, and your lips almost brushed against each other as he spoke in his defense.

"That doesn't matter right now, Love. Did you receive my letter?" Sejanus inquired, and you nodded, exhaling a soft sigh of relief. "Snow doesn't know I'm here, and neither do my parents. Everyone believes I'm dead. I was planning on bringing you back to the Capitol with me, but father knew about our plan long ago." There was a hint of sadness in his voice as he attempted to spare you from further difficulty. However, in the grand scheme of things, the chaotic planning didn't matter as much to you in that moment. What truly mattered was seeing him here, alive and well.

"You can't imagine how long I waited for you, Sejanus." You confessed, your voice delicately threading through the words you had struggled to find. The vulnerability stemmed from Snow, who had taken great pleasure in exploiting it to your disadvantage. "At this moment, Snow couldn't care less about me, either." You finally expressed your feelings toward the situation. The emotions resurfaced not long ago, with Snow killing Mayfair and Sejanus being thrown under the bus. The plans were twisted, part of Snow's undoubtedly sadistic scheme, leading him to believe that his closest friend was now dead.

Sejanus’s features darkened at the mention of a friend he once trusted. “Does he know anything of your whereabouts?” He asked, a little serious this time, as you shook your head a confident ‘no’. “I made sure that Tigris would only use the “She is okay” or “Living in the Capitol safely.” He has no idea about your current status. You have no idea how scare I am, what if she has to accidently slip away our little secret. Little do we know he could become aware of it anytime soon.” You tried to make sure not to sound frightened yourself when in reality you were completely aware of what Snow was capable of and please what he favors in the moment. If only you had the audacity the object his actions but if you had done such things– who knew if you’d remain alive at the very least. 

"Hush..." Sejanus's voice softened as he realized the tremble in your fingers, a manifestation of your grief. It wasn't just the fear of the plan's potential failure that shook you, but also the realization that, had things gone differently, Sejanus might not be by your side at this very moment. His hand gently caressed the back of your head as he allowed you to bury yourself in the comfort of his chest, absorbing the familiar scent you had longed for. "Snow acted recklessly for our benefit. If we maintain our resolve, he won't come close to us, let alone lay a finger on you. I promise." He reassured. Little did both of you know, Snow was already privy to your whereabouts. It was only a matter of time before he discerned his cousin's peculiar behavior while inquiring about your well-being, signaling an impending discovery. This time, however, Sejanus might not be in the equation. 

However, in the current moment, the present took precedence. Being in Sejanus's company was all you desired, and he shared the sentiment. As you reluctantly broke away from the embrace, you noticed a piece of paper threatening to slip through Sejanus's uniform pants. Your curiosity piqued, and you furrowed your brows, prompting you to reach for it. Yet, Sejanus, with a swift reflex, intercepted your hand, his eyes pleading for you to refrain from picking it up. "Don't—" He uttered firmly, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on yours, his grip tightening as a silent plea to respect his request. It became evident that whatever the object was, it held significant meaning for Sejanus. "Quite amusing, isn't it?" He remarked with a touch of sarcasm as he retrieved the crumpled item from his pocket.

"And I used to believe that this moment would mark the beginning of a special friendship." His hands seemed almost compelled to crumple the already battered piece of paper, which once held a photo of Coriolanus and Sejanus together. It was a day etched vividly in your memory, a day when he had also taken a photo with you. Snow had envisioned celebrating the exceptional prowess of two extraordinary peers for the 10th Hunger Games. However, it turned out to be a complete disaster, a spectacle that Sejanus perceived as a grotesque display orchestrated by a man devoid of humane intentions. As you gazed at the photo, you noticed Sejanus's voice cracking on the last sentence. His tears were tainted with bitterness rather than sorrow. How could someone so heartless, someone who only considered his own interests, be the same person you once admired? 

"Hey—" Your fingers gently cradled his face, echoing the comforting gesture he had extended to you just moments ago. It was a consoling touch you had inherited from Sejanus's mother, a gesture he had come to hold dear. His lips formed a strained yet hopeful smile, and he endeavored not to falter in your presence. "Snow manipulated both of us. He was the puppet master... But we won't let him control us any longer." you asserted, striving to convey confidence in your words. However, a lingering suspicion gnawed at you, especially as Snow's persistent quest to discover your exact whereabouts began to cast a shadow over your assurance. 

Honestly, Snow eventually uncovered the location of your exile. However, uncertainty shrouded Sejanus's whereabouts, leaving room for the unsettling possibility that his old friend might still be alive but in a place where Snow could find him with nefarious intentions. Despite Sejanus hanging onto your every word, he found himself unable to restrain the tears he had been trying to hold back. While you continued to cradle his face, he leaned in to touch his forehead to yours, closing the gap until he could feel the tender brush of your lips against his own. In the paradox of the situation, love felt secure within each other's arms, leading both of you to share laughter through tears. Sejanus, in a spontaneous gesture, swiftly tossed a memory he once cherished directly into the fireplace. 

"We'll face this together." He uttered in that moment, fervently desiring that the two of you could navigate through whatever challenges lay ahead, even if it meant making sacrifices to cherish every precious second and moment together. 

“Together.”

[buckleydiazes]

Hello fellow bylers, I saw some tags on a Stranger Things post by @biigiiiii making conjecture about being gay in the 80s and I thought, well my dad was a gay teen in the 80s, let me ask him! And it was originally intended to just be sent via messages but then I figured it would be easier to structure as a text post and idk maybe someone else would be interested in hearing his thoughts. All of this is his own personal experience, obviously that is not universal. Hopefully someone finds this interesting or enlightening in some way though.

Gays at Large

What was the general feeling toward LGBTQ people in the 80s?

Homophobia was bad enough that people did not give a second thought to it or how damaging what they were saying was. Between the AIDS epidemic and Raegan administration, homophobia was extremely commonplace and pretty ingrained in Western culture. It was generally more prominent in rural areas than cities — that much has not changed.

The Q Word

How does he feel about the word queer and has his feelings changed at all over the years?

Well, despite rampant homophobia, there had also been a lot of pushing for LGBT advocacy in recent years. The Stonewall Rebellion happened in 1969, which had a significant effect on American society. A year later, in 1970, were the first gay pride marches. For my dad, queer was a word that had already been reclaimed by many, and so therefore meant little to him. In his words, "I'm a queer? A [f slur]? Tell me something I don't know. What, are you going to call me a [hispanic slur] next? 🙄"

Knowing vs Awareness

Was he aware he was gay as a teen? No but yes. As with many who are considered different by society's strandards, there is always an undercurrent of Knowing that you are different. You understand, on some deep level, that you are not fitting the mold that you should be. But that doesn't mean you actively aware and thinking about it. In fact, a lot of people do their best to not think about it and pretend to be "normal."

In my dad's case, he knew he was different, but he didn't "have time" to think about it that much. There was other things going on in his life that made it easier to put thoughts of his sexuality on the back burner. And yet, despite this suppression, he still was keenly aware of other people's attitudes toward LGBTQ folk, which became a sort of sixth sense.

Hypervigilance is Exhausting

As a survival instinct, my dad was always on the look out for who was "safe" and who wasn't. My dad was not a particular flamboyant person and he was into more "masculine" interests (his career is in HVAC, plumbing, and electric, and his hobbies involve listening to the news and playing the guitar); this made it easier for him to fit in, but he still could not ever truly let his guard down. This became so ingrained that he sometimes wonders if his personality would have ended up different had he been allowed to be himself without fear. Fear is a powerful tool in shaping a young mind, after all. And it's also so very wearying. Eventually, he got to a poijt in his life where he decided to hell with what everyone else thinks and feels and he would be himself shamelessly because there's not enough years in a life to be constantly forcing yourself into a socially acceptable boxm

The Curse of Internalized Homophobia

But...what about internalized homophobia? Yeah, unfortunately, he very much experienced it. And, even more unfortunately, it found its way into his speech, throwing around some homophobic slurs of his own before he came out of the closet. According to him, he has known many a gay man who shared in homophobic language during their closeted/repressed years. I don't think I need to tell anyone how terrible it is the way society can coerce you into being part of your own groups oppression.

Birds of a Feather

Did he know any other gay people though? Again, no but yes. You might have noticed or heard about the concept of gay people flocking together before any of them even know/accept that they're gay. His case is another one for the books. There were definitely a few people he knew were closeted, though he never approached them with the topic, but it wasn't for many years later that he would find out how many people around him were LGBTQ in one way or another.

Funnily enough, he married my mom out of high school, and as it turns out, she's bi and trans. (Trans man, she/her, very complicated history with gender. Also they are divorced but still best friends.)

Stolen Youth and New Hope

So, what is the overall feeling of having been a closeted gay teen in the 80s? Well, like something precious was kept from you. Those experiences that cishet folk got to have, you didn't. So many of the formative experiences many have in their adolescence were not viable for LGBTQ folks—from openly having a partner to just being and presenting how you wanted to. And, like I mentioned before, he was left with a persistent wondering about who he would have been had the world been a better place. (This isn't even something unique to his time either, many LGBTQ folks of all ages feel like this!)

That said, he is still so glad to see the positive changes in the world. He watches things like Heartstopper and is happy that, at the least, he got to live long enough to see that sort of representation on TV. And I think that's lovely. (As a personal aside: fuck you @ everyone who bitched about Heartstopper being "too sanitized", gay people deserve all types of representation on TV. If you don't like a certain kind, move on to something else and let those that do like it enjoy themselves.)

So, yeah, there's all the stuff I talked to my dad about. If you have any further questions for/about him (or my mom perhaps), feel free to shoot me a message!

[ashesandhackles]

Deconstructing Harry: The boy we meet in Philosopher's Stone to the man in Deathly Hallows

I have often seen fans talk about how nebulous Harry is as a character, especially in the earlier books. They can't make sense of who he is as a character and other more colourful, more actualized personalities take over our attention from any traits Harry might display. Harry becomes more defined for a lot of people OOTP onwards where he displays traits that sometimes make him unbearable or unlikable.

Harry, as we are introduced in PS, has a very little sense of self. He is narratively self deprecating or plays down his presence or skills, not that he is aware he has any. He grew up without any presence of him displayed in the house - no photos, no idea about his parents or what they look like or what really happened to them and discouraged from asking questions. Harry as we meet him is neglected, rootless about his identity and longs for escape. For him, every day is a battle against Dudley, who bullies him or Vernon, thus setting a worldview that never truly goes away: him vs adults. But just because Harry doesn't attach traits or values to self, does not mean he does not have it.

It's an effective narrative tool though - for Harry to be our eyes of the world. Only in later re-readings can we get a grasp of the traits that become more pronounced as books go on. Also, it's not surprising that Harry develops a better sense of self when he is removed from an abusive home.

Let me begin with this:

1. Harry is a fighter

One of the things that struck me in later re-readings is that how much of a fighter Harry is, from the very beginning. He will not lie down and take abuse. The narrative presents it as no big deal, because Harry doesn't assign any importance to it - it's every day life for him.

-Verbal standing up-

See his reaction to Uncle Vernon and the letter fiasco. He stands up for himself, even if it falls on deaf ears. "I want my letter - as it is mine!". Later on, in the same book, a completely befuddled 11 year old Harry stands up to Snape too, but in a politer way: "I think Hermione knows the answer. Why don't you try her?". He gets less polite with Snape as books go on. Harry's humor is something he employs liberally with Dudley when standing up to him - "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it - it might be sick" and we see this trait manifest into the sass we all know and love.

- Fight or flight-

He is remarkably good at "fighting himself out of tight corners" as Snape put it. And although Snape attributes it to luck and more talented friends, he is onto something about Harry's ability to worm out of tight corners. He lives moment to moment in a dangerous situation - relying on his nerve, very fast reflexes and athleticism. He is also able to notice things in an environment that will get him out of a quick pinch. You see this clearly in Department of Mysteries in Book 5 where he comes up with the idea to smash shelves, the mad idea to escape on a dragon, the ministry escape where he manipulates Runcorn's image (as he noticed how people were reacting to him) to create chaos and get the Muggleborns and the trio out, Chamber of Secrets when he instinctively understood the diary is the source of power and stabbed it.

Where does the athleticism and ability to spot dangerous situation come from? This boy has spent a decade cheeking Dudley and running away from his gang, spotting when he needs to get out of the way as "long experience had told him to be out of Uncle Vernon's arms reach" or "ducking when Aunt Petunia aimed a frying pan at his head". The instinct to see a dangerous situation develops over the course of the books in his adventures - to the point Harry unconsciously brings out his wand in Tottenham road without thinking too much about it. He is almost always wary and less quick to lower his wand.

When hiding/ escaping is not an option, Harry is not above physical fighting - despite how small and skinny he is in Book 1. Both he and Dudley fight for a chance to listen at the door when letter first arrives for Harry. Dudley wins the fight. Later on, Harry jumps Uncle Vernon from behind and hangs on to his neck to get his letter. He even does the same thing to the troll in the same book. ( Then over the course of series, we see him beat up Sirius in Book 3, Malfoy in Book 5, strangle Mundungus in Book 6 - all of these are related to his fury over the dead, so different context. But still).

- Manipulation/ Cunning-

11 year old Harry even tries sneakily - waking up early to get his letter (unfortunately didn't work). The other sneaky methods he has employed throughout the series is - not telling Dursleys at end of PS that he is not allowed magic at home, threatens Dudley with it in COS, not telling them Sirius is innocent to play up the threat of a murderous godfather to keep them accountable, and also the smooth way he negotiates with Uncle Vernon for Hogsmeade letter. ("Well it will be hard work, pretending to aunt Marge that I go to St Whatsits" ,"Knocking the stuffing out of me won't make Aunt Marge forget what I could tell her"). He similarly displays his negotiation and playing to what he knows about people with Slughorn in Book 6, Pettigrew in Book 7.

The scene with Slughorn is disturbing, with Harry coercing a drunk Slughorn to give up his memory. You can argue that this is the influence of Felix Felicis, but I think the potion acted more as facilitation. The disturbing way Harry brings up his mother's murder to unnerve Slughorn is his own doing. ("Voldemort stepped over my father's body towards mum" "I forgot - you liked her, didn't you?"). Again, in a life threatening situation, Harry plays to Pettigrew's latent guilt: "You are going to kill me? After I saved your life? You owe me Wormtail!"

2. Relational justice over abstract justice

Harry's concept of justice is relational and based on his high empathy for the underdog. He notices power dynamic in a situation and empathises with the victim. This is in contrast to Hermione, who has more abstract, bigger picture view of justice. It's no wonder that Hermione is the one who is the most political of the three.

His high empathy for the underdog and needing to stand up for them is because he feels responsiblility that no one should go through what he went through. He stands up for Neville in PS and encourages him to stand up for himself. When he sees his father bullying Snape, it is not about an abstract "this is wrong behavior". Harry goes further: "Harry knew what it felt like to be taunted among a circle of onlookers" , Harry focuses on young Snape's mismatched clothes because he himself knows what it's like to wear clothes that are not yours or ones that make you look ridiculous. His empathy extends to Voldemort too - understanding why he may not want to go back to his orphanage and desire to be in Hogwarts, wondering why Merope wouldn't stay alive for her son, his fixation with Voldemort's maimed soul in King's Cross chapter and later asking Voldemort to feel remorse (" I have seen what you will become otherwise"). Even his reaction to Dobby in COS - "Can't anyone help you? Can't I?" when Dobby talks about his slavery. Hermione is usually seeing the bigger picture, Harry sees the individual.

3. Pathological mistrust of adults

He is less likely of the trio to take an adult at their words or be assured by them when they say they are taking care of things. He has learnt, from a very young age, that he is always expected to take care of himself. And the times he does take things to adult, they consistently disappoint him - by patronising him or acting like he is a child, neither of which he has tolerance for or appreciates. This is why he takes to Sirius and Lupin, who exhibit neither of these communication patterns. In some ways, Mr Weasley too.

Umbridge's abuse of him for him is framed as a battle of wills between her and him, as if he is an equal. And he loses if he complains - "not giving her a satisfaction of knowing she got to me". Harry's worldview has always been - adult vs him.

His inability to trust adults even extends to the ability of adults he likes to look after themselves. While Sirius is understandably a wreck in OOTP, he has by and large followed Dumbledore's orders. This doesn't register with Harry (Ron points it out: "Sirius listens to Dumbledore even though he doesn't like what he hears") and Harry's fears about Sirius, excaberated by Sirius's tendency for recklessness, comes to play.

He even showed similar distrust in Lupin's judgement in taking a potion from Snape in POA ("Harry felt the urge to knock the goblet out of Lupin's hands" and tries to hint at Lupin that Snape will "do anything" for DADA job). And he shows this once again with the most magically powerful wizard he knows - Dumbledore. ("if I tell you to abandon me and save yourself, you must do so". Dumbledore has to insist on this before Harry nods reluctantly. It's also Dumbledore's wording, but this is a wizard Harry feels safe with almost entirely because of his power - and yet Harry cannot obey an order like this without reluctance). It's not about Harry's own ability to take care of them - he just innately cannot leave people to it.

4. Humor as a value and coping mechanism

Harry has an established coping mechanism by the time we are introduced to him - quip in the face of danger/ dark humor. There are repeated instances of Harry amusing himself with snarky comments in his head when things are really bad for him. Like in PS, when they are in the hut, Harry wonders if the roof will fall in and then thought that if it did fall in, he might be warmer. In the earlier books (before his growth), he seems to value Ron over Hermione simply because he is more "fun". Harry enjoys being around funny people like Ron, Weasley twins, later Ginny simply because there is some dark stuff happening with him and he needs "fun" people for semblance of normalcy, escape. In fact, this desire is so strong, he attaches it to his romantic relationships: Ginny is a "blissful oblivion" and times with her are "something out of someone else's life". His relationship with Cho failed because her coping mechanism is discussing her trauma and Harry's is escaping it.

-dealing with conflict with people he likes, small digression-

A part of his growing up in later books includes valuing Hermione as much he values Ron and we see it in display in HBP, where he is more willing to stand up for her to Ron (something he kind of did more quietly before in POA - "can't you give her a break?" ) and also get confrontational with her instead of using Ron as a buffer between them to fend off her more boisterous/ bossy tendencies. ("let him make up his mind" "skip the lecture" "don't nag" - Ron took the heat in earlier books. In HBP, Harry is more willing to be irritable with her in a day-to-day interaction - "I hope you enjoy yourself" he tells Hermione when she states her intention to investigate Half Blood Prince. Or when she tests the book - "Finished? Or do you want to see if it does backflips?" "Do you have rub it in Hermione, how do you think I feel now?" at the end of HBP. ) In OOTP, his best method to deal with her when she bothers him was lying, avoiding her nagging and if that doesn't work, explode and treat her to display of his temper. There is more to explore here, of course - even with regard to how he deals with Mrs Weasley in Book 4, 5 and the difference of him hugging her in Book 7.

5. Fascination with the dead/ a passive death wish

Harry feels remarkably little sense of betrayal knowing that he was set up to die by Dumbledore. His self sacrificing streak is rooted in his love, yes, but I also think Harry is a little bit too fascinated by death, not surprising considering most people he loved are dead. Him wanting the resurrection stone in DH, him obsessively spending time at Mirror of Erised (to the point he feels feverish and Ron thinking he looks strange) until Dumbledore stops him, him almost wanting to fail to learn a Patronus because he wants to hear his parents voice, the hearing of whispering voices in the Veil in OOTP which only Luna could hear apart from him, the scene at the grave where he almost wishes he was "lying under the snow" with his parents, the possession scene in the book of OOTP has him wishing to die so he can be with Sirius. You can almost argue the Harry has, in many moments, shown raw desire of death. In fact, him choosing to let go of the stone and not go looking for it is a big character decision for him.

I also want to address Harry's temper and how that develops over course of series, the implications of understanding the people he loved and put on pedestal are flawed - but I am afraid this post is already way too long. So I will leave that for some time later.

[kohakuarisaka]

Untamed (chapter 4 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

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

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Hawks had gone on an early morning flight the following day, before you had stirred from sleep, leaving you alone in the cabin for the first time.

He was reaching the apex of his rut. The cabin was beginning to feel like the inside of an oven. That was great for keeping his mate warm, but not so great for him in his current state, where he felt like he was roasting alive.

Outside, the winds were cold, almost punishingly so. Under normal conditions, he would have been wrapped up in his fur coat. However, now, he was wearing a loose T-shirt more suited for summer, baggy cargo pants and military boots.

He took off into the sky, soaring at great speeds that would make him near impossible to see with the naked eye, assuming anyone was actually around to spot him in the first place.

He'd soar up high, then let himself descend in a tumbling spiral, then catch his fall above the trees and rocket between the branches, sometimes letting the bottoms of his boots skim the trees to shake the snow off.

He always loved the feeling of the wind through his feathers; but, the sensation was more intense during his rut. While pain receptors didn't exist in his feathers in the same manner as his flesh and bones, he could still process feeling.

During his rut, feeling was intensified in his wings. He almost thought he could breathe the air through his feathers. Perhaps, it was why he felt so unbearably warm, why your touch had reduced him to a blabbering animal.

It was difficult to resist the desire to bring you with him on his flights, to hold you against his chest and feel your body clinging to him while he descended.

It was exciting to think about what kind of noises you would make. He hoped that you would find it exhilarating. He wanted to feel your heartbeat thundering away from the rush, to see red tinting your cheeks and tears in your eyes.

Instead, Hawks floated alone and let the late winter air bite away at his skin while the winds brushed along his feathers. It was soothing more so than chilling. Despite how unfitting his clothes was for the weather, not even the tips of his fingers felt cold.

The winter breeze had relaxed him, but not for long. Despite the obvious chill in the air, Hawks was still sporting a painful erection. He avoided touching it, knowing full well that masturbation was pointless. Enduring this alone for years taught him that it would likely only irritate him further.

You were here, you were safe, you were his, you wanted to be here, you wanted him. Your scent was all over the nest and his bite mark was a heavy eyesore on your throat. There wasn't another human for miles. But, despite the obvious fact that there was no reason for him to feel uneasy, his nature wouldn't allow him to rest.

His rational side wanted to let you relax, to give you some reprieve from him, from what he did to you and intended to do again. The beast, however, clawing under his skin, wanted to have you again.

Hawks flew some, and then some more, letting time slip away, until he was agitated to the point that his hands were digging into his outer thighs, nails threatening to rip his clothes.

Snow began to fall on his way back to the cabin, and the gentle wind hurled it to and fro. He could feel the soft droplets fluttering against his skin. The snow felt cold, of course, but he didn't really process it. All he could think about was getting back to you.

When he crossed the threshold, it was like entering another world. The outside whistled with the harsh wind and kicked snow inside, suddenly silenced when he slammed the door. He felt the sudden security of being in his nest, enclosed, private, safe, where it smelt like freshly cut logs and you.

As Hawks stepped into the living room, he realized that you had migrated away from the bed, likely due to the cold. You had brought some blankets and pillows over and haphazardly arranged them in front of the fireplace. You had even dug a rolled-up futon out of the supply closet to pile the bedding on top of. He had forgotten that was even in there.

His boots thumped against the wood floor as he walked, catching your attention. You peered up at him, your eyes failing to mask your excitement at his return.

At a glance, Hawks could see that you had showered while he was away. Your hair was clean, just a tiny bit damp at the ends. As he got closer, he could faintly catch a whiff of the well water that fed into to the cabin lingering on your skin.

It was only natural that you would want to clean off after what he had done to you the past couple days. Hawks was well aware of that and was trying to remain calm about the whole situation; but, the truth was, he was annoyed by your actions.

You had washed him away.

Of course, that could easily be remedied.

Hawks advanced towards you, mindful to not step on the blankets with his boots, to not dirty the nest you made. He lowered onto his haunches first, taking in the sight of you, the sight of the bedding you had arranged without him. You had slipped on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts, not suitable for the weather, but suitable for him. Like this, your body was very accessible, that much was certain.

"I made breakfast, if you're hungry?" you offered, clearly not at all perturbed by his looming and staring. He didn't look annoyed, but oddly intrigued, maybe even flattered by your behavior.

"You have snow in your hair," you observed, smiling at the sight of pale white crystals caught in his blonde locks. You leaned up and reached for him, carefully tousling his hair to shake the snow free.

He waited until you were done preening him and suddenly jerked forward, pushing you onto your back with his torso. He followed with you, knees pinning you beneath him, one falling between your thighs.

When you peered up at him, unperturbed by his behavior, Hawks' gold eyes narrowed and his fangs bared. A sound that you didn't know he was capable of making snarled from behind his teeth and echoed around the room.

It was a growl, not like anything you had heard from a dog, or any animal, really. You didn't know that he could make noises like that. It seemed unfitting for the calm, polite hero that you knew so well. Then again, he had warned you about this.

Maybe, this whole experience was doing something to you, changing you; or, more likely, he was helping you discover things about yourself you never knew existed.

The growl didn't frighten you at all. It made you tremble with excitement, made your skin prickle with goosebumps and heart flutter, made wetness pool between your legs.

Spurred on by him, maybe wanting to rattle the beast's cage a little, you decided to be daring. You lifted a leg, pressed your foot against his chest, and pushed against him. Of course, he didn't budge at all. He was much stronger than you normally, and especially unwavering in this state of mind.

"Take off your clothes," you requested, trying your damn best to sound powerful, unyielding. You sounded firm, sure, but you didn't sound as strong as you wanted to, maybe not strong enough to coerce a beast.

Yet, Hawks' gaze softened, surprising you. He had told you he wanted you to be yourself, to not succumb to his every emotion. It kept him grounded, reminded him that you were here of your own free will, because you wanted to be. Your demand sobered him.

"Whatever you want," he uttered, sultry and low, and it made you tremble with excited goosebumps.

He leaned back, rising to his feet, and began shucking off his clothes in record time. His boots hit the floor noisily before he fumbled with his belt, having it barely undone before it was dragged down his hips by his pants.

He wasn't wearing underwear, you realized, as he shucked his pants off his feet. He lifted his arms and tugged his shirt over his head. The fabric hit the floor and, rather than throwing himself on top of you, Hawks remained standing.

His wings were spread out behind him, crimson feathers bright and imposing. His gold eyes were vibrant, staring you down like a predator seconds away from laying claim to its prey.

However, it didn't go unnoticed to you that he was standing there to allow you to appraise him, as if you had never laid eyes upon his nudity before.

Despite the cold, he had a faint sheen of sweat that was glistening in the light coming from the fireplace, outlining taut abdominal muscles. He hadn't eaten much since his arrival, and that much was obvious by the exaggerated tightness around his core, muscles more enhanced than you had ever seen before.

It felt almost shameful to stare at his crotch, but it was damn near impossible to not admire the heavy cock between his thighs. It was a sight to behold, just like the rest of him. The trail of pale blonde pubes leading from beneath his belly button was practically begging you to stare.

Still, you dragged your gaze back up at his face, where he looked surprisingly anxious, as if there a chance in hell you would tell him no. Sometimes, it was astonishing to think that someone so beautiful could have an ounce of self-doubt. But, he did. Even if he managed to hide it well, you could always spot it, the fear of not being good enough.

"Keigo," you uttered, voice sounding weak over the sound of the crackling fireplace.

Your arms lifted, hands reaching out for him, beckoning him into an embrace. You blinked and suddenly, he was on top of you, torso ushering you back into the sheets while his hands clawed at your shorts, dragging them down your legs.

Hawks panted into your neck, nails biting at the fleshy meat of your thighs as he tried to will himself to calm down. He was being nonsensical. You had been together for a while now. He had fucked you in every position he could possibly think of, held you at night when he could and kissed your mouth like you were his.

Because you were. Yet, despite all that, he felt so pleased that you still chose him, again.

When your hands slid over his shoulders and felt the burning heat of his skin, you felt a tinge of guilt at his state. Deliriously, you wanted to take care of him, to be able to give him everything he needed.

One hand cradling the back of his neck, you pulled him up until his face came into view and you kissed at the corner of his mouth. Encouraged, he followed, tilting his head to capture your lips in a proper kiss.

You felt his shoulders relax as his body slid atop yours, legs tangled and torsos coming together. His hands released your thighs, opting to slide up your sides, beneath your shirt and along the expansion of your ribs, where the pads of his fingers traced the outlines of your bones.

Despite the insistent, throbbing erection trapped against your thigh, burning hot like forged iron, his kisses were gentle, ushering your mouth open to accept his tongue. He kissed you like he had forgotten what your mouth tasted like, tongue slotting over yours eagerly, moaning into the kiss senselessly.

After sometime, you pushed back against his chest until he finally got the message and pulled back from your lips. You tried not to laugh at the childishly irritated scowl on his face, his expression silently reprimanding you for stopping him.

"Lay down," you urged. "I wanna touch you."

"Don't need any more teasing, babe," he protested weakly.

Still, despite his protest, you nudged him pleadingly. Hawks groaned like you had struck him, but complied and began rolling over, bringing you above him.

You watched his wings flex and fan out comfortably beneath him, spread out across the sheets like twin, elegant blankets, mindful of the fireplace. He propped his back up with some pillows, giving him just enough leverage to lean up a little, but not quite in a seated position.

As Hawks got situated, you tweaked one of his nipples between your fingers. He yelped at the touch, shoulders twitching and wings shuddering faintly beneath him. Your hand was ripped away by a grip at the wrist; but, you couldn't hold back a smile as he glared up at you.

That glare disappeared off his face when you started wiggling down his lap. Of course he knew what was coming, especially when you cupped his weeping cock and tenderly lifted it off his abdomen. Yet, excitement clawed up his spine as if he was sincerely surprised.

He hardly registered your tongue lapping at the swollen tip, where he was sticky with precum. He did, however, painfully so, notice when you sank down, enveloping his length in your hot mouth.

For a moment, you just held him against your tongue, reveling in the salty taste and moaning when you felt him throb. You slid up to the tip, failing to notice how tense the rest of him was, back arched and staring down at you intensely, muscles tight from head to toe. When you sank back down, tightening your mouth around his shaft, Hawks cried out suddenly.

His loudness startled you more so than the sudden gush of his seed. His hands grabbed at the bedding. In the corner of your eye, you could see his feathers shuddering beneath him.

Hawks' cock throbbed with each spurt, heavy where it rested against your lax tongue. He was deep enough that his seed spilled right down your throat. You relaxed and swallowed it carefully, cheeks tinted red as Hawks whined above you.

When he came down from his high, he was still impossibly hard, throbbing against your tongue as if he hadn't come at all. You began bobbing your head, excited at the thought of getting him to come again. However, his hands suddenly flew up, grabbed at your cheeks and pulled you off.

You hadn't expected that, resulting in a wet pop and a string of saliva dangling between your drooping bottom lip and his member. Hawks stared for a moment, almost in disbelief at the sight, like something taken straight out of a porno, and not reality.

"God, you look so fucking naughty," he snarled, dragging your face in towards his, forcing you to arch over him. "Dirty fucking girl, aren't you?"

His tongue lapped against your bottom lip, catching your dripping saliva, before entering your mouth without preamble. The wet organ thrashed around senselessly, enjoying the taste of himself on your mouth. After a few seconds, he pulled back with a growl and dragged your shirt up, forcing your arms above your head to free you from the garment.

"Keigo, let me-" you whined.

"Be good," he silenced you in a gentle, albeit commanding, voice.

The world flipped when he spun you back around and your back hit the bedding. His wings fanned out above the two of you, beat against the air once, and flexed, plumes spread out majestically.

"I wanna touch you more," you protested, fingers weaving through his hair with dangerous intent. You gently dug the pads of your fingers into his scalp and watched his head lull from the pleasure, eyes fluttering shut.

"That's not being good," Hawks commented with a groan, making no immediate movement to stop you.

"I wasn't done," you retorted, leaning up to drag your cheek against the stubble on his jaw. You couldn't hold back a shudder at the sensation, soft yet rough hair dragging against your skin.

"Fuck," the winged hero growled, eyes opening to take you in with a faint glare.

Your felt a wandering hand smack gently against your inner thigh, forcing your legs to spread to give him space to settle between them. A digit suddenly grazed your slit, circling your entrance to gather wetness before slipping inside.

It was almost laughable to think he had gone out into the snow to cool off; yet, the heat of your core was tantalizing, so inviting that the touch alone threatened to undo him. You were already slippery and when he effortlessly sought out your sweet spot, you mewled.

Hawks groaned like you had wounded him, the sound practically vibrating from his throat and traveling through him onto you. He tilted his head to nibble at your jaw, breath hot enough to burn your skin where he exhaled against you.

"You're ready for me," Hawks commented lowly, driving his finger inside until his knuckles brushed your folds. "Did you like the taste of my cock that much? -my cum? Feel this - fuck. You're begging for it."

"You're begging for it," you retorted softly, hands carefully untangling from his hair and sliding down to cup his face. You pulled him back, away from your neck, so you could look into his eyes.

"Yeah," he agreed in a low sigh, forehead bumping against yours just a little too roughly. "Want you so fucking bad."

"How bad?" you hummed encouragingly, hiking your legs up on his waist to pull him in.

His finger slipped free, hands shifting to slide over your hips, dragging you into a place more to his liking, pinned beneath him, where you were helpless to much more than squirm. You hiked your legs up on his hips, groaning when he humped at your core, causing his cock to drag against your folds.

"Kinda hurts, if I'm being honest," Hawks groaned out lowly.

"I'll take care of you," you promised, blinking slowly as you stared back at his vibrant gold eyes.

"Yeah?" he uttered weakly. "I can just-"

His tip prodded at your entrance and Hawks cut off, moaning in a wounded manner that had your head spinning. You had seen him get pent-up and frustrated before, after week long missions and months apart; but, he never sounded quite like this.

"Yes," you whispered back harshly.

With a shift of his hips, he was suddenly buried inside you. The sudden intrusion wasn't as startling as the loud noise that escaped Hawks. He shuddered above you, crying out, wings flexing and beating the air, driving him down against you.

"Oh, fuck, Keigo," you whined, realizing he had finished the moment he slipped inside.

His cock throbbed as if to remind you that he wasn't done yet. There was a wet squelch as he slipped out and rammed back inside, nearly drowned out by a guttural, "f-fuck", that he breathed against your neck.

He thrusted a few times, rough rolls of his hips, forcing your walls to accommodate his girth. You couldn't hold back a weak groan. As prepared as you might have been, it was inevitable that there would always be some strain to take him.

Hawks must have assumed that he was taking you too hard, for he slowed down, uttering a weak, "s-sorry."

Yet, the dissatisfaction from his slow pace was far worse than the slight ache when he took it too fast. You didn't want it slow and soft. The last couple days had you wound up, prepared for the promised, carnal passion. You wanted him to fuck you like his life depended on it.

"No," you hissed out, trying to angle your hips up to bring him in harder, fast. "God - no - Keigo, harder-"

With a faint growl, he obeyed that command, the sudden hard roll of the hips forcing you to break off into a loud cry.

"Babe, I'm gonna lose it if you talk like that," he warned, words throaty and rough where they breathed against your skin.

You worked one hand into his hair while the other grabbed at his back, nails biting deliciously into his skin, holding him close, forcing your bodies together.

"I want you to," you uttered between broken moans that he forced out of you with his cock.

Hawks uttered your name lowly, a clear warning.

"God, Keigo, just-" you growled, wiggling around helplessly beneath him. He shifted his weight, holding you down with a growl, as if you were dare trying to escape him.

It was exciting, and had you babbling at him wantonly, "you're so f-fucking sexy and I - I want it. Want you to just - f-fuck me like - ahh, Keigo, your mate."

His arms suddenly wound beneath you and hoisted you off the floor. You cried out, clinging to him in a startle at the sudden verticality. Hawks leaned upright, on his knees in front of the fireplace, holding you up, pressed against his chest, hands gripping your meaty hips to hold you at the perfect angle to fuck up into you.

"My mate? -fuck when you say things like that, makes me fucking - ghhh - fu-uck - you want me to fuck you? Yeah?" he babbled on, whispering harshly right into your ear.

It was a little too close, a little too loud, and left a ringing sensation in your head. Yet, you didn't want to shy away, especially not when he started growling. Clinging to him desperately, you could feel his back muscles shifting as his wings flapped with enough force to knock some logs off the stand.

His head tilted back and took in the sight of your face. Your eyes were struggling to remain open, lips parted lewdly, cheeks tinted a brilliant shade of red.

"You look amazing," he whispered, hot breath fanning over your face. "Fucked stupid on my cock, where you belong."

You moaned lowly, head lulling against his shoulder. You felt his lips press a kiss against your temple and he continued uttering into your hair.

"Gonna fill my pretty mate with cum. Is that what she wants?" he whispered, low and sweet, sultry and downright vulgar. You didn't answer; but, he felt your nails bite into his shoulders, heard your breath briefly catch in your throat.

"Yeah, she does," he agreed, breaking off into a pleased hum.

The wet, fleshy sounds drowned out the noise of the fireplace, accompanied by your helpless mewling and Hawks disgruntled moans and grunts. You were so close like this, held up by his strong grip, chest to chest.

You sought out the strength to peer up and catch a glimpse of his wings shuddering, flexing out from his back either for balance or unconsciously, you couldn't determine. You tore one of your hands from his shoulder and dragged your fingers through his plumes, along the growth until you met his back.

Hawks cried out in a sharp roar. His pace increased exponentially as he rode out his orgasm, wheezing and panting into the space beside your head. That white-hot pleasure overtook you at some point, forcing a startled scream from your throat.

He kept going and going, only slowing down when he was certain you were finished. Suddenly, he slipped out, and the emptiness had you whimpering, head spinning and body aching.

Your back hit the bedding and then your front when Hawks rolled you over. Focused on the ache between your thighs, you barely processed the rustling of the bedding, until Hawks shoved some pillows beneath your abdomen to slightly elevate your lower half.

He propped himself up on his hands and knees, fingers splayed out across the bedsheets on either side of your torso. You felt the tops of his thighs slide against the backs of yours, cock heavy and wet against your core.

The realization of what he was about to do seemed to slap him in the face at that moment, for Hawks suddenly stopped, freezing up behind you.

"Fuck, I need you," he uttered, voice hoarse and low. "Please - please, can I keep going? -still so fucking hard."

You almost didn't recognize the sound of his voice, hoarse and desperate; but, then, his wings beat against the air, sharply reminding you that this was Takami Keigo.

Your cheek was pressed against one of the pillows, arms splayed out above your head, and you realized faintly that you must have been quite the sight, spread out lewdly for him, back curved, ass in the air, presenting to him like a bitch in heat.

There was no sense of obligation spurring your unity; or, if there was, it was an afterthought. All you felt was desire, longing for more, aching to be filled, trembling and void of any coherent thought beyond Hawks.

You could feel his throbbing cock at your entrance, his knees pushing yours apart, his arms trembling on either side of you. He was hovering some odd few inches; yet, he was panting so heavily, you could feel it fanning over your back.

"Keigo," you whispered weakly. "Don't stop."

Your scream drowned out the inhuman growl that escaped him as he shoved his hips forward, sheathing himself inside your velvety heat, as deep as he could possibly go, trying to push his hips further forward as if it wasn't enough.

Hawks fucked you wildly, huffing out sharp breaths mingled with pleasured moans. It didn't take long for him to reposition his hands, one settling on your waist while the other fisted in the bedsheets above your head. He arched over you possessively, wings beating the air to drive him forward. As unnecessary as it was, you couldn't deny the way it stoked the fire inside you.

Before you could even think to ask, one of his feathers wiggled between your thighs, nuzzling against your pearl where it flicked and twirled, pinching at the bud with just enough friction to be pleasurable, but not too hard to be painful.

"Keigo!" you cried out, hands gripping the sheets with enough force to nearly tear them.

"Say my name," tumbled from his lips, like a broken baritone. "Yeah - fuck - my name - say my name. Gonna - ahh - stuff you with my c- ahh - fuck, you feel so good - so good," he babbled on, leaving your head spinning.

He was fucking into you at the perfect angle, ensuring his cock reached your sweet spot with each and every thrust. At some point, coherent thoughts died. Nothing existed beyond the bed sheets, the fireplace, the cabin. All you could think about was the sweet scent lingering on the sheets beneath you and the explosive pleasure Hawks was forcing through your body.

He came again at some point; but, you could hardly tell. Everything was already sopping wet, seed dripping from your cunt and down your thighs, as well his. The sounds he made never ceased, inhuman groans deep in his throat that mingled with each hurried inhale and exhale, in harmony with his thrusts.

His dominant hand slid down your spine, carefully curling at the back of your neck to hold you down. As mindless as it might have appeared, you were acutely aware that he wasn't holding all his weight down.

You were familiar with the power he held, the brute strength hidden beneath his charming and silly demeanor. He could hurt you very easily if he wanted to; but, he never did. Even in this state, his self-control was mind boggling, pinning you with just the right amount of pressure to keep you still, but not enough to cause any discomfort.

'Keigo' fell from your lips, again and again, as if it was the only word you knew. Above you, Hawks seemed to be in the very state he had been worried about, that he had warned you about: blinded by the pleasure of your core, lost to the desires overwhelming his every thought for days.

At some point, he hunched over even further, hardly thrusting properly anymore and just rutting into you, and you felt his lips touch the space between your shoulder blades.

It was hardly a kiss and you realized vaguely that he was drooling a little before you felt the sting of his teeth. Hawks gnawed a path up your back, leaving behind pink, blossoming bruises, before digging his teeth into your shoulder. It wasn't as strong as the last bite, a brief sting before the pain was lost to the pleasure.

He growled into your skin, whole body quaking with sharp tremors, signaling that he had reached orgasm again. You had lost sense of your own awhile ago, always ablaze in white hot pleasure. The mere touch of his hand along your skin, every shift of his hips, the union of your sexes, had you vibrating.

You lost track of how long that went on, how long Hawks kept going, mouth latched onto your skin, slobbering and whimpering into your flesh, while his hips rolled against yours, pinning you between the floor and his unwavering form.

Everything felt too good for you to process how tired you had become, brought to the brink of exhaustion, glistening with sweat from head to toe, kept awake only by his invasion of your body, the drag of his cock along your velvety walls.

Eventually, Hawks began to slow. He carefully removed his teeth from your shoulder and gave a few more thrusts, letting out a low whine that you could guess was one last, final orgasm.

His feather departed your slippery folds, leaving you aching and spent, and he remained buried as deep as he possibly could, hips pressed tightly against yours.

Hawks nuzzled his face into the back of your neck, panting wildly, and you felt what you could only describe as vibrations rumbling from his chest, so violently that it had you shaking beneath him. It was almost alarming, but the tremors steadily waned as his breathing relaxed.

Carefully, Hawks turned you onto your side, shoved the pillow beneath you away, and curled into the space between you, pressed tightly against your back, skin touching in every spot that was possible. His wings stretched out behind him, past the boundary of the bedding and spread out across the floor, lax like the rest of him.

Hawks adjusted your legs carefully, stretching them out with his own until they were comfortably laying side by side, all whilst ensuring his cock remained lodged inside you. The strain wasn't unpleasant; rather, you were surprised by how good it felt.

"Keigo?" you uttered weakly, voice so low, you were surprised he even heard you.

You felt his lips kiss at your throat and a hand settle over your tummy, fingers splayed. He uttered your own name back, as if reassuring, before his fingers moved around, sliding up and down your side soothingly.

You willed your eyes to open and watched the flames inside the hearth dance briefly before your gaze darkened and you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sounds of the storm brewing outside and Hawks breathing softly behind you.

He didn't join you in the abyss, but watched over you cautiously, as if you could possibly be in any danger. The storm outside wasn't particularly worrisome, but it made it impossible for him to pick up sounds beyond the boundary of the cabin.

If you had turned to look upon his face, you would have seen his pupils miniscule, gold iris vibrant and wild. There was no chance that anyone would possibly disturb you, and his sensible self would have known that; but, as he was now, rut peaked and beast sufficiently satisfied, Hawks couldn't be told otherwise.

An arm drooped loosely over your waist, holding you close, and he listened to the soothing beats of your heart as you drifted into a peaceful slumber.

[cinnaminsvga]

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.  

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just���”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

[sillyguyhotline]

yttd and themes of parental failure; how the adults in our life disappoint us

alternate title: how everyone in your turn to die has mommy issues, daddy issues, or both

I’m not the first person to talk about this, nor will I be the last, but there are a lot of themes sprinkled throughout YTTD’s story and one of the themes that isn’t talked about much is the theme of how parents (or more broadly, adults) tend to fail us. Throughout the game, we see children and adults being placed in the same deadly situation, and are disappointed time and time again as the adults prioritize their lives over those of their children... often perpetuating the cycles of abuse that they themselves have suffered. I don’t think this theme encompasses the whole story by any means, but I do think that, in some parts, YTTD attempts to tell a story of irresponsible adult figures, failing as parents, and the ways cycles of abuse are perpetuated.

I think it’s best to start with Sara, the main character and the most visible victim of the adults’ failings in the death game. Despite being a teenager, she’s elevated to a position of leadership partially by circumstance and partially by the machinations of others. I think it’s pretty clear that her being a leader is more crucial to the story than it initially seems to be, but for now it’s evident that she, as a child, has been deemed stronger than the many adults beside her in the game and has thus been made a leader. It’s acknowledged that she is the person who makes the majority of the crucial decisions, she is the person the others look to in times of turmoil, and she’s tasked with shouldering many of the heavy burdens of the group’s failures. This certainly doesn’t come without consequences; much of Sara’s grief comes not just from Joe’s death, but from regret over the countless people she’s failed to protect and the obligation she feels to prioritize their lives over her own. While many of the adult characters (Q-taro, Keiji, Shin, Alice) have the opportunity to sit back and make more selfish decisions for their own survival, Sara never has that liberty because she’s been thrust into a role where the group’s wellbeing is worth more than hers and every group failure is felt by her more than anyone else. This is most evident in the aftermath of the Kanna/Shin decision, specifically in the Kanna Dies route; Sara is the one who is tortured and meant to feel the most pain for Kanna’s death because she, as the leader, felt obligated to take the decision into her own hands... and nobody stopped her. From Russian Roulette (where Kai, the least underhanded out of all of Sara’s adult protectors, tried to stop her from becoming a leader) to Chapter 2′s Main Game, the effects of Sara’s leadership are heavy. She’s still a child who’s been given power, and the other adults in the game choose to either profit from or resent this power instead of challenging the fact that a child has been entrusted with it.

This is where Kanna comes in, another child who’s been failed by the adults in the game. When she entered, she’d lost her most important mentor figure (her sister) and as a result was left incredibly vulnerable. At first, a few of the characters tried to help her (Nao and Reko), but ultimately she was left vulnerable for too long and Shin used that vulnerability to coerce her into going along with his plans, putting her life in jeopardy by claiming she had the Sage. It’s likely that Shin reminded her of Kugie, which motivated her to stick by his side, but there’s no doubt that his manipulation influenced her to continue supporting him throughout chapter 2. Kanna is another character who felt obligated to provide protection and support for adults who didn’t provide all that much of it, which is made evident as she continues to insist he’s a good person throughout ch2 and, of course, demands that everyone vote for her to die in the main game because she thinks Shin is not only good but much more useful than she is. She, like Sara, continues to prioritize the well-being of the group over her own as a result of the position she was forced into and of the failure of the adults around her to do anything about it.

This aspect of Kanna’s character ties into another point I want to make, about cycles of abuse and protection. I believe that Shin is one of the biggest in-game examples of how abuse victims can be pushed to perpetuate those cycles upon the people they’re supposed to love and care for. Shin definitely cared for Kanna; he wrote the message in the phone to boost her spirits and fought for her to survive even knowing that if she got the Sacrifice she wouldn’t pick him to escape with. However, a lot of his dynamic with her comes as a result of the abuse he suffered under Sou Hiyori, and this abuse is part of why Kanna perceives herself to be worthless. He takes out his own anger at himself and his weakness by constantly belittling Kanna, calling her weak and useless to the group (eventually doing this because he thinks it will help her escape), and the constant reinforcement of this mindset is what leads to her self loathing and, in some cases, eventual self sacrifice. Not only does Shin fail to protect Kanna from death as a parental figure, he fails to prevent his own patterns of abuse from affecting her. This is a classic example of how abuse can become generational.

I want to cycle back to the topic of Sara, now, and bring Keiji into the mix, because I believe that Keiji is one of the biggest and also most fascinating examples of the failures of adults- primarily because he is simultaneously the child being failed and the adult who is failing. Keiji started out as an idealistic child with high hopes for his own future and strong beliefs in the police force, but he ended up killing his mentor and destroying his own faith in the goodness of the police. I also find it intriguing that the person he kills is one of the most solid parental figures in the game; Mr. Policeman cares for his child a lot and shows great care for children who aren’t even biologically related to him (such as Keiji). He likely left the police force for the sake of his child as well as to escape corruption. When Keiji kills him, he is not only killing the idealistic dream that his child self once harbored, but he is killing the biggest human embodiment of that dream in his life. Fittingly, then, Keiji goes on to turn into the opposite of what his younger self would have wanted to be. He wanted to be a protector, but in the Death Game we see him flirting with the child he’s protecting, consistently lying to and deceiving her for his own gain, pushing her into being a leader because it benefits him, and going behind her back to help himself survive (such as performing the card trade with Q-taro when it’s clear that Sara had the Sacrifice and likely would have died because of it). At the surface, Keiji is a betrayal of the mentor Sara needed in her life, but when you look beyond that, he’s a betrayal of the adult figure who guided him and the adult figure his child self wanted to be. 

There’s also Q-taro, one of the more blatant examples of an adult who valued his own survival over those of the children in the game. His selfishness, however, wasn’t concealed with concern for the children, like Shin’s and Keiji’s were. He indirectly participated in thrusting Sara into a leadership position, and time and time again attempted to get the children (specifically Gin) killed because he thought it would benefit either him or the group. His selfishness is not as much of a betrayal as it is a sad reinforcement of the idea that adults in this game can’t be trusted to protect the children. Even as he campaigns for Gin and Kanna’s deaths, even as he waits until the last minute to press the button, he still looks to Sara for guidance and trusts her as a leader. To make things even worse, the child whom he’s targeting has already been disillusioned to how pathetic adults can be; Gin’s father abuses alcohol, and as Gin establishes from the beginning, he’s already lost his trust in the reliability of adults. And, in a sad way, Gin ends up being proven right; his first father figure in the game dies immediately, and his second either dies or is quickly revealed to have been tasked with killing him. Unreliable adults in awful circumstances. 

Then you have Gashu, one of the only actual parents in this game, whose failures are felt in not one, but two children. As I stated before, while talking about Sara, Kai was one of the only people who made a move to stop Sara from being established as the group’s leader in Russian Roulette. While I believe that this is mostly because he knew of the Hades Incident and wanted to stop it from being replicated, I also have to wonder if it was because he knew what it was like, as a child, to be forced into a terrible position (as Gashu had high expectations of him as an assassin) and didn’t want the child he’d grown affectionate towards to be forced to undergo the same thing. Whatever his motives were, Kai was an example of the pain neglectful parents can bring, and he provides a stark contrast to Ranger, who wasn’t yet aware of Gashu’s cruelty when we met him. We watched in real time as Ranger realized that he wasn’t actually all that loved or valued; he was just created to serve a purpose, and when he stepped out of line he quickly lost his value. Just like how Kai served the purpose of being an assassin, and, potentially, how Sara serves the purpose of being the leader. Gashu isn’t just a neglectful parent, he’s outright malicious. 

I’d like to speculate, then, about how the story is going to take the path of neglectful adults as it goes forward. I already think that we can see where it’s going to go with Sara, as 3-1a has clearly showcased the effects of her guilt and, depending on which route you take, has either established that she’s grown comfortable with her position as leader or is crumbling under the pressure of her grief. However, going back to the theme of parents... it must be noted that almost none of the characters have been confirmed to have 2 biological parents. They either come from an orphanage or are missing a parent... and the parent they’re missing is typically the father. I have to wonder if this consistent theme of failed parenting is going to tie into Gashu’s reminder to “question your upbringing,” and if the shitty adults are going to make a more literal appearance. 

[logicalbookthief]

Things Left Unsaid -- An Analysis of Rei & Touya

Apparently Rei has been getting a lot of flack lately, all of it undeserved, and since I had a post analyzing her relationship with Touya in the works already, I figured no time like the present.

Disclaimer #1: There are a lot of issues with the writing for Rei’s character that have nothing to do with her and everything to do with how the storyline is using her, which I will address and examine.

Disclaimer #2: I’m someone who, while always curious as to what kind of relationship Rei had with her oldest son before he died, never thought it would be revealed that Touya was close to his mom. I don’t think you get the Dabi we see in Chapters 290-295 without him being so warped by his relationship with his father yet so dependent on his attention that he was willing to kill his brother and himself simply for his father’s acknowledgement.

But that’s what I find so interesting about Rei and Touya -- it’s a relationship that mainly consists of regrets and things left unsaid. There isn’t the anger or resentment Dabi feels for Endeavor, because that intense level of emotion sprung from the loss of the father who used to be his whole world. His feelings toward his mother seem more amicable, but also more distant.

And while she could’ve done some things differently in regards to her oldest, I want to make it clear that the distance between them was very much by design.

After all, Touya was the end goal of their marriage. It was never any secret as to why Enji wanted to marry her and to some extent Rei must’ve realized that this child was not meant to be hers: the child was the transaction, the thing she was needed to create, to give to her husband. Of course she loved Touya and was likely his primary caregiver for most of his life, but there was no doubt that once his quirk manifested and he could begin his hero training, his life would be dominated by his father. Which is what happened.

Here, I would like to point out something I noticed in the flashback chapters. We never see any panels of Enji alone with any of his children during their infancy -- even with Shouto, the perfect child he longed for, we see Rei holding Shouto, sitting by him as he sleeps. Enji is there tangentially. Once Shouto begins his training, that is when we see him with his father.

So to see Enji with Touya when he was a baby, prior to his quirk manifesting, strikes me as a big deal. But it makes sense if you remember that he’d placed all his hopes, dreams and expectations on his firstborn. Initially, it doesn’t look like he even considered the possibility that Touya wouldn’t be his successor or that his little eugenics experiment would fail; this was his first, most optimistic attempt at a masterpiece. So I don’t believe it’s far-fetched to see him spend more time with Touya right off the bat (it’s what will make the eventual abandonment all the more crushing).

However, Rei isn’t seen at all in the snippet of Touya’s infancy, despite us knowing she was relegated to the caregiver role. Rei is literally out of the picture. Compare this to how she features prominently in Shouto’s infancy or how we see her holding a baby Natsuo. You could argue that, hey, we don’t see her holding a baby Fuyumi either, but there’s other scenes where Fuyumi’s attached to her mother’s hip or crying over her being hurt. Things that suggest a closeness, when the only scene we get of just her and Touya is one where they’re at odds. 

As we move further into Touya’s childhood, though, Rei becomes the only voice we hear advocate for him against his father. I’m referencing two specific instances:

When Enji coerces her into having more children to replace Touya now that his father has deemed him a failure, something she knows will hurt their son deeply.

And after Touya lashes out at Shouto, which Rei doesn’t blame on Touya, but rather on his father. She delivers such a satisfying condemnation of his actions, probably the most cutting one Endvr’s received to date, and it so accurately sums up one of his major character flaws.

How can you call yourself a hero when you can’t even face your own son?

The tragedy of it all is that Rei never said any of this in front of Touya -- it was always said in private, just to her husband. That alone took courage, yes, but it would’ve meant everything to Touya to hear her condemn his father aloud. Instead when she does speak to him, she says this:

It’s why I can’t wrap my head around that scene in Ch 302, where after Enji admits he didn’t know what to say to Touya, Rei replies, “Neither did I.” 

When we’re shown in flashbacks during that same chapter that she did understand her son. “He just wants to be acknowledged by you” is quite the indication that she, at the very least, understood the cause of Touya’s turmoil even if she couldn’t fully relate to it herself. So why can’t she say any of this to him?

The answer is in the way she addresses Touya, as it is nearly identical to how Nao addresses Tenko in this scene:

Both Touya and Tenko grew up in similar households: the father had all the power, physical and financial, so the mothers were left to try and comfort their children in a way that didn’t go against their husbands’ desires -- and so, to use Tenko’s own words, they would “reject them with kindness.”

So it’s no wonder that Touya lashes out at his mother after she suggests he pursue other things. He isn’t five like Tenko was, he’s thirteen and has a much clearer understanding of why she says this and why it’s a bit hypocritical, since he’s aware of her situation, too.

Just as she was bound by her family, who wanted her to marry Endvr for the money and status, he’s bound by the expectations of his family. I’m not sure if I’ve seen anyone else touch on this detail, but when Touya states that he knows his grandparents sold his mom into marriage so his dad could have a child, we could infer that Touya knows enough to realize that his mother might not have necessarily wanted him.

Not him specifically, but any child — the story has neglected to flesh her out beyond her marriage and motherhood, so we have no idea if Rei wanted to become a mother prior to this arrangement, despite how much she loves her kids now — although it is possible that he might’ve internalized it this way.

So you have Touya, who at least knows with certainty that his father wanted him to exist, yet he comes to understand that his father only wants him if he can meet a specific set of expectations, and if he cannot, he’ll be discarded. If he can’t surpass All Might, he can’t fulfill his reason for existing and his father will have to replace him. So to have his mother urge him to follow a path other than becoming a hero would mean, to Touya, accepting that he is the mistake he fears he is. Of course he isn’t going to respond well to that.

I don’t like when people try to compare Touya’s reaction in this moment to Shouto’s when Rei tells him he isn’t bound by his father’s blood, using that to paint Shouto as the “good” child and Touya as the “bad” one. They didn’t react differently because of any innate sense of goodness or lack thereof -- they reacted differently because the situations are different.

Telling Shouto that he didn’t have to be like his father comforted Shouto, who only knew his father as the bully who hurt his mom. He associated his father, and his father’s fire, with all of that fear and pain -- and thus, he associated the part of himself that took after his father with those feelings. She wasn’t denying his dream of becoming a hero, only assuring him that when he became a hero it could be whatever kind of hero he chose to be, that he wasn’t doomed to be like his father.

Whereas what she tells Touya sounds a lot like what his father told him, which was to give up on being a hero and pursue other aspirations.

Encouraging Shouto to become his own version of a hero still falls in line with what Endvr ultimately wants, which is for Shouto to be a hero capable of surpassing All Might. Whereas this is what happens when Touya continues to train to do that against his father’s wishes:

This is where the framing begins to bother me and where Rei’s characterization becomes inconsistent. 

So in this scene from Ch 302, we see Enji abusing his wife for “letting” Touya continue to train, punishing her for her “failure” to stop him. Obviously, none of that is Rei’s fault. If anything, Enji would be more responsible for preventing Touya from hurting himself since he’s the reason his son is hurting himself in the first place.

Moreover, the fact that he hits Rei over this sort of muddies the water of an previously-established narrative. Since the Sports Festival arc, we’ve known that Endvr abused his wife because she tried to interfere with Shouto’s training. It got to the point where she was terrified of her husband and it drove her to a breakdown. Why introduce this new aspect to the abuse, when it was already established that a) he was physically abusive and b) his motivations for abusing her were explicit to the audience? 

I’m not saying it doesn’t make sense that a man who hits his wife for one reason could find another reason to do it and justify his actions to himself. And while the scene does portray Endvr in a bad light to show how wrong his actions are, literally draping his figure in shadow, why does it even dare to suggest the idea that Rei was remiss in her duties as a mother? Again, the scene isn’t even necessary, since the narrative has long-since showed the audience that Enji abused his wife. 

By itself, the scene would read as further exploration of how Rei was victimized and how it affected her children. When you look at it with the chapter as a whole, though? Remember, this is the chapter where Rei claims that all of the family shares the blame in what happened to Touya, displacing some of the blame that rightfully rests on Enji. 

But my major gripe with this scene is how it reframes the sole moment we get of Rei and Touya alone. Because we know that Rei understands Touya, based on her confrontations with her husband in Ch 301 & 302. Rather than encourage him to be what he wants or acknowledge that his father is in the wrong, however, her advice falls in line with what Enji wants -- to stop Touya from training. And this comes after a scene where we see Enji beat his wife when she doesn’t stop Touya from training.

With all that in mind, it could potentially be read as Rei trying stop Touya for the sake of protecting herself and the family -- I don’t think it’s coincidence that in the scene where he hits her that we see Shouto, Fuyumi & Natsuo all as witnesses who are very distressed by what’s happening to their mother -- at the cost of Touya’s need to be validated. And if executed well or at least better than it has here, that wouldn’t be a bad choice of narrative per se, and it would fit into the pattern where the households the villains were raised in -- notably Shigaraki, Dabi & Toga -- mimic the society they live in, just on a smaller scale.

Except. Does that sort of narrative make sense based on what we already know about Rei?

Certainly, it is natural to want to protect yourself under physical and/or emotional duress by appeasing your abuser. This sort of complicated dynamic appears in the Shimura family, too. Just like in the house that Kotaro built, the Todoroki family revolves around the desires of the abuser and is dictated by his whims.

I would argue that Nao does give us a well-written example of this narrative. From the beginning, it’s established that she loves Tenko dearly. But in the house her husband built, there’s no room to love her son as he deserves. She prioritizes the feelings of Tenko’s father for the sake of maintaining peace in the household and this is established quickly and plainly.

Early on in the flashback, Kotaro exerts his control over the house, while Nao + her parents look uncomfortable. Despite this, we watch as they comply with his rules, all at the expense of Tenko’s feelings. When she stands up to Kotaro at last, it is not where Tenko can see and already too late. It’s a painful story, full of regret and sadness, but it is consistent from start to end. Nobody feels out-of-character or there to prop up anybody else.

So why doesn’t Rei feel as consistent in this narrative?

Because it doesn’t fit with everything we knew about Rei prior to her abuser’s subpar redemption arc.

The way she interacts with Touya would make sense, if this was how she was portrayed from the start. However, her behavior in Shouto’s flashback -- where she was first introduced -- contrasts what we get in the later Todoroki flashbacks.

Let’s compare this to the scenes in Ch 302. Here, Rei interferes on Shouto’s behalf. She advocates for her son in front of Shouto where he can hear. She stands up to his bully/villain and tries to protect him, while also validating his feelings in the process. Directly after this, Enji hits her, not for failing to comply with his demands, but for defying him. 

It is difficult to reconcile this Rei with the Rei we get in Ch 302. And if you try to find an in-story reason for the inconsistency, the options either do a disservice to Rei or make things even more painful for Touya. But I’m sure most of you have realized that I’m going to suggest a reason for this inconsistency that goes beyond the canon.

Because when Rei was first introduced in the story, Endvr was unequivocally the villain in the Todoroki family, not some misguided patriarch trying to atone for his “past” mistakes. Years later and in the midst of his redemption arc, the narrative seems to be intent on making this man more palatable to readers, and it’s used Rei at every opportunity to prop up his efforts to be better. Often, though, it takes some of the heat off Enji by displacing it onto other family members, most significantly Rei & Touya.

Like, you can literally see the difference in the frame from early in the manga to now:

Ch 39: Endvr trains his five-year-old to the point where he’s throwing up due overextension and being punched by a fully grown adult who is also his father. Rei tries to protect her son and gets slapped by Endvr. All the blames rests squarely on Endvr, who is clearly the aggressor and painted as the villain here.

Ch 302: Endvr hits Rei for not preventing Touya from sneaking out to train, knocking her to the ground. Again, Endvr is clearly the aggressor, but oh this time it’s not driven solely by his selfish desires it’s also cocnern for his son; Rei is the victim but oh she also should have been watching him more closely, and oh well why was Touya going out in the first place, when everyone has told him to stop and he knows his mom will get punished for it?

Honestly, I can understand where some people have mixed feelings over Rei’s character, particularly since the writing has done her such a disservice recently. With that being said, however, it takes a minimum amount of critical thinking to recognize that while you can criticize some choices she made, you cannot hold her to the same standard of accountability as Enji, it’s absurd. The power imbalance was obviously tipped in Endvr’s favor, always.

It is a shame, too, that we can’t have more discussions that don’t turn into some readers (a lot of whom are attempting to make Endvr sound less horrible than he actually was) trying to demonize her. It’s doubly a shame the story itself doesn’t bother to flesh her out as a person, instead using her as a prop, because the complex relationships she has with Touya -- with all her children, really -- has plenty of room for exploration. 

Like, there was no reason to add this new dimension of resentment due to her spouting Enji’s words back at Touya, when there was already a source of tension supported by previous canon -- the neglect the Todoroki kids suffered because Rei couldn’t be the parent they needed, due to her declining mental health and eventual breakdown.

Or, if you want to complicate their dynamic further, why not add something that focuses on Rei and has nothing to do with Enji? We learn in the flashbacks that Rei agreed to the marriage more-or-less to please her family, lamenting that she “intended to smile through it to the end,” essentially admitting that her hope was she could grin and bear it. It is telling that she had this attitude before entering her marriage; evidently, she was raised with the idea that she should be acquiescent to her parents’ whims and not express herself if she was only going to be contrary. Maybe she didn’t know how to deal with Touya’s very expressive, very emotional outbursts as a result. And her inability to respond would be the exact opposite of what Touya was seeking.

Not to mention that Touya died, and for the last decade, Rei was under the impression she had lost her son forever. He died while she was hospitalized, torn up with guilt over what she did to Shouto, only to find out that her other son died in a frankly horrific manner, and she could do nothing. By the time she would’ve found out, it was too late to even try to do anything. I can’t imagine what she must’ve felt in terms of regret alone, plus her grief. And I’m still mad we were robbed of her reaction to Touya being alive, because now suddenly there is a chance to do something, to change what was once written in stone.

Or what about Touya’s feelings for his mother, that have yet to be given much depth? As the oldest and most aware of his existence, it seems like he was the first to truly understand his mother’s situation and I can’t help but wonder: If Touya knew he vessel for his father’s ambition, and his mother was sold into role of creating/caring for him, did he question her love for him? Once he found out one parent’s love was conditional, it wouldn’t be a leap for him to consider it for the other. And yet if that’s true, Dabi doesn’t appear to hold any ill-will towards her for that. He was angry at her hypocrisy, because he knows she should understand, but her words to him didn’t reflect that.

All of that is fascinating and so much better than what we got in canon, so far at least. I’m hoping for them interact in the present at least once before the end of the series, and I think they will, but as to how satisfying a reconciliation it’ll be, I guess we’ll have to wait to see how the Todoroki plotline progresses from here on out.

[elysianslove]

when the stars align; oikawa tōru

requested by anon; ❝ hi bb :) can I request an Oikawa and reader story where they’re two petty/sarcastic best friends. Like they just have that understanding that their love is shown through petty comments or bickering lol but n e ways, the reader gets approached by a guy she doesn’t really like but isn’t thinking and says she’s seeing Oikawa and now they have to act like a couple but all they end up doing is bickering and Oikawa complaining. I hope that makes sense lol thxx <3 ❞

pairing; oikawa tōru x reader 

warnings; it’s the fake dating trope with oikawa tōru. that is a warning in itself

note; i screamed when i found this in my inbox this trope has a special place in my heart and the fact that oikawa was requested??? pls don’t let this flop :(

━ you’re not sure why you said it. you rack your mind for an excuse: you’ve known him too long, you spend majority of your time with him, you had just been texting him a moment earlier — that must’ve been why you’d sprouted that ridiculous excuse to rid yourself of spewing out a futile, useless rejection. there’s an array of mixed emotions on you as you watch the boy before you shrivel in disappointment, sighing in frustration.

“i’m sorry, i’m dating oikawa right now, actually,” you had said, like the liar the same boy you refer to has coerced you into becoming to fuel your endless sneaking out.

the guy before you, honestly nameless due to both your carelessness towards him and your uncomfortableness around him, shoves his hands into his pockets cooly, attempting to shrug it off. “well, you know where to find me in case it doesn’t work out,” he jokes, and you have to fight off the urge to cringe directly in his face at his words.

instead, you lightly smile, more similar to a grimace, and nod politely, before turning and heading in the complete opposite direction, despite the other way having been your initial route. your shaky hands fumble for your phone, and you pull it out, unlocking it and tapping on the messages app.

i did something stupid, you type out, and you’re unsure whether you’re grateful or thrown off by how quick oikawa responds.

not surprising. what did u do

the familiarity of his tone only calms you slightly, and before you can talk yourself out of it, already having thrown yourself too deep when you’d thought up the lie, you explain the situation briefly. instead of a text message response, his caller id flashes across your screen, and your breath hitches. regret begins flooding you, and carefully, you slide to answer.

“i don’t want to hold your hand!” you complain, smacking at his palm when it reaches for yours.

oikawa sighs amusingly, grabbing your wrist anyways and linking your fingers together. against all odds, and to your disappointment, you shiver at the feel of his hand in yours. it’s considerably larger, and despite the fact that this is farthest from the first time you’ve gripped his hand, your insides twist. his fingers are slender, and his palm and the pads of his fingers are soft. for all the years you’ve known oikawa, his hands constantly run cold, and you’ve hated it for multiple reasons. one being the way it gave him an ego boost of ‘cold hands only mean i have a warm heart.’ the second being his infuriating actions of constantly pressing his palms to your skin, specifically the back of your neck. but most importantly, it signifies just how little oikawa tends to care for himself at times, the way his hands shake when it gets too cold, when the world grows too small, the tips of his fingers a bruised blue and purple. and you hate it. even more so, you hate how much you hate it.

despite all this, his hand feels — nice in yours; it’s a comfortable contrast to your own warm hand. still, your frown remains on your face as you see the school gates appear before two of you, never daring to reveal any of your thoughts to him.

“if you didn’t want to hold my hand, you would’ve thought up a better lie,” oikawa argues, and you turn your head to glare at him. he diffuses it easily when his thumb brushes against the back of your hand, your words faltering momentarily. “could’ve had anyone! iwa, mattsun, makki— i know they woulda loved to do this with you.”

“you’re insufferable,” you huff, but your cheeks are painting red, visibly too. he’s right, you realize. he’s terribly right.

“but you still chose me,” he teases.

your hand in his twists until you’re bending his wrist at an awkward, painful angle, until he’s pinching at your arm to force you away. he’s right, but that doesn’t make it mean anything.

by now, you’ve spent more time glaring at oikawa threateningly and in warning than you have your entire friendship with him, and it’s honestly starting to give you a headache. after admitting your situation to the three other third years, and giving them maximum fifteen minutes to laugh until they ran out of breath, iwaizumi included, spend the next twenty minutes huddled up next to oikawa, your chair attached to his.

the guy, who had been persistent enough in asking you out that you’d resorted to this, decided to spend his lunch break in the same area as the five of you, leaving you unable to push away and bicker with oikawa the same way you would any other day. you pick at your food as you avoid his gaze, oikawa’s arm around your shoulder heavy, leaving a trail of sparks up your spine and along your arms. it makes you want to scream, loudly too.

makki and mattsun have resorted to making fun of the guy, whispering between themselves, but it’s still awfully loud enough that there’s no possible way he can’t hear. iwaizumi and oikawa have their attention on each other, discussing some upcoming practice match in the weekend.

and all you’re left with are your thoughts, your nagging, unbearable thoughts, about how pretty oikawa’s hand looks as it hangs by your shoulder, brushing against your arm with every small shift of his body. with shameful, red cheeks, you shut your eyes in frustration, and allow the regret to boil and build in your stomach.

the weeks pass steadily. outside of school, your relationship with oikawa remains unchanged, and although he’s just as touchy as he is with you with an audience, the source of affection continues to be — simply friendship. and whenever you catch any disappointment building because of that, you pinch yourself in reminder than none of it is real. the way he always has an arm around you, the way he fumbles with your fingers, the way he ties your hair back for you while you work on an essay during your break, the way he kisses your cheek, a show of respect for your boundaries, but as a way to reinforce that you’re his in front of anyone, or the way he lets you lift one leg over his own, just because.

and you’re left wondering that if it were real, would it be the same?

he sits before you now, cross legged on your bed, back straightened and mouth stuffed with popcorn, completely engrossed in the movie before him with his eyes wide open. the three other boys are spread across the room: makki laying on his stomach, chin perched on his hands by the edge of the bed, while mattsun and iwaizumi share the couch, drinks in their hands, all three just as enamored by the movie as oikawa. 

you had always been aware of just how pretty he is, and everyone around you has always ensured that you do. was it the way the light from the screen shone in his face, reflecting in his pretty brown eyes and shadowing some of his features? or was it the way he sat so comfortable in your bed, in nothing but sweatpants and a loose shirt because, of course, the four of them were bound to stay the night? was it the way his lips glistened with the water he gulped, or because of the way his tongue poked out to lick at the salt from the popcorn? 

or was it nothing in particular, or everything all at once?

sighing lowly, you shift and sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and heading towards the bedroom door. “i’m gonna grab some water; anyone want anything?” you announce.

none of them seem to hear you, too lost in the movie, but makki turns his head to the side slightly, eyes remaining on the screen, and replies, “no thank you.” it’s all you need to leave the room.

as you walk out, oikawa eyes you, then eyes the filled up water bottles next to where you had been sitting. his heart tightens in his chest.

two months into the fake relationship you’d established with oikawa, and it begins to feel natural. it no longer feels off putting to walk hand in hand with him to school, or to greet him with a grandiose hug and a kiss on the cheek, or to wear his jersey to games and cheer for him from the stands, or to constantly have his ankle looped with yours beneath the table where, despite this all being for show, nobody can really see.

outside of your fake relationship traditions are your friendship traditions, which include, but are not limited to, him walking you home. it’s always been mostly because your mother adores him, or because he prefers the food that’s at your home as opposed to his, or because your home is on the way to his anyways, but it’s a lot closer, so he always ends up staying longer than anticipated.

either way, it’s not unusual that he walks by your side as the moon illuminates your path. it is, however, not very like him to stay quiet the entire way. you can see the roof of your home growing in size as you near it, and he’s yet to say a word to you. it both weirds you out and worries you, and before you can convince yourself you were overreacting, you pause in your step, the gravel beneath you scratching and crunching as you turn to face him.

“alright, spit it out.”

his eyes meet yours, wide and confused. “what?”

you sigh. “something’s up, and you’re either gonna tell me now or i’ll force it out of you later,” you reply.

“i’m not—”

“oikawa.”

“stop it, i’m fine—“

“tōru.”

“i can’t do this anymore.”

your heart stills, and almost as if in understanding, in pity, so does the world around you. the wind no longer howls in agony, respecting your need for silence as the trees around you look on curiously. your brain processes a little slower than your mouth, and you’re asking him, “what are you talking about?” before you could think.

his gaze falls from yours again, and he takes a step back. “i can’t be with you anymore. or — fake being with you anymore,” he admits to you.

you’re not sure why, but you had imagined this scenario to be a lot less earth shattering than it is. maybe you’d grown to like faking it, because it slowly started to become the closest you could get to experiencing it realistically. you refuse to speak, and it isn’t because you’re angry at him. it’s because you genuinely are lost for words. it’s not even a real break up, but it still hurts just as bad, if not worse. it’s your own fault for believing that this, whatever this was, was as simple as it seemed.

“not unless— not unless i can really be with you.”

what?

“what?”

he breathes in steadily, and moves forward, closer, closer, closer to you. his hands rise to your cheeks, cupping them softly, flinching when your breath hitches. but you make no move to push him away, only stare up at him, in wonder, in confusion. he opens his mouth, preparing himself to speak. you expect a monologue, a speech, a declaration of his undying love for you, because it sounds just as dramatic as oikawa is. the moon above you holds its breath, waiting for the band to snap, for the words to spill and drown you. 

but then he kisses you. 

his hands urge you up and he meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours. they’re soft, and he tastes like cherry, and it’s probably your chapstick if you were being honest with yourself. his mouth moves languidly against yours, as if he’s trying to drag out every moment, as if he wants to purposefully slow down time, begging and pleading for the world around him to stop. the kiss is sweet, gentle, and somehow, kissing him is exactly the way you’d imagined it would. it’s breathtaking, and dizzying, and overwhelming, and needy and it’s beautiful. 

when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go of you. his hands remain cupping your jaw, his mouth hovering over yours. his thumb brushes along your cheek momentarily as he gazes at you, admiring you, as if memorizing every inch and every detail of your features. 

“tōru, you idiot,” you sigh. the insult isn’t foreign to him, not even on your tongue, but he still looks taken aback, and even more so when you reach up and close the distance between you again. the world lives again, the moon celebrating within the clouds, the wind twisting in your hair, whispering and whistling cheerfully by your ear as the trees dance.

 it all comes together, and the stars finally align. 

end note; i’m so happy with this!!! i hope everyone enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it!!! <3

[fictionkinfessions]

I suppose I'm ready to talk about this now. It's definitely like a novella of drama and shitty relationships, it's a commitment to read so buckle in if you want this tea.

I met somebody outside of the kin community and they coerced me into a relationship with them after years of entitled treatment ("I deserve you because I love you the most" type shit). Once I started identifying as kin, they did too. Not that they were actually kin, more they realized this was a way to exert control over me.

Kin was used against me as a manipulation tactic for years, they would always kin whoever they shipped with my kins. Regardless of who I was actually in love with, my kins were expected to pair off with their 'partner' kins, and I would be emotionally abused if I didn't pretend to be in love with theirs. If you, gentle reader, are thinking "that sounds like it fucking sucked", it's because it absolutely fucking sucked. I wasn't allowed to even post pictures of characters they perceived as 'competition' without them treating me like I had wronged them.

Years pass and my fear of being abused gives way to my exhaustion, and slowly I stop pretending I feel ways I don't feel to protect myself from their abuse. I get treated worse. I'm trying to get away from this person by no longer being what they want, but they expect more of me, they treat me like I'm doing them wrong because I don't have the will to perform the role they want me to anymore.

I'm no longer prime victim material. I'm bitter, I'm tired, I'm beginning to form my opinions independent of theirs, I disagree openly with them. Textbook abuser, treats me worse for the perceived slight that is me trying to establish boundaries, and begins cheating on me with my friends by claiming to be kin with every character my friends kins have crushes on, or were in relationships with. It's a 'coincidence' that they almost exclusively kin characters somebody they're after desires.

They pit me and my friends against each other to destabilize my friend group and force me out of it. They phase me out and start over with people who were primed for years of bullshit. Again, textbook abuse, this was how they started and ended every relationship I was aware of - by wearing a partner down until they got tired of poor treatment, and moving on to somebody who believed they had been victimized, when in reality they were the one victimizing others.

Skipping over the dirty details, it's been so long that I don't want to let the abusive relationship go, I defined all of my lives by the love of one person, who was lying to me about being the people I loved. Nothing I offered was good enough, they told me to move on and stop bothering them. So I listened. I accepted that it was over, and I vowed would never love again. I decided if I wasn't enough for the person I believed I had shared all my lives with, I wasn't enough for anyone. I isolate, I reject the idea of positive interpersonal relationships of any nature.

This all sounds awful so far, right? But this is my first taste of freedom in almost ten years. I'm alone, I lost nearly everyone I cared about. It hurt, but now I was able to live my life again. I was able to spend time in the real world and stop spending my every free moment checking in with my abuser. I start lining up my future, I start relearning how to talk to people. I engage with the people in my life, my coworkers, my neighbours. I make friends. I learn to enjoy other people's company again. I learn to stop fearing them. I gain a lot of insight in the quiet hours I have to myself, just to think. I heal, gradually. Losing everything I thought I wanted was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I struggle for months with the reality that I have fallen in love with somebody. It's becoming agonizingly apparent that I love this man, despite my intentions. I'm a trans guy, he's cis and straight as far as I know, there's no way that ends well for me, right? Best case scenario is I walk away without getting hate-crimed. But I love him, and it kills me to even think of saying it to myself, because then it becomes real. I live in denial. I stress myself out trying to pretend that I don't want to spend the rest of my life being his best friend if I can't have more than that, it begins to cause depression.

Eventually, prepared for rejection and ugly crying over a keyboard because Facebook Messenger was my choice for revealing my secret feelings for my friend, I tell him that I love him. This all goes a lot better than I expected it to, he loves me too, he isn't here to make any assumptions about my transition or my body (this blew my mind, I didn't think this brand of cis guy existed), and I feel a little silly for the amount of sheer anxiety I had over telling him the truth, but I get it, I've had bad experiences with this shit.

We're together for months, maybe a year before my abuser returns and I stupidly think they've really changed this time just because they said they did. Spoiler alert: it's a lie, because it's always a lie. I try to be friends with them. They expect more. They keep pushing for romantic affection and deliberately misinterpreting all my friendliness as romantic interest. I'm told that I'm leading them on. I'm not, they just really seem to think that if I'm decent to them I have to be with them. I'm not the first person they done this to either, I know from consulting their other victims: they assume if somebody is legitimately friendly to them, there is always romantic interest present.

I try to have friendships with my abuser, over and over again, every time realizing that they want more from me than I'm offering. They expect me to leave my boyfriend for them, because "we spent all our lives together, I know you'll be happier with me than anyone else". I, however, know that I'm already with the person who's right for me, that I'm happiest with, and they refuse to believe this, because he isn't kin. I am expected to treat that relationship as if it were just me practicing to be better in relationships for my abuser's benefit. I have, in the years apart, realized my abuser wasn't offering anything I wanted. I did exactly what they told me to, which was to move on, but now that they had run their other options dry, I was expected to un-move-on and just revert back to whatever mindset I had that made me such a great victim. I physically can't do that because my brain just isn't the same as it was when I was in an abusive situation. I'm treated like I'm somehow being unfair because I won't reserve my relationship status exclusively for them and drop somebody who I've been with for years out of nowhere, just because they want me back years after telling me to move on and stop wanting them. It makes about as much sense to me as it likely does to you: it's an unrealistic and cruel expectation that only a selfish, entitled dickhead who doesn't respect you can place on you.

This shit goes on and off for a year or two before I just leave. I don't want to do this dumb jig for the next three years until they finally listen to me and accept that I've moved on (like they told me to), and frankly I'd just be told I was 'leading them on' for all that time if I tried to let them down gently. I tell them to stop sending me inappropriate, emotionally loaded emails begging me to come back, or telling me how much they've changed and how good they are now, how ready they are to be nice to me. They continue sending these emails regardless. I tell them to piss off. They immediately revert back to verbal and emotional abuse, proving once and for all how much they've truly changed this time.

So, long story short, I made a decision not to date anyone who identified as kin a few years ago, and it's been the best decision I made. I'm engaged to that nonkin boyfriend now, and I couldn't be happier.

Also just, be careful, right? You get in with somebody who seems too good to be true, who has an endless conga line of victim stories and never seems to be at fault for anything that goes wrong in their relationships, just… be careful, right? Be sane. Don't force yourself to be who they want. Wait for the one who loves you as you are, not for the things you can be to them if they just put the right pressure on you in the right places. Thanks if you stuck with me through that whole thing, you're a champion. Take care guys.

[teawaffles]

Forbidden Games: Chapter 4

Alan led the way as the two men proceeded down the corridor to another room. While he walked alone in front, the pair noticed the footsteps of several people following them from behind.

They seemed to be travelling to the back of the building, and apart from the people who were currently moving, there was no sign of life. Apparently, ‘normal’ participants could only play in that large hall from before.

“It’s gotten quite chilly, hasn’t it? As I recall, Mr Holmes, you’re not fond of the cold. Are you alright?” William murmured, his shoulders shaking slightly.

Sherlock himself wasn’t particularly sensitive to the cold, but he kept his expression static as he pondered the intention behind that statement.

In the next moment, William twitched the corner of his mouth upwards in a gesture that only Sherlock would understand. Recognising this, Sherlock understood everything, and promptly played along.

“That’s right. It does seem chilly. ——Liam, could you lend me your coat?”

“No problem, here you go.”

“Thanks.”

William held out the coat he had been carrying under his arm. Sherlock took it and immediately put it on. Then, he straightened the coat as he carefully checked how it felt on him.

“If you’re feeling cold, may I suggest we have a warm drink in one of these rooms before proceeding?”

Alan posed the question with a seemingly concerned tone. It appeared that he had taken William’s words at face value.

“No worries. Anyway, I’m also excited to see what kind of game you have for us. It’s almost like the shivers before a battle.”

At Sherlock’s words, Alan nodded happily.

“Is that the case? As the one introducing you to it, I’m pleased to hear that.”

At last, they reached their destination. Alan quietly opened the door and bid the duo enter. The two men shared a look, and went in silently.

The room was dimly lit, and roughly a quarter the size of the hall they were previously in. In the centre was a finely crafted round table, and surrounding it was a group of gentlemen standing in silence, staring at the new entrants.

It was an ominous sight, as if it were a secret ritual. The men’s expressions were unanimously mild, but there was also a keen sense of malice hidden underneath. Even so, having witnessed countless bloody battles and come out standing, William and Sherlock remained unperturbed amidst the disquieting atmosphere.

Sherlock looked at a corner of the room, and flashed a big grin.

“Yo, fancy meeting you here.”

Standing there was the noble’s son whom Sherlock had been tasked to find. Just like the other gentlemen, he was dressed sharply. Yet he lacked a trace of the dignity befitting a noble, instead glancing around his surroundings in sheer terror.

Having observed the young man’s appearance, William murmured a question to Sherlock.

“Is he the young man you were searching for?”

“Yep. It looks like he’s alive for now, but judging from his behaviour, it’s not hard to imagine how he was treated by these guys.”

After deducing the situation, they heard the click of a lock behind them.

Turning around, they saw Alan standing with his back to the door, a smile plastered on his face.

“As expected, you’re quick on the uptake. I sincerely admire your excellent deductive abilities.”

Sherlock snorted at his feigned courtesy.

“What’re you talking about? You’re the one who brought us here.”

“I thought it’d be pointless to keep this place a secret once you’d sniffed it out. Anyway, I reckoned I’d make sure to give him a proper welcome too.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Still, what reason could you possibly have for locking up some noble brat? Are all these guys your accomplices too?”

Alan made a show of being astonished.

“We don’t do such perverse things as locking people up. All we pursue is the pure delight of a game, and the comrades gathered here today share in this goal. It is only when pleasure is kept secret that it ascends to a higher realm.”

“——So just like what you did to us earlier, you invited this man here, coerced him into playing some ‘thrilling game’ which he lost, then locked him in this room until he pays off his debt. Is that right?”

“…………”

William’s harsh words stripped away the veneer of Alan’s so-called lofty pleasures, revealing them to be but deceitful tricks. The man raised no retort, and Sherlock clicked his tongue.

“So, are you holding this noble’s son hostage for ransom? Or are you thinking of threatening him so that he’ll make arrangements for you when he inherits his estate? In any case, deceiving and threatening kids makes you no different from a stingy crook.”

Having been bluntly maligned, Alan finally shook his head in sadness.

“It’s utterly regrettable to be misunderstood in such a way. This man consented to play the game of his own free will. However, because he refused to pay up despite his defeat, I’ve had to keep persuading him ardently like this.”

“Persuasion…… so you say,” William retorted.

Having taught students of the same age, he did not hide his displeasure.

Then Sherlock pressed on, openly revealing his irritation.

“Well? Our goal here’s to bring him home safely, but as for you, you’re not going to let things go that easily, are you?”

Alan held out both arms, as if to express his admiration.

“Both of you have been a big help advancing the conversation so smoothly. But there’s no need to be afraid. We have no intention of committing barbaric acts. As I conveyed from the start, all I want to do is play a game with you, with all my heart and soul.”

“Damn you, if this was really just a game then there’d be no need to bet.”

“Doesn’t the risk of defeat just add to the excitement?”

“……Only your ability to make sophisms is first-class, huh.”

They seemed to be getting nowhere trading arguments with this man. Sherlock sighed, as if rendered speechless.

Taking over from the exhausted detective, William spoke up.

“In that case, would you release this man if we win your game?”

Alan nodded in enthusiasm.

“Precisely, since our motto is that all’s fair and square when it comes to games.”

However, Sherlock nudged William with his elbow.

“Liam, you don’t have to go out of your way to play along with them. If you leave it to me, I’ll beat these wimps to a pulp in seconds.”

Hearing Sherlock’s statement, Alan took a step back.

“Ooh, how frightening. In that case……”

He raised his hand. Taking that as a signal, one of Alan’s accomplices brandished a knife and held it to the young noble’s throat. Unable to even make a sound, the young man went white with shock.

“We have no choice but to respond appropriately.”

Alan’s friendly smile had morphed into a brutal one. Having seen the gentleman reveal his true nature, William finally looked at him with disgust.

“In other words, no matter how much we struggle to avoid it, we’ll be drawn into a game…… and although it wouldn’t be outright impossible, it would be difficult to call it ‘fair and square’.”

“This is all simply because we love games,” Alan said brazenly, with no regard for the hostility directed at him.

At that instant, the pair decided to crush this man.

“——Excellent.”

Sherlock spoke up. Even though it wasn’t said particularly loudly, his statement rang out across the room.

William continued in an exceedingly polite tone.

“The extent to which you wish to play games, that I have understood completely. Therefore, regardless of the outcome, I hope you will not regret your decision.”

“……Ooh.”

The pressure exerted by the pair’s fighting spirit had started to make Alan’s entire body tense up.

“I’m glad to hear that you’re in the mood now. By the way, what would you both like to wager on this match?”

At his question, the pair looked at each other.

“We demand that this man be set free. As for the price of our defeat…… Well, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Anything I want?” Alan doubted.

Immediately, William chimed in.

“Then it would be the same for me. In the event that we lose, be it money, my position as a noble, or the fruits of my academic research, please feel free to lay claim to any of them.”

Alan’s eye twitched at their careless manner of speaking.

“……I don’t suppose you both take me for a fool?” he uttered, in a deeply uncomfortable tone.

“That would be outrageous. It’s simply because I have conviction.”

“When Liam and I team up, no one can stand up to us.”

They were outnumbered in the enemy’s hideout. On top of that, the enemy had taken a hostage.

But even though it would seem to anyone that they were at a disadvantage, the duo’s voices were filled with confidence. Any listener would soon realise that it was not an act of bravado. The two of them had complete trust that their intellectual capacity and force of will far exceeded that of these petty villains.

“…………”

Having been struck head-on by William and Sherlock’s unshakeable conviction, an intense, hot hatred welled up in the pit of Alan’s stomach.

——In the past, Alan had been an influential noble with a vast plot of land in the vicinity of Durham. However, he had fallen into economic ruin with the Industrial Revolution and the current of the times. Simply put, he had begun to walk the path of his downfall.

He’d blindly believed his days of prosperity would continue for all eternity. Watching them fade away, Alan had sunk into the depths of despair, and desperately sought a way to assuage this sense of defeat.

To that end, he became absorbed in games. Whenever he and his opponent had agreed upon the rules and engaged in an earnest match, with him coming out the victor, Alan found that those indescribable highs were finally able to satisfy him.

Having grown aware of his appetite, upon finding out that there was a club established with the purpose of playing ‘games’, Alan immediately sought out his old friends in the nobility to gain admission. He then gathered like-minded people from within the club. Among the club members, he then would pick a target, covertly invite them to a game, and use brute force to achieve victory after victory.

Day after day they would rob nobles of their rights, with demands for payment which were unmistakably threats. His accomplices appeared to be satisfied by the profits, but Alan was different. He wanted to look down upon his opponent and use any means necessary to make them surrender.

Therefore, even now, as he held a noble’s son as a hostage, Alan refused to negotiate. He only desired to win the game. No matter what absurd sequence of events was taking place.

However, these young men were different. Even in the midst of danger, they were calm and composed, with no expectation at all that they would be defeated.

Faced with a type of person he had never met up till now, Alan not only remembered what it felt like to be irritated, but also chuckled inwardly to himself: it would surely be a pleasant experience to tear them down.

Once again, he put on a boastful smirk.

“If that’s the case, then I’ll be the one to decide the price of your defeat.”

“Fine by me. Well then, what game shall we play?”

[nanakah]

about Ishigami, his growth and Miko's role

most people, myself included, thought at some point that Tsubame's rejection (or acceptance) could wrap up Ishigami's arc and even his past's flashbacks neatly, but Osaragi's arc suddenly revealing there was more to his relationship with Miko made me reflect more and think nah...if anything we're halfway there. It also showed glimpses of him already struggling to find his place in the world by quitting his clubs, even though he was successful at them and there was no Ootomo incident yet to undermine his self-image.

It seemed odd that despite everything he went through he still has his "hair=shield/averting eyes" theme going strong, but it makes sense if you consider even though Tsubame helped him see the way to be more accepting of people and cleared his name, his self-esteem still is super low. I spoke of this in my "sutera" meta, but to Ishigami, his life still has been a sucession of failures and almosts. At his core, he still hasn't fully opened up to people or learned to use his vulnerabilities to his advantage.

If I have grabbed your interest thus far, keep reading for more considerations!

Tsubame is kind to anyone and attempted to do good for him, but ultimately he was never fully himself around her, nor she tried/he alllowed her reaching out to the deepest parts of his insecurities. She doesn't show her own flaws to him either and to this day we get the feeling we don't know her well, just the best parts that Ishigami wanted to see. Kaguya, Miyuki and Chika contribute a lot in a sibling-like way, but there's a limit to how much Kaguya in particular can inspire him. Miko however, has scratched a little beneath the surface and has expressed an interest in helping him with that, even if he himself is still avoiding the topic. She's also more relatable to him in the sense that the rest of the stuco has a history of successes in their lives, while he was able to watch Miko's hardships and failures closely. Their panic attacks even look similar and they're always watching the other to provide backup (in a very roundabout way, at least before) when they happen.

While their personalities are fundamentally different, his arc and struggles remind me a lot of Miyamura from Horimiya and today, as I was musing on what is so different about them as of now, I believe it's how Miyamura didn't have a single *traumatic* mistake to get over, so he goes down his development road much faster. Putting it another way, it's ultimately that Ishigami hasn't yet learned to be kind to himself like Miyamura has through Hori. Like Shirogane and Kaguya are through themselves. In Miyamura's case, sympathizing with how Hori despite her strong exterior can be very fragile inside but still support him (fight for him, defend him, accept his true self, not judge him, hear him, make him feel good enough) made him feel compelled to grow stronger to protect her back.

Miko as she was at the beggining of the story couldn't provide Ishigami this sort of stability (and that's where Osaragi's "prettier story"/"you weren't there for him" reasoning fails) even if deep down she wanted to, but now after making many mistakes, learning from them and becoming more flexible, she absolutely can. Both Ishigami and Miko have deeply rooted issues that took them more than just each other to flesh out and develop, but they're very much the missing puzzle piece the other needs.

Miko still very much has room for growth as well, mainly concerning finding a middle ground between her "bad girl" and "good girl" personas that Ishigami can easily see through, as demonstrated by the consolation chapter. She tried being "bad", she attempted lying but was still saying half-truths, because her love of justice isn't just out of parental abandonment issues or loneliness - she does believe them sincerely. The moment Ishigami headpated her and shared genuine, spot-on words of concern and admiration (thus a hint of fondness), it was all over for her trying to keep up the love-warfare upper hand.

That's not actually new - Ishigami has always demonstrated he was able to see glimpses of her true self, be it teasing how she's an otaku or a closet pervert and such, he never fully bought the strait-laced image she aspired to make real. But it did take him being around her more to see she could be sweet to him and as he puts it, that smiling more is not a bad look on her. Miko says to Osaragi your true self only comes through interacting with others, so given how lonely she has always been (and how the one person close to her - Osaragi - was actually keeping things between them superficial because of her own problems), it's no surprise she's only finding out now who she is. Ishigami can help Miko find a better compromise of good/bad after both not following any rules at all for so long and recently learning that hard work can pay off. Miko immersing herself in his hobby will clash with her rigid study schedule sooner or later, and he'll know how to help her with that better than anyone else.

On the other hand, Ishigami's moral compass, romanticism (love for flowers, planing dates etc) and idealism aren't things he is proud of...yet. He protects himself with layers of cynism, especially in his first appearances, but he is always being contradictory and letting it slip how idealistic/pure he is at heart. He also is only now learning to like his outward image with things like fitness/studying and finding out it's not like he never cared about it - it's just that he was scared shitless of failure, thus never even tried hard in the first place to avoid being hurt. And as I have advocated for in the Sutera post, I expect Miko in some level to help him come to terms with seeing good in himself. Heck, even being able to game with her now and showing off how good he is and having her appreciate it is gonna do wonders to make him feel more "adequate". Tsubame's arc had a lot of him changing himself to become "better", but Miko on the other hand is trying to put herself in HIS shoes to maybe go "hey, I like you as you are. I'm trying to understand you more and put effort in for you".

Ishigami and Miko start out watching out for each other behind their backs - which instead of helping their relationship, drives them further apart because they think the other side is showing no appreciation. As the story progresses, they're slowly learning to make each other more aware of their support, and it is making them open up more in general.

They have a strong belief the other wants to be rescued and there is truth in that. Both want help and to be recognized for their efforts, but won't cry out for it. In the unplugged earbuds chapter Ishigami takes it upon himself to protect Miko's reputation in spite of himself, the election arc has him actually putting effort into the campaign just for the sake of protecting her and at first posing as a rival of hers to Shirogane only to reveal he's trying to "make Miko smile", he is constantly fending off men from interacting with her as protection (while also sounding jealous), he was way more protective of her when she was wearing that cast than needed and is now being able to openly headpat her and sounds almost like her "soothing sounds" from the days of yore lol Sure Tsubame seems like his start to becoming "a better man", but all the way back on the election, it was for Miko's sake that we first SEE him putting effort into *anything* without being coerced by anyone to take action.

And while it's more discreet compared to Ishigami's "white knight" attitude, Miko also tries hard to protect him - cheering him on during the sports festival race and wanting to console him before the stuco intervened, telling him he should study (but he thinks it's just nagging), christmas (which I'll elaborate bellow), making sure he was able to graduate middle school by actually confronting school staff and, of course, their very first meeting as recently revealed.

Many people hated the entirety of Osaragi's arc, but 232 gave very juicy info indeed. Ishigami's reason for supporting Miko from the shadows comes from admiration AND part gratitude for her attempting to talk to him and listen to what troubles him, and seeing they actually had a "falling out" argument was game changing.

He looks sad and troubled to have shut her down there, not simply angry, and so does she (there's tears in her eyes when her face is shown in the next page) - despite her black and white sense of justice at this point of the story, she still wanted to listen to him. And even after that outburst she still believed the rumors weren't real, unlike Osaragi sees it - otherwise she wouldn't have made the effort for him to be able to move on to high school. Why would she care, if she truly hated him and thought he was in the wrong?

If any further proof was needed at all that this info is important, I'm happy to say we have more. I noticed the Christmas stairs scene mirrors this exact falling out moment: "Go away"/"Suit yourself"

But this time Miko had already decided to change, had already seen the mess their relationship became the last time she did not reach out to him and thus already had their previous falling out in mind - meaning she decides to chase after him.

I don't like how the scanlations handled this scene because reading the japanese raws, my interpretation was that Miko was sounding "annoying" because she was still kinda drunk/unfiltered and freaking out when talking to Ishigami, not outright berating him like the Jaimini's box translation made it look like. She also sounds too angry after the fall, so I generally thought Viz's version (the panel shown above) was closer to the original.

"I always have to take care of you! You keep putting youself in danger. You can't make it on your own." is a better translation than Jaimini's, and also parallels better what Ishigami is often telling Miko as well (That she keeps putting herself in danger and that he has to be around to keep her in check). But with 232 in mind, I think it misses a nuance of the original line: "ほんとあんたは 私が居ないと危なっかしく駄目ね" - "Honto anta wa watashi ga inaito abunakkashiku dame ne" - while I'm a novice at japanese studies, gathering from what I can read and trying to get a feel of the whole sentence, it's closer to "So it really is dangerous to you if I'm not there/ It's no good if I'm not around you". You can take that as her being full of herself, which is the route Jaimini's goes ("You'd be screwed without me") but that's too hostile - Viz's got the spirit of wanting to protect him better, but the original has an implication that she has "tested not being there"/failed being there before (due to not fully siding with him in middle school) that's absent elsewhere.

IMO the reason Ishigami's "closed his eyes" arc is not over yet is because he hasn't accepted or gotten over or fully learned from his past yet, he simply shut it down. That's why briefly during the sports festival his eyes are in plain view, then go back to their usual for the balloon gag. I'm not sure if Ootomo herself will make a comeback, may or may not - regrets are regrets and sometimes the only solution to them is letting them stay in the past. But the topic of how he saw Miko in middle school and the letter certainly are being set up to still show up in the story.

If I compare him to Miyamura again, he'd still be at the point before Miyamura's haircut - not wanting to face the parts of himself he doesn't like, not quite ready to change. Not quite ready to patch up his own wounds yet and instead silencing everything from his past.

In this sense, Miko does wonders to make him feel more confident even if he hasn't realized it yet, and she's always dropping little hints she'd like him to worry about his future not in a naggy way, but because she genuinely prays for his success. He unconsciously wants Miko to think well of him and it fills him with confidence and a more prideful image of himself he doesn't really display to anyone else, not even Tsubame - like his usages of "ore" (a more manly/confident way of addressing himself) around her (AND HER ALONE):

( I don't like the available translations to the staircase scene either, lol. Zaibatsu has conveyed the tone of the second scene up there perfectly. For the staircase line, I've seen "I'll be there to catch you" and "I'll save you" which are contextually correct, but to me the original "俺が絶対守る" - "I (ore) will absolutely protect you" carries a much more romantic nuance or ambiguity, regardless of him realizing it at that point. It's like, the title to one of the most romantic moments/songs in the CCS Clear card anime ost, for instance. OF COURSE MIKO LOVES HIM. The narrator doesn't overexplain or take apart Ishimiko's interactions like for Prezguya, but all the evidence needed is there. And I gotta add the very next chapter to the staircase one is the "eternal love" x "real love" I'm super fond of that says fate is irrelevant and to find real love you must use your head to realize/understand things, so makes the romantic subtext even greater.)

This whole affair is also making me open my eyes that I should try to study japanese more...of course I'm happy to have translations and scanlators working hard, but there is something inherently lost in adaptations because it robs you of connecting with the author's intentions unless it was the author who wrote the translation in the first place

Thinking back on Ishigami's early "i wanna die/i'm going home/don't look at me" role, it seems unbelievable we're at the point he's now able to directly confront a "stranger" (lololol) or make serious promises with so much confidence.

PLEASE DON'T END SO SOON MANGA, I NEED MORE.

( off-topic kind of, but i'm lazy to make a separate post just for it: Since I mentioned things lost in translation, I saw something on Discord about Ishigami having an unreliable narrator moment in the "compliments" chapter/Iino Miko cannot love part 4 and holy molly, it is true. He first says something akin to "You're just too beautiful" out of context, Miko HEARS IT - and that's why she looks so shocked before asking for clarification - and he DID SAY IT in the speech bubble, but after she's nice to him and he thinks back to what he said he adds a "Your handwriting is just too beautiful" to his flashback. I'm ONTO HIM. ONTO HIM I SAY. It is what he meant, but it's like his mouth betrayed him. Whether it's unconscious or denial...it totally is something. The scanlation completely skips this and had the same line both times it's mentioned.)

[leviiattacks]

Two Faced | Chapter Six

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it's all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared. for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au, angst, fluff, slice of life etc word count :: 2.4k  author note :: i have not yet proof read any of this or chapter five like i said i would, so i apologize for any mistakes. sigh im sorry for the angst in this chapter ??? T__T i suppose my own mood tends to be reflected in my writing. anyway, i’m working on requests too so if you have any feel free to send them in :D  → next part is here!!

Everyone within the estate notices the way your schedule suddenly changes, half of them have no clue what you're doing seeing as it would be unfavorable for them to be aware of it in the first place.

However, after the bitter events of your first ODM-gear session you find it necessary to tell Sasha and Mikasa the truth. It's embarrassing really, and your mind disintegrates trying to find an appropriate way to tell to them about it. Sasha especially considering you've hid so much more from her.

The thought of letting them in on your lie has crossed your mind a number of times, but the image of Levi throwing you to the floor as he shakes in simmering outrage makes itself present. He will have objections against this and if he finds out you may end up in the same vulnerable position as before.

But, you don't care. If he wants to end your life for providing your confidants with honesty, so be it. It's not as if you have much of a choice.

Mikasa is sat in front of you bubbling with rage, she's disinfecting the gash at the top of your head - it has inconveniently tainted the surface of your skin after the second time you accidentally flipped in your gear.

Her breathing is heavy, evidently leaden with acidity it's become background noise to you. You're now increasingly mindful of how she's trying her best to keep calm for you. The realization that you're a liability and a hindrance to those around you makes you wince in shame.

You may as well be considered a synonym for humiliation at this point. That's how badly you're handling everything that comes your way.

Sasha doesn't say a word as she's brushing the knots out of your hair. There's nothing more you want to do than snatch the wooden paddle brush away from her, tell her she doesn't have to do this for you or commit herself to someone as unworthy as yourself. It's shameful that you let her continue - your only reason is that making her feel uncomfortable by the action is a possibility and that is the last thing you wish for.

The corners of your lips twitch upwards but you fight the desire to laugh at your pathetic circumstances.

"We aren't really in love." You finally say it. "He's never loved me." Your voice is ragged, voice trembling, breath laboured.

"You don't need to explain." Mikasa is calm in the way she approaches it all. "All we need to know is that the Duke is a pig."

Sasha has now stopped brushing out your hair now playing with the ends of your strands between her fingers.

"We expect no explanation from you it's been a long day." She gently whispers.

"Everyone deserves to rest. That includes you." Sasha's soft voice provides a kind of comfort that consoles you the way stars provide solace to the night. Your eyes fill to the brim with tears, you've desperately wished for years that someone would tell you that and mean it and here it is. She's smiling down at you, not even an ounce of irritation present in the way she addresses the situation.

Mikasa is silently caressing the top of your hand with her thumb. They aren't outraged or resentful. Even though they should be they aren't.

Heart twisting due to the prickles of relief they've given you your shoulders slump and you give in choking down a sob.

Sasha circles her arms around your quivering form and she strokes your hair. "It was hard, right?"

Attempting to blink your tears away you feebly nod. The weight of it all being kept to yourself has been unbearable. Tolerating this unwelcoming and cynical actuality on your own has been one of the hardest obstacles to come your way. To be swept off your feet and loved with such sincerity only to then be thrown away by that man like a rag-doll. Only to be coerced into doing what he wants or to face the music and face an early death. It's truly had a deeply somber affect on you.

You take one profound breath and you begin to tell them your story.

There are moments at which Mikasa's grip on your hand strengthens in a mix of frustration and protectiveness.

Eventually, at some point Sasha tries to secretively wipe a tear away when you recount Levi's blackened, subdued gaze the day he reverted back to his old self and announced you would never be a wife of his.

It's all too overwhelming for you when you tell them you're only alive sitting in this bed because you've bartered your freedom for a chance at existence. It's always been that way, you had to give, in order to receive, but this is one of the rare occasions you don't feel that way. The beating of your heart steadies, you're thankful for the way they listen and ask for nothing in return.

You stare at them once you're finished worried that you've overloaded them with too much information, you didn't even think to believe how they'd feel associating with a speculated "witch".

"You believe me right?" Your hoarse voice is thickened with worry.

You feel Sasha nod above your head.

"We believe you."

Staring at her glossy eyes you turn to look at Mikasa, she holds your arm in place and squeezes your hand reassuringly, it's enough to convey that she too has faith in you.

The days since have been passing excruciatingly slow. The day after the ordeal with Levi you can sense the way the other cadets look at you. It's a combination of distaste and pity. They stay far away from you, don't want to pair up with you during group exercises or activities - you aren't annoyed at all. In fact it's in their best interest they stay far away from your uncoordinated stiffness.

Oluo seems to feel horrible for challenging you to use ODM-gear when your core strength was not to the best of your abilities, he mumbles an apology for contributing to the gash on your forehead but you tell him it's quite alright and you assure him it isn't his fault that you thought you would be able to master the mechanism of the gear so early on.

On one of your more empty days you finally find the time to make your pit-stop at Hange's office, knocking on their door a breezy "Come on in!" is the response you're given.

To your surprise Levi is sitting there with a map and pen in his hand. Unmoving, his attention is solely on the plans in front of him. Ignoring him you inquire what it is Hange wanted to so desperately discuss with you but they wave it off saying the issue they had has now been solved.

Turning to walk away you don't divert your stare to Levi, simply knowing he's in one piece is good enough for you.

Other than that the repetitive pattern has stayed the same. It's a cycle of waking up, skipping breakfast, training for hours on end, returning completely exhausted, bathing and ultimately passing out in bed almost as soon as you've made contact with the mattress.

Levi and you awkwardly have to share the same bedroom at the estate to avoid any rumours of a broken marriage spreading. You don't understand why it matters, the "rumours" would be factual and true.

At first he sleeps in his office using the excuse of paperwork and planning attack formations but he knows that excuse will soon run dry. Later he utilities one of the armchairs in your room and sleeps in it for an hour or two, it concerns you how he's barely sleeping now, but you aren't vocal about your worry. Last but not least today is what you call a hollow night, the other half of your King sized bed is vacant, you haven't caught a single glimpse of Levi all day despite foolishly being on the look out for him. These nights are the worst.

Silence comes hand in hand with the peace and tranquility of the dark but that isn't what you feel, nevertheless you make the effort to sleep knowing your body will thank you for it when you train tomorrow.

Just as you're at the brink of drifting softly to sleep you feel the weight on the other side of your bed shift, you nearly jolt but your body's survival instincts halt the action. Suddenly, you are eerily alert of your surroundings. This isn't Levi, he'd never dare to come anywhere near you in general, but then shock renders you in place, he's fatigued by your presence perhaps it is him and this is finally your time.

That doesn't sound right to you. Levi is a man of his word if he wanted to go through with it he would have long ago.

A warm palm embraces your cheek and you second guess your previous line of thought. Instead of Levi Is this Lev?

This confirms your suspicions. The magic has yet to fully dwindle away. It's faltering.

Eyes fluttering open with caution you want to tell him how you've missed his presence greatly for this will be short lived. Lev will come and go. Even if you know it'll only obstruct your progress you wish to tell him you're grateful for the affection he gave you when he was around, but as you open your eyes half lidded he presses you into his chest.

The pace of your heart erratically springs, his breath is tickling the back of your neck. You can hear the blood drumming in your ears.

It pains you but you have to push him away.

But when you begin to emphasize the distance between the two of you he doesn't give you the opportunity to speak again, he flares up in want and presses his lips against yours, kisses you hard. You automatically reciprocate and your nerves cause your teeth to accidentally clatter against his.

His fingers run through your hair, frantically, desperately.

You'll be scolded for this later but it's not like you care and it's not like you can talk Levi out of it now. Not when he's like this.

An uncontrolled breathe leaves you and he lightly cups your jaw slipping his tongue inside. It tastes of whisky, you immediately recoil.

He's intoxicated.

"I'm sorry. Go to bed Lev." Your plain response is enough to worry him.

He holds onto your wrists and tugs at you. "My love?" His adoring stare is enough to make you crumble.

This isn't playing out how you want, you can't do this, not right now. You refuse to make this harder on yourself. Turning around you face away from him.

"I'm tired."

But Levi refuses to make it any easier on you.

He pulls you in by the torso again, handling you like a delicate flower.

He asks again.

"Whatever is wrong? I'll handle it for you."

It's abnormal hearing him talk to you with positive regard or even offer to help you. Repeatedly you warn yourself don't give in. The pace your head throbs at is in time with your heart, you're finding hope in the hopeless if you tell him your feelings.

"My Lord. Please leave me alone. Please. When the Sun rises you will regret this, as will I." You're unrestrained in your pleading now, your wailing fills the chambers you and Levi occupy.

"Please." Your voice is straining and urgent.

Thankfully, the maid's quarters are far, they won't hear the way you cry out for him to put an end to this torturous mind game.

Face slippery with hushed tears the tearing of your heart can not be heard. Bloodshot eyes blur your vision, you can't see. You don't think you want to, not when he firmly grips onto you like his life depends on it.

Then. The air changes, he's still holding onto you but his arms stiffen. He feels the way your back shivers against his chest. How your choked, cracked gasps for breath are an indication of how he's destroyed any chances you've had of sleeping.

Wordlessly, he lets go of you. Not a single word is uttered. The only sound amongst the alienating silence is his footsteps.

You hate this.

He closes the door behind him as he departs.

No, you hate him.

An unusual amount of sunlight compared to usual floods into your room and you have to practically block it out with one of your arms. Stirring awake your eyes burn, the whites must still be raw and inflamed.

This is usually the amount of sunlight you'd expect to see midday. Stifling a yawn you look around you. Then it hits you. It's not morning.

It's midday.

Your hands fly to your mouth trying to swallow your gasp down your throat, you're in hot water. It's not permitted for anyone to miss training unless they're excused by one of the higher ups. It's not as if you've missed a hour of training either, you've missed four.

There's no way to explain this, no way at all.

After everything he put you through last night the least Levi could have done was wake you up or at least order one of the maids to do so. It's his fault you slept at that ungodly hour.

An incessant knocking begins and you're almost certain it's Levi who's come to scold you for missing training. For some reason you can't make yourself care about his possible annoyance just yet.

"I'm coming in!"

You let out a short sigh. Thank Heavens it's only Sasha.

The door flings open and she pulls you out of bed not giving you the chance to greet her good morning.

"What have you gone and done???"

Awkwardly you chuckle. "I slept in and forgot training." Her face contorts and twists not knowing what expression is appropriate to express her bewilderment.

"No, no. WHY DID THE DUKE LET YOU OFF TRAINING TODAY?? IT'S OUT OF CHARACTER."

At a complete loss for words, open mouthed all you can manage to do is clear your throat trying to keep your jaw from dropping. "He what?"

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 10

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

CW: Discussion of toxic relationship

Lucie was under the impression Alastair liked Thomas, but Lucies texts only made him more nervous. Even if Alastair smiled back, even if some things he said could hint at romantic feelings, Thomas had no clue how to make a move on people, much less Alastair. After dinner, they talked a bit more, about books, history, places they wished to travel. Alastair told him that he’d once read Machiavelli’s the Prince for comfort, but had since replaced it with Marx’ the Communist Manifesto. Thomas, who read mostly fiction, found it hard to imagine those books as something one read for comfort, but he promised he’d give the Communist Manifesto a try.

‘My ex recommended the Prince,’ Alastair explained. ‘In retrospect, the book suits him pretty well. It’s about power, manipulation, and he was all about that.’

‘As in, he manipulated you?’ Thomas asked.

‘He wants to get into politics, and I think he cares more about holding a position of power than about doing what’s best for the country. But he also manipulated me,’ Alastair said, showing no emotion. ‘He was very obsessed with his own social status and image, and would have done anything to improve that. I would not have reflected well on his image, so he kept me a secret and made me believe it was what was best for me.’

Thomas was certain he would be a better partner to Alastair than his exif they were in a relationship, but figured that was a pretty low bar. He didn’t know much about relationships, had never been in one, and wasn’t sure he knew how any of that worked, or how to be with someone with such a bad past experience. He didn’t want to hurt Alastair by accident. Perhaps his parents had some advice, but then he’d first have to tell them he liked boys. Which he planned to, but he had not yet figured out the right words, the right occasion.

‘How did you come out to your parents?’ he asked Alastair.

His parents were outside, they wouldn’t overhear. Thomas hoped they wouldn’t walk in out of a sudden, but if they did… Well, then at least they’d know and Thomas wouldn’t have to prepare a speech.

‘I only came out to my mother and aunt Risa,’ Alastair said. ‘Not to my father, nor do I care to.’

‘So, did you prepare a speech or anything?’ Thomas asked.

‘I did, because I suspected my mother and aunt Risa might not understand or know much about gay people, so I’ve mostly been educating them on various sexualities and gender identities. Risa actually discovered she is asexual and aromantic after I explained those concepts to her. Why do you ask?’

Thomas turned red, he laughed nervously. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell my parents I’m gay, but haven’t found the right time, or figured out how to tell them.’

‘You don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to. Do you want them to know?’ Alastair asked.

Thomas considered Alastair’s question for a moment. ‘Yes, I do. I think it would be easier if they knew and I would rather tell them before I am in a relationship instead of introducing a boyfriend. Since that would be awkward for him as well. Mainly, I just want them to know but I don’t want an awkward conversation.’

‘I think your problem is that you’re too determined to do it perfect,’ Alastair said. ‘Your parents seem very open and accepting, I don’t think you have to worry.’

‘No, I know that,’ Thomas said.

He felt stupid. Alastair must have had a much harder time telling people, he hadn’t known beforehand that his mother would be accepting. Thomas was fairly certain his parents would love him no matter what, and yet here he was complaining to Alastair about how difficult he found it to come out.

‘I know it can still be scary,’ Alastair said. ‘I was fairly certain Cordelia wouldn’t mind at all, yet I postponed telling her for a long time. Of course in my case it could have saved me a lot of misery, had I told her sooner.’

‘What do you mean?’ Thomas asked.

‘She realized almost immediately after I told her that my ex boyfriend was treating me badly, when I did not. It took her a couple of weeks to convince me, but I realized she was right and then I broke up with him.’ Alastair paused. ‘It’s nice to have someone to talk about it. For a long time, I had only him and he actively discouraged me from telling anyone else.’

‘I’m guessing he wasn’t out?’ Thomas asked. ‘He thought being gay would reflect badly on him as a politician?’

‘No, I don’t think that was the problem. He was private about his sexuality, but I think his friends and family knew. I don’t blame him for that, I understand it’s not always easy to talk about and there can be consequences when people know. But I think in his case, he didn’t want people to know about me because I was so much younger, he probably knew grooming a teenager would reflect badly on him. He always said it was because I wasn’t out that he wanted to keep our relationship a secret, that he wanted to protect me from judgement, but I doubt that was true. I never wanted to be someone’s secret.’

Thomas frowned. ‘Wait, how much younger were you?’

‘Six years. I met him when I was fourteen and entered a relationship with him at sixteen.’

Then Alastair’s ex must have been twenty two at the time? Thomas, at eighteen, considered sixteen year old boys children and had no romantic interest in them. He preferred to look at boys his own age, maybe a little older. Despite being a year ahead in his education, Alastair was only a couple of months older than him. He couldn’t imagine being interested in a teenager when he was in his early twenties.

‘I didn’t realize at the time that the age difference was a red flag,’ Alastair explained. ‘I felt very mature, to have caught the attention of someone older. He told me, over and over, that I was very mature for my age, that he couldn’t believe I was still so young.’

Thomas suspected most teenagers would be flattered to be called mature, to be taken seriously by an adult. It was a vile sort of manipulation, to seek out someone young and vulnerable and isolated, someone who would easily fall for such compliments, only to take advantage of them and treat them badly.

‘How did you tell Cordelia?’ Thomas asked.

‘She realized something was not right,’ Alastair said. ‘She realized I was sneaking out at night, that I was barely eating and losing weight because I was so nervous. She said I was “being even more difficult than usual, and that’s saying something”. So I told her not to worry about it and that I was just sneaking out to see my boyfriend. I said I’d wanted to tell her, but wasn’t sure yet if I was ready, and that he had recommended I don’t tell anyone yet. She started asking a lot of questions about my relationship. At first it was in a supportive way, what did he look like, what were his interests. She kind of freaked out when she learnt about the age gap, and the more she asked about how he treated me, the more concerned she became. She’s been very protective of me ever since.’

‘I’m so sorry. Not that it’s my fault, or there’s anything I could have done, but I’m just sorry. That it happened to you. I’m glad your sister is protective of you. As long as she’s not too protective, I mean,’ Thomas said. ‘I know from experience too much protection can be suffocating.’

A small smile appeared on Alastair’s face, and Thomas realized he so rarely did. He had a very pretty smile that lit up his dark eyes.

‘I found it confusing most of all. As the oldest sibling, I always thought it was my duty to protect her, not the other way around. But Cordelia is fierce, and I love that about her. This one time we ran into him while shopping, not long after the break up. He tried to approach me while Cordelia was getting us ice cream, and when she returned and saw him she threatened to expose him as an abuser and child groomer on all her social media channels if he didn’t back off.’

‘Isn’t what he did illegal anyway?’ Thomas asked. ‘Since you were a minor? Couldn’t you go to the police if he kept harassing you?’

‘Age of consent is sixteen, so even if he was much older it was legal for him to have sex with me,’ Alastair explained. ‘It would be illegal if he was my teacher or in any way in a position of power over me, but he was not. He must have been aware of how those laws work and I think perhaps he waited until I was sixteen so it would be legal.

Him harassing me might be enough to get a restraining order, but honestly I don’t trust the police to believe me over him. Besides, I have no intention of sharing something so personal with police officers. I expect them to not care at best and I think it is likely they will be racist and homophobic and will blame me for what happened.

Cordelia has enough followers on twitter and Instagram to get the story out if we wanted to and it’s a decent threat, but I’ve asked her not to.’

‘From what you’ve told me, he fully deserves to be exposed,’ Thomas said.

He was angry on Alastair’s behalf, and Thomas guessed Alastair was right that as an Iranian gay man he could not trust the police to help him.

‘It’s not so much about whether he deserves it or not. I’m still processing what happened, and I don’t want to be judged by strangers on the internet. I consented to everything sexual we did even if it was coerced, and not everyone will understand all the subtle manipulation involved. I know people will claim it was all my fault, and if I didn’t want it I should have just said no. Or that after breaking up I decided to ruin his life by telling lies. He has powerful friends, I do not. I admire the bravery of the people who expose rapists and abusers on the internet, but I can’t put myself through that right now.’

Thomas felt nauseous, the idea of Alastair being manipulated into having sex with a much older man was difficult for him to process. It made him angry, Alastair had given this man everything, had loved him. How could someone have taken advantage of such a beautiful and passionate man? People often accused Thomas of being too kind, too compassionate, of trying to empathize too much with people who did bad things, but he was fairly certain that if he ever encountered the person who did this to Alastair, he would feel nothing but anger and hatred towards him. And he’d make sure whoever it was would never hurt Alastair again.

He wanted to show support, he wanted to love Alastair, but wasn’t sure how. He knew it was a big step for him, to open up so much, he knew Alastair was very private and trusted him as much as he knew how to trust. Thomas was terrified of letting him down, of breaking his trust.

‘Did he at least back off after that threat?’ Thomas asked.

‘I haven’t seen him in real life again, but he has been texting me until I blocked his number. He is part of the reason I came here, something I needed to get away from. You have provided a decent distraction and I am grateful. I have never… had a friend like you.’

Thomas wasn’t sure how to feel about that statement. He liked being trusted, he loved that Alastair valued him, but at the same time he wanted to be more to him than just a friend. But Alastair needed a friend, Thomas told himself. And perhaps Alastair would fall in love with him over time, perhaps someday they could be together. If not, being his friend would still be worth it.

‘Now, would you want to play another game of ludo before I return to the Herondales? I am certain the dice will be on my side this time,’ Alastair said.

The dice were not on Alastair’s side. The difference in rolls were at the very least statistically improbable, but Thomas wasn’t great at math. He won by a landslide.

‘You’re older than me,’ Thomas offered as an explanation.

Alastair frowned. ‘Only by a few months, and what does that have to do with anything?’

‘I have a theory that dice games like this one favor the young,’ Thomas explained. ‘I used to play this game with my sisters and I always did better. Of course, Barbara would usually let me win with games, but that’s difficult with a game like this. But most of my friends are younger than me, and with Lucie I don’t have nearly this amount of luck. And when I played with my younger cousin Alexander, my rolls are as pathetic as yours. Of course, that’s for the best because he’s three and he throws the game across the room when he loses.’

‘Nothing you just said makes sense,’ Alastair pointed out. ‘The dice can’t tell how old you are.’

‘Perhaps there’s a little spirit in there,’ Thomas said with a smile. ‘Something that realizes if little Alexander loses, painful things will happen to it. It probably dreads the day Alexander will play against children his age.’

Thomas guessed that might not be the best idea, at that age all children were sore losers. Most three year olds didn’t play together yet anyway, it was more parallel play what they did. Alastair left after losing another game, and at the end Thomas might have convinced him of his theory.

‘I’ll meet you here after breakfast for another walk,’ Alastair said with a small smile that made Thomas’ heart race. He hoped he wasn’t showing that. Would Alastair suspect Thomas liked him, now that he knew Thomas was gay? He wasn’t sure if he wanted Alastair to. If Alastair returned his feelings, sure. But if not, what if Alastair would retreat in his shell again, what if he didn’t want to be his friend anymore?

‘See you tomorrow,’ Thomas said. ‘Good night.’

Thomas didn’t sleep well that night. He dreamt of a castle, surrounded by dark forest. He didn’t know where he was, or what was happening. On a surface level, it didn’t even seem so scary but a voice inside Thomas was telling him to run as fast as he could to get away from there, yet he couldn’t move. He wasn’t sure what he was running from exactly, but he woke up drenched in sweat at six in the morning. He didn’t feel rested exactly, but didn’t think he’d fall asleep again, so instead he changed the sheets on his bed and took a quick shower before putting on some clothes.

It would probably be some time until Alastair showed up, so Thomas made breakfast, and took his time to eat before settling in the garden. Gnomes were early risers, and Thomas liked watching them run around. Here they weren’t used to being seen though, and any indication that Thomas did see resulted in them running away and hiding, peeking out of the bushes on occasion to see if he was still there. Thomas put out a plate of cookies, perhaps they would become more trusting to humans who could see them overtime.

He sat there, reading a book Lucie had given him a while back. Ever since Thomas had told her he liked boys, Lucie had recommended books about queer men and right now he was reading Winter’s Orbit, a science fiction story about two men in an arranged political marriage. The amount of miscommunication and hopeless pining was almost painful to read, but also enjoyable. Thomas guessed he wasn’t much better, he still had no idea how to tell Alastair how he felt. Hopefully, he could finish the book before dying, he desperately wanted to know if these two could figure out their feelings for each other before it was too late.

‘What are you reading?’

Thomas looked up to see Alastair, dressed in a black Metallica t shirt and black jeans. He summarized the book he was reading.

‘It was a gift from Lucie,’ he said.

‘It sounds interesting,’ Alastair said. ‘I like books with some political drama. Can I borrow it when you finish?’

‘Sure. And in case I don’t get to finish it, I’ll write you into my will and leave you this book.’

Alastair groaned. ‘Please do not make jokes about you dying.’

Thomas sometimes felt like making jokes about it was the only way to cope. In reality, the idea that he was very likely to die was terrifying, even if the people around him kept assuring him he was going to be fine.

‘Sorry. I hope you’ll like this book. Although… one of the main characters was abused by a previous partner. Would that be an issue?’

Alastair tilted his head. ‘I think then maybe I should wait until I read it. That’s difficult with reading fiction, not all authors offer content warnings and going in unprepared can be devastating. When I know it’s coming… It’s easier, but I’m not sure if I want to do that right now solely to read a book.’

Thomas nodded. ‘I can imagine. If you want any books that don’t have topics that are triggering for you, I’ll try and see if I have anything. Or you can ask Lucie.’

‘I’ll think about it. Being able to read fiction while being prepared through content warnings is something I’m trying to work towards. No idea how long that will take, according to my therapist I’m too impatient. You coming? This early, there might still be some hedgehogs,’ Alastair said with a grin.

‘You really like hedgehogs,’ Thomas pointed out.

‘When I was a child I wanted one for a pet, but my parents didn’t think that was a good idea. Instead, I could have a goldfish. They’re very popular in Iran, people get them for the Persian new year celebration, Nowruz. People usually release them into a river or pond after the celebration, so that’s what Risa did. My parents weren’t too happy about it. At the time, I believed he would probably be happier there anyway than in a bowl, but it is likely he died within days. I don’t think it’s good for the environment either, and many Iranians are pushing back against the tradition because of that. Did you have pets growing up?’

‘Most of my childhood, because I was so sick, my parents didn’t think it was a good idea. They were afraid a pet might carry diseases I would be more vulnerable to,’ Thomas said. ‘But I hope I can adopt cats someday. And Barbara and Oliver have two guinea pigs.’

‘My cousin Jem has a cat,’ Alastair said. ‘Little beast hates everyone, but adores Jem.’

‘Do you see him often?’ Thomas asked. ‘Jem, I mean.’

‘Not really. My father never wanted him near our family, I think because he was afraid Jem would see right through him. But now that we don’t live with Father anymore, I see him occasionally. He offered me to come live with him, but I’m not sure. I still feel like I barely know him.’

They didn’t find any hedgehogs during their walk, presumably because the fog had gotten so thick they wouldn’t see any if they were there. Although Thomas was fairly certain they were taking the same route they had yesterday and during their first walk, everything looked different. He told himself it was probably the fog, but he couldn’t quite convince himself.

‘I don’t remember these ruins,’ Alastair said.

Thomas’ followed Alastair’s gaze and saw the ruins of a very old building. Of course, there were lots of old castles in Scotland, but Thomas hadn’t read anything about ruins in these woods.

‘Do you think we should take a look?’ he asked carefully. ‘I’m not seeing anything unusual.’

‘Apart from ruins that weren’t here yesterday?’

‘We must have taken a different path,’ Thomas said.

‘Sure,’ Alastair said and Thomas didn’t think he believed it. ‘Under normal circumstances, I would not take another step, but if we are to save your life we need information. Perhaps those ruins hold something of interest.’

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

how long will we silently suffer alone

Summary: Percy accidentally triggers Vex so she runs to the only people she knows can help: Zahra and Kashaw.

TW: Past non-con, panic attack

Read on ao3 (2.8k)

“Darling?” Vex asks, leaning against the door to Percy’s workshop. “Are you busy?” 

She twists a strand of hair around her finger as Percy turns around on his chair to look at her. His face immediately goes bright red. She’s hardly wearing anything: a body skimming white dress and a soft sweater hanging off her shoulder.

She sees him visibly swallow, eyes darting all over her body before he meets her eyes again. “I-I don’t think so.”

Vex smirks, “Then what are you doing all the way over there?” She bats her eyes innocently, completely aware of what she’s doing to him. Percy jumps to his feet and makes his way over to her in three long strides. “Eager?” She teases, drawing him in by the collar of his shirt. 

Percy laughs a little and instead of responding, his hands drop to her waist and he pulls her flush against him, bringing their lips together in a hot kiss. Vex smiles against his lips, winding her hands through his hair in the way she knows he loves. 

Percy pulls her more into the workshop, giving enough space for the door to close behind them. With her eyes closed, Vex can’t see where Percy’s moving her until her back hits the wall. She laughs a little at his enthusiasm, but quickly soothes any hurt feelings by kissing a trail down his neck. As she does, Percy quickly rids her of the sweater and presses her even firmer against the wall. 

The stone walls are cold against Vex’s back, but she pays it no mind as Percy kisses her again, hands wandering up and down her body. He presses his thigh between her legs and suddenly everything shifts. 

The way Percy is pressing her into the wall is no longer sexy, but oppressive. She’s very aware of the heavy door shut behind them and the sound proof walls that surround them. She’s even more aware of the sick feeling under her skin as Percy’s lips trail down her neck and his hands skim her hips. 

“Stop,” Vex chokes out, barely able to breathe. Percy immediately steps back and looks at her with a frown of concern. But she doesn’t take time to think about that because the second she’s free, she bolts out of the workshop. 

Vex runs through the halls of the castle, blood rushing into her ears and her heart pounding far too loud around her. There are hands on her chest and her legs and her neck and she feels like she might throw up and she can’t breathe. Vex’s feet pound against the stone floor and without a second of hesitation she runs right out of the castle. She’s aware enough to take the back way out, it won’t do any good for the citizens to see Lady Vex’ahlia running through the streets wearing almost nothing.

Her feet pound on the familiar dirt road that leads towards the edges of the city. She lets muscle memory carry her, unable to think of anything other than the hands all over her and the hot lips on her skin. There are hands tight on her wrists and legs and everytime she closes her eyes she sees cold eyes and a devilish smile. 

Vex blinks and finds herself standing in front of a cottage. It’s two stories with yellow stone bricks and vines crawling up the walls. Vex runs up to the door and raps on it three times, before stepping back, arms wrapping around her stomach. 

The door opens almost immediately as Vex sees Kashaw on the other side. His long hair is tied back in a loose bun and he wears a loose shirt with a light green jacket over it. He smiles at her and looks as though he’s able to say something, but then he takes in her appearance. She’s wearing barely anything, shaking like a leaf, breathing far too heavily, with dirt all up her legs. 

Kash sheds his coat and quickly wraps it around Vex’s shoulders. “What’s going on?” Vex shakes her head, unable to say anything as she digs her fingers into her sides. 

“Kash?” Zahra calls from inside. “Who is it?” A second later, the red skinned tiefling appears in the doorway over Kashaw’s shoulder. Vex nearly bursts into tears at the sight of her friend. It’s then that her knees start to give out. “Vex!” Zahra exclaims as she rushes forward and hooks an arm around Vex’s waist to keep her up right. 

Vex clings to Zahra’s shirt and looks her in the eyes, “H-Hands. Zee, I…” Vex cuts herself off with a sob as breathing suddenly becomes nearly impossible. 

“Kash, help me get her inside,” Zahra orders. Kashaw nods and hurries forward, wrapping his arm around her waist as well. 

Panic builds in her chest at the feeling of Kashaw’s hand on her side. It feels all too much like the hands that squeeze to hips and thighs and caress her cheek, whispering cruel praise in her ear. 

Together the two of them all but carry Vex into the cottage and set her gently on the couch. Zahra sits beside Vex, letting the half-elf rest on her shoulder as she cries and gasps for air, eyes squeezed shut in fear. 

“I’ve got you, Vex,” Zahra tells her. “Is this the…” She glances over at Kashaw who’s hovering nervously near them. “The thing you asked me to never mention again?” Vex nods and she feels tension seep into Zahra’s arms. “Okay. We’re going to get through this okay, do you want Kash to leave?” Vex nods immediately and curls deeper into Zahra’s arms. 

“Kashaw, darling,” Zahra says, “tell Percy that Vex is alright?” Kash nods stiffly and leaves quietly, the door shutting behind him. “It’s just the two of us now. You’re alright,” Zahra assures her. “It’s okay. You just need to breathe.” 

“Hands,” Vex tells her again. “Zahra-”

“Shh…” Zahra rocks her gently as the sobbing starts again. “I’ve got you. Are my hands bothering you? Do you want me to stop touching you?” Vex immediately shakes her head, that’s the last thing she needs. “Okay.” Zahra thinks for a moment. “Are they real hands?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Vex tells her, breath hitching. 

“It’s alright.” Zahra lifts a hand to her cheek and wipes away some of her tears. “Take a deep breath in,” Zahra tells her. Vex does her best, her lungs only allowing a small bit of air to enter. “And out. Again.” Zahra squeezes her hand and takes a deep breath in to guide Vex. A soft whimper escapes Vex as she tries to breathe but can’t. Zahra reassures her instantly, “It’s okay, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Just focus on me and try to breathe.” 

Vex tries her best to follow Zahra’s instructions. It takes a long while for Vex’s breathing to return to normal and for the hands to slowly fade away, leaving Vex exhausted and collapsed against Zahra’s chest. 

After some time being cradled in Zahra’s arms, the tiefling gently running her fingers through her hair, the door opens again and Kashaw quietly returns with a basket of food and a pair of Vex’s boots. “Kash is back,” Zahra tells her. “Do you want him to leave?” 

Vex shakes her head and looks up at the paladin, “Stay.” Kashaw nods with a small smile. He saved her life. He won’t hurt her. Zahra won’t let him. 

Kashaw sits on the couch next to Vex’s feet. “Percy wanted me to bring you shoes for the walk home tomorrow. I told him you’re staying the night with us.”

“Are you sure?” Vex looks at Zahra. 

Zahra smiles, “You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m letting you leave this house tonight.” Vex smiles and kisses Zahra’s cheek. Zahra looks at her husband, “Where’d the food come from?” 

“I coerced Percy into giving us some food to make dinner.” Kashaw pats Vex’s foot. “Your husband keeps quite the stock of food.” 

“Wish I could say the same about mine,” Zahra teases as Vex laughs and Kash rolls his eyes. “Now about that dinner…?”

Kashaw rolls his eyes, “Yes, I’ll cook.” As he walks past the two of them curled up, he presses a quick kiss to Zahra’s head. 

“See, you can be sweet,” Vex teases. Kashaw flips her the finger as he walks into the kitchen.

Now that the two women are alone again, Vex tugs Kash’s jacket tighter around herself, slipping her arms through the sleeves. Zahra strokes Vex’s hair, brushing it back. “How do you feel?” 

Vex huffs, “Like I just ran a thousand miles.” 

“Vex, does Percy know about…?” She trails off, her meaning clear. 

Vex ducks her head in shame and shakes her head. Zahra fixes her with a look. “I know, Zee. I just...I hoped it would never be relevant. I don’t want him to get overprotective or coddle me like…” Like Vax. 

Zahra sighs, “Has this ever happened before?” 

Vex shakes her head, “Not since we first got together.” Vex leans back into Zahra’s arms and nestles against the tiefling’s chest. Zahra hugs her back. “I’ll tell him when I go back tomorrow.” 

After a moment, Zahra asks, “Vex, did Percy do...something to trigger you.” 

“Not intentionally,” Vex tells her. “He stopped when I told him too.” Zahra hums thoughtfully and combs her fingers through Vex’s hair.  

Dinner is casual, they eat on the couch, Vex still tucked into Zahra’s side and she rests her feet on Kashaw’s lap. Despite his initial protests, after a while he actually rubs her ankles. 

That night, Vex settles down on their couch, allowing Zahra to tuck her under two heavy quilts. “It gets rather cold in here at night,” Zahra tells her. It took a while to convince her friend that she would be fine sleeping by herself in the living room. 

Zahra presses a kiss to her head, “Sleep well, darling.” 

Vex looks over Zahra’s shoulder to Kashaw. She gives him a questioning look with a smirk. Kashaw glares at her, “I’m not kissing you. Go to sleep.” 

Vex laughs, “Love you too, Kash.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kashaw says as he turns and walks into the bedroom.

Zahra shakes her head fondly and looks back down at Vex. “He does love you.” 

Vex smiles, “I know. Goodnight, Zahra.” 

A little while later when Vex is trying to sleep, she hears Zahra and Kashaw talking in their bedroom. 

“How was Percy?” 

She hears Kash sigh. “About three seconds away from locking himself into his workshop.” There’s a long pause. “Zee, what happened to her?” 

“I can’t tell you that,” Zahra tells him. “There are two people who know what happened: me and her brother.” Vex squeezes her eyes shut at the mention of Vax. “She’ll tell you if she wants you to know.” 

“Will she be okay?” Vex is surprised by the tone in Kashaw’s voice. It’s softer than normal and almost...familial. 

“I have every faith that she will be.” 

Vex smiles a little at that and nestles under the blankets. 

In the morning, Vex eats breakfast with Zahra and Kashaw before they send her on her way back to the castle, Zahra with a kiss on the forehead and a huge hug and Kashaw with a somewhat awkward side hug. 

The walk back through the forest takes less than fifteen minutes and the entire time Vex tries not to panic. She has to tell Percy the truth, there’s nothing else she can do. Dread sinks in her stomach. To tell him she has to say what happened out loud. And she has to pray that he doesn’t get upset with her for not telling him sooner. 

Since it’s so early in the morning, Vex knows she’ll find Percy in their bedroom. She makes her way quietly up the stairs, eyes of servants following her as she’s wearing clothes that clearly aren’t her own. Zahra had dressed her this morning in a soft pair of pants and a rust colored sweater. When she comes to their bedroom door, Vex takes a slow breath before lifting her hand and knocking softly. 

There’s a few beats and then it swings open. 

On the other side is Percy, dark circles under his eyes, skin paler than usual, and his hair is a mess. When he sees her, his posture simultaneously goes rigged and relaxed. “Vex,” he breathes. “Are you...Are you alright?” 

Vex nods, “I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah, of course.” He steps aside to let her in. 

The silence between them as she sits on the edge of the bed is awkward. It’s never awkward between them. 

It’s Percy that breaks the silence, still standing in the middle of the room. “Did I hurt you? Is that why…?”

Vex shakes her head and pats the spot next to her on the bed. She takes a deep breath, “I need to tell you something and I don’t think that I can look at you while I do it.” Percy sits beside her, leaving almost a foot between them. Vex pretends that the distance doesn't break her heart. “Everyone in Syngorn hated Vax and I so when this boy from one of my classes asked me out of course I said yes,” Vex begins. “I thought that he cared about me or that he was interested in me in a way no one had ever been before.” 

She looks down at her hands, tears building in her eyes. “We met up in his back garden and he was giving me a tour of everything and it was so windy and confusing that I almost immediately got lost.” She sniffs back her tears. “Anyways, um, he took my hand and led me to this shed in the middle with grey stone walls. And-And he pushed me up against it and kissed me.” Vex sniffs as tears fill her eyes. “I thought he liked me, I didn’t know…” Vex takes a deep breath, not chancing looking at Percy before she continues. “He threw me down to the ground and started to take off my clothes,” Vex can barely speak now as she starts to cry. She tries to say something, but finds she can’t, her throat is tight with tears.

She can feel Percy almost shaking with anger beside her. “Did he…?” Hurt you? Rape you? She nods, either way the answer is yes. “Is he alive?” Percy asks, his voice venomous with barely restrained anger. 

She shakes her head, “Vax stabbed that asshole in the neck, left him to bleed out in the middle of the street.” Vex looks over at Percy and sees that though his hands are shaking, his eyes are almost unbearably soft and concerned. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-”

“You don’t need to be,” Percy shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong by not telling me.” He gives her a slight smile before sighing and asking, “Vex, can I touch you? I really want to give you a hug right now.” 

Instead of responding, she looks over at him, nearly sobbing again when she sees the look on his face, and presses herself into his arms. Percy’s arms are fiercely tight around her in the best way possible. She tucks her head to his chest and lets him hold her, kiss her forehead and hair. It feels as though she exhales for the first time in years. 

“I’m sorry that that happened to you,” Percy tells her, cheek pressed to her hair. “I always want you to feel safe with me and I’m sorry that I didn’t yesterday. Do you know what triggered it last night?” 

Vex lifts her head, “A combination of things. A perfect storm.” 

Percy nods thoughtfully. “Okay, okay. How can I help you if that happens again?” 

“What you did was perfect,” she tells him, hand on the side of his neck. “You stopped when I told you to. I’ll try not to run away next time. That doesn’t happen much, hardly ever. But um, when it does I probably won’t be able to talk much or tell you what to do. I don’t want you to coddle me, though.” 

“Of course not,” Percy assures her. He pulls her in to kiss softly. “I’ll figure it out, I promise. I don’t want you to feel like you’re alone anymore.” 

Vex looks up at him with teary eyes, “Thank you.” 

He smiles gently and squeezes her hand, “You don’t have to thank me. We promised each other a long time ago that we’d take care of each other and love each other for the rest of our lives. This is just another part of that vow.” 

Vex’s eyes squint as she fights back tears once again. Before she cries again, she hugs Percival, pressing a kiss to his cheek before resting her cheek on his shoulder. “I love you so fucking much,” she whispers.