#fear of how it would change how the others saw her

[minteababe]

In 2018 my husband and I (both trans masc) were arrested in a very small town in Texas for possession of cannabis. My husband passes as masc much better than I do, and so when we were initially being loaded up in the squad car, the cop was on his radio talking to dispatch telling them he had "one male and one female."

Now, my husband has never had his gender marker changed. So when dispatch came back, they were very, very confused, saying, "Uh, we're seeing two females?"

The cop then flipped on the dome light in the back seat and took a good long look at my husband in his rear-view mirror, and said, "Well, damn. Whatever you're doing is working. Good job."

That was it.

When we got to the precinct, in the midst of talking to the cop doing our intake, I said something (I don't remember anymore, but I think it had to do with being surprised at how chill they were with us being trans) and she replied with a big belly laugh, "Oh sweetie, y'all aren't the first trans folks we've had in here and you won't be the last."

They kept my partner in holding for his safety instead of putting him with the men.

Now, because I had long hair at the time and hadn't been on T long, I didn't pass at all. Naturally, they put me in general population with a group of 11 women.

Within the first 24 hours, I had explained to one of the women that I really shouldn't be in with them and it wasn't fair to them, because I was trans. Her face lit up like a kid on Christmas when I asked her to co-sign a letter asking the warden to have me separated. Not because she was malicious, but because in her words, "I knew there was something different about you when I saw you come in."

She asked my permission to talk to the other women and have them sign my letter, too.

Later that day, I found myself seated on a bunk surrounded by women who just had questions. And I had answers! And I was happy to give them those answers, because meeting me was their chance to learn. They asked me everything they could think of about being trans, medical and social transition, etc. Most of them were just in awe, because they had no idea that people like me existed. A few clearly didn't "agree" with it, but still held the sentiment of, "As long as you're not hurting anyone else, do what you want."

Afterwards, one of the women came to me in tears. She thanked me profusely for sitting with them and teaching them about my world. She then told me that her very young kid would often tell her, "Mommy, I want to be a girl when I grow up," and she just...never knew what to make of that before. She didn't know that was an option, and she was so happy and excited to be able to get out and go support her kid with more knowledge and understanding than she had before.

Think about that the next time someone asks you a genuine question. No, you don't "owe" anyone an education - but don't allow your knowledge and experience to become a barrier for others. Let me be clear: personal questions can be deeply uncomfortable, you don't have to answer them. Practice saying, "That question is difficult for me to answer because its a very vulnerable topic for me," instead of reacting in fear, anger, or defense. Being rude or aggressive in your refusal could mean that person never tries to learn about trans folks ever again.

People don't know what they don't know. And they never will know, if you refuse to teach them.

"The trannies should be able to piss in whatever toilet they want and change their bodies however they want. Why is it my business if some chick has a dick or a guy has a pie? I'm not a trannie or a fag so I don't care, just give 'em the medicine they need."

"This is an LGBT safe space. Of COURSE I fully support individuals who identify as transgender and their right to self-determination! I just think that transitioning is a very serious choice and should be heavily regulated. And there could be a lot of harm in exposing cis children to such topics, so we should be really careful about when it is appropriate to mention trans issues or have too much trans visibility."

One of the above statements is Problematic and the other is slightly annoying. If we disagree on which is which then working together for a better future is going to get really fucking difficult.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Taking care of the men

Bucky/Alexei/John/Void x fem!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, fluff, kissing, cuddling, mention of weapons, nightmares, no use of Y/n

Summary : They were supposed to be the best of the best, having lived for years doing nothing but killing and completing missions. Yet even the strongest need help sometimes, and they find it in the arms of their caring partners, who will always be there for them...no matter how much blood is on the hands of the four.

info : The sexy guys get some comfort and the women get a one-shot/drabble too. They all need a loving partner and lots of hugs and you dear readers have fun reading ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky

He was more than a century old, he was actually an old man who didn't die, who had lost his arm, his best friend, and people who were important to him.

He was tired of death, of blood, and of the fight that had never killed him, but the transition to normality and the attempt to make a difference in the government showed him once again why the weapon felt better in his hand than a pen.

Bucky realized that a soldier needed the battlefield, he needed the fight, the life as a hero or soldier. The fight against Sentry/Void had shown him that he was needed, that his life was better in the team and, above all, at the side of his beloved.

His beloved, who was there for him in Congress, who helped him prepare his speeches, who helped him when he didn't know what to do, and his beloved, who didn't judge him, who didn't fear him, who took his suffering as seriously as his fears and his fatigue. “We'll all grow old, Bucky, but we need you, I need you, and as a leader, you've already proven yourself” she held his hand when he was once again plagued by his nightmares.

His nightmares were still full of guilt, and he sometimes wondered if his new beginning had been a good idea. Yet when he heard his team, his friends, and his love in their midst, it was as if Steve was with him, and as if his life was as it should be. “The teacher, my dear, what would I do without you?” he said with a hint of amusement as he looked up from the files and saw how she had brought peace between the others.

She was what he couldn't be, she was the heart of the group, the one who kept the peace where Bucky would otherwise have shot and kicked. That's why he was all the more relieved when, in quiet moments, he moved his hand toward hers, held it.

Bucky was grateful to her for everything, for not letting him become weary of life, for giving him her heart and for being there for him and not going aways.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alexei

The Red Guardian had no problems; he was, no, he is the best weapon Russia has ever produced. He was an agent, a Suder soldier, a hero of the people, and could have changed the wars and the weather, and now, now he is part of the Thunderbolts with his girlfriend and the hope of humanity.

But when he was honest with himself, especially when he looked at his little spider, he felt guilty and full of hatred for himself. No amount of vodka in the world could make him forget what he had put Natasha and Yelena through, what he had done to his family.

“Sometimes it would be better if I had never become who I am, just not a hero,” he tried to admit to his love as the two sat on the couch with drinks in their hands.

But the warm, soft hand on his made him look up, and he saw a face full of love and understanding. She was the one who reminded him who he was, that they had all made mistakes, that blood was on their hands, and that they had destroyed lives.

“You're my hero, Alexei, you're Yelena's hero, and you're all of our hero. If you weren't the Red Guardian, we wouldn't be here,” she reminded him, and the older man smiled at her and kissed her before pouring them both another drink.

Besides the guilt and not finding his place, it was still difficult for him to always follow through on his mission. He was quick-tempered and did what he did best, but following tactical and clever orders from John or Bucky led to more damage than intended in some missions. “He just wanted to help... you all have to work as a team, I can only help so much,” she told the team in the jet via the communicator, explaining that none of them were the best on their own.

She held her hand over everyone as best she could, but she could sense when Alexei wasn't paying attention, and she hoped she could cheer him up in the evening with something other than drinks in the bedroom. After all, the best way to cheer him up was with a lot of love and just as much alcohol, and take his mind off his pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John

The former Captain America, the best soldier America ever had and a role model for the people. That's who he was before everything was taken from him, before he was betrayed by the government and the military who framed him for everything.

Now he was somehow a hero and yet still a convict, an agent, a mercenary, and a judge for the goals of his missions. But above all, he was a partner to his beloved and a friend to his team, who had grown dear to his heart.

John never wanted to replace Steve, but at least he could be someone who saw something different. He wasn't perfect, and that was what bothered him. His mistakes, which seemed small, were a challenge for him and his mind that had already brought him to the brink of his life.

“My U.S. agent, John, you are everything to me, and the others appreciate you even with a bent shield,‘’ she said and winked as she held out his shield to him. But the small smile on his lips let her know that she had eased his conscience, that she had convinced him that he was good enough.

Because no matter how bent his badge was, no matter how much he shot and no matter what he had done... he needed confirmation, he needed recognition, because if no one needed him, if he was worthless, then wasn't everything he had done for nothing?

The fears of a former soldier and a man who wanted to give his best. “You are my true shield, my life, without you it doesn't work,” he said as he pointed to the uniform and pulled his love close to him before giving her a goodbye kiss before the mission.

When he was alone at night, when he thought no one was watching him, he looked at photos of Lemar, of the military, of his little son, and of the life he had. However, when he saw her, when he saw the woman who was now in his life, the photos seemed like just photos; they didn't define him.

The arms that wrapped around him, the embrace he held tightly, and the kiss he gave her on the head were all signs of the mutual support they gave each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Void

No human being and yet more than a god, he seemed to be more of a state than anything else. A being far above everything that existed on Earth, he was stronger than a god, he stood above everything, and yet his eternal, infinite darkness was boring even for him, and he would even dare to say lonely.

With a crying nothing like Bob, it was annoying, with Sentry, he wanted to tear away the gold, and these so-called heroes who had once held him back were a nuisance to him...but in the darkness, when he was alone, he reached out for her.

She who feared him as much as everyone else, she who, despite everything, held a fascination for him in particular. “How could it be any different when you'll soon be a part of me?” he asked, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness as he looked at her, in a moment when Bob couldn't hold him back.

She couldn't take a step away, and she would be trapped again. She stayed, he forced her to stay because he didn't want this loneliness, he wanted something else, he wanted her with him.

He saw her fear, saw how she was thinking about getting away, but the Thunderbolts were gone and “You-you don't have to do this, I can talk to you like this, Void.” Her attempt to talk amused him and his hand hovered over hers, he towered over her, he only had to touch her.

But this talk, this senseless talk, he liked it, watching her like this, full of fear, unable to attack him because she couldn't. However, they both heard Bob, they both heard the dark-haired man trying to regain control, which is why, with a blink of her eye, Void and she were suddenly in the lab. “Little human, light or darling after all. What should I call you?” he said, and his laughter made her flinch.

Void was having fun, he wasn't alone, and her behavior was so human and meaningless, but her reaction to his actions was almost amusing to him.

She responded to him, she gave him something to play with, and he liked it, he liked this game. He liked watching her grow beyond herself and speak, how she dared to take a step away from him and then back toward him, and he liked seeing how, behind all the fear, her fascination with him grew ever greater.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@neska223 , @redlightfreenlight01 , @brisselfshipping , @marvelnerd18 , @bribrisposts , @lilbit32 , @imtherain , @tallulinha

[inkdrippeddreams]

In Your Corner Part One

Pairing: Adonis Creed x Black Journalist OC!

Warnings: none right now. Past mentions of trauma, nothing tew crazy.

Summary: Athena, a guarded and sharp-tongued journalist, is reluctantly assigned to interview Adonis Creed, a boxer whose painful past mirrors her own. What starts as a tense professional encounter soon shifts into something unexpectedly personal, as Creed’s vulnerability disarms Athena and a flirtatious challenge turns into undeniable chemistry. With unresolved family trauma, journalistic pressure, and a spark neither saw coming, both realize this interview might change far more than a headline.

Notes: takes place after the 2nd Drago fight, Bianca doesn’t exist in this AU 😭Guys, I wrote this in one day, it's not proofread and probably poorly written, forgive me for my mistakes, college courses just ended, and I'm like exhausted, but I've been inspired to write, lmk if you want to be tagged in pt 2! Also, I really need to learn how to work Tumblr, y'alls posts are super cute and I don't know how to add any colors or different fonts, someone TEACH ME I beg

******************************************************

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” 

Athena watched as her boss, Christian, walked angrily to her office holding a stack of papers, her latest article, actually, that she had placed neatly on his desk this morning before he came in. His assistant, poor Sherri, who happened to be her only friend since moving to LA, was following behind him closely, subtly warning Athena as she tripped over her heels to follow the man’s long strides. Athena braced herself in her office chair before releasing the tension in her shoulders and placing a cool smile on her face just as he made it to the door. \

“Athena, what the hell is this?” Christian wheezed angrily, trying to gather his breath as he threw the papers back on her desk.

“An article, just how you wanted, sir,” Athena tried to sound at ease, but the way her tone trailed off at the end, she knew she was cracking slowly. Sherri gave her a nervous smile before sitting in one of the office chairs.

“Athena, I don’t pay you to write bullshit about people, you’re one of the best senior writers I have, and when I ask you to write about the most popular boxer in the United States right now, you resort to using Google. For what? Because you’re too scared to interview him?”

Her demeanor fell, Athena refused to look at him; in all honesty, her eyes darted everywhere besides his face. Adonis Creed was one of her toughest stories yet, not only because she hates writing about boxing, the violence wasn't her thing, but because she related to him in more ways than one. The abandonment, the single parent, the humble upbringing—she feared that by learning about his trauma, she’d have to relive her own, which wasn’t a step she was ready to take just yet, even after all the years of therapy. She looked at Sherri, who was smiling sadly at her. She knew of Athena’s trauma and knew why she didn’t want the story in the first place, but she would refuse to go against the likes of Christian while he was in this state.

“Honestly, Christian, while I am extremely lucky to be working at this company, and even happier to be given this story, I find it disrespectful to make this man relive his childhood trauma right after he just fought the son of the man who killed his father in the ring. I know he won and he’s still the “Heavyweight Champion,” but this was a rematch after he, too, was almost killed by a Drago. I just don’t really think it’s a great idea and might come across as distasteful, especially with the way we’ve been trying to make the company come across as more serious,” Athena leaned forward onto her desk, folding her arms over the other as her cardigan stretched in the sleeves as she spoke. Christian sighed and sat on the cushioned chair next to Sherri, rubbing his forehead before clapping his hands. 

“Athena,” he spoke lowly, elbows on his knees, Athena watching as the fabric stretches around his forearms, “You do this interview that I set up, or I’ll give it to a Junior writer and see if they deserve this office more than you do.” Christian stands, as Athena whispers a small “yes, sir,” beckoning Sherri to follow him. Sherri stands, nodding at Athena, mouthing a quick “we’ll talk after work,” before quickly following her boss out of the office. 

Leaning back in her Athena let out a deep breath before groaning. This is going to be the longest week of her life.

******************************************************************************

“The interview is scheduled for tomorrow at 2 PM, at the Delphi Gym. Questions have already been screened by his team. Make sure you’re there 15 minutes before to get a look at the gym. 

Athena, don’t make me regret giving you this promotion.

Christian.

Athena stared at the screen as if it had bitten her. Sitting on her couch in her favorite cotton shorts and big t-shirt combo, she was exhausted. This actually couldn’t be real, she was doomed. She stood, closing her computer, and walked towards the kitchen of her high-rise apartment located in Downtown LA, one that she wouldn’t have been able to afford had she still been in Atlanta. Athena would have to admit, the job at LimeLight Wire paid handsomely. Enough for rent in a two-bedroom sky-rise with the perfect view of the Hollywood sign, floor-to-ceiling windows, and 24-hour security in her apartment building. Her apartment was decorated with plants and earthy decor, reminding her so much of her home in Georgia. Los Angeles was fun, but there was nothing like the Georgia air and southern charm.

Once in her kitchen, she grabbed herself a wine glass from her top cabinet before opening her fridge, grabbing her favorite bottle of cheap wine, it was cheap, but the buzz got the job done, and she didn’t care enough to spend so much on a bottle, especially when she didn’t feel like it was worth it. After pouring herself a glass, she walked back to her couch, plopping down with a huff and sipping her drink, she stared into space for a moment. She didn’t like this. She adored the job as a journalist, but not when she felt like she was being forced to do something. Google had enough about Creed for her to write a full article about him, but that wasn’t good enough for Christian.  She had heard all about Adonis Creed, how his first fights went, how much trouble he had as a child, always knowing who his father was but never knowing him, even him almost dying in his first fight with Drago. Before she could get lost in her thoughts, her phone rang. She slid it off the glass center table she had, glancing at the screen, Dad. 

She answered, slipping back into her facade, “Hi, Daddy!”

“Baby, how are you?” his southern accent glided through the phone, “you know your granny miss you.”

“I know, Daddy,” Athena sighed, “I’ll be back to visit sometime this Fall, I’ll even try to make it for Thanksgiving.”

 “Baby, that’s over 6 months from now. Now I know Georgia ain’t got much to offer you, but you have a family, as small as it may be,” her dad spoke softly. She would never tell her dad, but there was a reason she avoided home, and he would never tell her, but he knew what the reason was.

“I know, Daddy, work been busy and I’ve just been trying to keep up with the quota, I’ve got a big interview coming up, actually, you’ll be excited to know who it is.” Athena tried her best to gently redirect the conversation.

“Wesley Snipes? Boy, you know I loved him  in Blade!”

“No, daddy,” Athena laughs, “It’s with the Creed guy, the boxer.” Her Dad paused before laughing.

“I know him! Watched him fight that big Drago boy. I don’t know how that boy won that fight, looked like he was going through pure-dee-hell tryna take that big ass boy down,” He laughed, “But congratulations baby girl! We so proud of you!”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she smiles over the phone, “please tell Granny that I love her and will be home soon as I can, matter of fact, I’ll just call her tomorrow.” Athena took a sip of her wine, grabbed her computer, and walked to her bedroom, deciding to just call it a night.

“Yeah, baby, you should call her, and I know you guys don’t talk, but you should check in on your brother, you know, he proposed to Olivia,” he drawls, his voice now more serious.

“Daddy, that’s good for them. I’ll send flowers, I promise,” she shot back, almost immediately, not really wanting to have that conversation at the moment, “I love you, I gotta go.” 

She sighed, hanging up her phone and climbing into bed.

“Fuckkkkkk.” 

****************************************************************************

“Just go inside, be nice, smile, from what I’ve heard, he’s a nice guy, just don’t worry about it, Thena,” Sherri said over the phone. Athena sat in her car right outside the Delphi gym. She had opted to dress casually so as not to make herself seem too formal. She went for a brown bottom-up tucked into boot cut jeans and black boots. Her hair was pulled back into a slick puff with tiny gold earrings lighting up her look. 

“I’m not worried about whether he’s nice, Sherri, I just don’t want to seem disrespectful,” Athena replied, turning off the car and opening her door. She looked down at her gold watch, 1:38 PM. “Let me call you when I’m done, I’m gonna head in.” On the other end, Sherri mumbles a response and hangs up. Athena grabbed her purse and got out of the car. Looking up at the glass windows with the Apollo Creed mural on the front, she closed her door.

Walking into the gym was truly something. She looked around at the gym equipment everywhere, the walls covered in gray paint. Grunting catches her attention, and she turns, beginning to watch the men in the ring sparring intently, something about the way they moved so calculatedly entranced her.

“Hey, you must be Athena,” a voice says behind her, startling her. She turned, staring at the dark skin man behind her.

“That’s me,” she gulps, clutching her purse closer to her shoulder.

“ Nice to meet you,” she smiles at him before nodding, “The name's Duke, I took over the gym after my Pops, he trained Apollo, now I train Donnie. But you’re not here to interview me. Donnie’s upstairs getting ready, I’ll give you a tour of the gym while we wait for the okay.” 

Duke leads around the gym, showing Athena each piece of equipment and how you’re supposed to be trained on them. By the time he’s finished, Athena has laughed enough times to give herself the hiccups, she’s also sure that she could take an exam on boxing and pass with flying colors. Duke had also tried to convince her to come back sometime to take some boxing classes, to which she refused, as tickled as she was by the offer.

“Duke! He's ready!” A female-voiced call from upstairs.

“We coming,” Duke yells back, beckoning Athena to follow him up the stairs. Once inside the office upstairs, Athena immediately sees him, tall, muscular, brown skin warm and glowing under the gym lights, and looking like a walking Nike ad in a white sleeveless tee and basketball shorts. Moisturized to the gods, she notes—that man clearly owns lotion. Her eyes trail to the gauze around his knuckles, the bandage on his eyebrow, the angry swell still hugging his left eye. He looked like he lost the fight, but carried himself like he won.

She grits her teeth. This interview was not a good idea at all.

Before she could spin on her heel and bolt to her car, he speaks.

“I’m Adonis, but you can call me Donnie if you want. You’re very pretty, by the way. I like the fit.”

His voice is low and playful, but she hears the smile behind it.

Athena blushes. “I know.”

His eyebrows raise, clearly thrown. She scrambles.

“Well, obviously I don’t know that you think I’m pretty or that you like the fit, but I do know your name is Adonis because I’m here to interview you, and it’d be really stupid if I didn’t, so that’s not what I meant—I’m rambling. Let me start over.”

She drops her purse onto the chair with an uneasy laugh, slyly wiping her face, then gives him a nervous smile.

“I’m Athena. Senior journalist with LimeLight Wire. Just here to interview you.”

Adonis leans back with a full grin, flashing perfect teeth. “You sure? ’Cause right now it feels like you’re here to make me blush.”

That makes her laugh—an unexpected, genuine sound—and Adonis eats it up like a post-fight meal.

“Nice to meet you, Athena,” he says, holding his side as he lowers into the chair across from her, smile still wide. “Have a seat and we’ll start. Duke, y’all can go ahead, we’ll be fine.”

Duke and the brown-skinned woman Athena had seen downstairs exit the room with smiles that feel a little too knowing.

“We’ll just be out watching them spar, Donnie. Call if you need anything,” the woman says with a wink. Athena clocks her as probably his agent or PR specialist.

“Thank you, Janine,” Adonis says.

Athena sits down, pulling her laptop from her purse and opening the interview notes. She taps record on her voice memos.

“So, Donnie, before we get started, I know you’ve seen the questions, but just know if anything makes you uncomfortable, you’re welcome to say so. I’ll immediately redirect or come up with a different question.”

“Not a problem. Let’s go ahead and get started.”

He folds his arms, muscles flexing just enough to make her feel ridiculous for noticing, and leans back casually.

“Okay, first question,” she laughs lightly. “How does it feel to move from training with Rocky full-time to now being a part of the Delphi Gym, knowing the legacy?”

“I miss Rock most days, but we still call. He got family in Canada that he wanted to see. It’s been an adjustment, but I like it here. Closer to my moms, and I feel like I’m getting to know my pops even more… even though he ain’t here, he’s here though, every bag, the walls, and even the ring.”

Athena types out his answer quickly, tongue caught at the corner of her mouth in concentration. Adonis watches her over the rim of his water bottle as he takes a sip, amused. She’s so different from every reporter he’s had, no fake professionalism, no cold detachment. Real. Sharp. Gorgeous, and God, those curves in those Jeans.

And that smile she gives after his answer? Deadly.

“Question 2,” she announces, acrylic nail tapping her keyboard.  “You haven’t talked much about the fight with Drago since the rematch, in fact, you declined to interview afterwards, is there a reason for this?”

“Yes, actually, the win wasn’t about me, it was about avenging my Father, proving that a Creed could beat a Drago, specifically me. It wasn’t my best fight, but I had something to prove, to everyone in that moment. But Drago and I, we’re cool, we’re more than who our Dads are, and it’s what we’re both trying to prove.”

Athena smiles, “Well said,” before she begins clicking on her keyboard again. Something about her smile was infectious, and Adonis knew she was reeling him in already; he didn’t mind it, though.

“A year ago, you were in a public fight after a man called you 'baby Creed.' You’ve also been publicly upset about the notion of being called ‘baby Creed' and fighting under the name of Creed. Why is this?”

“When I started boxing, I didn’t even use the Creed name, I didn’t want to. I always knew that was my Dad, but I decided to use my biological mom's maiden name. I wanted to start my legacy and build from there, shit, I don’t know if I would be fighting under the Creed name now if it wasn’t for them leaking my identity. It wasn’t me wanting to be bigger than Apollo, it was about me wanting to be different, something on my own. I’m not Apollo Creed’s son, I’m Adonis Creed, period.” Questions went along like that for the next several minutes, Athena asking questions and Adonis answering them with a smile on his face. It wasn’t until Athena got to the last question. Athena looks up at Adonis nervously as she reads the next question on her computer, “you don’t have to answer this one if it’s too uncomfortable.” Adonis nods, giving her a reassuring smile.

“You’ve said that so many times already, and I’m yet to be uncomfortable. Ask away.”

Athena clears her throat, “We all know that you are Apollo’s illegitimate son, and he had a separate family during that time. You have siblings, but we never see them with you. Do you all speak?” Adonis sits up, gripping his side as he adjusts.

“Nah, we don’t,” he strains, much to Athena’s dismay, “They never really cared for me when my Mama got me; refused to see me as family. I don’t blame them, though; I wouldn’t be okay with it either if it were me. But I got love for them, they’re my siblings either way. I don’t think they hate me, they just keep their distance. Didn’t really have much family growing up anyway, but I was okay with that.”

Athena, ever the attentive one, noticed his body tensing as he winced at the story.

“Hey,” she spoke softly, “we can stop for now, pick up at a later date if it’ll help.”

“Nah, I’m good, ribs just still hurting from the fight, and I don’t usually talk about home life, I can answer another one, only on one condition though,” Adonis speaks with a smile. Athena immediately begins to nod.

“Whatever you need, as long as you’re comfortable.”

“You go out to dinner with me.”

Athena blushes with surprise, with her brown skin, there’s only a tinge of pink, Adonis notices though. She laughs, closing her laptop. She only stops when she sees that Adonis is being completely serious and was not laughing with her at all.

“Wait for real?” Adonis laughs, nodding his head.

“Yeah, and you gotta let me ask my own questions to you.” 

“Like a professional dinner, though, right?” Athena breathes, closing her computer.

“Only if you want it to be.”

@jazziejax (idk if you wanted to be tagged queen, I did just in case)

[bee-calm]

it takes less than two minutes for aoi’s entire world to end

or; i had some thoughts about That scene in tbhk 126

When Nene’s phone cuts to voicemail for the fifth time, when the sun begins to cast long shadows across the ground outside, when the feeling of worry-fear-where-are-you burns to a fever pitch behind her ribs- Aoi is the one who suggests that they go and search for her.

It was Kou who saw Nene last- haunting the shoe lockers the night before with the wild, unpredictable look of something hunted. It’s a description that Aoi can’t quite reconcile with the girl she knows- the Yashiro Nene of silly crushes, sunflower patches, bright bursts of laughter like stars in the night.

(I wish I could be you, Nene told her once, huddled in the shade of the rhododendron bush. Referring to Aoi’s unfortunate engagement to one Minamoto Teru- but, semantics. If she’d ever known how to be brave, Aoi would’ve told her in reply why would you want that, when you’re already everything?)

She should’ve suggested they look for Nene earlier. As soon as Kou got back.

“She’d never disappear for this long,” Aoi insists, as another call cuts to the voicemail message that Nene recorded in the back of their maths class the previous year, Aoi’s quiet laughter just audible in the background. “Not without telling one of us.”

Mouth set in a grim line, Teru seems to agree. Aoi doesn’t need to look at Akane to know that he’ll be following.

The walk to the Red House is a tense one; a ligament bent close to snapping, a disaster waiting to happen. Aoi doesn’t miss that Teru has foregone his bag, sheathing his sword close at his hip instead. (She’d be a hypocrite to mention it. She’s got her own spirit blade, slipped into her school bag.)

When they enter, the house is a crooked maze of a thing- each room smelling of damp wood and burnt oil and the sick-sweet tang of something rotting. The layout makes no sense, kitchens that lead into bathrooms that lead into second, identical kitchens, time warping strangely around them as they search. Aoi calls Nene’s name once, twice, three times- like the invocations the people at the shrine wrote out to keep their Kannagi safe. Hoping that somehow they’ll catch on the dust motes in the air, carry themselves to Nene, and protect her from harm too. Aoi doesn’t know what sort of split-open expression she must be wearing, but she can tell it’s a terrible one from the way Akane knocks his shoulder gently against her own, like he did when they were little kids and the only meaning he needed to share was it’ll be okay.

Sousuke peers into a doorway that has changed from a living room into a broom cupboard in the five minutes since they last passed it, and complains that they’re never going to get out of here again.

And then- Nene is there.

She’s got cobwebs in her hair and she shrieks in surprise when she almost flings a door open into Teru’s face, but she’s there, okay, safe- and Aoi has to force down the sudden humiliating urge to sob with relief. She settles for hugging Nene tightly instead, burying her face into her neck in a wordless don’t ever leave me like that again she’d never have the courage to say out loud. In the damp and rot, Nene’s hair smells like peaches.

“I thought I saw something weird at the school,” Nene explains sheepishly, as Kou inspects the splinters and scrapes decorating her fingers and wonders how long it takes for tetanus symptoms to manifest. Aoi keeps a hold of Nene’s other hand, and pretends she doesn’t see the knowing look that Teru is sending her across the hallway. “I followed it here, then ended up getting totally lost.” Nene laughs, a lighthearted silly me that brightens up the gloom, and Aoi quickly swallows down the unexplainable feeling that something isn’t right. (It’s something she’s been getting better at- this act of trusting. Of not immediately looking for the worst, assuming that the world is operating with the aim of pulling her down. Plucking a cobweb from Nene’s hair, this feels like a good opportunity to practice.)

Leading them a little way down the hall, Nene points them towards a door set nonsensically under one of the many staircases they’ve passed. “I’m pretty certain I heard traffic coming from behind there earlier, so I think the exit must be this way,” she explains.

To their left, Teru frowns. “I think we’d best stick to going back-” he starts.

“Nii-chan,” Kou interrupts from Nene’s right, in that chiding tone Aoi knows from experience is copied from their mother. “We could end up going in circles all evening at this rate. What harm could it do?”

Teru hesitates, a held breath, before he nods. (Trusting- not something Aoi has been learning alone.)

“Okay,” he concedes. “But if we get lost, then we turn straight back.”

As they file through the door, Akane takes the lead only because his phone has the most battery life left, flicking on a torch which illuminates a crumbling stone staircase- winding down and down and down. Aoi goes next, because Nene is scared of heights and she’s always clung behind Aoi on observatory trips and rollercoasters and the tall bridge across the river in the next town along. Nene is brave like that, wearing her fears for everyone to see them. This time, though, it’s Kou and Sousuke who end up behind Aoi, Nene falling in another few steps behind them. Teru takes the rear. (His hand still lingers by the hilt of his sword. Aoi tries to ignore the unrest that settles in her bones at the sight of it.)

As they descend, Aoi fixes her gaze ahead, struck by the irrational fear that, if she turns around, Nene will no longer be there. A mythology spooling out in her head; a consequence for her own lifelong, selfish wanting. Instead she counts each step, making wishes on them in groups of three to keep herself sane.

The closer they get to the bottom, the more details come into focus. First the sound of water against stone, then cave walls cracked with moss, then finally the shape of a deep, black well, grinning up at them like a mouth in the gloom.

There’s no struggle, when it happens.

Just a strangled gasp. The clatter of sword against stone. The numbing realisation that this is now a world where Aoi knows what sound a body makes when it hits the ground.

Aoi has never been any good at keeping promises to herself. She turns around.

Where he’s half-submerged, Teru’s eyes are still open, unblinking even as the water pools under his eyelashes. There’s a strangled scream from behind Aoi, the broken cry of a younger brother who has just become the eldest. It’s a terrible sound, the lightning before the crack of thunder that echoes like a war-cry across the rocks of this hole, this well, this sealed tomb of a place- lightning, then Akane shouting, the sound of it cut brutally in half as Kou hits the wall and doesn’t move again.

And- stood over him like a nightmare is Nene- the spirit blade from Aoi’s bag bloodstained in her hand, hunched like a creature and Aoi should’ve known something was wrong. Should've known from the moment Nene didn’t hide in the collar of her uniform from the drop below them, like she’s been doing since their first day of middle school. From the moment Nene navigated her way through this impossible house with ease, like she hasn’t gotten lost trying to find their own homeroom class more than once. From the moment she didn’t pick up Aoi’s call, not even when she used the six-ring pattern they made for times when it feels like the world is ending, the one they pinky-swore to always answer.

(When they hugged, before, Nene smelled like peaches left out in the sun. Aoi knows that Nene’s favourite shampoo is scented with strawberries.)

Rooted at the bottom of the stairs, Aoi finds that she can’t focus on Nene’s face, nothing left of it but this terrible, gaping maw of a thing, twisted at the edge of her vision no matter how directly she tries to look at it. Because this isn’t Nene, just a distorted imitation of her, and the sight of it makes Aoi want to sink to her knees and cry like a stupid kid who wants her best friend back. To go back in time to their last sleepover before highschool, where Aoi stayed awake for hours just memorising the shape Nene’s face made when she dreamed. She’s distantly aware of Akane cursing as his watch is knocked from his hand- clumsily unsheathing Teru’s sword and charging with a wounded battle cry. Faltering last minute, when the grinning well of Not-Nene’s face swivels towards him and-

Years ago, before she was taught to tie her hair up in bows and smile neat and pretty, Aoi told Akane to go and die after he broke her favourite pencil.

She doesn’t think she would’ve said it, if she knew what it would really feel like.

By the stairs, Sousuke is hunched by Kou’s side, trying uselessly to stem the bleeding with the hem of his school shirt. Panic has turned his voice to radio static, a jumble of words spilling out. Aoi doesn’t have the heart to tell him it’s already too late- at least that way, when it’s his turn, he still has hope.

In total, it takes less than two minutes for Aoi’s entire world to end.

It’s then that she spots it. Nene’s bag lying at the base of the well; her phone scattered a few feet beside it, her collection of keychains now cracked and waterlogged.

Maybe not entirely an imitation, then. A possession instead- one of the ghost stories that Aoi used to whisper in Nene’s ear between classes, just to watch the way her face would go all flushed with excited terror afterwards. (Hunted- Kou described the look on Nene’s face when she found him by the shoe lockers. Maybe this is what she was running from.)

It’s anger that finally raises Aoi, marionette-like, to her feet. Because this is Yashiro Nene, who carries spiders out of rooms in paper cups and cries when the dog dies in movies and apologises to plants when she cuts their dead petals free. This violence for the sake of violence, it’s an insult to the very soul of her.

So Aoi stands on puppet strings, and tells this thing in front of her: Give me my best friend back.

She knows, certain as her own bones, that Nene will not survive the aftermath of what has happened here. Not as a whole person, not with her soul intact. Selfish as she’s ever been, Aoi knows that a world where Nene is no longer herself is not one that she wants to exist in either. So it’s not a choice so much as an inevitability when she runs, blood-black water staining the hem of her skirt like dirt from the garden, and throws her arms around Nene’s neck. The black hole where Nene’s face should be churns like a thing where hope goes to die, and all Aoi can do is hold on tight as her own knife buries itself between her seventh and eighth ribs.

“Nene-chan,” she gasps, holds, wishes on the sparks of pained light that burst behind her eyelids that once, just this once, Nene will hear every twisted, selfish part of her, open her eyes, and look. “Nene-chan. Please, snap out of it. Nene-”

In the end, it’s simple as a realignment- just a quiet shift from grasping to holding.

When gravity tips and her hands slide loose, Aoi smells strawberries.

[aeralux]

"undressed" - Rhaneyra Targaryen

𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧!𝐀𝐔 (𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠)𝐑𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: She was the sun. And the sun sets when she wants. But you were the moon. Some nights, you lit up the whole sky. Other nights, you disappeared without warning—left the world to figure itself out in the dark.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: slight angst; fluff; WLW yearning; eating out (both are absolute munches); soft fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5k

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: No description of the reader, no use of (y/n). English is not my first language. I am not responsible for the media you choose to consume. This made me horny af writing it 🤭.

𐔌 . ⋮ 𝒶𝑒𝓇𝒶 .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

Loving Rhaenyra was easy. Too easy.

Loving Rhaenyra was like being kissed by a salty breeze near the ocean, cooling your skin on a burning summer day.

Like savouring a chilled beer while laughter flowed freely among friends, the world faded away in that perfect moment.

Her kisses tasted of her mint chapstick, because she hated the sweet berry flavours everyone else seemed to love. You could still taste the remnants of her last cigarette on her tongue as she leaned close and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

You really couldn't imagine loving anyone else. Ever.

Rhaenyra was the type of girl who wore obscure band tees but blasted 2000s top hits and danced with you like no one was watching. She would wrap her arms around you from behind, holding you close as if she feared you'd vanish like smoke if she let go.

She scribbled poetry in her worn notebooks, filled with half-finished thoughts and feelings, but she always crossed out the lines before you could read them. When you pout in frustration, she'd lean in with a mischievous grin, planting a peck on your nose.

Why would you ever love another?

But loving Rhaenyra wasn’t always warm sun and lazy Sunday mornings.

Some days, it felt like drowning in glitter—beautiful, but suffocating all the same.

She had a way of disappearing mid-conversation, eyes drifting to somewhere you couldn’t follow. Of changing the song halfway through, just because the vibe felt off. Of smiling like she knew something you never would.

You once caught her crying on the fire escape at 3 a.m., mascara smudged like bruises under her eyes, cigarette ash falling onto her thigh. She laughed when she saw you and said something flippant about the moon being too close and too big tonight.

She never explained what that meant. You didn’t ask.

Loving Rhaenyra was easy.

But keeping her? Keeping her was like trying to hold light in your hands.

She was the sun.

Rhaenyra brightened the room with her warm smiles and sparkling eyes. She could lift your spirits and make even the gloomiest days feel better.

But when the clouds came, that’s when the trouble started.

Ignoring your questions and sad eyes.

Vanishing for hours, sometimes days, with no explanation. How she’d come to you barefoot, cheeks flushed from the night air, smelling like her Virginia Slims and cold wind. She wouldn’t lie, exactly—she wouldn’t answer.

You knew she couldn't be tamed. She was the sun.

And the sun sets when she wants.

You were her moon.

With your big, pretty eyes—the ones she said she loved the first time she saw you. You’d caught her attention just by sitting there, quiet and still at some stranger’s party, playing with the host’s black cat.

She felt drawn to you. Over and over again, her eyes found you.

Not loud. Not reckless. Just… patient. The kind of girl who knew how to wait someone out without ever chasing.

She was the sun, golden, loud, eyes burning when looking at her too long.

But you were the moon.

Slower, quieter. But no less unpredictable.

Some nights, you lit up the whole sky.

Other nights, you disappeared in your own mind without warning—left the world to figure itself out in the dark.

And sometimes, you pulled away too hard. Said the wrong thing with a voice too calm, too cold.

Left her waiting at a café with two untouched coffees, not answering your phone, not because you didn’t care, but because caring too much made your hands shake.

You hurt her without meaning to. The way people do when they don’t know how to be held.

And she—bright, burning Rhaenyra—took every silence like a storm.

“I don’t know how you do that,” she whispered. “The most intriguing girl at the party, not even saying a word.”

You didn’t answer then. Just smiled, soft and slow. Because you knew she’d come back. Not because she had to.

But because she wanted to.

But it wasn’t that simple.

There were weeks between then and now. Weeks of "coincidences", of seeing her across crosswalks and pretending not to notice when she doubled back.

Catching her eye in the corner store while picking up oat milk and trying not to stare when she smiled.

You saw her again outside the animal food shop on Main. She had a bag of cat treats under one arm and was arguing with the cashier about whether or not cats could be pescatarian.

You almost laughed. You didn’t.

But later, at home, you looked up the answer. Just in case she asked.

Another time, you passed her in the park. She was walking someone else's dog—big, unruly, leash looped twice around her wrist. You didn’t stop, didn’t say a word.

But her eyes met yours for half a second too long. And that half-second lasted the rest of your afternoon.

It was like that for a while.

Small moments. Half-glances. Tension that felt like an unfinished sentence between you.

She was the kind of girl who lit cigarettes she never finished. You were the kind who brought extra lighters just in case.

Eventually, it added up to something.

Something like a look across a party, a quiet smile.

And then—

She crawled into bed beside you, notebook in hand. “Don’t laugh,” she said, passing it over. “This one’s about you.”

You try to bite back a smile, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear. "Is it the first one?" You asked quietly, not wanting to be too hopeful.

She hesitates, eyes flickering to the ceiling like the answer might be up there.

“No... But it’s the first one I didn’t cross out.”

You don’t say anything for a moment. Just take the notebook from her fingers and hold it gently, like it might burn if you’re not careful.

Rhaenyra watched as you carefully opened the notebook, her eyes following your fingers as they gently turned the pages. She had a habit of chewing on her bottom lip when she was nervous or anxious, and right now, that lip was caughtbetween her teeth.

As you read the words she had written, Rhaenyra's heart raced. She had never shown anyone her poetry before, not like this. It was a part of her soul, a piece of her that she kept hidden away from the world. But for some reason, she wanted to share it with you.

I’ve wondered why, the sun and the moon never meet only for such a fleeting moment do they hold each other

was it fate or was it a mistake when my eyes found yours the others looking away an eclipse

You looked up at her, your eyes meeting hers. In that moment, the rest of the world faded away. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, the poem a palpable symbol of the connection between you.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice soft and sincere. "For sharing this with me."

Rhaenyra smiled, a genuine smile that lit up her eyes. "Don't make me regret it," she teased, but there was no real bite to her words.

"It's beautiful," you murmured, your voice low and soft. "You're beautiful."

Rhaenyra felt a warmth spread through her chest at your words, a gentle heat that had nothing to do with the beer she'd been sipping earlier. She leaned in closer, her minty breath ghosting over your cheek as she whispered back,

"Beautiful... I wouldn't go that far," she murmured, her thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Rhaenyra," you said, feeling a lump in your throat as you gazed up at her, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light around her. "This is... this is beautiful. I-... no one has ever," you breathed, struggling to find the right words, your heart racing with emotion, unable to finish your sentence.

Rhaenyra didn't say anything as her heart skipped a beat at seeing the glimmer of unshed tears in your pretty eyes.

Slowly, giving you time to pull back if you wanted to, she cupped your cheek, her palm warm and soft against your skin. Her thumb brushed away the tear that escaped, and she leaned closer until her forehead rested against yours.

"I don't want to make you cry."

She held you like that for a long moment, just breathing you in, feeling the gentle rise and fall of your chest against hers. Then, with a soft sigh, she pulled back just enough to look you in the eye.

She paused, searching your face, trying to gauge your reaction. Then she shrugged, a little self-consciously.

"But I wanted you to see this one. I wanted you to know..."

She trailed off, biting her lip again to find the right words. Finally, she just shook her head and laughed softly.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful... Sometimes I wonder if you're too good to be true."

With that, she closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of longing and want and something that felt dangerously like love. A kiss that made your heart race and your toes curl.

You kissed her back fiercely, your fingers tangling in her hair, holding her face close to yours. You couldn't let her pull away, not now, not when you needed her so desperately. You craved the softness of her lips, the warmth of her skin, the way her heartbeat raced against your own.

She kissed you back just as fiercely, her fingers gripping the hem of your shirt, anchoring herself to you. She poured all of her longing, all of her want, into that kiss. She wanted to devour you, to consume you, to make you a part of her.

"So pretty," you whispered against her mouth, a giddy laugh escaping your lips between kisses. Tears streamed down your cheeks, the saltiness mixing with the fresh taste of her minty lip balm. "I can't... I won't let you go... not tonight"

Your words were a breathless plea, a selfish demand. For once in your life, you wanted to be greedy. You wanted to keep her, to hold her, to make her yours. The world could wait, the future could fade away. In that moment, there was only her and you, lost in a tangle of limbs and racing hearts.

When you pulled back to whisper against her lips, your words sending shivers down her spine, Rhaenyra felt a fierce surge of emotion. She couldn't let you go either, not tonight. She refused to let this moment end.

"Then don't," she breathed, her voice low and rough with desire. "Keep me. Hold me."

Rhaenyra pushed you down onto the bed, hovering over you, her hair falling around you both like a curtain. She looked down at you with eyes that blazed with intensity, a fierce, almost feral look on her face.

"Tell me what you want," she demanded, her voice a low, breathless rasp. "Tell me how you want me, and I'll give it to you."

"I want you," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, the words spilling from your mouth like a secret longing you had held inside for too long.

The blushing glances and fleeting touches had been lovely, each one igniting a warmth in your chest. But now, as you lay there, you craved more. 

"I want you," you repeated, this time with a confidence that surprised even you. "Here. With me. Every night." Your voice shook slightly, a mix of hope and fear churning within you, ready for the possibility of rejection. The quiet space between you felt charged.

Rhaenyra's breath caught in her throat at your words, a fierce surge of emotion welling up inside her. She searched your face, her eyes roaming over your features as if trying to memorise every detail.

"Every night," she repeated softly, a hint of wonder in her voice. "You want me... here... with you."

She leaned down, pressing her forehead against yours, her lips just a hair's breadth away from your own. You could feel the heat of her breath, the racing of her heart.

"I want that too," she whispered, her voice raw and honest. "I want to wake up next to you, to fall asleep with you in my arms. I want to fight and make up with you and everything in between."

You chuckled softly, feeling a wave of relief wash over you as you gazed up at Rhaenyra, your eyes sparkling.

"Good," you whispered, your voice breathless and light. "I don't wanna get undressed for a new person all over again."

You reached up, gently tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering on the soft skin of her cheek.

"I don't wanna kiss someone else's neck and have to pretend it's yours..."

Your thumb brushed over her lower lip, tracing the soft, plump flesh, as you held her gaze captive with your own.

Rhaenyra shivered at your touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as your thumb brushed over her lip. When she opened them again, her gaze was intense, filled with a hunger that made your heart race.

"Then don't," she breathed, her voice low and rough. "Don't pretend with anyone else. I don't want to share you."

She leaned into your touch, her cheek soft and warm against your palm. Then, suddenly, she straddled your hips, pinning you beneath her.

"I want to be the only one who gets to see you like this," she murmured, her hands sliding up your sides, pushing your shirt up and off. "The only one who gets to touch you, to taste you."

She leaned down, her breasts pressing against yours as she nipped at your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. "I want to be the only one who gets to hear you moan my name in the dark, who gets to feel you shake in my arms."

You gazed up at Rhaenyra, your heart pounding in your chest as you slid your hands slowly up the sides of her body, relishing the feel of her soft, warm skin beneath your fingertips. With a gentle tug, you pulled her white tank top off, exposing the smooth, toned curves of her torso.

Your hands eagerly sought out the soft, supple mounds of her breasts, kneading and caressing the delicate flesh. You could feel her nipples hardening beneath your fingertips as you teased and circled the sensitive peaks, drawing breathy gasps from Rhaenyra's lips.

"You are the only one," you whispered, assuring her.

"Good," she breathed, her voice ragged with need. "You're the only one I want to touch me like this."

She rocked her hips against yours, the heat of her core searing through the fabric of her thin lace panties. Her hands slid down your sides, over your stomach.

"Lift your hips," she commanded, her voice low and demanding. As you complied, she pulled your panties off in one swift motion, leaving you bare and exposed beneath her.

She took a moment to drink in the sight of you, her eyes darkening with lust. Then, with a wicked grin, she shimmied out of her panties until she was just as bare as you.

"Now, let me show you how much I want you," she purred, before trailing kisses down your body, pausing to pay attention to your breasts, before moving lower, lower, until she was nestled between your thighs.

She looked up at you, her eyes glinting with mischief and desire. "I'm going to make you scream my name until you forget every other girl's name but mine," she promised, before diving in and putting her mouth on you.

"Oh god, Rhaenyra...!" you gasped, your back arching off the bed as her tongue delved between your slick folds.

Your fingers tangled desperately in her messy hair, gripping tight as jolts of electric pleasure coursed through your veins. You could feel your hole clenching around nothing as she teased your puffy clit.

"Gods, yesss, please don't stop...!" you begged shamelessly, too lost in sensation to care how desperate you sounded. Your eyelids fluttered shut, eyes rolling back as you surrendered to the intense, building ecstasy.

Rhaenyra growled against your slick flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. She spread your lower lips wide open with her thumbs, exposing your most intimate parts to her greedy mouth. Her tongue delved deep, fucking into your tight channel with long, hard strokes. She lapped up your dripping arousal, moaning at the taste of your essence on her tongue.

"Fuck, you taste so good," she panted against your sex, her breath hot and heavy. "I could eat this pretty pussy for hours." To prove her point, she sealed her lips around your clit and sucked hard, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of her tongue. Two fingers plunged knuckle-deep into your clenching hole, pumping in and out, curling to stroke that special spot inside that made your toes curl.

Rhaenyra was relentless, her tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive you to the brink of ecstasy. She could feel your walls fluttering around her invading digits, your arousal dripping down her chin as she feasted on your cunt like a woman starved.

"Mmm, you're so fucking wet," she purred, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over your soaked, throbbing sex. "I love how needy you are for me, how much your pretty little pussy is dripping."

She plunged back in, sucking your clit hard as she fucked you with three fingers now, curling them just right to hit that spongey spot inside that made you see stars. Her other hand slid up your body to pinch and roll your nipple between her fingers, sending sparks of pleasure-pain straight to your core.

"That's it, baby," she encouraged, her voice muffled against your sex.

"Holyfuckingshiitt," you whined desperately, your back arching sharply off the bed as her tongue delved deep into your dripping, aching core.

The obscene noises of her feasting on your pussy filled the room, mingling with your loud moans and gasps. She could feel your arousal dripping down her chin, coating her fingers as they pumped mercilessly in and out of your clenching, greedy hole.

Rhaenyra could feel your walls starting to flutter and clench around her fingers, your body tensing as your climax approached. She doubled her efforts, sucking hard on your clit as she fucked you with three fingers now, her thumb rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"So pretty, baby," she urged, her voice a low, rough growl against your sex. "Come on my tongue."

She could feel your body trembling, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She knew you were close. With a final, hard suck on your clit, she pushed you over the edge.

Your pussy clenched down hard on her fingers as your orgasm crashed over you, your juices gushing out to coat her hand and drip down her wrist. Rhaenyra moaned against your flesh, the sound vibrating through you as she worked you through your high, her fingers pumping slowly as your walls spasmed and fluttered around them.

Finally, as the aftershocks started to subside, she pulled back, her face glistening with your arousal. She licked her lips, savouring the taste of your release.

"Fuck, that was so hot," she panted, crawling up your body to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on her tongue, making your head spin.

You gazed up at Rhaenyra, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath after the intense orgasm she'd just given you. Your faces were both glistening with the evidence of your arousal.

"Rhaenyra," you breathed out, your voice hoarse and shaky. You reached up, gently cupping her cheek, your thumb brushing over her swollen lower lip, smearing the slickness there. "How can I possibly repay the favour?" You giggled breathlessly, smirking as you bit your lip.

Your eyes shone with devotion and desire as you looked up at her, a soft blush colouring your cheeks.

Rhaenyra smirked at your words, a wicked gleam in her eye. She nipped at your thumb, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

"Oh, I can think of a few ways," she purred, her voice low and full of promise.

She swung a leg over to straddle your face, her dripping pussy hovering just inches above your mouth. With one hand, she gripped the headboard for support, while the other slid down to spread her lower lips open, exposing her needy hole to you.

"Go on, baby," she breathed, her voice heavy with desire. "Put that pretty mouth of yours to work. I want to feel your tongue inside me, worshipping my cunt."

She rocked her hips, rubbing her slick folds against your lips, coating them with her arousal. The scent of her desire filled your nostrils, musky and intoxicating.

"Fuck," you breathed out, youe voice already rough with want. "Such a pretty pink pussy."

You leaned in, your tongue darting out to take a long, slow lick up her dripping slit. You moaned at the first taste of her, the flavour exploding on your tongue - tangy and sweet. You licked again, more firmly this time, your tongue parting her lower lips to delve inside, to lap up the slickness gathered there.

"Yes, just like that," Rhaenyra gasped, her grip on the headboard tightening. "Don't be shy, pretty girl."

You could only moan in response, the sound vibrating against her sensitive flesh as you obeyed her command. You licked and sucked, your tongue swirling around her clit before dipping back inside her hot, tight channel. You could feel her arousal dripping down your chin, coating your neck, and you loved every second of it. You wanted to be covered in her essence.

Your hands gripped her ass, pulling her harder against you, encouraging her to grind on your face, to take her pleasure from you. You wanted to feel her come undone above you, to hear your name falling from her lips like a prayer and a plea.

So you licked and sucked and worshipped her pussy with everything you had, your arousal building with each of her breathy moans and gasps.

Rhaenyra threw her head back, a low moan tearing from her throat as she ground her dripping cunt harder against your eager mouth. Her hips rolled in a sensual rhythm, smearing her slick arousal all over your lips and chin, your cheeks and nose, marking you with her essence.

"Yes, fuck yes, just like that," she panted, her voice ragged and desperate. "Lick my pussy, baby. Suck on my clit. Make me come all over your pretty face."

She reached down, tangling her fingers in your hair, holding you in place as she rutted against you. Her grip tightened, bordering on painful, as her pleasure increased. She could feel her climax building, the coil of heat in her belly winding tighter and tighter.

"That's it, don't stop," she urged, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I'm gonna... fuck... I'm gonna come!"

With a final, hard grind of her hips, she came undone. Her pussy clenched and spasmed, gushing her release all over your face and into your mouth. She cried out your name, a ragged scream of ecstasy, as her orgasm crashed over her in intense waves.

You gazed up at Rhaenyra, your vision blurred by the tears of effort stinging your eyes and the slickness of her release coating your face. Strands of your hair clung to your skin, damp with sweat beads. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your eyes on her.

You couldn't form any coherent words, too lost in the haze of lust and desire. All you could manage was a low, guttural moan against her sensitive flesh, the sound vibrating through her as you desperately licked and lapped up every drop of her sweet nectar. You couldn't get enough of her taste, her scent, the feel of her trembling body above you.

Your fingers dug into the firm globes of her ass, pulling her harder against your mouth, holding her in place as you worshipped her with your tongue. You wanted to be smothered by her, consumed by her pleasure, a willing sacrifice to the princess above you.

As her shudders began to subside, you looked up at her with hazy, half-lidded eyes, a drunk expression on your face. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a breathless, incoherent babble.

"Mmm... Rhaenyra... you... taste... so... good..." you managed to stammer out, your voice rough and wrecked.

With a low, almost feral growl, you sealed my lips around her clit once more, sucking gently as you slipped two fingers back inside her fluttering channel. Helping her ride out the final waves of her intense orgasm.

Rhaenyra collapsed against the headboard, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. She looked down at you with hooded, satisfied eyes, a lazy smirk playing on her kiss-swollen lips.

"Fuck, that was good," she panted, her voice hoarse from screaming your name. She reached down, gently cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing over your lower lip. You could feel the sticky evidence of her release smeared across your skin, and the taste of her arousal still lingered on your tongue.

She lifted her body off you, her hair a wild mess of damp blonde strands around her face. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused, the blue irises nearly swallowed up by the black of her pupils. She had a fucked-out, blissed-out look on her face, and you knew you were the cause.

Rhaenyra leaned in closer, until her forehead rested against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the way her chest rose and fell with each shuddering breath.

"Look at you," she murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face, her fingers trailing over your cheek. "You're a fucking mess, and it's all because of me."

She leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, tasting herself on your mouth.

Pulling you with her so that you were tangled together, your limbs entwined, your bodies pressed close. She wrapped her arms around you, holding you tight against her as if she never wanted to let you go.

You giggled breathlessly as Rhaenyra pulled you on top of her, instinctively wrapping your leg around her waist. Nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck, you inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of her perfume mixed with the musky aroma of your lovemaking. A contented hum escaped your lips as you breathed in her comforting, familiar fragrance.

"Mmhh," you hummed, your voice still rough from the passionate cries that had spilt from your mouth moments before. You pressed soft, lingering kisses along the column of her throat, tasting the salt on her skin. Your fingers traced idle patterns on the smooth expanse of her back.

You could feel the steady thrum of her heartbeat against your chest, the rise and fall of her lungs as she caught her breath. In that moment, wrapped up in her arms, you felt a sense of contentment and belonging. As if you were exactly where you were meant to be, with the person you were always meant to be with.

Rhaenyra held you close, stroking your hair as you nuzzled into her neck. She could feel the soft, even breaths you took, the gentle kisses you pressed against her skin. A sense of peace and rightness settled over her, a feeling of coming home.

"You're so fucking pretty," she murmured, tilting your chin up to look at her. Her eyes searched yours, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I don't ever want to let you go."

"I won't go anywhere... not this time," you murmured, intertwining your fingers with hers. You gazed into her intense blue eyes, your own reflecting the same depth of feeling.

A small, shy smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you whispered, "I'll stay. If you do the same..."

You sealed your promise with a soft, lingering kiss, pouring all your devotion into it. "Just don't ever ask me to leave... because I won't."

Rhaenyra's heart clenched at your words, a fierce surge of emotion welling up inside her. She knew in that moment that she would move heaven and earth to keep you by her side. No matter what it took, she would make this work.

No more late nights spent outside without a word, leaving you in the dark. No more dead phone batteries, your concerned calls going unanswered.

"I won't," she vowed, her voice low and fierce. "You're mine now, and I don't share what's mine."

Rhaenyra returned your smile, her eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness. She squeezed your hand, reinforcing the promise you'd just made. She held you close, your naked bodies pressed skin to skin, heart to heart.

"Stay with me," she breathed against your mouth.

"I'll stay," you breathed out against her lips and smiled.

You won’t hold back anymore. You’ve made up your mind to stay, even when your feelings get too strong and when she shines so brightly that it feels like you might get hurt. Maybe there’s something good about being warm, about enjoying her attention, even if it makes you feel a little scared.

Rhaenyra smiled softly, her heart swelling with a warmth she had never known before. She pulled you closer, your naked bodies moulding together like two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

"Good," she murmured, nuzzling into your hair. "Because I don't think I could let you go, even if I wanted to."

[erodasfishtacos]

The Bikini Top That Started It ||FWB!H ||

prompt: a look into h and yn's relationship/ how it started

word count: 4.5k

warnings: body shaming, bullying/teasing, toxic relationships, infidelity

PART ONE

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---

YN didn’t know why she felt so off the entire next day at work.

There was no specific trigger she could point to—no hangover, no fight, no tangible reason for the discomfort prickling beneath her skin.

But she could link it to knowing that she felt it instantly after getting her own car after saying ‘goodbye’ to Harry. 

The moment she stepped into the office that morning, everything felt... misaligned.

Her usual rhythm was gone. 

Tasks she could normally do with her eyes closed took longer, her mind drifting constantly, and her body felt disconnected, almost like she was watching herself go through the motions from a few feet above.

It didn’t take long for Georgia to notice.

After her own presentation mid-morning, Georgia made a detour into YN’s office. 

She leaned casually against the doorframe, but there was a suspicion in the way she was looking at YN.

“You’re not hungover, are you?” She asked, tilting her head slightly, “You alright?”

YN managed a quick nod, followed by a small, forced smile,“Yeah. Just… tired, I guess.”

It wasn’t a lie, not exactly. 

She was tired—but more in the emotional, soul-crushing way than physically. 

She was exhausted by the whirlwind of last night, the closeness, the intimacy, the thrill—and now, this strange emotional hangover she couldn’t seem to shake.

She wished she could tell Georgia everything. 

She always told her everything. 

Georgia was her best friend, her rock, her sounding board through every high and low. 

Maybe if she shared what had happened, what was happening, Georgia could help her make sense of why she felt like this.

But it was too deep now. 

Too far gone.

What she had with Harry didn’t feel like something she could hand over for analysis just yet. 

It was special, wrapped in something soft and untouchable. 

So she kept it quiet, close to her chest.

Part of it was selfishness. 

She wanted to keep it hers for just a little while longer.

And another part—the bigger one, maybe was fear. 

Fear that once other people knew, once it left the cocoon of secrecy, it would change.

Shift and maybe even end.

Because if she admitted it out loud, it would suddenly feel real.

And if it was real, it could break.

The restlessness hadn’t left her all day. 

It sat in her chest like an itch she couldn’t reach, an unsettled fluttering that made her check her phone more often than she should, hoping for a text, a message, anything. 

She felt like she couldn’t breathe properly until she saw him again.

Did he enjoy their night?

Did she do a good job?

It was all this anxiety spurring around whether or not she had pleased him when she knew she did, she had clear evidence dripping down her thighs on the drive home that he had but it was still eating at her because she just wanted to be good for him and she hoped that she had been.

Georgia wouldn’t tell anyone if YN asked her not to.

 That wasn’t the issue but Georgia—subtle as she could be was always observant.

Always catching things others didn’t. 

If she knew, even subconsciously, she’d start noticing things. 

Little glances, lingering touches, moments where Harry and YN looked at each other for just a second too long. 

She’d piece it together, not because she meant to but because she couldn't help it.

And YN didn’t want anyone looking at them like that.

Especially not Georgia.

Because Georgia would remind her that this might not be a good idea. 

That despite all the chemistry, all the history, there were things at play here that could make everything fall apart.

Georgia knew YN had always had a little thing for Harry.

It was an old joke among their group, really—a harmless little crush that had bloomed years ago when they first met. 

Back when Harry was still dating Lauren, and YN was still tangled up in things with Ben. 

She never admitted the depth of it, how often he crossed her mind, how her stomach flipped every time he smiled in her direction.

It faded in and out, when things were going alright with Ben - she thought much less about him, maybe fleeting or admiring how pretty his smile is from afar but nothing more than that.

When things were going poorly with Ben, that’s when she would be hyper aware of what a gentleman Harry was.

The way Harry would pull out chairs for Lauren, the way he always seemed to be attuned to her needs—refilling her drink without being asked, checking on her without being annoying. 

The way he touched her, casually but consistently, that steady arm around her shoulders, the quiet presence at her side. 

YN found herself wondering what it felt like to be in her place.

Not to be Lauren.

Just… to be his.

She told herself it was normal. 

Everyone had crushes.

But there was one night, one very specific night, that changed everything.

It was almost five months ago now.

A week before Harry and Lauren split up.

About a month before she and Ben finally fell apart completely.

They were at Jessa’s parents’ vacation home on the lake, just a few hours out of the city. 

It was a stunning place—, big windows overlooking the water, and a wrap-around deck where the group gathered for drinks most nights. 

YN just wanted to go home.

The whole thing was supposed to be carefree -swimming, drinking, boating, lazy afternoons in hammocks and loud, wine-drunk dinners.

A friend group reunion where everyone could unwind. 

But all YN could feel was the constant pressure in her chest—the heaviness that came from being surrounded by happy, touchy couples while her own relationship teetered on the edge of collapse.

Ben had been picking fights since they pulled out of the driveway, and YN was no longer biting her tongue. 

She was too tired to pretend anymore, every word between them was tinged with irritation. 

Harry, though… Harry was different.

He had a calmness to him that put her at ease, over the last couple years, they'd gotten close in a quiet way— just shared conversations and glances that lingered too long. 

They didn’t text every day, didn’t hang out one-on-one, but when they talked, it was deeper than anything she ever managed with Ben. 

Their conversations felt safe and real, like being seen without having to ask for it.

It was the first night at the lake house.

A big drinking game had started on the back deck—flip cup, then beer pong—but YN and Harry had quietly opted out after the first round, drifting away from the table. 

It wasn’t intentional. 

Their seats were just next to each other. 

Then one topic turned into another, and the game quickly became background noise.

He had a few beers in him. 

Not drunk, but loosened enough to speak more freely than usual.

They started with her promotion—she was newly promoted at work, and Harry was genuinely interested, asking thoughtful questions about what it meant, what she wanted to do with it. 

Then the conversation shifted, he admitted, almost shyly, how overwhelmed he was with his business, how being self-employed, with no employees, meant that every responsibility was his—and that sometimes, the weight of it crushed him a little.

He got quieter, more serious, as he spoke about his mom, about how she couldn’t afford a medication she needed a few years back, and how that moment lit something in him. 

That was when he knew he needed to build something sustainable—not just for himself, but to be able to take care of her.

The way he talked about her was so soft, protective, grateful—it nearly undid YN. 

Her eyes prickled with tears she didn’t want to explain.

It was rare, so rare, to see a man speak so openly and lovingly about his mother.

The game was wrapping up, noise and movement shifted their way. 

Ben was slowly stumbling toward her, drink in hand. 

Lauren was making her way toward Harry, too, giggling and clearly far too drunk, her voice shrill even before she got close.

And that’s when Harry said it—quiet, like it slipped out without permission.

“Thanks for listening. I can’t talk to Lauren like this.”

YN blinked at him, caught off guard, a  response was forming on her tongue—What? Talk about your feelings? but she swallowed it. 

Instead, she leaned over and squeezed his knee gently, a reassurance, “You can talk to me anytime, Harry.”

He looked at her then, really looked at her. 

There was a sadness there she hadn’t expected. 

His hand, warm and steady, wrapped around hers, “You're too sweet, you know that?”

She barely had time to process it before Lauren practically collapsed into his lap, laughing and wrapping her arms around him. 

YN pulled her hand back immediately, heart skipping.

Lauren didn’t notice—too drunk, too loud, too focused on getting Harry’s attention.

But YN noticed. 

And so did Harry.

+

The next day, the heat was vicious.

Most of the group had migrated down to the lake to cool off, but the core crew—Mitch, Hailee, Georgia, Jessa, Niall, Harry, and Ben—had stayed back at the house pool. 

Lauren had tried to coax Harry to join her and her friends at the lake, but he’d refused, gently but firmly.

YN had watched the tension build in Lauren’s posture before she stormed off with a passive-aggressive comment under her breath.

Harry’s jaw tightened, she saw the way he stared after her like he wanted to shout something—but didn’t.

Instead, he just turned back to the pool and slipped into the water like nothing had happened.

YN and Ben hadn’t been having a good morning.

He’d woken her up—twice trying to initiate sex even after she told him no. 

She was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and had made a snide comment about his "functioning hand" and the lotion in the bathroom which sparked a meltdown. 

He slammed the bathroom door, only to storm out moments later, furious that she hadn’t chased after him.

It was always like that—she was either cruel for ignoring him or manipulative for engaging. 

She was so tired of the drama, of walking on eggshells, of being made to feel like she was impossible to love.

She didn’t want to be here.

No, she would much rather be at her own apartment and away from all the alcohol, all the mean girls, and most importantly she wanted to be away from her own boyfriend which was pathetic.

She didn’t want to think about how he'd casually mentioned engagement the night before, and how she’d had to fight the urge to physically gag at the idea.

YN was at the point of knowing that she needed to break up with him, she thought about it everyday but hesitated constantly because she didn’t want to do with the meltdown that he would have, the messiness that would be their breakup because he was convinced that they were going to get married.

But it was fine. 

At some point while everyone was chatting, Harry swam up beside her, casual, but with serious eyes—as he asked, “Alright?”

YN nodded subtly, but she knew it didn’t match her demeanor—her body was tense, her jaw tight, and she hadn’t managed even the faintest smile.

Harry’s frown deepened, eyes narrowing slightly, “What’s wrong?”

But before she could answer, Niall was yelling something at Harry, pulling his attention away, and by the time he turned back to ask again, YN had already swum off—wanting to avoid the conversation entirely.

-

Someone decided that it would be a good idea to play chicken.

YN was perched on Ben’s shoulders, legs wrapped around his neck awkwardly for balance.

Hailee was on Mitch’s.

It was chaotic and loud—everyone laughing, cheering, the water sloshing around them in waves. 

YN was laughing too, even if it felt a little forced, until suddenly—she toppled off Ben’s shoulders. 

One second she was upright, and the next she was plunging under the surface, her mouth open in a surprised gasp that filled with water.

She came up sputtering, blinking chlorine from her eyes, heart pounding.

Something didn’t feel right.

Then the cold hit her chest, bare skin where there should have been fabric.

Her bikini top was gone.

Instinctively, her hands flew to her breasts, trying to cover as much as she could.

And there was Ben grinning like an idiot, waving her neon pink bikini top in the air like it was some kind of sick trophy.

He let out a loud, mocking catcall, “Wooo! There are the girls!”

YN flinched in horror, the noise drawing attention to her. 

When she turned toward him, she saw the glint in his eye—playful, smug, and entirely unkind.

“Ben, stop,” She squeaked, voice cracking as she reached for the top with one hand, still desperately trying to shield herself with the other,  “Please, give it back.”

Her chest was half-exposed, at least one nipple visible, and the realization made her stomach turn.

“What do I get for giving it back?” Ben teased, his voice boyish and cruel. 

He laughed as he held the top just out of her reach, standing a head taller than her in the water.

It was the kind of joke a schoolyard bully would make—mean-spirited, immature, humiliating.

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

She felt small. 

Exposed. 

Powerless.

Her boyfriend—the person who was supposed to protect her, make her feel safe was the one putting her through this. 

He didn’t care that other people could see her, didn’t care that she was clearly distressed.

And then, like the final punchline to his awful little joke, he whipped the bikini top out of the pool and flung it toward the grass, where it landed in a limp, fluorescent pile.

That was it.

Tears were streaming freely now—hot with embarrassment and shame.

No one was laughing anymore.

She heard someone mutter under their breath, quiet but cutting. 

“That’s kind of fucked up.” 

It was Niall.

And then, everything happened fast.

Water splashed violently as Harry stormed across the pool, his expression thunderous. 

His jaw was clenched, chest heaving slightly as he shoved Ben back with both hands, nearly knocking him off balance.

“What the fuck is your issue?” He roared, loud enough that it echoed.

Ben stumbled, caught off guard, arms flailing for balance, “Jesus, relax—”

But Harry was already turning away from him, walking through the water toward YN.

She froze.

She’d never seen him this angry—never even close.

 It was intense, nearly frightening in its rawness but when he reached her, his expression shifted—anger still simmering beneath the surface, but his voice was calm and firm.

“Get out of the pool,” He said, not a question, “Walk in front of me.”

She knew she looked pitiful—her soaked hair clinging to her cheeks, red-rimmed eyes, lips trembling as she tried to keep her arms folded tightly over her chest.

“Look the other fuckin’ way!” Harry snapped over his shoulder at the group. 

His hand pressed gently to her lower back, guiding her forward with quiet urgency.

Her cheeks were hot and flushed, not just from shame, but from the self-consciousness she’d carried for so long—her chest was small, her nipples puffy in a way Ben had often joked about. 

She hated that people had seen her like this, hated that it had happened in front of him.

Harry  steered her to the side of the pool where the lounge chairs were, grabbed his crumpled t-shirt from a cushion, and without a word, pulled it gently over her head. 

He held it carefully so that she was covered the entire time, only letting go when her arms were through the sleeves and the oversized fabric draped over her hips.

“Thank you,” She sniffled, voice shaky, weak.

Her cheeks burned hotter. 

She didn’t know if she was more embarrassed that people had seen the most insecure part of her body… or that her boyfriend had been the one to expose it, to ridicule her when she was vulnerable.

It was overwhelming.

It was shameful.

Harry’s voice was soft again, quieter now. “I ca—”

“I’m, uh…” She cut in, shaking her head, trying to keep her voice even, it cracked anyway, “I’m just going to go to my room for a bit.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond. 

She was already scurrying off, the hem of his shirt clinging to her wet skin as she fled.

-

Ben followed eventually.

His apology was weak at best. 

More of a backhanded dismissal—mumbling things like, “You can’t take a joke,” and “Sorry you don’t have a sense of humor.”

The cherry on top: “They’re just tits.”

YN kicked him out twice. 

She didn’t show her face the rest of the day.

By the time Ben returned to the room to get ready for dinner, she hadn’t moved from the bed. 

Her back was to him, knees drawn up toward her chest beneath the covers, the TV playing some trashy reality show on low volume.

This wasn’t how she’d imagined her vacation.

Ben came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and an annoyed scowl on his face.

“Why aren’t you getting ready? The dinner reservation’s at seven. Everyone’s going.”

“I don’t feel like it,” YN said softly, voice flat. 

She didn’t look at him.

Ben huffed like he was the one being inconvenienced, “Are you seriously still throwing a temper tantrum about earlier?”

She swallowed down the hurt, tried to steady the anger swirling just beneath her skin, “I said I don’t feel like it.”

“Whatever,” He muttered, grabbing a shirt from his suitcase, “I don’t want you to come if you’re going to have a piss-poor attitude anyway. Fucking bullshit. You always manage to find something wrong.”

-

The house was empty.

Everyone had gone out to dinner.

YN stayed behind.

Eventually, after some mindless comfort TV and a generous handful of junk food, she started to feel the tight grip on her chest begin to loosen.

One of her favorite things to do was go for a night swim—when the sun was setting, and the sky turned neon orange and pink, and the air was still warm but quiet.

So she changed into a fresh bathing suit, assuming her old top was still out on the grass where it had landed, and made her way outside.

The pool was still.

Peaceful.

Exactly what she needed.

She brought a book with her, propping her elbows on the edge of the pool as she read.

“S’that book any good?”

YN screams, a girlish high-pitched yelp because when the fuck did Harry appear?

He was standing towards the shallow end of the pool, still in his short swim shorts and a fresh shirt.

“Jesus,” YN puts a hand on her chest, “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Harry’s mouth curved into a soft smile, eyes crinkling with amusement. 

“Sorry, darling,” he said gently, voice teasing but careful, his steps slow as he approached the edge of the pool.

His voice was warm—teasing, but careful.

Darling.

He’d called that a few times when they’d have private conversations but never in front of others.

“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you go to dinner?” YN asks with confusion, she does a quick glance around and doesn’t see Lauren or anyone else for that matter.

Harry eased down beside her, slipping his feet into the water. 

“Lauren and I weren’t getting along,” He admitted, watching the ripples curl away from his ankles, “I needed a break. She wasn’t too happy about earlier.”

YN wanted to point out that he hadn’t even spent any of the day with her and he needed a break already.

YN’s brows pinched. “Earlier?”

He let out a dry, humorless laugh and shook his head, “Yeah. Georgia told her what happened. She told me I overstepped, that I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Then she asked if I saw your tits.”

YN rolled her eyes, the sound more tired than annoyed, “Did you tell her not to worry? That there’s nothing to see anyway?”

Harry’s eyes snapped to hers, his jaw tightening, “Why would you talk about yourself like that?”

She glanced away, shoulders shrinking in on themselves, feeling put on the spot suddenly, “It’s just the truth. I already feel insecure about them on a good day. And today…” She trailed off, swallowing hard, “It felt like Ben was trying to humiliate me on purpose. Like he wanted to spotlight what I hate most about my body.”

Harry snorted—a sudden, unexpected sound and it made her eyes narrow.

“You think that’s funny?” She asked, the tension in her chest tightening with anger.

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head, his grin still faint, “I think it’s ridiculous that you don’t see yourself the way everyone else does. I’m not trying to be crude or cross any lines, but I did see them—and I was impressed. Genuinely. They’re the prettiest pair I’ve ever seen.”

And just like that, YN’s whole world shifts on it’s axis.

It was inappropriate.


They were both in relationships. 

She wasn’t supposed to like hearing that but the words sank into the cracks Ben had left in her, spreading warmth where there had only been cold, embarrassed silence earlier.

“Okay, Harry,” She bleats , trying to deflect but also maybe fishing for some more compliments.

“What’s wrong with ‘em then?” Harry presses, she swears either she’s drifted closer or he’s scooted towards her subtly because her shoulder was bumping his calf now.

YN flushes at having to point out exactly what was wrong with them,, “I don’t know. I never minded them but Ben always teases me about how small they are, how small my nipples are, how puffy they are.”

Harry brow furrows, “Your own boyfriend is criticizing your body? He’s fucking blind and a douchebag. I’m not saying it just to say it. I’m a man and I can appreciate a nice pair of tits. And I am fully certified to say that.”

YN can’t help but giggle, easily when a wider grin breaks out on his face like he was pleased with himself for being able to make her laugh.

To hear that her crush thought she was attractive, at least that her breasts were, did something crazy with boosting her ego.

And then, without warning, he tugged off his shirt and slipped into the pool. 

The water rose and shifted around him, glinting in the sunset light. 

He carefully closed her book and set it aside so it wouldn’t get wet.

The quiet intimacy of it made something twist deep in her stomach.

“Why are you with him?” Harry asked after a long beat, moving further into the water. 

His voice was low, thoughtful—but there was a thread of tension under it.

YN’s taken back by the question, “I…What?”

“He treats you like shit, YN. You should break up with him over what happened earlier, let alone all the shit I’ve seen in the past,” Harry tells her with seriousness, “You deserve a million times better than a prick like him. Seriously, fuck him. No one here likes him.”

And YN…well no one had told her that before but she kenw that her friends only put up with Ben because they loved her but otherwise, he wouldn’t be a part of their friend group.

“No real man would’ve let you stand there like that, exposed and crying,” Harry continued, his voice rising just a touch, “And no decent man would say something cruel about your body.”

“He can have an opinion about how he feels about my ches-”


“No, YN. No, he really fuckin’ can’t,” Harry says firmly cutting her off, “He should love every part of you, puffy, small, or elsewise.”

Something hot and sharp flared in her.

“You can say that because your girlfriend has like perfect boobs,” YN points out, nose scrunching with frustration.

Harry shakes his head, “Did you not hear me earlier? I told you that you have the prettiest pair I’ve seen. It’s not a god damn competetion but I’m actively telling you what Ben said isn’t true.”

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “You’re romanticizing them. You saw them for all of two seconds.”

“Then show them to me again.”

Their eyes lock, YN is trying to play the words again and again because what the fuck, what the fuck, what the actual fuck?

Time stopped.

Her brain scrambled to process what he just said, but her hands were already moving, her thumbs hooked under the cups of her bikini top.

She should stop. 

She should stop.

But she didn’t.

She pulled the fabric down.

The sun had dipped just low enough to cast everything in soft, pink-orange light. 

The water shimmered against her skin, droplets clung to the curve of her breasts, and her nipples, tight from the cold, pebbled beneath Harry’s gaze.

“Fuck,” Harry curses as he comes towards her, his hand reaches out but he stops himself, his voice hoarse and raspy in a way he’s never heard, “Can I?”


And YN finds herself nodding with a dry throat, watching him carefully as his hand comes up to cup one of them, and it is fully engulfed by his palm, and he squeezes.

YN can’t help the slight gasp that leaves her lips when he thumbs over her nipple.

She jerked away, yanking her top back up like it burned her, “I can’t—fuck, we can’t do this.”

Harry froze, instantly sobering. 

His expression crumpled slightly, regret written all over his features, “Shit. YN, I didn’t mean to—can we just—”

But she was already moving, already climbing out of the pool as fast as she could, water sloshing at her knees, heart pounding in her chest like it was trying to warn her:

Too far.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Run (Catch Me)

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Summary: Commissioned by @moonlightcrazyphoenix on Tumblr. With a declining population in general, and particularly a sharp drop in the number of omegas being born, the remaining ones in the country are conscripted into Mating Runs. During these, omegas near their heats are set loose in an area with alphas set free in another. The only rule is that the run doesn’t end for the omega until they cross the finish line. Dabi has always been disgusted with the idea of the mating runs, but thankfully, he’s never had his heat fall close enough to one to be scooped up and sent out. Of course when that luck changes, he finds himself in a pilot program run by a strange alpha called Tomura Shigaraki. Tomura, on the other hand, is just trying to get a foothold in the government so that he can move his own plans forward, taking over the mating run in Kamino just seems like a good way of doing so. 

Contents: Discussions of Non-Consensual Elements, Implied Off-Screen Non-Con/Forced Mating/Forced Breeding, Descriptions of Violence, Murder, Werewolf AU, ABO AU, Mating Cycles, Intersex Omega, Primal Play, Fear Play, Scratching, Biting, Blood Play, Breeding Kink, Size Kink, Scent Kink, Large Cock, Penis Degradation, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Knotting, Dacryphilia, Praise Kink, Degradation, Anal Fingering, Mild Cum Inflation, Wet and Messy, Mating Bites, Humiliation, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Aftercare. (Violence tagged is not between the main couple)

Word Count: 23,668

There are a few certainties in their world. People with powerful quirks abuse those with weaker ones. Alphas abuse betas and, when they can get their hands on them, omegas too. Omegas, even ones with strong quirks, are raised to be nothing but baby factories with a slightly higher pedigree because they're at least useful in the sense that they might actually be able to make more of the more valuable alpha babies. Some omegas try to delude themselves into thinking that they are more than just their wombs and ovaries, that the world is so much better now that they have the right to go to work and get birth control without having to be married or mated and have already carried a child to term. But Dabi knows better. Knows how completely and how easily they will always be used up and thrown away when their bodies fail them. He saw it when his father was so disgusted with his quirk not working the way he wanted it to that he stopped looking at him. In how he had locked him in his room alone and without any supplies when his first heat came and his body tore itself open to give him the cunt that marked him as a male omega. In how he threw Rei into an institution when his abuse had broken her body so thoroughly that she had burned out her cycle early, her reproductive system ruined and unable to continue to produce children for him to continue to experiment with his genes after Shoto. 

Dabi has known since he woke up in a strange hospital, years slept away as his body continued to change without him, his father having never even looked for him after his 'death' that he was beyond worthless. The world itself knows that, because in the brief conversation that he had with the captors there who had pretended to be doctors, the first thing they told him was that his insides were so badly damaged that he would never be able to get pregnant. They didn't start by telling him how many years he had been asleep, by letting him know that he had bad nerve damage that would swing wildly between pain and complete numbness for the rest of his life. They told him that he couldn't have children even though he was only fifteen at the time and still a child himself. Dabi burned the entire place down, and he's been on the run ever since. 

But one of the biggest problems with being an omega, of the many that there are, are the mating runs. 

The government tries to tout these as a good way to keep the population healthy, especially given the amount of women who can have children is already a significantly smaller number than the male population in the country, the amount of omegas available even smaller than that. It doesn't help that only an alpha and omega pairing can have children that won't result in more betas. The fact his father got three alphas and only one omega is a horrible indication of just how badly their population will be doing in a few more generations. Packs can't stabilize with multiple alphas in one, not without bitching at play, and that's not something family units can do, of course, so more and more wolves are ending up on the streets and feral as they try to find a way to sate their instincts. So the mating runs became a thing. They take place three times every year; at the start of spring, the middle of summer, and at the end of fall before the chill can properly set in, as if that somehow takes away the horror of what omegas are forced to face because the powers that be decided they shouldn't be fucked repeatedly in the snow. 

All omegas are required to spend their heats in mating runs from eighteen until they have been properly mated. That's why it's easier to get suppressants now. Because the government wants to be able to monitor every omega and make certain that they're easier to control. Dabi had one amount of luck in his life, and that was his ability to burn off the mandatory medicine faster than natural. Any omega off of the street can go into any pharmacy and get the drugs, but they have to take them at the counter, have to show their ID, and even a fake one will be marked with their designation, no matter how many times Dabi tried to get 'beta' put on his. Still. The suppressants are supposed to work for a specific amount of time, and since he turned eighteen, he would always burn them out early and then find somewhere else to go to hide for his heat. So when the fucking police vans that road around the week leading up to the cycle, breaking up homeless camps and scouring criminal areas, they would find him, bring him to one of the holding rooms, and during the check-up they would determine he'd already had his heat too recently to be worth the trouble of housing until the run, and he would be sent on his way. Three times a year, for six years now. 

Dabi should know that something is wrong when he goes to the pharmacy to get his suppressants. It's a cruelty of fate that he still has a heat, still has to take these at all when his insides have been burned so badly that he can't even have children, but he doesn't want to draw unnecessary attention to himself by skipping them. He shows his ID and the woman behind the counter, a beta based on her smell, with tawny brown ears poking out from coily black hair, goes to get him the pills. 

She comes back with two little paper cups, one with water inside, and the other with two little blue gel pills that Dabi can't help thinking look like pain medicine. 

"What are these?" He asks, squinting at them. The generic suppressants that he's been taking for six years have always been pale yellow triangles. 

"These are the new standard. The law was passed two years ago, but it only just went into effect this month." She explains to him, reaching for a pamphlet that he's sure has all of the information about them that he certainly hasn't paid attention to given the only news he watches is to learn his father's weak points. "They were shown to decrease the possibility of birth defects and to allow the body to produce slick more easily at the start of pre-heat without the cramping side effects that were common with the old ones." 

The information about the cramping alone has him gulping down the pills dry, opening his mouth and lifting his tongue to show her that there's nothing left inside before she'll give him back his fake ID and he can fuck off for another three months until he needs his next dose. 

He is the one who isn't paying enough attention to what he gets up to over the next few. He has a windfall of arson jobs, the criminal underground, especially in Kamino, suddenly thriving as some newcomer takes over All For One's throne and starts to get things working towards progress for every downtrodden person who has been at the whims of the government and heroes-- save of course for omegas. Because part of the arrangement to keep the police and a good number of heroes out of the ward seems to be that this new mysterious benefactor has to make sure they're complying with the most important laws of their society. The one that says that omegas have to participate in the run along with any eligible alphas. It's such a concrete law that even the omegas in Tartarus are forced to do it, though they are locked into whatever passes for a prison yard inside. He's heard tales that some of them try to get time off their sentences by offering themselves up as mates for whatever guards might want them, which makes his skin crawl, but that's their prerogative. He just hears that there's a whole mansion that's being rented out, a bunch of alphas applying to be part of the run, and that the omegas are going to have a hundred and fifty kilometers to run through before they can get to the finish line. Dabi pities them. That's a long way to run, even at their speeds, it will take at least four hours, and the mansion is supposed to be sitting on a mountain above a thick forest. If they have to run uphill to get back to the finishline? That will be brutal and he doubts that they'll be able to make it back to the top in less than eight hours. He is taking note of those things in the abstract, focusing on his work, raking in his funds and feeling fairly secure in the fact that he's going to be able to take all of this money from the jobs to get himself a safe place to go through his heat. 

And then, on his way back from a job, he sees his contact who was supposed to give him his pay, talking to a pair of men. They're wearing sterile white uniforms that make him think of orderlies, and he bristles. 

"Omega," one of them says as the snitch points him out as he comes around the corner. Dabi's quirk spikes beneath his skin and he turns to start to run. He hasn't had his heat yet, he realizes as adrenaline courses through his veins nearly as hotly as his hormones and fire can. He hasn't had his heat and that run that he was thinking of as a distant possibility is not weeks away anymore. It's days. Days. No, no, no. 

He doesn't dare shift, not wanting to expose his pure white fur and let anyone connect that coat and his fire quirk back to his father, but his more human legs can't possibly run faster than the full wolves who run to catch up with him. 

He struggles when they catch him, clawing and biting, trying to twist out of their grips as they drag him into the gray van that is parked outside of the snitch's building. Dabi gives up fighting the people pushing him into the van, instead flinging his arms out past their heads with a snarl, as he sends a gout of blue flame so massive and hot that it shatters the windows and collapses concrete, the entire building going down before the men trying to keep him contained can snap the anti-quirk cuffs tight on his wrists. 

///

"I have other work that I could be doing." Tomura tells his adoptive father as the video call drones on in the corner. He's gotten used to the suits that All For One wants him to wear to look professional, but he still doesn't love to wear them. He would much prefer a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, but he's petulant, not impractical, as he does up his cuffs, already knowing what his father's response will be. 

"You are the new alpha running this ward and putting this new practice into place, Tomura. It would be in bad taste for you to not participate in the inaugural run." 

He's already heard that argument and all of the others he tries now to avoid participation, but he tries them again, as if he will somehow be able to find the right combination of words this time that will keep him from having to go through with this. "We could call it after twelve hours. Any unmated omega could be collected and brought back into the manor to have the rest of their heat in the comfort of a real nest--" 

"They will have anything they need in the wild, and the alphas that are participating will enjoy not only the thrill of hunting down the slick of the omegas, but also hunting the provided deer for their mates to keep them fed during their cycles." 

Tomura shuts his mouth, hating the way that he has to tie his hair back in a low pony to make it look 'more professional' since he has refused to cut the long white locks as they've grown out. The fight against All Might took away so much of his teacher's strength, to the point that he ended up having to turn over his quirk and move up Tomura's treatments as his successor starting when he was sixteen, and now he has the control over his own quirk that he's always wanted and the power to stand on his own as a good leader, a good alpha, even if his wolf still bows to his teacher as his pack leader. He knows that will stop if he takes a mate, but the idea of having one to distract him, of having a person that he will be responsible in caring for and that might give him children that will only make him more vulnerable to having his instincts manipulated as he tries to take over as much of Japan as he can before he declares open war on the heroes is not an appealing thought. 

He finishes dressing and picks his phone back up, checking the final numbers that have been sent to him. They've managed to gather twenty omegas that were calling Kamino Ward home, and that spread is... miserable honestly. Even selecting for the best leaders of the criminal organizations in the area that he was hoping to bring into his sphere of influence, that means that he is going to have fifty two alphas running around looking for a mate. He was always expecting a fair few of them to gang up on some of the omegas, but there's no way that some of them won't walk away disappointed if others don't decide to 'shop' around and knot as many of them as possible before they settle to enjoy the omega throughout their cycle, if they do. He isn't certain he likes the numbers and the possibility of this going so terribly, but he also knows that the truth is that this is a no more unfair system than the mating runs that take place in the ward usually. Normally, the runs are open to as many alphas as sign up. Even with more than two per omega, this is better than the six to seven that they might have been subjected to otherwise. 

And they are having the mixer tonight. Tomura makes certain that everything is in order and finally addresses his teacher again. "I will report back after the run." 

"Happy hunting, Tomura." His teacher tells him easily and he's able to shut down the call. 

The mixer is something that has been adapted from the practices of mating balls of old, where families would bring their young, eligible omegas and alphas to grand parties and try to negotiate advantageous matches. This is to give the alphas and omegas participating a chance to meet one another and get each other's scents so that they can plan who they might want to look for in the morning when the run commences. The alphas are required to wear formal clothing, but the omegas which have been housed here in the manor for a week have been given a small stipend to spend, allowing them to get any clothes or makeup that they want and did not bring with them when they arrived, the full week having been needed to ensure that they had every omega in the ward safely brought here and given a check-up to ensure their physical health. This is an experiment on the part of the public health sector and he wants to make sure that none of the omegas that end up out in the run are able to say that they received anything less than the care that they were given from previous ones. Ideally, this ends with all of the omegas happily mated and pregnant so that his organization can become the standard instead, working his way into the government. With a foothold here, he could do plenty to change the shape of this world. He could find out which heroes go to the runs, could wait for them to be out in the wild and then have them captured or killed, the hero alphas having to wear the quirk restraining cuffs just like everyone else to make it so that they don't lose control of them when their instincts are running wild. It could give him a massive advantage as he slowly starts to take over this world. He just has to get through this run himself and then he'll be able to focus more fully on the work aspects of this new endeavor. 

Tomura slips his phone back in his pocket and goes to make sure that everything is on target for the event staff, having hired caterors, entertainment, security, and servers to ensure that the mixer goes off without a hitch. He ensures that all of the many gears are turning in time with one another as the first of the alphas start to arrive. 

///

It takes another hour before all of the alphas have been gathered in the grand ball room. Tomura has been to various fundraising parties with and without his teacher throughout the years, and he is disgusted and relieved that the mixer feels very much like that. All of the alphas that arrived have dressed to the nines, many of them trying to to wear clothing that fits the dress code but also allows for the glands at their necks and wrists to be exposed as if they will be able to overwhelm the scents of every other alpha in the room. Tomura greets people, projecting surety about this new design for the run and his excitement about the future that will come from it as people sip at their champagne and partake in the horderves that are being carried around. But once all of the alphas have arrived, he indicates for the staff to start to bring out the omegas. There is a grand staircase that goes up into the wing that he's had guarded meticulously by the security staff so that no one goes to see any of the omegas before the run, and one by one they will be brought down, announced like royalty in their own right and given a moment to speak. Normally people don't get that opportunity before mating runs, but he thought that it might make the alphas feel like they're even more spoiled for choice because they can try to select an omega that particularly appeals to them. Or perhaps the omegas will feel like they have a bit more control because they are able to advocate for themselves while they're still in their right minds, before the run begins. 

The first omega comes out and introduces herself, wearing a glittering gold gown with her hark hair curled and pinned up intricately. She owns a small business, a feat in itself as an unmated omega, and she wants a mate who will let her continue to do that and won't accept the knot of any alpha who offers her less than that. It's posturing, at best, given that she'll be just as out of her mind as the others when her heat sets in. But after her there are plenty of other omegas, each taking up a spot on the stairs as they wait to be allowed to come down and mingle as the next introduces themselves. Seventeen female omegas and only three male ones, though that's not that much of a surprise. What's more surprising is the wide variety of ways that the omegas choose to present themselves. Some have dressed as well as the alphas have been required too, but others are wearing sweats and pajamas, others still are entirely naked, and he's not sure if they misunderstood how their run would be different from ones previously or not, or if they just have done this so many times and are so ready to be mated, that they thought to advertise it by going bare. Plenty of them have already been doing this for several years. Several of them mention that they've had children because of the runs before, most of them say that they gave them up to be raised in the system because having the children is the only thing required of them by the government and if any of the alphas get them pregnant and want the baby, then they better mate them or they'll never see their pup. 

There are... five that are having this as their very first heat away from their families. Five that are freshly eighteen and required to run for the first time. Three of those five were clearly raised to see this as a wonderful opportunity and they talk about how excited they are to find their mate if their scents call to each other through the woods. But the other two clearly don't want this. One is a student who was accepted into her dream school. She talks about how badly she wants to become a doctor and her voice cracks and breaks, her makeup smearing as she can't hold it together and begins to sob. A child will complicate that dream. A mate could so easily order her to give up on her education, and she is aware of that. She is wearing a thick collar around her neck, trying to discourage anyone from selecting her as their mate, but he knows that, in the end, it will all come down to how quickly she can run. The collar, he knows, is something she ordered with the stipend given to her here, and all Tomura can really think is that at least here, she has a chance of staving off a mate with it instead of being thrown naked into the forest like she would have been if she were anywhere else for her first run. 

The three male omega are brought in last, and the first two aren't anything particularly interesting, and after nearly half an hour of the introductions, Tomura is more than ready for this to just be finished so the rest of the mixer can commence and the clock will further run down so that they can all retire to their rooms. The mixer started at seven and will end at ten, giving everyone enough time to scent who they want, but early enough that they all can go back to their rooms to rest, given that they will be released into the hunting grounds at four A.M. on the dot to begin the hunt long before the first rays of daylight can creep through the sky. 

It's the rattling of heavy chains that makes Tomura's ear twitch as he takes in the sound that seems so out of place. He is as stunned, he thinks, as the rest of the people gathered as the final omega takes up his place on the stairs. He has a heavy muzzle caging his mouth, his arms locked together, not with the small quirk cuffs that they all will be required to wear in the morning, but the heavy, bulky square ones that lock all the way up to his forearms and completely encase his hands-- the kind that they use in Tartarus. And those cuffs are themselves chained to a massive steel collar that covers his entire neck, locked in place so that he can't fully extend his arms away from his chest. His ankles are similarly restrained, with the chain tight enough that he can walk, but far too short for him to lift his knee to his hip even if he wanted to. But those aren't the only pieces of metal in his skin, even though Tomura realizes that the restraints are the only ornamentation on his body. His skin is a mixture of pale flesh that has clearly not seen much sun and dark swaths of purple-tinted scars that are so badly warped and copious that those sections have been stapled onto his body. They look beyond painful, even if the wounds themselves seem old. The omega has jet black hair and piercings through his nipples, ears, nose, and... Tomura thinks that he sees a glimmer of it along his small cock that hangs between his thighs, the upper parts of them the only place along his legs that are not scarred beyond his bare feet. He bares his teeth behind the muzzle and his voice is a snarl when it comes out from behind his lips as he addresses the room. 

"Dabi," An alias more than a name, "I'm infertile and I'm running straight to the finish line. If any of you fuckers try to stop me, you won't have a knot to give anyone else. And if I can't kill you at the start of my heat, you better run when I'm off of it, because I'll hunt you down and make sure you die for whatever you try to do to me out there." 

Tomura has no doubt of it. He heard that one of the omegas that was rounded up was definitely part of the rougher stock in Kamino, absolutely a criminal, because when they had been picked up, they set a building on fire and killed the person who called them in. Tomura had swept that under the rug because that was an impressive quirk and he'd been hoping to speak to that omega about working for him and his more overtly criminal endeavors in the future. He knows the quirk cuffs and the muzzle are not just an aesthetic choice, they're the safety equipment that needed to be used because that quirk was so dangerous and this omega had torn a chunk of flesh out of the arm of the doctor who had gone to do his pre-run check-up. He wasn't expecting for that omega to strut out naked, but maybe he hopes putting his gnarled skin on display among the other lovely omegas who are available for the mating will help to further dissuade people from going after him. 

Dabi doesn't wait to be given permission to walk down the stairs and start to mingle, even though his introduction marks the start of that. He just walks straight down the stairs, past the other stunned omegas, and goes straight for one of the servers that is carrying around trays of champagne. He doesn't let the fact that his hands are completely bound and useless stop him from leaning over the tray, angling the bars so easily that Tomura wonders if he's been in the muzzle since he attacked his doctor three days ago, so that the narrow flute can slip between them. His sharp teeth close around the rim and he lifts it off the tray, throwing his head back in one smooth motion so that he can swallow the contents of the flute, only two drops of the alcohol slipping down the side of his mouth, before, ignoring that he is himself barefoot, he turns and spits the glass to the side, letting it shatter against the floor before he throws back a second and moves on. 

Tomura thinks that originally he was supposed to announce the start of the actual mixing, but he is completely distracted, blowing past the staircase as one of the servers scrambles to clean up the broken glass on the floor as the other omegas start to, more timidly, enter the hall properly and the alphas start to shake their shock and greet them. He doesn't care at all about anything but going over to Dabi, his tail and ears bright white against his black hair. Probably a grey wolf in his fully shifted form then. He's looking at the larger buffet spread that has been set up in the room, but Tomura isn't sure how he's going to eat anything that is being offered with the muzzle in place and without his hands, but he hopes that he can try to soothe even a bit of the furious omega's ire. 

"That was quite an entrance." 

"Fuck off." He doesn't look at him, doesn't dip his head, or pin his ears, or tuck his tail between his legs. Nothing that would show Tomura even an ounce of respect or deference that an omega should show an alpha. And that sends a thrill through him, enough so that he has to make certain he's holding his control tightly over his scent glands. He doesn't want any of the omegas or the other alphas to get a good idea of his natural scent before the run. He doesn't want the omegas to realize he's in charge of this opporation and come to find him, hoping that he will mate them or fuck them when he's not interested, and although it's unlikely anyone assembled would be able to overpower him on their own, if any of his new business rivals really wanted to ignore the possibility of finding a mate and instead try to gang up on him to bitch him instead, they could. Keeping his scent hidden will help keep any of them from being able to track him down, but Dabi is pouring out the acrid smell of smoke, fury, and a near-foul odor of burnt caramel. 

"I had heard that you were being quite the handful for the staff, and I was concerned I would have a hard time picking you out among the other omegas, but I'm glad that you've made yourself clear." 

"Not clear enough if you're still standing there." He grumbles, but the words, the sounds of the party resuming, isn't enough to stop Tomura from being able to hear how Dabi's stomach growls petulantly. He's... thin. There is functional muscle across his body, a strength that comes from having to carry oneself and outrun anyone who might want to do him harm, but he's thin. His stomach is concave, and Tomura doesn't know how much he's been eating in his room if he's been in the muzzle and cuffs for the past three days. 

"Have a conversation with me," He offers, knowing that this certainly isn't the worst thing he's ever done, "And I'll feed you through your muzzle." 

Dabi's head whips towards him and Tomura is sure that he's going to be told to fuck off again, the brightest blue eyes he's ever seen all but glowing as they lock onto his face. "Fuck you. I'm not an animal." 

"No, but you are hungry, and tomorrow you'll be chased like one." He says evenly, not letting his voice waver. No matter the attitude of this omega, there's nothing he can do save bite off his own tongue or throw himself out of a window to prevent that. "And your heat could hit at any time then. The adrenaline, smelling the other alphas and omegas, being in the wild as it all happens-- your heat could trigger a yard from the starting line and you'll go down, too weak to find somewhere safe to ride it out, and if your speech really does dissuade anyone from coming to see you, too weak to hunt for yourself and find something to eat. You might survive if you manage to get close enough to the pond to have fresh water, or if you get lucky enough that it rains and you remember to tilt your mouth towards the sky and drink from the clouds-- but those are all long-shots. If you want a better chance of making it through this, then taking a big meal now and throughout the rest of the night is the best thing you can do for your body."

The words are true, but there is a violence in them that Tomura sees carve into this omega's ruined skin. He sees how every one makes the fury turn to fresh kindling for this man's quirk and has no illusions that he wouldn't be cinder where he stands if his hands were free and his quirk was unrestrained. He waits and is rewarded with another snarl from the other man. 

"Fuck you. What the fuck do you want?" He sneers. But it's enough permission for him and Tomura shifts to pick up a plate and asks, 

"What do you want to eat, Dabi?" 

The omega's hunger finally outpaces his stubbornness and he selects a pile of the fine dishes that they have on offer tonight, though he rejects anything that will be difficult to feed through the bars or anything that features fish. There are some small tables set up around the room and some other omegas are already sitting down in their high heels, trying not to wear out their feet tonight when they will need to run so far and fast in the morning. Plenty of alphas are bringing them food and drinks, offerings like they would if they were interested in a real courtship, but some... don't care about that kind of thing. 

The ritual of courtship broke down years ago. As soon as medical professionals were able to show the government proof that their declining population of women in general was making the male loneliness epidemic worse, on top of the fact that the population of omegas was declining even faster, they made the runs become law. The government rather hosting these and then raising the pups that were abandoned by their parents than do nothing and let the population wither and turn to more betas than alphas. And when alphas no longer had to court an omega by giving them food, presents, or dating them. They just... stopped. For the most part. It's easier to just keep an eye on an omega they'd taken a shine to and then wait to join a run that they would be forced to participate in. Then they could run them down and mate them without having to actually try. It's barbaric in many ways, but for as long as alphas have a hold on their society, Tomura doesn't imagine that it will ever change even if the population stabilizes because it benefits them. 

He doesn't want to sit and be on display as he has this conversation with Dabi, so he moves him past those tables and out of one of the doors that the staff have been using for the night, breaking off so that they can find their way up a different set of more modest stairs and leading Dabi out onto an open balcony. He doesn't think that the omega would throw himself off of the edge to get out of this, not when he seems so determined to live that he's stapled his skin onto his body to keep limping along after whatever happened surely should have killed him. There is a small table on the balcony and he moves over to sit there. The weather, thankfully, has been on the warmer side here, and even with the sky dyed with inky black night, there isn't enough chill in the air that he thinks the other man will be uncomfortable. They sit and Dabi still looks deeply unhappy with the situation, glaring at him like his eyes can cut as deeply as his claws or teeth might. 

Tomura is very deliberate as he removes one of his gloves, reaching for one of the dishes that Dabi's selected multiples of and picking it up. He lets all five of his fingers touch it as he starts to bring it to Dabi's mouth, turning it to dust and making Dabi rear back slightly, his scent going startled and fearful. 

"Oops, it's been a while since I've had my gloves off, but let's just try to be careful," he says as pleasantly as he can manage, trying to make it clear that he won't hesitate to put a stop to Dabi's misbehaving if he ends up trying to do more of it as he gives up his hand. He deliberately picks up another piece and he feeds it to the other man through the bars of the muzzle. Dabi is still tense, just barely opening his lips so that he can take the piece of steak between them and pull it into his mouth. When he's chewing, eyes still watching Tomura sharply like he really is the predator that he's always felt like, he starts to speak again. "Are you always so... volatile when you go to the runs?" 

Dabi swallows his food and when Tomura doesn't move to pick up another piece until he's given him an answer, he huffs, resettling the heavy cuffs in his lap, his ears pinned back and tail flicking with aggression. "Never been to a run before." Tomura blinks, opening his mouth to protest the boldfaced lie the other is telling him because he has to be in his early twenties. There's no way this is his first heat, and he would have had to participate starting years ago. "Fire quirk. Always burn off the medicine too soon and never eligible to run, and that's the way I liked it. Fucking changed the supressants and my quirk didn't work through the new ones quickly enough."

 He stops speaking and doesn't seem interested in doing any more before he's given another bite of his meal and Tomura obliges him. "Well, I hope that this can be a good first experience for you." He means it, as much as any alpha can mean it when he knows intrinsically that this will always be a violence against the other's sex. "It's probably a good thing that you were in Kamino and selected to be part of this trial," he tells him, giving him another bite of his meal, this time a little steak tartar tart with a quail egg at the bottom of the cup. "Because any other one would be turning you over to the police for the murder and assault you committed beforehand." 

"Murders." The omega corrects with his mouth full, his eyes sparking, not with malice this time, but with... maybe some small thread of joy as he eats that offering. "I wasn't fucking joking about killing any alpha that comes near me during the run. I'm making it to the finish line as fast as I can, and anyone who tries to catch me won't come away with their throats intact." His eyes narrow on Tomura again as he asks, "...Why aren't you going to turn me in? This isn't some kind of front for a farm, is it?" 

He barely manages not to shudder. "No." That word is certain. No. All For One always turned a blind eye to those, and the Yakuza often had breeding farms to help ensure that they had plenty of omegas locked up to make babies and relieve the stress of their high-performing officers. He isn't interested in having a room with omegas pumped full of so many hormones they can't come out of their heats as they're strapped to beds to be used again and again by any alpha he deems worthy of it. "But we have other dealings outside of legality that may be of more interest to you." He tries to correct more smoothly. "You were picked up just a few blocks away from another building that burned to the ground. Is it fair to assume that's a line of work that you're interested in continuing?" 

Dabi watches him skeptically, but after another minute, he says, "If you pay well and get me out of doing any more of these bullshit runs."  

"The only way I can do that is if you take a mate or get pregnant, one of which you've made clear you have no interest in doing and the other that you've said you're incapable of." Tomura tells him evenly as he gives him another morsel. "We're trying to make these runs better, but we can't do that by making exceptions or the contract will be terminated." 

Dabi scoffs, his frustration more than clear as he snaps the bit of food out from between his fingers, teeth sharp enough to graze his fingertips even knowing that he might shatter if Tomura decides to stop entertaining his attitude. He thinks that should piss him off, should make him decide that this omega deserves whatever happens to him tomorrow, especially if that thing is being hunted down and shared between the many alphas that will be looking to find a nice warm hole to shove their knots. But he doesn't want to hurt Dabi. He... wants to see what he becomes. 

"Come here," he says suddenly, standing from the table and going over to the edge of the balcony. Dabi huffs, but after a second, he does stand up and move over to the balcony too. From this vantage point, they can see the entire forest below, the pond making its home between the irregular hilly cover of the trees, and all the way to the incline of the finish line that has already been set up. He doesn't have to say a word, Dabi is leaning forward, blue eyes darting over the land. The main road that brought all of the omegas up to the villa is on the other side of the house, along with the rooms the omegas have been housed in. They haven't gotten to see the route they would need to traverse, but Dabi takes it in now greedily. "If you're interested in work outside of these jobs, then after your heat, tell the attendants that you have an appointment with Tomura Shigaraki." He knows he should hold his tongue, but he can't help offering instead, "And during the run--" He rolls back the cuff of his sleeve as much as he can, and then lifts his wrist, allowing himself to relax his control over that gland just the slightest bit. "You'll know it's me when I chase you down. One growl and I'll let you go. Or you can roll over and present for me and I'll make sure that you feel good throughout your entire heat, and afterward we can discuss business ventures." 

Dabi doesn't lean in and sniff at his skin, but he doesn't hold his breath and storm off either. He just considers Tomura like he might be no better than whichever of his staff had to wrestle him into the cuffs and muzzle in the first place. "Fuck you." 

"That's entirely up to you. Would you like some more time here? Otherwise, I can have someone else escort you back up to your room. I don't think that you're really much for socialization right now, are you?" 

Dabi turns back to the forest, his eyes taking it all in again to make certain that he knows the clearest path from the starting line to the finish. 

"I look forward to seeing you tomorrow." Tomura says more diplomatically before he leaves the omega to it. He'll give him half an hour and then have someone escort him back up to his room and change out the large cuffs for the ones that they all will be wearing tomorrow and take off his muzzle so he can sleep. Half an hour should be more than long enough for him to plan his strategy and to get the cooks to bring a fresh plate of the tartar tarts up to his room so he can have plenty of the rich food to help him prepare for the stress of the run and his upcoming heat. 

///

Dabi is nearly vibrating the next morning when he's woken by the orderlies that come to corral them like they did the night before. He had been pleased enough to go back to his room and be let out of the most constraining restraints that he'd been given, even though his quirk was still out of reach for now. The steak and egg pie things had been good, rich with fat and nutrients that had helped him feel far less shaky than he had been at the start of the night. He feels much more sure as he pulls on the layers of clothes he had used the money that he'd been given to order. The thick metal collar goes on first, blocking his scent glands and making certain that no one will be able to mate him, and that no one will want to try unless they intend to break their teeth into nothing but shards of bone. Then he puts on a pair of boxer briefs, a set of thermal pants and long-sleeved shirt, hoping that they will keep him insulated from the early morning chill in the air, his body feeling freezing from how his quirk is being suppressed. They will also be a pain to get off, while keeping the majority of the seams and staples across his body safe from dirt or debris from the forest. Then a pair of athletic pants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, a short-sleeved one over that, a pair of basketball shorts over his bottom half, two pairs of socks, and a set of tennis shoes that he's been breaking in while locked up in this room, walking around in circles like a caged animal so that he would be able to get them as ready as he could for the run. 

He isn't surprised that some of the other omegas, as they are taken from their rooms and paraded down in a line like they were the night before, have opted for their own methods depending on what they are intending to do. Some of them want to be mated, and they are going naked. Some have gone naked, but have such a high scent of anxiety pouring from their bodies that he has no doubt that their intention is to shift fully as soon as they get into the forest so they can run as far and fast as they can. But allowing themselves to shift means that they couldn't afford to get a collar, even without spending funds on clothes. Others, like him, have chosen to put on layers of clothing that will be a pain for the alphas to get off and collars that will keep them from being mated. He's also not the only one who has chosen to potentially make the run even more difficult by choosing to get thick earplugs as well so that they can't be commanded to stop by any alpha that gets close enough to try it. Dabi would rather be deaf to the sounds of the beasts pursuing him if it means that he knows his mind will belong to him throughout the entire run. 

They get taken to a couple of vans and driven down to the start line, the night still thick in the air and Dabi turning over the layout of the area in his mind again and again. Their gracious host, no matter his affect, gave him a boon by making sure he got a good look at it the night before. He expected the finish line to be near the villa, would have oriented his run in that direction, but it's not. It's perpendicular to it. He would have run higher and come to a sheer cliff face and been trapped against that wall if he didn't know where he was supposed to be going. 

Dabi thinks about telling some of the other omegas that, but... there are too many of them in this van. He knows that several of them think of the run as some kind of duty that they should be honored to do, that there are others that are trying to make sure that they outpace the younger ones, who would rather hamstring the other omegas at the starting line and leave them for easy prey in the hope that the alphas will go after them first. He doesn't trust speaking now and having any of those more cut-throat omegas come for him, given he already made himself a problem for them last night. Sure, some of the alphas might not bother with him because he can't give them pups, but others might prefer that. Others still might see the opportunity to break such a mouthy omega as a privilege and come for him intentionally. He could garner a lot of attention if they play their cards right, and he doesn't want to paint an even bigger target on his back before things get started. 

As is, once they are let out of the van, they are able to select their positions at the starting line. He spaces himself out as much as he can, searching the line for the young woman who sobbed about wanting to go to school. She's young, pretty, and this is her first run. He can still smell that faint milkiness to her scent that screams that she's had very light heats before this, and that she probably hasn't ever been with an alpha before, if anyone. The alphas will want her, and given that he knows that this entire racket is being run by criminals, Dabi is damn certain that they'll try to mate her forcibly to keep her as a fun play thing for their entire packs. He isn't necessarily a charitable guy, but he doesn't want to watch that happen. 

So he makes sure that he picks a place on the starting line near her and he reaches deep into his pocket, pulling out the earplugs. The package he ordered came with two sets, and he had planned on keeping the second for himself in case one got dislodged during the run, but he gets her attention and shoves it into her hand, whispering as quietly as he can, 

"Find the villa, then run to the left of it. You'll find the finish line faster that way. When the sun rises, make sure it's directly at your back and you'll know you're going the right way. Don't stop, don't look for food or water. Out run every alpha and your heat." 

She blinks at him, her eyes already wet again, and he doesn't linger, not wanting anyone to pay them more attention before he sets himself up on the starting line in a position where he can see the slight light of the villa against the starlight that is slowly fading as it creeps with an agonizing slowness towards dawn. There is a horrible ten minutes of being forced to stand and wait at the starting line, until the alphas at their own, wherever that is, are all in position too. But eventually the coordinators raise the gun to the sky and send off the false shot. Dabi can't hear it, he just smells the smoke in the air and takes off. Some of the other omegas burst from the starting line as wolves, but he lets his human legs carry him and he goes, his heart soaring behind his ribs and the liquid heat of his adrenaline acting as a pathetic replacement for the fire that he usually reaches for in his veins.

///

Trees, bushes, rocks, fallen branches, the parts of the forest all around him are wild and impede his movement the way that narrow alleyways and misplaced garbage has never done so in the city. But before his quirk broke him, before he proved he would have no worth to his father by being an omega too, they would go to Sekoto Peak and they would run instead of climbing to the top for their training. He hasn't run through a wild, mountainous forest in years, but he does know how to do this and he doesn't let anything stop him as he starts to hear the barks and snarls of the alphas as they begin to hunt them. He may not be the predator that he always thought he would be, but he can be the prey that outruns them all. 

Dabi doesn't stop moving. Even when his leg muscles are burning, his chest heaving for breath, sweat pouring through the layers of his clothes and leaving the smell of him a trail through this forest that he hopes smells like a wildfire. He has no other choice. He runs until his lungs feel like they're going to pop and only then does he let himself switch to a lighter jog. Even though he wants to, he knows how large this area is. It was deliberately made so that no one would be able to traverse it in a few hours. No, it's not like the mating runs usually done in the city, where the omegas are trapped in a park and temporary gates are put into place that only get opened again after four hours so that the omegas have to contend with keep-away for most of their time. This was designed to be more traditional. A big enough space that it would take an entire day of travel to reach the finish line, and that means that Dabi knows he can't sprint forever. He has to slow into a jog, saving his strength for larger bursts of speed so that he can get away from any of the alphas that might come for him. But as long as he keeps moving the entire day, never sitting to rest, never slowing to a stop completely, he will be at the finish line tonight. He can do that because he knows which direction he needs to go. He just hopes that he can really make it that far because he can feel a different kind of heat than his burning muscles starting to creep through his veins. 

Dabi keeps moving, never stopping to reorient himself. He made sure to keep in as straight of a line as possible, and when he glances up at the sky as time goes on, he sees that the lightning of it is at his back. For now that's all he needs. He's been traveling for at least an hour before he smells the faint odor of spice on the breeze and he bolts. He doesn't wait to see if the scent gets stronger, doesn't dare remove his earplugs to try and figure out how close the alpha is. He just runs. Dabi doesn't hear the snapping of branches getting closer, he doesn't hear the snarl of the creature pursuing him, he just hears the pounding of his own blood in his ears as he moves as fast as he can through the trees. 

It's not fast enough, and just as he thinks that he might be able to speed up as the ground becomes a little less cluttered, a heavy, inhuman body slams into his back and knocks him onto the forest floor. Dabi rolls with the alpha, twisting his body, so that he isn't pinned down immediately. As he does so, the alpha rolls with him, shifting again, white fur melting away and bones snapping back into place as they hold a human shape. Tomura Shigaraki's human shape as he ends up on top of Dabi, pinning down his hands that are tipped with sharp black claws he fully intended using to rend flesh, and locking his legs to the ground so that he can't kick him either, which he absolutely would have done, aiming for the--

Dabi nearly chokes on his tongue as his senses are assaulted by the smell of the alpha, the overwhelming tang of spice alongside the unique scent of Shigaraki that reminds him of cold pavement after a heavy rain that only barely managed to escape turning to sleet as it fell from the sky. And the sight of the alpha doesn't help either. He knew that the other man was built beneath his suit that he was wearing the night before. Even a centimeter shorter than him, he had the shape of having plenty of muscle, and he isn't surprised to find that he was right about that, though the pale skin is riddled with so many scars as well that Dabi is certain that he fought to come out on top the way that he has so far. The only piece of clothing, if it can be called that, is the quirk suppression cuff on his wrist, the same as Dabi's own. Which means that Dabi can see down the length of his body as he leans over him and that means his eyes catch on the massive cock that is hanging between his legs. Dabi's instincts whimper as his good sense reminds him that all alphas just have bigger cocks than omega males will ever have, even female alphas would dwarf most omegas and betas. But he hasn't had an alpha's cock in his life, never wanting to risk being forcibly mated and instead hoping that silicone toys would satisfy his urges when he could afford them. 

Shigaraki's mouth moves, but Dabi's earplugs are still in place and he throws his mind back to the night before and growls even if he doesn't know if he believes that this man would actually let him go the way he promised that he would the night before. 

Shigaraki doesn't let go of him entirely, just shifting one hand to pluck one of Dabi's ear plugs from his ear so that he can hear him when he speaks this time. "You've been running so fast, firefly." He says, his own breath a little short and his scent... pleased. He doesn't know how to feel about that and he just growls again deliberately. 

"Let go of me!" 

"I'm going to." Shigaraki promises. "But then I'm going to chase you down again. I'm going to tear away another layer of your clothes when I do, and give you another chance to outrun me." He leans down and nuzzles at his collar like it doesn't completely block his scent there. "These are going first." He takes the other earplug and tosses them both into the forest. Then red eyes full of intent meet Dabi's as he lets go of his wrists and climbs off of him. "I'm taking your top layer of clothes next." He tells him. 

When he really moves aside, letting him get back to his feet shakily, Dabi isn't certain if he feels sick at just how clearly he's being pursued, or if he should be grateful that the other man is honoring his words at all. Shigaraki watches him for another moment before a terrified scream rings out through the trees, followed shortly by barks of disappointment and one triumphant howl that follows the cry. Only then does he realize that he needs to keep moving, as far and fast as he can. He makes sure that he's got the starting light and the wolf watching him at his back and then continues to run as hard and fast as he can. 

///

Tomura hasn't ever deigned to participate in a run. He isn't required to do so, not really, and he was always so busy with his own things that he preferred to take partners on his own terms when he had the time to do so comfortably. He enjoyed participating in primal play, pinning his partners down with his teeth in their skin and his knot sunk deeply into their hot bodies, but he's never let himself do it on such a large scale. He had to snarl and chase a few other alphas off of Dabi's trail, but catching him himself for the first time has been exhilarating already. The sharper tang of his fear and aggression made his head swirl with his own lust and he'd had to concentrate hard to keep that smell from being made plain to the other man as he perched on top of his body. If he hadn't given Dabi his word the night before, he wonders if he would have pushed on. If it would have been worth losing a potentially valuable resource and making a dangerous enemy by forcing his knot inside of Dabi's cunt if it meant that he could satisfy the instincts that are starting to tug wildly against his skin. 

But this is more fun. The chase is heating his blood sharply as he loops around a few times, making sure that Dabi isn't being actively pursued by anyone but him as he lets the omega get a little further ahead. He gives him until the first golden rays of dawn are starting to cast long shadows across the ground before he starts to seek out his prey more actively again. Tomura lets the ground disappear beneath his paws, smelling Dabi's smoke-ladened body in the air, his sweat sweet with the hormones that will overtake him at some point and make that burnt sugar the dominant smell as he collapses with his need. Tomura wants to be right there when that happens, and when he sees the other man running between the trees again, he has those words on his tongue as he tackles him, rolling with him on the ground and rubbing his scent onto Dabi's body as he does so, shifting again so he has hands tipped with sharp claws as he sinks them into the thick hoodie that Dabi is wearing as he snarls and growls at him, his own claws raking along Tomura's skin and cutting lines of red into him that he doesn't care about as his skin knits back together almost immediately. The sting of pain and the smell of his blood perfuming the air only makes this hunt feel more real and he can't help the shiver of pleasure that goes down his spine as he tears Dabi's sweatshirt and the ugly basketball shorts off of his body. 

"I'm going to keep catching you," he says, his voice rough with the lust that is starting to soak his veins as he looks down at the defiant omega who would kill him if he could. "I'm going to strip you down to nothing and pin you beneath me, and when you have not a scrap of clothing left," He wonders if he would have ever considered someone with their skin stapled together so desirable if not for Dabi's attitude, "I'm going to layer your skin with my scent so that everyone knows that your fear, your fury, your sweetness are mine until you cross the finish line." He takes another shuddering breath as he hears Dabi's hitch, that smell of fear going even sharper in his nose and making him feel like he wants to steal so much more than he said he would when they spoke the night before. "And you can keep growling at me each time, but even if I don't get to knot you, by the time you cross that finish line, you'll know that you belong to me." 

Tomura takes one more deep breath, wishing he could press his face deep into Dabi's neck and steal his scent more completely. Maybe after the run. Maybe if he proves that he can be a better alpha to Dabi during it than he thought that he would be at the start. He makes sure the scraps of fabric he tore at are dislodged from the other's body completely and then he lets him back up.  

"F-fuck you," Dabi's voice is as shaky as his legs are as he gets up from the ground, turning to run again and Tomura feels a spike of vindictive joy go through him as he barely lets the other get to his feet and take three steps before he lunges for him again, pinning him down in the dirt, his hand braced along the back of his neck, the metal warm from Dabi's skin against the chill of his own palm. 

Tomura chuffs, tearing away the sweat pants and the long-sleeved shirt as well as Dabi cries out,

"Wh-- stop! You didn't even let me run!" 

"Who said that I was going to keep giving you head starts?" Tomura asks, looking at the thermals that the omega is left in. He teases his fingers under the hem of the shirt and feels his tail begin to wag in anticipation as he realizes that all he'll have left after he catches him the next time will be his undergarments. "Especially when you're being so rude, little one." He breathes, pressing the length of his body into Dabi's as he leans down to catch one of his ears between his teeth. He doesn't bite him roughly, but he gives the soft white fur a light nip with his sharp teeth just to feel how Dabi trembles beneath him. "Be nice and whine for me, and I'll give you five minutes this time." 

He smells the fury on Dabi's skin, how little he wants to submit to this kind of indignity, but after another handful of seconds, he lets himself whimper softly. It's such a sweet sound, so different from any of the other ones that he's heard out of the other man. He didn't know that he could feel drunk on the hunt that he's letting himself indulge in now, but he has a feeling that he'll be arranging some private runs for himself and some of his partners if they can give him this heady rush through his head that he's feeling now. 

"What a perfect, obedient omega." He mocks, enjoying the way that the words sting Dabi's pride so sharply he can smell the bitterness that comes off his skin. "Five minutes. Don't let anyone else catch you, moonbeam." 

He lets go of him and starts to count the seconds as Dabi immediately darts off through the forest, not pausing to say anything or look back at him this time. But he thinks he knows why, the scent of slick starting to perfume the trail that the other man is leaving in his wake. 

///

Dabi runs, keeping the sun to his back, in a blind panic. His whole body is warm again, not from the exertion, but from how thick the scent of Shigaraki's arousal was in his nose. How easily he was able to use his strength to pin him to the ground, from how... solid he felt when he pressed along his body and teased him with his cock against his ass. Dabi tried to tear at him with his claws, but that wasn't nearly as effective as he'd hoped, which must mean that the other man's hormones are high too, must be approaching his rut too, making him more durable so that he'll be able to barely eat and drink as he takes his mate again and again to satisfy his knot-- Dabi whimpers, barely having the breath for it as he runs. Whimpering, like a helpless omega as he feels a slight pang in his pelvis, becoming suddenly aware of the hollowness inside and how... good it would be to let that hollow place get filled up. It's not the sharp pain of his dormant glands waking up the way that it normally is when the suppressants run out, but the new ones aren't supposed to cause the pain that the old ones did. But that just means he needs to run harder, faster, tear through as much of the forest as he can get. He doesn't know if exhausting himself early will be a good idea, but he's already stripped so badly, and he doesn't know if Shigaraki will stop playing with him and just take his body the way he so clearly wants to when Dabi's heat does actually break through him.

Dabi runs, not counting the passage of time, focusing his mind. His body is broken, every movement reminding him of the metal that cinches his skin together as he forces it to do something that he was not made for. He doesn't care. He has always pushed himself farther than anyone ever thought that he could manage and he will make it to that finish line with slick pouring down his thighs if that's what he has to do to make certain that none of the many ravenous alphas that are hunting him ever get to taste him for themselves. 

It's a horrible, treacherous little voice in the back of his mind that asks if he really means that when the way that it felt as Shigaraki spoke to him still has warmth tingling beneath his skin. That alpha took him aside, let him eat, wasn't cowed by his attitude, he had food sent up to his room for him so that he wouldn't be faint with hunger this morning, none of them getting any food before they were sent to the starting line. He made sure that Dabi knew that he would still be able to find work with whatever criminal empire he must run to be given free reign of this event. He gave him a way to stop him even if the rules to this... game that he's playing are changing. Dabi tries to focus, one foot in front of the other, green whipping past him, branches lashing into his skin as he moves as quickly as he can, twigs snapping underfoot as he's grateful to still have his shoes at all. He shouldn't enjoy the game that Shigaraki was playing with him. But there is something in the back of his mind, something beyond common sense, that feels this, how he was provided for the night before, how he's letting him move and decide when the chase should end, that makes Dabi want to keep playing all the more. His common sense and his instincts are a horrible, tangled knot that he can't sort out when his brain is soaked with hormones, adrenaline, and fatigue. He just knows that right now, he needs to keep running. 

Run, run, run. His alpha will catch him if he's worthy.

Dabi has no sense of how much time has passed before Shigaraki decides that he wants to have his hands on his body again, but Dabi hears him bursting through the trees, not from behind him but, somehow, in front of him. Instinctively, Dabi wants to turn and bolt in another direction, but he knows that if he does, with the sun now almost directly overhead, he won't be able to orient himself again until several more hours pass, and he doesn't want to potentially lose all of that progress. So he plows forward. He doesn't stop even as he hears the other coming for him.

Shigaraki hunts him as a full wolf, his fur as platinum white as Dabi's own, though the other man doesn't know that, and he looks like a ghost emerging from the trees that is ready to tear him down. He tries to dodge out of the grasp of his claws and Shigaraki lets him, instead snapping at the ankle of his thermals, tearing away a chunk of the fabric, but not stopping to pin Dabi down the way he had been before. 

Dabi keeps running and Shigaraki keeps circling him. He darts out from beneath bushes and between trees and he tears away pieces of his clothing, but he never pins him down. And every time those sharp teeth snap so close to his skin, but don't tear him open, Dabi feels himself... starting to get wetter. His slick is starting to soak into his underwear, his cock starting to take notice too and get a little harder, making it more difficult for him to run as he tries to chase away the arousal that is coming fast for him.

Shigaraki disappears when his clothing is hanging off of him in tatters and Dabi has to slow down and willingly take the scraps off so that they don't get caught on branches and tangle or trip him as he continues to run, and in only his shoes and boxer briefs, this section of the forest unnervingly quiet like all of the other omegas and alphas have found their pleasure so much further behind them and the rest of the wildlife holding its breath to see what unfolds now, Dabi can't help the pulse of fear and confusing swirl of desire that slips through his body. He doesn't know why Shigaraki would back off so quickly, but he doesn't believe that he would do so lightly. He's planning something else and Dabi knows it. But he also knows that he has to keep moving if he doesn't want his heat to break too soon. He usually spends six hours in pre-heat. That might be starting now or the environment might just be working his arousal higher on its own. Either way, he'll have to push himself much harder and much faster than he thought he would before if he wants to make it to the finish line before he's completely incapacitated. Dabi doesn't have the key to the collar, he left it back in the room because he wanted to be certain that no one would be able to take it off of him and forcibly mate him while he was out here, but he wonders now if that was a wise choice. He might have been able to cover more ground as a fully-shifted wolf. He tries to shake the doubts as he does the last tatters of his clothing, his skin still soaked with sweat and his muscles aching from their overexertion. This is what he'd chosen for himself. No point in wondering about the possibilities now, and he starts to run again, trying to keep his ears sharp for Shigaraki now that the alpha has seemingly decided to let him have a few moments to gather his wits again. 

Dabi starts to move, taking off with as much speed and strength that he can. Keep moving. That's all he's ever been able to do. Keep moving because that's the thing that is important. Because every aspect of his life has told him that he shouldn't. Keep moving. Make his very existence a blight against nature. Spit in the face of the instincts that are begging him to surrender--

Shigaraki's hand darts out and catches him around his waist, lifting him from the ground and pulling him. He pins him to the tree he'd been hiding behind and Dabi snarls at him, even as he feels more slick pooling along the folds of his cunt. The rough bark of the tree pokes into his back as Shigaraki pins him in place with his body again, his hands scraping sharp claws along his sides, feeling the place where staples and scars meet healthy skin, his whole body soaked in the smell of his fear, the forest, and... the want that is starting to eat at his nerves as Shigaraki drags his nose over the edge of his collar like he might actually be able to get some kind of scent from beneath the metal and through his ruined glands. But then his mouth goes to his shoulder instead and he licks away some of the sweat on his skin, his teeth nipping at him there the same way they did at Dabi's ear and his tail curls between his legs, not only cowed completely, but trying not to tremble when he knows that he doesn't have time for this. He needs to keep running or he's not going to make it to the finish line before his heat comes. He can't let the alpha who has taken such an interest in him keep doing this when, if he does, he knows that he will find himself falling apart completely. 

"Let go," he gasps, his chest heaving, desperate to put fresh air in his lungs from the chase, but each one makes him take in the alpha's scent. It's still not aggressive, not like the alphas in the room the night before. He smells like his spice and desire, but beyond that, there is a joy under his skin that makes the words that he says to him not ring as cruelly as Dabi thinks they would sound otherwise. 

"You're down to your last clothes, omega." His eyes are glowing, his own cock half-hard as he presses it into Dabi's thigh so he can't mistake his desire. "But I'm sure you're ready to be out of them given how wet they already are. You're going to be so cute trying to run as your little cock leaks and you drip your sweetness all along the forest. I'd be able to find you blind." His teeth nip across Dabi's collarbone too and Dabi whimpers, hating how quickly his body urges him to arch into the touch and take whatever this alpha is offering him. He wants more of this-- Dabi makes himself growl instead of moan, baring his teeth again and snarling, 

"You said--" 

"I won't let you feel my knot inside of you until you've rolled over for me all on your own, little one." He agrees immediately. "But I can make it so that no one else thinks they can put theirs inside and spoil your pretty cunt before I get to." He reaches for the hem of his boxer briefs and Dabi yips like a startled pup even though he should have expected his sharp claws and strong hand to tear the fabric away again and leave him exposed. It's a sharp humiliation that burns through him, a whimper slipping out of his lips as he instinctively tries to close his legs tighter, the cooler air of the forest against his most intimate places taking his scent and wafting it even more thickly through the air, and the humiliation of being on display for the other man making the shame even worse. His ridiculous cock and cunt don't care though, his slick still starting to puddle on his thighs and his cock standing up enough that the three silver barbells along his underside are visible. Shigaraki growls, the sound more pleased than aggressive, his ears tilted forward with his interest. "So cute, little one." His hand hovers, like he wants to touch him, but he closes his fingers into his palm, tight enough that Dabi smells the bit of blood on the air as his claws pierce his palm. "The next time I catch you," He says, his voice sounding nearly as breathless as Dabi feels, "I'm going to scent you everywhere and when I'm done, all you have to do is growl." And he'll be able to run away again. "Or you can be a good omega and roll over for me, and I promise that I'll make you feel so good, moonbeam. Knot you so deep that your insides are soaked with my scent no matter how much your needy pussy is leaking. Chase you until the sun sets and then carry you back to the manor so I can make you a big, comfortable nest and keep you there all through your heat." 

It's so unbecoming, so against everything that he thought he stood for, but the way that Shigaraki says those things, how he promises him that he'll feed into Dabi's instincts, has them acting up even worse. A real nest? In a bed? With a mate that has a real knot? All of his nests have been hidden away in awful places because he needed locations that gave off a strong enough stench that no one would smell his sweetness instead. He could have a safe place to go through his heat. He could feel good. He could have his mate--

Dabi forces himself to focus and he can't find words, he just gives a half-feral growl and Shigaraki nuzzles at his collarbone one more time before he pushes away from his body, his eyes still glowing as he watches how Dabi trembles as he makes himself take his first step forward. It's much harder to keep steady now as he runs. 

///

Tomura gives Dabi fifteen minutes. Looking at the sky, he imagines that it's only a bit past one in the afternoon. If he gives him up now, gives him time to think over what he said before, he might... reconsider his stubbornness. He can smell how much Dabi wants him, how the way he's spoken to him and taunted him has made his skin even hotter than the exertion of the run. It makes his own desire spike beneath his skin and he wants to hunt down his prey and take the sweetness of his slick and blood all for himself. But he can't have it until Dabi gives it to him. Or rather, no matter what the other alphas are doing to the omegas that they're hunting in the woods, Tomura has lines of his own that he won't cross. He hears the snapping of twigs and his ears pin back, his hackles rising as another alpha comes through the trees. He's not shifted and given he's the one who had to review all of the dossiers of all of the alphas that were taken for this initiative, he knows Kai Chisaki as soon as the lean man steps into his line of sight. 

The son of the Yakuza don that his father wanted to improve their relationship with was someone that Tomura hadn't been interested in bringing into the event, knowing that the man has a ruthlessness in him that makes him volatile. He has hoped that the apparent disgust with nature and germs in general would keep him from showing up here, but for whatever reason, either from his own father's belittling or to push his interests further among the other alphas that were selected, he did show up. And has participated apparently. Tomura keeps his expression carefully neutral when he sees that there is blood smeared on the other's cock, and the freshly healed lines of claws that whatever omega he captured must have tried to put in his skin along his arms and chest. 

"Mr. Shigaraki," He greets very pleasantly, the same self-assured smile that he had given him as he'd introduced himself the night before. "A good hunt so far?" 

"More than satisfactory, Mr. Chisaki." He says with his tone as disinterested as it can be without becoming overtly rude. 

"I think only two omegas have made it this far out." He tilts his nose up a bit. "Have you caught the one that left its slick all over this area?" 

"He," Tomura says, bristling despite himself, his fur starting to stand on end with his agitation, "Likes to be chased, and I'm happy to give my omega whatever he wants since he's going to be spending his time with me." 

He doesn't like the way that Chisaki's smile widens slightly. "Of course, enjoy him then." And he turns to continue on his way, tracking the other omega. Tomura doesn't linger either, shifting again to run Dabi down faster, not wanting to leave him alone for long now that he knows another alpha has made it this deep into the woods. 

///

He's in his pre-heat. There's no mistaking it. Dabi's whole body is hot and he's getting more fatigued by the second. He keeps moving and occasionally finds himself looking around, like he'll find a nice pile of blankets or a den out of nowhere, his mind telling him to go find a nest so that he can be safe and wait for his alpha to come and find him and make him feel better. He has to force himself to stay the course as he runs and he doesn't know if he'll manage that forever.

Dabi hears the branches snapping again, the sounds starting lower to the forest floor and moving higher as Shigaraki's form must shift again as he tries to catch him. Dabi runs, the frightened beating of his heart in his chest making him feel far more like a rabbit than a wolf. But the heat dripping down his thighs tells him that this is exactly where he's meant to be. If his alpha can't catch him, then he's not worthy of having him. And if he lets Shigaraki catch him... he said that he would take him back to the manor. He would make him feel good in a big bed. He made sure he had such good food last night. He could put him in a nice nest and keep him safe. He just has to--

Dabi yelps as he's tackled again, Tomura catching his body and pulling them together, rolling as they hit the forest floor so that it's his skin scraping roughly against the ground instead of Dabi's more fragile body that would certainly not appreciate twigs or dirt in his seams. He automatically wants to snarl. He wants to lash out with claws and teeth because he's... scared. He's so, so scared of what this alpha will do to him if he doesn't have to fear repercussions. When the only reason Dabi isn't going to jail at the end of this for murder and assault is because Tomura Shigaraki has taken a shine to him. He's scared of being used, of being hurt, of being mated, or being blackmailed, and he has only managed to stay alive for so long because he destroyed the things he was scared of to keep himself safe. He wants to keep himself safe. But when Shigaraki pins him to the ground again and, ignoring the collar that keeps Dabi's glands covered, he starts to scent mark him exactly the way that he said that he would, every omega instinct in his body screams that he can let this go, let it happen, just this once. Of all the alphas that could have taken an interest, Shigaraki is the only one who pointed him in the direction of the finish line, who has given him the option of saying 'no' instead of just taking what he wanted the way he could without repercussions during the run. He sent him food and talked with him. 

Shigaraki layers his skin with his scent, taking in Dabi's as well as his tongue moves across his chest, teeth following to nip at his skin. Soft little bites that tell him just how badly the alpha wants to tear him apart and how completely he is restraining those instincts as the scent of his arousal spills through the air. Dabi's tenuous grasp on his good sense frays further in his tight grip as Shigaraki rolls their hips together. He lets Dabi feel every inch of long, thick cock that is hard and dripping as it presses against his smaller one, making sure to angle himself so that he isn't pressing too closely to Dabi's cunt. 

Dabi lets out another completely omega whimper, his own cock pulsing and the emptiness inside of his body crying out for how good it would feel with a knot the size that Shigaraki's must be. He wants it. He can't have it-- or rather, he knows he's not supposed to. 

"Present for me, little one," Shigaraki growls against his skin, the scent of his want rolling through the air and nearly choking Dabi with it. "Let me make you feel good." 

Dabi hasn't cried in front of someone else in a... long time. His face hurts when he cries, the blood running down his cheeks is disturbing, he knows that it's an awful sight to behold, and he usually does a much better job of stopping himself when it starts to happen. But he's tired. He's been scared and stressed for a whole week, barely eating, knowing that he was going to be hunted and hurt in this run, and somehow, against all odds, there is one alpha who doesn't just want him, but that won't take him unless he lets him do it. 

He's expecting the bloody tears to be met with mockery or disgust, but he's not expecting Shigaraki's grip to loosen significantly, pulling back so that he's sure he's not holding him too tightly. He's not expecting the lust across his features to be doused so sharply as he looks at his face as the blood spills over his cheeks. 

"Fuck, Dabi, okay-- it's okay." He tries to soothe him, chuffing at him like he's a pup. "Okay, come here. I'll take you the rest of the way to the finish line." He promises, starting to move, to stand, Dabi realizes belatedly, as he gives up on their game. Because he... thinks he's hurting. Thinks he's scared in a different way than how his body was tingling with it before the other times Shigaraki caught him. He could let him keep thinking that. He could let this alpha try to carry him to the finish line right now--

Dabi whimpers and doesn't let Shigaraki pull him up. He rolls over onto his knees and feels how badly his tail is quivering as he lifts it for his alpha and presents so that he can see how badly his cunt is dripping from how much he... wants him. 

The alpha doesn't move for a second and Dabi thinks that he's ruined this. That he isn't going to be able to look past his disgusting skin the way he had been trying to before and that he's going to be thrown aside. But then Shigaraki lets out a deep, hungry growl, his scent blanketing the air between them, before he is wrapping his fingers around the base of his tail and lifting Dabi's hips even higher. Dabi keens, expecting to be filled to the brim with the other's knot, but he doesn't get that. Instead he feels a puff of breath that is almost cool against his soaked, burning folds, before Shigaraki's tongue is laving over his skin. The moan that leaves his chest sounds like it was ripped out of the same primal part of him that made the chase feel so good, and Dabi digs his fingers into the earth and grass as he tries to find something to hold onto as the alpha makes him angle his hips higher so that his tongue can reach deeper. 

Shigaraki licks along his folds, his other hand reaching around to press against his lower stomach, just above the straining root of his cock, so that he can put pressure on him from the outside as well as angle his hips even higher. Dabi ends up with his toes pressed into the earth to bring his hips high as his face presses into the soft grass as he moans again. Shigaraki's tongue is sure and hungry as it licks away his slick almost faster than he can produce it, every motion making the folds of his cunt tingle and send that sharp pleasure through him. His tail trembles in Shigaraki's hold, his thighs doing the same, and Dabi can't help sobbing harder. His tongue flicks along the length of him, but all too soon it finds his entrance and he doesn't hesitate to take that just as voraciously, his tongue pushing inside of him as deeply as it can go, the movements stroking along the soft, squeezing walls of his vagina. He needs something far bigger than a tongue to satisfy him, but the pleasure that tingles through him feels like it's only whetting his appetite for more. 

A sharper pang goes through his pelvis, not the awful cramping that he's used to coming off of his suppressants, but the deeper ache that goes through him that tells Dabi that he needs to touch his prick. That he has to get his pleasure there so that it won't pull his attention any more and he'll be able to focus on his cunt as his alpha devours his body like he is the last thing he'll ever taste. Dabi fumbles to reach for his cock, but when his hand brushes past Shigaraki's, the alpha bats him away so that he can move his palm lower instead. He cups Dabi's cock against his palm, but doesn't stroke him. He lets Dabi leak his pre all over his palm and make it good and wet, and then fucks his tongue inside of Dabi's pussy so that he can find the rhythm that is being offered. Dabi mewls, feeling so small, so much like an omega when he's shown that he should treat his body like the pleasure from his pussy is the thing that deserves special treatment and his cock should only get the minimum that he needs to make it stop aching when it's not going to help him get a knot on his heat. 

Dabi begins to hump himself into Shigaraki's palm that is not as rough as he might have expected a villain's hand to be. Maybe because normally he disintegrates anything that he touches like this and that sends a heady pulse of arousal through him, tangled with his terror that somehow the quirk cuffs will fail and he'll turn the bliss that is pouring across his nerves into agony. But Shigaraki lets him grind into his palm as his tongue plunges inside of him, pressing against his muscles like he can find the place where they'll clench tight on his knot. He can hear the soft patter of slick and spit dripping from his folds and onto the grass beneath them, dying the world around them with the scent of his need, his pleasure, his terror, as he distantly realizes that this is the first time he's ever let another person near him on his heat. That this is the first time he's ever let an alpha touch him at all when he's spent so much of his life terrified of ending up forcibly mated to one like his mother had been. Blood, slick, fear, pleasure, and the overwhelming spice of Shigaraki's arousal as it meets Dabi's like having his tongue deep in his cunt is as good as having his knot there instead, is what sends Dabi over the edge so quickly that he would be embarrassed if he weren't in his pre-heat already.

He keens and whimpers as his body is allowed to slump to the ground. His head is even more hazy than it was before as Shigaraki licks at him more slowly, withdrawing his tongue to the outer part of his sex instead of plunging so deeply inside of it. He lets Dabi tremble there for a few moments, pressing his body along Dabi's own crumpled form like he wants to make sure that he's soaked in as much of Dabi's scent as he can get. But he moves his way up Dabi's body, pressing kisses up the length of his spine as he lets go of his softening cock, his seed dripping stark white against the vibrant grass. 

"Have you ever had a knot before, little one?" His voice sounds rough and ruined, like just tasting him was enough to put his head in the same hazy space as Dabi's is now floating. "Because you still taste... soft, moonbeam. Smell light and untouched underneath that sharper smell from your quirk." 

Dabi feels a sharper blush heat his skin. He didn't know that an alpha would be able to smell his inexperience with them on his slick, and he barely manages to weakly shake his head. 

There's a slight pause and then Shigaraki is licking along his ears, the touch is meant to be soothing, but all it serves to do is assure Dabi that he's safe and that sends more slick gushing down his legs. "Then I'll be so happy to give you your first, little one." Which has another shudder running down Dabi's spine as he punctuates the words by rubbing his thick, hard cock between his legs. He slides against his cunt so tantalizingly, teasing his blunt head against his entrance, letting Dabi feel how much bigger Shigaraki is than any toy he's ever tried to use before, and far larger than any beta that he's ever had inside instead. He whimpers and rolls his hips back, wanting that to push inside and bring him to his completion again even though he is already feeling so weak-limbed from the first. 

But Shigaraki withdraws slightly, stopping him from getting it inside the way he wants. "Not yet, little one. You were making such good progress before. Don't you want to run?" The word is not a command, not layered with the power of suggestion that could warp his mind, but it is enough to have Dabi mewling again. The mating runs have always been something so terrifying, disgusting, something that he was grateful he never had to participate in before. He used to think that the omegas who said that they liked it, that they would go to the runs with their mates just because getting to be sprinting naked through the wild made their instincts sing were just so conditioned by the leash society tightened around their throats that they didn't notice its weight anymore. But his instincts are lashing out as his hormones flood his senses. He wants his alpha's knot. He wants a nice safe nest. He doesn't want to be out in the open. He wants to be cared for. But there are other instincts. The knowledge that he needs to only be taken by the right alpha. One who has earned his submission. One that can and will fight for him and not just take what he's given because it's easy to get. He wants to taste blood behind his teeth before he lets himself be pinned down and filled. 

Dabi has only felt feral one other time in his life, but there is no pain that drives that now as Shigaraki starts to loosen his hold on him. 

"Run, moonbeam." He breathes, his own arousal choking the air between them. But still, he lets Dabi go.

He didn't know that he could tear away the earth beneath his hands and shoes as he launches himself up from the forest floor. He was certain the muscles in his thighs would be too weak as his slick and cum cling to his skin, but he moves as smoothly as he did taking off from the starting line and he runs. 

///

Tomura's cock is aching from how hard he is. He didn't think that he would have his rut until well after this run, but he thinks that the sweetness of Dabi's slick might just bring it about ahead of schedule. His slick still smells acrid like over-cooked sugar, but he doesn't taste like that. His slick is like a rich caramel that has coated his tongue completely and made him dizzy from how badly he wants more. He wants the bitter tang of his blood between his teeth too. He wants to put his fangs so deeply into Dabi's flesh that he feels everything that brought this omega to this point taking root in his own mind. He wants to have someone else pressing against that empty place in his head that he thought would stay hollow for as long as he was focused on his own goals. It would be so much better to have Dabi filling up that space now. 

Tomura takes off, not able to transform back into an animal when his arousal is so high, and having to follow Dabi through the trees and brambles. He doesn't see the green whipping past his eyes, he just smells the sharpness of Dabi's blood and the sweetness of his slick as he runs and runs. If thorns, rocks, or twigs cut into his feet as he goes, he can't feel the pain, he only knows that it happens because he smells his own blood mingling with Dabi's trail. 

And so soon he sees his quarry, his prey, his mate running not far ahead of him, and he lets out a vicious snarl. It doesn't make the omega falter, it just makes his smell spike with that tantalizing acidity of fear as he gives his legs another burst of strength to propel him forward. He grabs Dabi tightly and they go down onto the forest floor again. Dabi barks and snarls at him, twisting to catch his skin with claws for the second time. But he still smells like his arousal, his hips pushing up into Tomura's own to grind them together again in a way that screams to his instincts that this is the same fighting, the same viciousness that is aching to be subdued and leashed to him the way the hollowness in him is reaching for Dabi. So he lets Dabi scratch at him as he reaches down to grab him by his thighs, prying them open and forcing them wide against the ground so that his hips can push between them. His teeth can't meet the skin of his neck, but they can sink into his chest, and the way his flesh bursts beneath them, the rush of that hot blood that he knows holds fire when it's not being choked away by their restraints, burns his tongue like hot coffee as he hears his omega let out a howl that sounds like nothing but the sharpest of ecstacy. Nothing like the anguished cries he heard echoing through the forest before.

And as surely as if he had actually been able to mate Dabi the way that he longs to, the other man goes limp underneath him with another soft coo, his pupils blown so wide that there is barely a ring of blue behind them. His cock is hard again, dripping against his stomach, his cunt gushing so much that Tomura sees a puddle forming in the grass beneath him. And he doesn't have any other restraint. He needs to breed his mate full of his knot. Tomura is breathless seeing his cock against the omega's. He has had other male omegas before, knows that their cocks are smaller in general, but he's also always been large for his size. He sees how much smaller Dabi is than him, how his cunt, hidden just behind his length, is the same dusky pink as his nipples, his center blushing a brighter red and soaked with his slick. He sees how small Dabi looks beneath him even though their bodies are so similar. He sees it and wants. To be his mate, to be the first alpha, the only alpha who ever puts his cock inside such a pretty pink cunt. 

And he is delighted when his mate is so wet that even though he can see how completely he's stretching him, he doesn't tear as he pushes his cock into the tight, burning heat of his body. His muscles just give way around him, so wet and soft that Tomura feels his sanity fray further as he wants nothing more than to stay inside of his mate like this forever. 

"Perfect," He growls, the words slurred from his lips as blood drips off of them, the bite on Dabi's chest healing sluggishly as he writhes underneath him as his cock pushes deeper and deeper, the movement slow-going from just how tight his mate is. "Such a good boy, keeping his cunt tight for me. Never let any other alpha have you. Now it's just going to be me," When he gets fully inside the pleasure that tingles along his root as Dabi mewls and writhes, his scent going so hot and humiliated as his little cock twitches and cums. Just from being filled. Tomura snarls again, drawing his hips back and slamming in a second time as he hears his mate howl as fresh blood starts to cut newly sticky paths across his cheeks as he writhes. But his hands don't claw at him to get him to move away, to stop, he hooks them into his back, making Tomura growl as he feels them sink into his flesh and stay there, the skin trying to close up around them but not being able to as Dabi tries to pull him closer and closer as he starts to fuck him more roughly than he's ever taken a sub before. 

"Mine, just me. Mine," the words are torn out of something deep inside of him that is furious with the metal corded around Dabi's throat that keeps him from being able to make this permanent the way that he wants it to be. "Going to make sure everyone knows it. Going to fill up your pussy with so much cum that you smell like me for the rest of your life. Make you so full that people are going to think you have my pups inside as you try to hold all of it in." And that makes his omega keen even louder. "No one is going to think that you could have been the omega that caused so much trouble at the start of this run when you are nothing but my pretty, docile little mate, always curled up in my nest with cum leaking out of your holes and purring for me whenever I deign to give you my attention like you're nothing but a well-trained whore." 

The filth on his tongue is nearly drowned out by the sounds of their bodies meeting, the wet squelch of his cock as he feels every inch of him squeezed tight by Dabi's walls as he moans and writhes beneath him. He knows that his prick has already spilled again, the sticky mess joining what was already painted along his thighs, but now he is limp and dripping as his pussy takes his cock so hard and deep. His back arches off of the forest floor, his hips trying to weakly push into every one of Tomura's harder thrusts, the burning pleasure of his omega clenching around him making Tomura's whole body feel hotter too, pleasure pulsing along the length of his cock and tingling deliciously up from the base of his spine. Good, fuck, 

"You're so good for me, little one," he gasps, slurring around how large his fangs feel in his mouth, "Going to squeeze my knot so tight, aren't you, baby?" 

"Alpha," Dabi barely manages to croak out the word himself, his seams bleeding as he cries and his fingers tightening in his flesh as he tries to get that. His heat swirls so headily through the air. Tomura will absolutely have to carry him back to the manor. Then he'll bring Dabi to his room. He'll make him a soft nest and he'll keep him there and full until Dabi's body thinks that there's no possibility other than that he's been filled with his pups and breaks his heat early. And when his head is clear, he'll get him out of that shackle of metal and beg on his fucking knees to be allowed to keep this omega who is sharp everywhere he's been allowed to touch him so far. "Please, please, please," Begging for him, for his knot, and Tomura is powerless to do anything but give him exactly what he wants, pushing in deep with another roar of primal satisfaction as he feels his orgasm rip itself across his nerves, making his knot swell so rapidly that the sound of his pleasure has barely left his lips before he's surrounding his swollen knot in Dabi's soaked insides with a sharp pop. Stars burst across his vision as he pushes in deep and lets his orgasm shake through him so violently that he feels his tail trembling like he's a pup sinking into a cunt for the first time. 

Dabi howls beneath him again, a sound that screams pleasure, pain, overwhelmed, as he gets his first knot. And Tomura tries to blink, to clear his vision and focus so that he can look down at him and see how it makes his moonbeam tremble as he floods his insides with his cum. He's already in the throws of his orgasm and he is shaking from how badly he wants to cum again as he watches Dabi writhing beneath him, his lower stomach starting to distend slightly with how open and eager his insides are to swallow up every drop of his release as if being full enough will trick his body into being with pups. 

And when the pleasure ticks over into something sharper, Dabi's whole body goes limp and he starts to purr in between the soft sobs that keep slipping from his throat as he lays beneath him. Tomura chuffs at him softly, coaxing his claws from his back so his skin can heal, and then leaning down to lick the blood from his face, doing his best to echo the purrs, letting them rumble low in his chest to soothe his little one as he's made so full and clearly so tired when he just closes his eyes and lets himself catch his breath for however long it takes for his knot to stop being so swollen. 

///

Dabi aches. His muscles are all so tired, his head feels light and heavy at the same time as he lays on the forest floor, his cunt stretched around the biggest thing he's ever had inside. He can feel the soft stretch of his pelvis too, his skin distended slightly from just how much cum the alpha on top of him was able to push inside of his body as he fucked him so roughly, his words a lashing filth that carved into places of Dabi's soul that he didn't even know existed. He didn't know that he was going to like any of this so much. He wouldn't, he tries to tell his heat-hazy mind. He wouldn't have given in. Not if Shigaraki hadn't tried so hard to make sure he knew that he didn't have to as he chased him through the forest before. 

It takes a long time before Shigaraki's knot starts to soften, letting the cum spill down Dabi's thighs as he presses against his stomach lightly as he pulls out of his body, chuffing, his eyes glowing, his fangs out the way they have been for so long now. Like he would have mated him if he could have. Dabi should be terrified of that. It's the entire reason that he wore the collar in the first place, he knows, through the haze of need that is starting to ache dully through his body again. But the fact that this alpha, one with enough power to get the government to bend this ritual to his will, might want to keep him is... not as bad as he thought it would be. He could have the power to clear the path to Endeavor for him. He could be worth staying close to if he wants him so badly. 

Dabi is still trying to figure out how to get his legs underneath himself again so he can run. So he can have that same exhilaration before his alpha pins him down and stuffs his cunt full of his knot again, when Shigaraki starts to lift him up from the ground. Dabi chuffs at him weakly, confusion poking holes in the hazy need of his instincts as he does so. He wants more and... his alpha said that when they were done he would carry him back to the manor. He doesn't want to stop yet. Not until his legs won't work anymore. Until he's so tired that all he wants is his mate feeding him more of those tarts. 

Dabi bites Shigaraki's arm, startling the other man into letting him go and when he does, Dabi, rather humiliatingly, has to push himself back up on shaky legs. He sees worry flicker across his alpha's face and he's so glad that he doesn't have to use real words when the scent of his arousal pulses out from his weakened glands again as he gives a soft, goading bark. He doesn't think he'll be able to run much longer, not when his cunt is aching from how full it just was and how empty it feels now as his alpha's cum and his slick gushes from him, coating his skin and making leaves and blades of grass stick to his body. 

But the soft sound seems to help encourage the other man and he lets out a chuff of his own, his pupils going wider as his irises continue to glow. "Run fast, moonbeam. Because when I catch you this time, I'm going to mount you until your pussy is so swollen from taking my knot that you won't be able to walk." 

Dabi nearly drops right back to the ground there as his need surges through him again, but he doesn't let it. He forces himself to turn and start to run again. He's not even sure if he's going in the right direction, but it doesn't matter. All that he cares about is how good it will be for him to be caught again. 

///

The forest is a blur, the scent of his slick and his alpha's cum on his skin makes him so distracted. He just wants to be full of his knot again, and when he hears another person moving through the trees, when he hears the snapping of twigs right on his tail, he's so ready for that that he slows down. He realizes a moment too late that the alpha barreling through the forest towards him is not his alpha. It's a stranger. A man with blood already on his skin who reaches for Dabi and has terror leaping up through Dabi's throat. No, no, no, this is not his alpha. Not the one who gets to touch him. He forgets that the heat all throughout his body is his cycle, not his quirk, and he flares a hand out to set him on fire and is not met with a single spark beneath his skin. So when the man barrels into his body, his lip curling back as he hisses, 

"So Shigaraki took a liking to you, hmm? Well, I think that he'll do just about anything to get you back." He tries to hold Dabi down with his arm braced against his shoulders, his knees poking sharply into his thighs as he holds his full weight over Dabi's body to try and keep him in place as he brings his other hand up to his mouth. Dabi realizes what he's doing a split second before he sinks his teeth into his own thumb. He manages to let out a howl, trying to let his alpha know where he is, but he doesn't let that be the only way he tries to defend himself. Instead of scratching uselessly at the stranger's arm as he breaks his own thumb between his teeth so that he can start to slip his restraining cuff off, Dabi flicks his arms as much as he can move them, curling his claws into the man's lower stomach. He doesn't have nearly the range of movement to gut him properly, but his fingers find purchase and Dabi holds onto his slippery, bleeding flesh as he pulls down, tearing him open along those cuts. His skin is still healing itself, the alpha snarling at him and Dabi can see the fury in his eyes as he opens his mouth to command him to stop. 

Dabi smashes his forehead into the other man's chin, feeling the skin split over his bone, but the other cuts his lower lip to ribbons on the fangs that are filling his mouth. He chokes on his blood instead of getting the command out, his skin trying to knit itself back together as Dabi claws at his stomach again. He tries to get enough breath into his lungs to howl for a second time. 

But he doesn't need to. There's a snarl far more vicious than the one the alpha above him let out as Shigaraki bursts through the trees, slamming into the stranger's body. Dabi's fingers are still full of his flesh and as he is tackled off of him, his hands take chunks of that skin and muscle with him, making the alpha yip as the quirk suppression cuff hits the ground beside Dabi as the two other wolves roll across the forest floor, leaving a smattering of blood behind them. 

Dabi has been all animal instincts for the past few hours now, but that's important and he makes himself find his words. "He slipped his cuff!" He gasps out, wanting to hurl from the handfuls of flesh that he's trying to shake away, his palms soaked with blood. 

He doesn't have to worry about the other guy getting his cuff off, Shigaraki is far more efficient with his. He snaps the other wolf's arm so roughly that the bone protrudes from his bicep and then reaches for his own hand as the other man keens and yips like a frightened pup. 

"Wait-- Shigaraki!" The bastard tries to bargain, but Tomura doesn't care to hear it. He breaks his own thumb, slipping the cuff off with an ease far more smooth and practiced than the other man did, and with his free arm crippled and unable to reach for Tomura to use his quirk, the white wolf doesn't hesitate to use his instead. He reaches down and covers the other's face with his hand as he thrashes beneath him, trying to get away. He doesn't manage it before Shigaraki's whole hand is covering his face, and the other man is going completely limp beneath Shigaraki. He holds onto him until every part of his body has grayed and cracked, turning to dust, and then Tomura is brushing the dust away. He gets up then, turning back to Dabi with a fearful chuff in his throat. 

Dabi's instincts rush back through him so sharply that he would have collapsed if he weren't already on the ground. It's like something inside of him snaps and the next thing he knows is that he's the one throwing himself at Shigaraki this time. He's pushing his way into his arms, pressing his nose tight to his neck as he lets his alpha's scent wash over him and take away the terror that pulsed through his veins so much realer than any that he played at with his alpha chasing him through the woods before. He licks at Tomura's neck, his own fangs dropping as he realizes that the other has his hands against his skin, stroking and checking that any of the hurts the other man tried to give him have healed the way that they are supposed to. He's pressed so close to Shigaraki he smells it when a pang of pain must lance his body and he pulls back slightly, looking for hurts on his mate as well. He finds it in his hand. A hand he watched kill someone mere minutes ago, but that he was careful enough with that he could hold Dabi as well. His thumb has set wrong and Dabi takes that dangerous hand in his, his skin covered in blood and smearing against Tomura's. His eyes flick up to his, and his alpha gives him a small nod.

Dabi snaps his finger out at the joint again and Tomura lets a breath hiss out between his teeth, but he's very careful to not flex the fingers on his hand in any way that could put Dabi in danger. Then he lets Dabi push the bone back into place and he... holds his hand as it heals. Tomura leans closer, licking at his ears again in that same soothing way as he did before. There is blood on their skin, flesh under Dabi's nails, but the terror and stress don't take away the heat that was pouring through his skin before that other alpha tried to hurt him. He still needs his alpha to make him feel good. To fill him up and mark him so deeply that no one ever tries that again. His alpha, who has proven he's a good hunter by tracking him all through the forest. Who proved that he was a good provider by making sure he was fed and cared for the night before. Who proved that he can give Dabi's body what he needs when he filled him up so completely with his knot-- but not before also proving that he wouldn't be selfish with that pleasure by giving Dabi his own before he even tried to mount him. Who proved that he's powerful, ruthless, and protective when he killed another alpha for daring to touch him. 

Dabi is pressing into Tomura's chest before he realizes what he's doing, his teeth sinking into the side of his neck as he tries to make the other man his. His alpha, his mate. He's the only person on the planet that Dabi thinks could have earned that. He wants his knot keeping him full, his hands made careful against his skin, and his ruthlessness as his to command. Tomura starts to purr, still making sure to watch his uncuffed hand so that he doesn't destroy Dabi as he shifts his body so that Dabi is laying against the grass again. It's a distant awareness that he was supposed to let himself be mounted this time, and he wants that, but he wants the connection in his mind that his instincts are reaching out for as he tastes the hot spice and bitter copper of Tomura's blood as it spills over his teeth. When the first bite doesn't take, Dabi shifts to his other gland, trying again as his alpha purrs. 

"Can't mate me right now, moonbeam." Tomura tells him, his hands moving over Dabi's body like he's trying to make certain that he's alright. "Not until your heat is over, baby boy." He says, nuzzling his nose against his cheek. Dabi whimpers, not wanting to be kept at bay for that long, but when his teeth come out of his skin again, Tomura proves to him that he'll still want him when his own teeth sink into the skin just below his collar. Just shy of making that connection properly and there is a little flicker of that joining that goes through Dabi's mind that has him keening, the last threads of his fear chased away completely as his heat starts to make fresh slick leak down his thighs. Like his sweetness can overwhelm the smell of violence that has permeated the air here. "Come on, precious. I'll take you back home, and I'll make sure that no one else hurts you again." 

Dabi wants to be safe, that sounds very nice. But he was promised another knot first and his cock is aching, his cunt screaming at how empty he is right now, and Dabi whines. He shifts and Tomura loosens his grasp on him, letting go like he's scared that he's hurting him. Like he hasn't been taking great pains not to when no one would have stopped him if he'd wanted to the entire time that they've been doing this. But all Dabi does with his freedom is roll over so that he can present for his alpha again, reaching between his legs and rubbing his blood-soaked fingers along his cunt to show how badly he's leaking again. Just the lightest touch against his oversensitive folds has him whining, spreading his legs wider, his tail lifting and tilting up to the side so that he's open and ready for the knot that he needs to get to feel good. 

Tomura lets out a soft breath that might be a laugh as he presses himself along the length of Dabi's spine, getting between his legs and using his cock to tease Dabi far better than his own fingers can. "Oh, precious. Even after all of that? You're still just a needy little omega who wants his cunt all stuffed up?" Tomura licks his ears again as he grinds against him, getting his own body ready for those proceedings after he also had such a sharp spike of stress before and doesn't have his rut pushing in to help make him as needy as Dabi is right now. Any other alpha, he knows, any other one, he would hate for saying something like that. Any other alpha he would try to tear apart the way he just did the bastard that attacked him. But not Tomura. Because his alpha uses the words to tease and goad, because his alpha follows them up with the murmur of, "No one would believe that you were so vicious and dangerous that you nearly gutted an alpha who wasn't worthy of touching you. My vicious little omega." All purred, all said with his cock pressed against the most sensitive parts of Dabi's body so he can feel just how much that knowledge is turning the other man on as his cock begins to swell again. 

Dabi mewls, the sound so meek and pathetic that he could believe that he's small and helpless even with blood crusted along his claws and stuck to his teeth. "Alpha," he begs, rubbing himself against the other man, trying so hard to get his cock to slip inside of his body. He wants to be full. Nothing else is ever going to be able to compare, not when Tomura's cock is so big that the first time had touched every place inside of his cunt and sent his orgasm ripping through his body before he could even start to move properly. 

"You're so cute whining like that, baby boy." Tomura growls, his teeth nipping along Dabi's spine as he finally starts to put the head of his cock inside of him. Dabi digs his fingers into the dirt, trying so hard to focus and keep that tightness that is building inside of him, separate from the stretch of his mate's thick cock being pushed in, at bay, knowing that if he lets his orgasm come too soon again than the first few thrusts will shatter him entirely. "Going to make sure that everyone hears that sound echoing through the forest so they know that you're enjoying yourself again. Going to make you howl from your pleasure as your pretty cunt squeezes my knot so tight." 

Dabi nearly satisfies that desire right then as Tomura slams his cock the rest of the way inside of his body. It's certainly a loud cry that he gives as that tightness inside of him is forced to snap again as his insides are spread so, so wide. He hears the gush of his cum against the grass, his own moan echoing against the trees, and then all that is in his mind is how sharp and how good everything is. His mate's cock inside of him, moving at a rough pace that makes the pleasure of his nerves go so sharp and unrelenting. The way that their scents are so thick in the air that they chase away the smells of aggression and blood that were here before. The way that his mate could destroy him with a touch, but can be so connected to his body, so good to it, that he never risks it at all as he tucks his freshly healed thumb tight to his palm before that hand ever reaches for him. 

Dabi doesn't care that he's already cum, that his insides feel like they might tear open from the strain of having to take such a long, thick cock. He just wants more. He wants to feel how his insides can go soft and giving for the knot that he was made to take. He wants to give his mate every indulgence his broken body can if it means that he gets to keep Tomura just like this for the rest of his heat. For the rest of his short, violent life if the alpha proves that he can be what Dabi needs to make it through that. 

Their thrusts were never going to be gentle or measured. The mating run is made for the feral frenzy of instincts at their height, and Dabi wouldn't want it any slower, even if the stimulation does have more blood dripping down his cheeks as he gasps and moans on every thrust. His insides are burning hot without his quirk, his cock tingling and aching from his orgasm. But he can't want gentleness now. He wants his pleasure so big inside of him that it hurts-- hurts the way that he knows it will when Tomura shoves his knot inside of him again. And he's delirious as he moans and tries his best to push back into every thrust as his alpha mounts him properly. His tail is against his back as he tries to leave himself open, and Tomura takes that as a further invitation, swiping his fingers through the copious gush of slick going down Dabi's thighs and making sure they're wet before he reaches to his ass. 

Dabi gives the other what he wants when he howls as he circles his rim once before he sinks his finger inside of Dabi's hole, only pausing for long enough to make certain that he's howling because a second orgasm is ripping through him, and he's not in any pain. Then Tomura lets out a growl of his own, pushing in a second and fucking them into his body at the same pace as his cock, pushing them in and crooking so that Dabi can feel the separation between his stretched cunt and his teased hole as Tomura keeps fucking into him at that same hard pace. He can't stop the sound of pleasure that tears out of his throat, the sounds of them echoing so loudly around the forest that he thinks he might have missed it when his mate spoke if his whole being wasn't being attuned to him so completely. 

"Fuck, moonbeam. So tight everywhere, and you're still so eager for more? Going to have to put you in a chastity belt to make sure you don't spoil yourself when you're alone. But don't worry, baby boy, I'll come back and make sure my needy omega is only being a whore for me every night. Going to get you a collar with a cutout so that everyone can see my teeth scarred into your pretty skin and be jealous that they'll never be able to taste your sweetness." 

Dabi sobs into his arms, his whole body so tight and full, sharp with the pleasure that he's being given and knowing that he has never had a heat that felt like this before. He knows he can't cum from his cock again, not so soon, but the way that his insides start to tighten like someone is coiling a band in his guts tells him that his pussy won't be so easily satisfied. Tomura moves, his scent soaking Dabi's body, his touches never so gentle that he feels like he's a broken thing being handled with care, but never so flippant or violent that he actually rends or shatters Dabi's flesh. And he fucks into his cunt harder and harder, until Dabi feels his knot beginning to swell again. The first time it happened so fast and sent stars exploding behind Dabi's eyes as he shoved it inside as soon as the swelling started, but this time he drags it out with every movement of his fingers inside of his hole and his hips. He teases the spreading base against the edges of Dabi's cunt, letting him feel how it starts to get so, so much bigger. He lets Dabi feel how big he gets and then takes his knot away. 

Dabi lets out an anguished cry as he thinks he's about to be denied that fullness, but Tomura's hips slam into his body again, so hard that Dabi is certain that there are bruises that are healing across his ass and the backs of his thighs. But he can't feel that thud or sting. Not through the sharp, white-hot note of his sanity shattering into a million pieces as he feels the other man slam his knot into his cunt. That tight pressure inside of him snaps again, this time the orgasm that tears across his nerves centered at his cunt and making waves of pleasure spill out along every nerve instead of just the ones that pulse along his cock. And once again he can feel as Tomura's seed floods his insides. It's so much, so cool against the burning heat of his body that Dabi knows the weight of it settling inside of him before he even feels his stomach starting to swell slightly from how much is pumped inside of him. Pups, his omega brain barks. He's getting all full of his mate's pups, and there's no room for thoughts in his head about how that can't happen or how little he'd want it to when his body is being filled up with his mate's cum. He doesn't need to think when he's proving that he's such a good omega all full of his alpha's knot and ready to be swollen full of their puppies.  

Dabi is still shaking with his pleasure for a long time after that as Tomura pulls his fingers from his body and shifts them onto their sides, licking at his shoulder, his ears, holding him close as their bodies stay intertwined and the sun moves over them in the sky. Dabi doesn't stop purring until darkness falls over his eyes as his exhaustion catches up to him. 

///

Tomura picked Dabi up from the grass when his knot had finally gone down and he'd been able to slip his cock from his mate's body. He hopes that Dabi will be his mate. He wants it badly enough now, in his heat, that he'd tried for it ardently, but he wonders if those feelings will linger when he comes out of it. He hopes so, not only wanting this volatile, vicious, clever man to be his because he doesn't want him to disappear from his life like smoke, but because he will have a much easier time of explaining Chisaki's death if he says the other man attempted to assault his mate after they bonded during the run. Tomura decays the collar off of Dabi's neck and smears some of the blood coating their bodies there, hoping that there is so much on his face already from his tears, smeared over his mouth from his bites, and his hands, that if anyone is waiting at the finish line, they'll think that they really did become mates during the run, and buy him some time to talk to Dabi about the real thing. 

His omega wakes twice more as he carries him towards the finish line, and although his little one wants to be chased, Tomura never lets him actually get out of his sight again as he obliges him. Dabi likes to growl at him, his pupils blown so wide that there's hardly any blue left, and the sounds leaving him so animal and soaked in instinct, that Tomura knows that he is fully sunk into his heat, into the hunt, and that he just wants the animal comforts that his mate can provide. So he is diligent about knotting his baby twice more before the moon is hanging high in the sky and they are finally making it back to the base of the manor and to the finish line. There is an attendant there, along with a table that has towels, water bottles, and snacks, and he passes that by, though as he does so, the attendant informs him that one omega so far has made it past the finish line ahead of them. She's already back in her room to ride out the rest of her oncoming heat as well. Tomura thanks the man for his report and then takes Dabi straight up to his room.

They're both covered in slick, blood, cum, and dirt, and Tomura lets his mate keep sleeping as he makes sure that the water is warm, then he gently sets Dabi in the tub and cleans his face with a washcloth first before he rests his head on the edge of the tub, on top of a soft towel, so he can sleep on as Tomura cleans him up. When his body only smells like him again, Tomura dries him off and takes him to the bedroom, glad that the master already has a sunken circular bed so that it is a nest without him needing to pull a mattress from its frame. He tucks Dabi into the sheets and blankets that smell like him from the night before, and then goes to clean up himself and calls for a large meal to be brought up for them. 

It's only when he hears his mate whimpering as he's brushing the blood from his teeth, that he knows he's woken back up. Tomura rinses his mouth out quickly and goes into the main room with, "I'm right here, moonbeam," on his tongue to soothe him. Dabi immediately seeks him out in the dim light of the room, his eyes glowing again and a little yip leaving his throat that begs him to come closer and make him feel good again. "You have to eat something first, baby. Then I'll knot you so many times that you won't ever want anyone else inside." 

His mate chuffs at him weakly, petulantly rolling onto his back and bringing his own fingers to his dripping cunt and pushing them inside, and Tomura's entire chest lights up with fond amusement. Of course. He's only known Dabi for a day, but really? What made him think that he would be able to get the other man to do anything that he didn't want to? 

He ends up giving Dabi his knot again, but once he's locked inside, his mate actually does accept the food and water he gives him before he curls his body into his chest tightly and purrs them both to sleep. 

///

Coming out of his heat made him feel like death warmed over. He has never run a marathon before, but that is how he started the week-long hormonal haze. Then he got Duster's knot as many times as he whined for it and upon waking, everything from the waist down is aching fiercely and he has no desire to move or be fucked for at least a month. 

And Shigaraki is fine with that. When Dabi has his things back, has bathed, and eaten, he's free to go, no one the wiser of the murders that he committed or helped to commit while he was entangled in this arrangement. Dabi should be happy about that, but he finds his fur bristling at being dismissed after their shared cycle. He knew that omega hormones could make him stupid, but discovering just how stupid this made him is infuriating. He never even wanted a mate in the first place, so it shouldn't hurt that his strange alpha has decided that he's not worth having now that his heat is over. 

But as he'd readied to stomp out of the building, maybe set it on fire as he went, Shigaraki had asked him to stay. His scent had been so unsure, desperate, and his entire body leaning towards him like he was being sucked into Dabi's gravity. He hadn't gotten on his knees, hadn't begged him, hadn't demanded it the way an alpha of his station could have, and Dabi realized then that he hadn't been flippantly dismissing him. He had been proving to Dabi that he'd upheld every end of their original bargain. He would let Dabi leave if that's what he wanted to do, even if Tomura wanted him to stay. 

Dabi is glad that no one knows who he really is because they would probably assume he was getting into a shotgun marriage with the alpha from how quickly they decide to bond. They said they would take things slow for the first month after the mating run, when Dabi is firmly on his suppressants again and everything seems nice and normal. And then they'd slept together again for the first time since, and they had lost any meager scrap of restraint. Dabi had the other man hunting him through his apartment, growling and biting at his skin as he pinned him down and pushed his cock into his cunt immediately, and Dabi had immediately dropped his fangs and sunk them into Tomura's scent gland. It's embarrassing how badly they wanted each other, how quickly and completely the bond had formed, even without either of them being on their cycle. 

But it's good. It feels right. Like this was something that was always meant to be when Dabi spent his whole life certain that only pain would find a place for itself inside of him. Every pain of being an omega before this is worth it to have Tomura as his mate. He wouldn't have ever had him if he hadn't been born an omega, if his quirk had worked just a little bit differently and he hadn't been selected for that run. Dabi would never say it, because this kind of mushy crap is the stuff that Tomura lets fall so readily off of his tongue, but maybe, just maybe his fate will be kind to him for once. And if not, well, he knows his mate will hold it down for just long enough that it doesn't shatter before he lets Dabi reduce it to ashes. 

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[maryu-fics06]

The Casket of Venus

Chapter VIII

𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐓𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐱 𝐨𝐜

Summery: it was supposed to be only a normal servant..right?

Hi guys! I hope the story is of your liking, stay tuned for more chapters, please leave a comment or like if you want more!❤️‍🩹

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠:poisoning, attempts of killing, angst, gentle Geta (he is bipolar in my story), fear.

The scent of incense hung heavy in the air as servants and concubines prepared for the Quinquatria celebrations.

Haydee stared at herself in the ivory-framed mirror. Her chamber, made of white and bluish marble, didn’t displease her—it reminded her of the ocean.

Lemonia was gently arranging her hair.

The attire was terribly lascivus, with deep necklines. It was a ball gown, the youngest maid, Aurea, had told her.

But Haydee hadn’t expected it to be nearly transparent, except for the chest and intimate areas. The fabric was a dark blue and shimmered in the sunlight, embroidered with beautiful golden patterns.

“You are beautiful, Puella” Lemonia said with affection. Haydee thanked the woman.

She was truly stunning. Slowly, she twirled, letting the transparent skirt flow around her.

Her hair had been styled into a modest braid, and the usual strands no longer obscured her face.

She joined the other concubines in a large hall; they all seemed hostile toward her. She hated their poisonous glances crawling over her skin.

Only then did she realize she didn’t know what kind of dance was expected. She had no idea how the others would dance.

Seeing the distracted look on Haydee’s face, Aurea leaned closer.

“My Domina, what troubles you? You seem worried,” the young maid whispered.

“I don’t know what dance to perform, Aurea,” Haydee whispered back.

The maid giggled softly. “Don’t be afraid. If you dance something only you know, the emperor will be more than pleased. He adores the unknown… and you, it seems, throw him off quite a bit.”

The banquet doors opened, and Haydee moved with the other women. One detail stood out—many of them wore orange, red, and some green. She alone wore the damned color blue.

The hall was immense. The two emperors usually sat upon their ivory thrones, sipping wine.

When the concubines entered, everything seemed to halt. Geta raised his gaze, ignoring Senator Thaex’s usual chatter.

His eyes searched among the women—he was looking for her.

The music began, slow and sensual. Haydee tried to follow the others’ movements. She was lucky—if there was one thing she was good at, it was learning quickly.

But then something changed. The music overtook her mind, and her body began to move in her own rhythm—like a rattlesnake swaying its tail.

Some women were shocked to see her break from the group.

Geta saw her and bit his lower lip at the sight of that body and those hips.

Damn temptress—Geta thought.

Their eyes met, and Haydee felt a heat ignite in her chest at the emperor’s hungry gaze.

She didn’t dare stop. She moved with grace, like a butterfly among the other women—miserable in comparison.

Many concubines stared, stunned. No one knew such a dance, nor one so shameless.

The dance ended, and Haydee stopped. The emperor called her over.

The others could only watch with envy.

Geta’s eyes never left her as she ascended the few steps of black marble.

He touched his own thigh—a signal—he wanted her to sit on him.

At first, Haydee considered refusing, but in front of the whole banquet, it wasn’t worth it. She gave in to his command.

Geta felt her body, tense like a violin string, pressed against him.

He slowly guided her back against his chest, and the emperor’s lips brushed her ear lobe.

“Relax, Graeca, being so tense is useless,” he whispered hoarsely.

His hands stroked her thighs through the fabric of the skirt. Haydee held her breath, then let it go.

The emperor pushed her styled hair off her shoulders and kissed her bare skin.

“You wanted my attention, didn’t you, temptress?” he said, softly, just for her.

“I only did what I was told,” she whispered, trying desperately to sound neutral.

Geta chuckled. She was clever, but not enough. The emperor could taste the sweet lie on her tongue.

“Of course, Graeca. Then I should kill everyone at this banquet,” he said.

She didn’t understand. Why would he kill his guests?

Geta smiled at her naïveté. “You should’ve seen their eyes. Like crows, ready to feast on your body. So much lust… but they know they’ll never touch you. Never have you.”

His words stirred something in her belly.

Haydee blushed.

Caracalla, sitting next to his brother, stared at the concubine but found nothing special in her. He returned to playing with his little monkey, Dondus.

“That blue suits you enchantingly,” Geta whispered.

Haydee didn’t know what to say. Just yesterday he had almost hurt her—and now, suddenly, he was too sweet to even seem like the same man.

She shivered as Geta’s lips grazed her neck—too gentle, as if she were made of glass.

The banquet continued stiffly: wine, senators’ usual chatter, and vulgar touches from some women toward the guests at the large table.

Haydee didn’t try to touch the emperor in any way. She sat still, like a statue.

Geta didn’t tease her further, nor touch her inappropriately.

He even rejected Alba’s advances when she tried to caress his chest.

The concubine glared hatefully at Haydee, seated on her emperor’s lap.

Geta watched Haydee from the corner of his eye. He was enchanted. She had cursed him.

She had wormed her way under his skin, to the bone—consuming him like fire devouring candles on the banquet table.

Haydee politely accepted a cup offered by a servant. She didn’t recognize him—thought he was just a kitchen boy.

How wrong she was.

The sweet taste of wine touched her lips and tongue.

The emperor reached for a glass from the same tray when Haydee suddenly felt irritation rising in her throat.

She coughed once, thinking the wine had gone down wrong—but the sensation worsened. Her throat began to burn, pulsing painfully.

Geta looked at her. His blood turned cold when he saw her clutching her throat, the glass slipping from her fingers as she desperately tried to breathe.

Poison. The wine was poisoned!

Geta caught her in his arms, shouting in panic, “Charcoal, quickly!”

Aurea ran to fetch the antidote.

Alba chuckled under her breath.

Geta held her tightly, forcing two fingers down her throat—he had to make her vomit, and fast!

Haydee coughed up the wine, but the poison had already entered her system.

The emperor whispered deliriously, eyes wide, trying to help her breathe.

He had never felt so powerless in his life.

“No… No! Graeca!… Look at me! Breathe, damn it!” he whispered.

Someone had tried to kill her. Someone wanted her dead.

Haydee’s cerulean eyes welled with tears. She had fought so hard to survive—was she to die now?

The charcoal arrived in time. Geta mixed it with water and forced her to drink it.

Haydee, exhausted, closed her eyes.

The last thing she heard were the emperor’s furious screams.

“Who… dared… WHO DARED!!”

Then everything became a blur—like a memory fading into darkness.

But Haydee knew: whoever had tried to kill her wouldn’t escape.

Because Geta was ready to unleash hell—if not burn all of Rome—to find them.

He would be worse than Nero, than Commodus, worse than any emperor before him.

Mastelist.

I hope you like this chapter!

Yep someone tried to killed her, and we might know who is already mhm mhm…🙃❤️‍🩹.

WHO wants to be tagged please told me!!🌻

Taglist🏷️ my beauties pookies!💕

@deliciousfestsalad

@coruja12345

@opy005

Translations

Lascivus= dirty, sensual

Domina= lady

Graeca= Greek female

Puella= girl

[iamchickenhearmesquawk]

“Helly was never cruel” is SO satisfying cause honestly even before I either heard/considered the “Helly is Helena” theory I remember getting so mad at some Helly/Helena scenes on the severed floor this season but I couldn’t put my finger on why and was like, angry at the writers for mischaracterizing Helly.

Then once I had an inkling of “what if this is Helena pretending to be Helly” those moments made so much more sense. There are still some moments where it truly does FEEL like Helly but others that are just like, off.

And the moment in question of her being cruel that Irv brings up was one where I was like “that had better be Helena cause otherwise I’d be upset”

[hislittlesparklejumpropequeen]

Watching you

Hwang In-ho x female!reader.

Summary: In-ho sees you and his brain chemistry changes. A/N: in reader’s pov he’s referred as Young il. Sorry if it’s confusing. Warnings: Obsessive and possessive behaviour, masturbation, stalking, perverted opinions, murder, blood, kissing, mentions of arousal, mentally and physically vulnerable characters, dubious consent, non-con touching, manipulation, sadism, dacryphilia

W/c: 3,5k

It was strange that he kept his eyes on you more than anyone in the games. The moment he saw your shaking figure among the crowd of people in the green suits, he felt his breath get stuck in his throat. You were looking around with eyes that were full of fear, hands wrapped around yourself and holding back tears as others started an argument in the middle. You listened as someone complained about his shoes being so expensive, and someone asking for his phone, an old lady argue with her son and guards answering the players’s questions with patience.

He kept his eyes on you as the first game started. He saw your eyes widen when someone was shot right in front of you, and he watched you as you realise the seriousness of the game you accepted to take part in. Gi-hun was interesting to him, yes. He was searching for them, for him have been for years now. And he was brave enough to come back to the games just to find who was behind them. He respected his determination. Yet there was something about you that he could not name. Something captivating. Something that shifted things in him, made his skin sting in ecstasy as you nearly moved when the doll turned around. You looked around with those innocent eyes and blood of someone flowing down your cheek, he felt his trouser tighten. A small, tingly sensation took over his loins and made him frown in confusion. He had never taken a liking to a someone, let alone a little, fragile thing like you.

When he found the video of you playing ddajki with the recruiter, he felt himself get harder and harder as he watched you spill tears in pain every single time you received a hard slap on your cheek. The camera captured the noises you made as your body was falling backwards with every single slap. The recruiter hit you hard and In-ho wandered if you would sound the same when he pounded you hard on his bed. He took his mask off and palmed himself trough his trouser as he kept replaying the video over and over again. When he was finished spilling his seed into his palm, he wished that was your mouth wrapped around his tip instead.

When the first game finished and your number and picture still shone bright on the floor, you voted for ‘X’ and expected everyone to vote same as you. Yet you were so wrong when the last player 001 and all others voted ‘O’, causing all of you to stay in this hellhole. You felt tears fill your eyes as some people were cheering with victory in front of you. You sat down on one of the beds at the front and hugged your legs with disappointment. As you were thinking what was going to happen next, you felt someone sit next to you.

“I’m sorry, I thought staying was the best option.” Said the man who was looking at you, watching your tears flow down your flushed cheeks. You looked at his number and saw 001 in bright white font. He was the person who voted last and made the decision. You sighed and shook your head.

“It is not only you, sir. Half of us wanted to stay.” You said as you pointed at the people who had the ‘O’ banners on their right side. He did not look at the direction you were pointing at, he kept his eyes on. You were so pretty when you cried. He wandered how beautiful you would look when you were overstimulated with his fingers in you. He felt his cock twicth when you looked at him again. Your lips were plump, and the tip of your nose was red. He wandered how your tears would taste like.

“We have a winner here. I thought we could use this for our advantage.” He explained as he pointed at Gi-hun who looked very troubled not so far away from you. Your eyes were on the last winner when you felt the man beside you stand up and take few steps towards the player 456. Yet he stopped mid way and looked back at you, as if he was waiting for you to follow him. And for some reason you wiped your tears away and followed him like a lost puppy as he walked towards the previous winner of the games who was already accompanied by few guys who kept asking him questions.

And the small group was formed with two of you joining them. You did not know much about others, did not trust them meanwhile player 001 was confident and comfortable talking to them. When he sat down next to Gi-hun, his eyes pointed at the small space next to his feet, so you sat down there. Being close to him brought you a sense of safety. He was the first person who approached you in this mess of a place with kindness. You did not know him, didn’t know his name or why he was here. Yet there was a look in his eyes that made you want to stick beside him.

When everyone went to sleep, In-ho looked at your resting form. You were wrapped in the thin blanket and was curled up into a ball. He looked at your curves that were visible from the tracksuit, his mouth watered. You were so frightened and powerless. You needed someone to protect you in the games. Someone who would look after you, make sure you make it alive. He knew what humans were capable of doing in a place like this. People were going to go mad and hurt one another viciously. Would he be able to just stand and watch if you got hurt?

Your soft whimpers and cries brought him back to reality. When you woke up from your few hours of sleep drenched in sweat and tears flowing down your cheeks, he crawled to you, in the darkness of the hall. He reached out to you, from the metal bars of the beds, and held your shoulder. You squirmed in fear and was about to scream until a large hand covered your mouth.

“It’s me.” He whispered to your ear as his whole body was pressed against your back, other arm wrapped around your shoulders. He was towering over you, as you felt sweat drops make their way to your neck from your temple.

He let go of your mouth, but his touch did not leave your body when he moved to sit next to you. He was close, his breath hitting your face and neck when he looked at you with observing eyes that did not give any feelings away. His touch made your heart beat fast and quicken your breaths, yet you did not want him to stop holding you.

“Bad dream?” He whispered, his voice is low yet deep enough to make your insides shake. You nodded when tears filled your eyes again. The images of dead bodies all over the playground haunted you since the moment you came back from the game as winners. You didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, but you felt like he would not mind seeing you cry.

He nodded along with you, almost like a grown up talking to a little kid and mirror her moves to befriend her. When he saw your bottom lip tremble and eyes full of fear scan the hall of people sleeping, he felt his loins burn in need. The face you made when you were scared and felt alone was enough to make him cum in his underwear without any touch.

Without hesitation he brought your body closer to his own and his arms embraced your shaking form with mercy. You buried your face into the crook of his neck and wrapped your smaller arms around his waist. He was warm. Very warm that you felt your fingertips burn over his body. When you breathed in and out in the crook of his neck, all In-ho wanted to do was throw your body back into the bed, rip those clothes off of you and ravage you in front of dozens of people without any care. The though of fucking you, turning you into mass in front of them, giving them a show as he claimed you, sent shivers down his spine.

“I’m so scared,” you whispered, your crying voice reaching his ear as he tried to hold back a smile at your situation. You were so helpless that you were crying in the arms of the man who was the reason why you were still here. He was a stranger, who had the potential to do anything. Yet here you were, quivering against his chest and making his member throb in need.

“I’m here.” He said. And you had no chance but trusting him.

———————

The next game you were automatically given the Gong-gi game as the only female in the group. Yet your hands were shaking when it was your turns to play after player 390 completed his part successfully. When you missed two times, you were so sure you were going to die and worse, be the reason for everyone’s death in your group.

He watched you panick, drop the pebbles and fail to catch them midair. Everyone around you was getting inpatient and scared naturally. Even tho he loved the way you were struggling and feeding into his twisted desire, he could not let you die. He held your waist and stopped the trembling of your body. You looked at him under your lashes that were wet with your tears and went back to work once he gave you a reassuring smile. With that you managed to catch all the pebbles in your palm and passed the round.

It was then, you felt something was off, when it was his turn to play his own game. The top kept slipping from his hands or landed wrong on the floor that was covered in the blood of eliminated players. You wanted to step back yet could not because of the ties when he started to scream in anger and slap himself. There was a crazy, off-putting look in his eyes. It was less uncomfortable when he was looking at you, yet it was still there. His eyes made your skin crawl and stomach twist in sickness. You did feel safe around him. But not like you would feel safe with a family member, a friend, or a lover. It felt like he was a wolf who claimed a lamb, kept her on his chest and waited for right moment to eat her.

When your group managed to survive and go back to the hall, he kept to you close. His hand was on your back, leading you to your bed. When it was mealtime, he gave half of his food to you, telling you to not to worry about him when you tried to reject him. He watched you until you finished all your food. After all of you exchanged names, he watched you talk to player 388 about his time in marine and watch you laugh when he was talking excitedly, telling everyone how prideful he was about his military service. He watched your tears dry up as you listened to the conversation that was flowing in the group. Your smile made his stomach twist and his jaw clench.

Your hopes once again were shattered when people voted for “O” more than “X” and decided to continue playing the games. Young-il wiped your tears away and convinced you to get some sleep for the night. You could only relax and fall asleep when he sat next to you on your bed and caressed your head as he decided to stay awake. He looked extraordinarily strong to you. He did not need to sleep, gave his food to others, calm people down when everyone was scared, raged and pass the games like it was nothing. Most importantly, he held you close no matter what. Did not mind you cry and fail and fall. Maybe it was a sense of guilt he felt, for making you stay in the first round of voting, you thought.

——————

Next morning he held your hand when everyone was taken to the new game. It was mingle. Your group had decided to stay together. You were grateful that they had take you in and did not leave you alone. You all took your place on the platform and started to spin as the song was playing. You felt his hand get tighter around yours, reminding you that he was here with you.

10

You ran as fast as you can and took deep breaths when all 10 of you finally managed to get into a room. The sound of lock made you jump slightly. You saw Young il’s eyes on Gi-hun as he pulled you under his arm. The images of him looking at Gi-hun since the moment you met him lingered on your mind until the woman who claimed to be a shaman started to speak loudly in the middle of the room. As you waited for gunshots to stop and doors to open, you could not help but wonder the reason behind Young il’s weird behaviour about Gi-hun. He seemed to get along with him. Seemed to respect his ideas and experiences about this place. They seemed to understand one another, somehow. Yet that unexplainable look in 001 eyes was making you shift uncomfortably in your place.

Until last round, you had no chance but sticking beside Young il. As you entered rooms and people kept dying outside, you became more paranoid. And when it came to the last round, Jeong-bae asked how many people it was going to be this time. Without hesitation Young-il answered.

“2.” And it was it. When the song stopped and the platform stopped spinning, Young il held your hand tighter than before, and started to run to closest room. As you were trying to catch up with his pace, someone bumped into you, causing you to lose your balance and stumble midway. Young il turned around immediately and wrapped his arms around your waist. He lifted you like a piece of feather and made his way to the yellow door that was already opened by a guy. Young il pushed you into the room and threw the other guy away from the door. When you scanned the room, your eyes were met with pair of foreign eyes.

“Out.” Young il said sharply to the other man in the room.

“We were here first.” The man said, his voice cracking as he was shaking in fear. Person behind the door tried to open it. You pushed your back against the door and held it with all of your strength. There was not much time left, and you were afraid that all of you were going die in this room.

Young il grabbed the man and locked his arms around his head. As they scooped to the floor, his arms got tighter around the player 343’s neck. You were still holding the door and preventing the other player to get in. For a second Young il’s intense gaze met with yours and you couldn’t look away.

He looked into your eyes, showing no emotion or weakness as the man he was choking started to turn purple. Your breath got stuck in your throat, your knees were shaking, and your palms were getting sweaty with the scene taking place in front of you. As there were few seconds left for the countdown, Young il twisted the man’s neck. The sound of bone cracking filled the room along with the sound of door locking behind you. He kept his eyes on you, as he tossed the dead body of the side.

The lifeless body of player 343 laid on the ground and the gunshots filled your ear. The screams of people scratched your brain, and you finally managed to close your eyes. He had killed someone in front of you, broke his neck with one swift motion and he had no emotion on his face as he did it. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought it was going to fail at some point. Then the images of him came to your mind. When he knocked down player 124 and 230 as he looked down at them with those emotionless eyes, when he carelessly slapped himself in the second game, when he looked at Gi-hun as if he wanted to strangle him when he thought no one was looking, when he pushed everyone out of his way to get both of you to safety during the mingle game and now when he killed someone.

“Open your eyes.” He breathed out, his breath hitting your face. Suddenly you felt his warmth surrounding you and him towering over your head. You slowly opened your eyes and there he was. Looking down at you, his eyebrows lifted up and with a mocking look in his eyes. His face was close to yours. Yet it did not feel comforting and safe like it did a night ago, when he was comforting you after a nightmare.

“What did you do?” Your voice was shaky and sounded terrified as you tried to look at the dead body that was in the corner of the room. He did not let you look away with his fingers finding your chin and holding it tight. He held you with those hands that just took the life of someone. You felt chills going down your spine.

“I made sure that we survived.” He whispered without breaking eye contact with you. You could hear soldiers cleaning up the mess outside of the rooms.

“You killed him.” You tried to shake his touch away, yet he didn’t let you. Instead, he got closer, until you were trapped between him and the door. His hot breath made your skin tingle, and his touch made you wanna cry.

“Yes.” He said, and his lips touched your cheek that was wetted by your tears. His lips planted a soft kiss onto your skin. The kiss made you feel dizzy and your knees weak.

“For you.” He continued. His words made you freeze in your spot. His lips traced over your skin like a ghost and reached the corner of your lips. “Only for you” He kissed the side of your mouth, softly, gently, with mercy. You wanted to rip his hands off of you, and run away. The floor beneath your feet was slippery with the blood of eliminated players. If you slipped and fell, would he let you go?

“All for you.” His lips found your chin, then your nose, then your other cheek. He did not rush or hold you harsh enough to hurt. Yet knowing that he had just killed someone with those hands made you wanna throw up.

Your tears dropped to his lips, and he licked his lips as if he was dying over thirst. And when he made eye contact with you again, it was the first time you saw a clear human emotion in his eyes. An emotion he did not try to hide or was afraid to show; yearning. You did not know if it was for you or winning. In both cases, it terrified you to your very being.

“Stop!” You said as sobs filled your mouth and he pressed his forehead against yours hard. You felt him shake his head, his arms wrapping around your fragile, little body compared to his strong form.

“I will give you everything you want, you need.” He said and pressed his lips against yours. Without waiting, his tongue made his way into your mouth, forcing your lips to open up for him. You felt the dizzy feeling take over your head. Your ears were ringing, your mind was foggy as he kissed you harsh, deep. There was no power left in your body, so you just let yourself to his arms.

His teeth crushed against yours and he was biting every corner of your lips until he drew blood. The irony taste filled your senses, made you jump. You did not know if it was you bleeding or him. But there was blood everywhere. Covering your tongue, your lips and staining your chin as your shared spit escaped from the corner of your lips. You felt your body burn all over. Your back was arching like a cat to get any closer to him, and there was a soreness between your legs that made your clit throb. You felt shame fill you and guilt making you wanna cry out. Instead, you kept kissing him, devouring him, eating him as much as you could.

You whined and pushed your head towards him when he parted your kiss with the sound of lock. The door was opened. The third game was finished. There was still a dead man in the room. Your mouth was covered in blood, making you look like you just feasted on someone. And his eyes were on you, watching you.

[miabebe]

Too Many Beds (Choi Seungcheol)

Reverse Trope Series Installment 1

Choi Seungcheol may be your parent's best friend's son, your next door neighbour for 20 odd years and the one face you saw every damn time, every damn where but that didn't mean the two of you wanted anything to do with each other. But a business trip - one room, three nights, and seven beds - might just be what it takes to change it all....

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x afab! Reader

Word Count- 13k (don't ask me how I thought I could do this in 5k)

Genre - Rivals to lovers? Frenemies to lovers? Lovers to lovers? Idk man, these two are idiots, that's all. Oh and smut.

Warnings - one mention of blood cause of intense make out wew, other smut warnings under the cut!

Smut warnings - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, brief face fucking, thick dick cheol lol, slight choking, allusions to a breeding kink, unprotected sex (these two are digustingly in love, extremely horny and highly irresponsible, please don't be like them), creampie, mention of the word slut like once, and I'm hoping that's all?

“Absolutely not.”

“No way in hell.”

Seungcheol glared at you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m not sharing a room with him.”

“I refuse to even breathe in her vicinity.”

“Then maybe I should do mankind a service by being around you more.”

“The only way you can help mankind is by shutting your mouth.” Seungcheol leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You’re not pretty enough for all the stupidity that comes out of it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Rich coming from you. If I had a face like yours, I’d sue my parents.”

“Aw, fifth graders can insult better than you, sweetheart.”

“That was a fact, darling.”

“Ah” The two of you turned to the receptionist, finally remembering her presence as her eyes flickered between you and Seungcheol. “So, the two of you are dating?”

Looking at her incredulously and with unadulterated disgust, the two of you immediately took a step back.

“No!”

“No!”

“I’d rather stub my pinky toe on furniture everyday than date her-”

“And I’d rather choke on my own spit everyday than date him-”

“Oh baby, I knew you were a desperate one. I can give you something better to choke on-”

“Honey, are you sure? I heard you can stack fruit loops on that skinny thing-”

“Enough!” The old woman behind the counter got to her feet, putting her hands on her hips, the never-ending squabbling finally getting to her. “If either of you say another word, I will personally put you both in the tiniest broom closet I can find and trust me, the ones in this lodge are devastatingly small.”

You immediately shut up, dreading that idea more than anything. Seungcheol too became uncharacteristically and thankfully, quiet.

“Now, as far as your room is concerned, your company booked only one room, number-” She glanced at the paper in her hand and pulled out a pair of keys from the drawer. “- 68. If you can bear each other for 4 nights, well and good, get moving. If not, then take your things and get out of here. Good luck finding another lodge in this miserable weather.”

And as though on cue, a bright light, followed by a loud thunder flooded the room, taking all three of its inhabitants aback.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Seungcheol visibly gulp, well aware of his fear of thunder. Seungcheol too heard the way you sniffled, knowing that your rhinitis would only get worse with the humidity rising outside.

Sighing with the realization that there was no way out of this, both of you reached for the keys at the same time, making the old woman snatch it faster than the damn lightning to avoid yet another fight from breaking out. Ringing for the bellboy, she handed him the keys before he took your suitcase and Seungcheol’s bag in each hand, leading the way to your despair of the night.

Seungcheol followed quietly behind you, hands tucked in his pocket, his large headphones perched on his head as he swayed to the music, blatantly ignoring you. You were thankful for that. Since you were little children, you had always craved moments where you could pretend like this man didn’t exist. Why wouldn’t you? Everything about him was a pain in your ass.

You first met Seungcheol when you were five. Your fathers were college mates turned business partners and coincidentally, your mothers were best friends since high school. Naturally, everyone expected the children of both families to be just as close as their parents but alas, even at the age of five, you could not bear him for more than five minutes. He was so aggressive and unruly, always messing up your dolls, always pulling your hair, never giving you a second of peace when he was around. Albeit that behaviour got milder over the years but there were other things now.

Like the fact that your father always preferred to have a boy, a son who could be his heir, someone like Seungcheol. It wasn’t like he didn’t love you but a different side of him came out every time Seungcheol was around, a side not even you could bring out. He would laugh louder, his eyes would shine more, he would seem so carefree. Seungcheol too never missed the chance to rub that on your face, constantly sneering and claiming that your father would be happier if he was a part of the family.

Over the years, your displeasure and annoyance at Seungcheol only grew into a deep dislike. As though it wasn’t enough that the two of you did your entire schooling together (yes, all twelve years of it), he was always present anywhere and everywhere you went - the debate club, the swim team, the dance academy, the cafes, the libraries, the movies - there was no place you were free of him. Ever since you were young, you had longed to escape to a place far away from home just to be carefree and explore and reinvent yourself without the constant looming of a figment of your past. You had hoped that at least after school you’d have the chance to go away from him but as your luck would have it, the two of you were accepted into the same business school, were interning in the same company, were working on the same project, and had come out of town for the same three-day conference together. It was one thing to have to bear this man’s presence all day, now you had to do it all night as well, thanks to your cheapskate company.

As you got in the lift Seungcheol held the doors open for you before settling in the corner opposite yours, keeping as much distance in between as possible. The bell boy looked at both of you confused.

“I thought the two of you are dating?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, and fished out your phone, scrolling through it instead.

Seungcheol glanced at you before scoffing at the absurd idea of dating you. He wasn’t foreign to that doubt though – people often wondered if they were together and Seungcheol wondered what on earth they saw between them that even resembled a speck of liking or even tolerance for one another.

Seungcheol had honestly not met anyone as stuck up as you. He never understood why his parents constantly considered you as the ideal role model for their son - ‘Look Cheol, she joined debate, you should too’, ‘She got selected in the swim team, you should try Cheol.’, ‘What do you think about dancing Cheol? She’s really good at it.’. Seungcheol was sick of being dragged into everything you were in, only to always be second. He hated debates, he would rather play football than swim, and though he liked to dance, ever since he joined the academy with you, even dancing was not giving him any solace.

Yet he gave his best all the time. He tried and tried and tried but he was always second to you who was evidently a natural at everything. For example, back in the school days, Seungcheol would almost get the same grades as you but at the cost of sacrificing nights of sleep and putting hours and hours into teaching himself. Meanwhile, you would breeze through the notes a day before the test, get a full 8-hour sleep and still score higher than him. As if that wasn’t enough, you’d invite him home, offering to “tutor” him only to constantly berate him about his ignorance, drop snide comments about how you were better, subtly challenge him in a battle that the both of you were well aware he could not win.

No wonder you had no friends while Seungcheol was as popular as could be - who would even want to be friends with you when you were always so cold and condescending towards anything that moved or breathed. If your parents weren’t joined at the hip, forcing Seungcheol to be a constant presence in your life, he wondered who would ever even talk to you? You should have been thankful for him, that he was the one human presence in your life who was always there despite it all, yet you treated him like he was beneath you. He had hoped that at least after graduating the two of you could part ways but the universe apparently loved playing cosmic jokes, putting the two of you together yet again, at the same workplace. And completely up in each other’s space for the next few days as well.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t ever shared a room before - whenever your parents would meet up at each other’s house to drink and talk all night, the two of you had no choice but to crash in the same room, sharing the same bed even but thank God it was usually queen size, allowing the both of you to take two opposite ends, not even your breaths mingling. It had been years since that though…..Seungcheol felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back. He had no idea how he was to spend tonight in this room. Or the next few ones.

Neither did you.

As all three of you stood before the door and the bellboy fumbled with the keys, you glanced at Seungcheol. He looked unbothered as one could be. Perhaps you were overthinking this whole thing. It was a matter of four nights, surely the two of you could at least try to be courteous right?

“What in the...?”

Seungcheol’s voice rang in the empty corridor and you leaned to see what had him so shocked. Your own jaw dropped in a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and relief.

Room 68 was no average hotel room. It was as big as the entire lobby, 7 heavily pillowed and blanketed single beds aligned from one end to the other almost military barrack style, only small bedside tables putting space between them.

“Room 68 is uh our bachelorette party suite.” The bellboy clarified. “For, you know, those big groups of girls who are hell bent on partying all night together?” He looked away like he was recalling a horrifying memory. “Since it’s holiday season, the lodge is booked out, this was the only room we had left. Is... is it not good?”

Seungcheol looked at you and for the first time in nearly 25 years, the two of you could finally agree on something.

“No.” You stepped in. “It’s perfect.”

It had been years since you had seen Seungcheol half-naked.

Well, you frequently saw him during swim practice in those tight speedo shorts of his, ass all plump and taut but you were not talking about that. You were referring to the sight before you right now, him with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he searched for something in his bag frantically – most likely his aftershave. You knew he must have cleaned up given the conference was starting tomorrow and also that his cheeks were burning because you couldn’t smell the subtle cinnamon spice aftershave that usually followed in his routine.

Seungcheol strangely felt a pair of eyes on him as he rummaged through his things and suddenly remembered he was not alone in the room. He quickly turned, looking for you, finding you curled up in your bed, writing in what he guessed was your journal, unbothered by his presence. You were wearing that cute nightgown with little tomatoes drawn all over it which Seungcheol found funny given how much you hated tomatoes with all your heart and soul. Realising he had been looking for too long, Seungcheol gulped, quickly grabbing the aftershave he finally found and rushed back into the bathroom.

You flinched as you heard the door of the bathroom slam shut, looking up from your journal. Shaking your head exasperated, you returned to your writing. Seungcheol always handled things around him roughly like he was just not built to be gentle - slamming doors hard, breaking at least one coffee mug a month, causing rips in most of his clothes when he would gym because he was so big…. And muscular…. And built…..You bit the back of your pen thinking about how good he looked in his gym wear but if you were being honest, he looked best in a suit.

He’s going to be wearing one tomorrow.

You snapped out of your thoughts realizing you were entering dangerous waters and turned your attention back to your writing. Seungcheol made that process slightly harder as he walked out, furiously rubbing his towel against the back of his head, dressed in a black t-shirt and grey sweats.

As he sat down on his bed, he looked at you sitting six beds across, all the way in the other end of the room, right by the window. The moment the two of you entered the room, he took bed 1, the one against the wall and you took bed 7, the one against the opposite wall, putting the maximum possible distance between the two of you. He let you use the bathroom first, not because he knew you preferred using it when it is dry but because he thought this was the best time for him to call his parents and wish them goodnight….. even though it was still 7:30.

He showered after you did but even now, despite being so far from you, he could still smell your bodywash, the fragrance of lilies, the mildest kind because strong fragrances irritated your sensitive nose. Throwing his towel on the chair he kicked his legs off the floor and lied on the bed, turning to the wall, hearing the faint annoyed click of a tongue. Seungcheol knew exactly what triggered it - you hated it when he tossed damp towels like that. But honestly, he couldn't care less right now, not when there were more important things to deal with tomorrow, not when he was so tired already.

You shut your journal, irritated by his behaviour remembering exactly why being in the same vicinity as this man infuriated you. Flipping the lights off and pulling the covers over your shivering body, you realigned your thoughts towards your goal - Tomorrow’s conference was crucial. You had to look your best and do your best so clocking in 8 hours of sleep was the priority, Choi Seungcheol's character development be damned.

But as you lied down turning towards the window, lightning flashed across the sky, a loud thunder following. You turned to see Seungcheol and his back was facing you, the outline of his figure moving up and down rhythmically like he was already in a deep sleep. Slightly relieved yet still unconvinced, you turned towards him before the sleep and tiredness took you away.

Seungcheol simply stared at the wall all night.

Seungcheol most definitely did not sleep all night.

You could tell by the fact that one, he was up without you waking him and two, he was not there in the room right now. That meant he was out for a run which in turn meant his face must have been all swollen which definitely meant he didn’t get enough sleep. You did notice though that his bedding had shifted from bed 1 to bed 2 and guessed it was because of the coldness of the wall - Seungcheol had the habit of tossing and turning at night and there was nothing he hated more than his bare skin accidentally brushing the cold walls. Considering you were still five beds away from him, you ignored it as you went to wash up and prepare for the day.

When he saw the time on his watch as he finished his last lap, Seungcheol realised he was way behind schedule and that you probably were already at breakfast, sitting with a dozen snide remarks, waiting for him. True enough, as he quickly showered, dressed, and headed down to the buffet, you were there already, going through the proposal, the plate beside you nearly empty. Quickly grabbing a piece of toast and stuffing it in his mouth he walked over, putting on his suit jacket in a hurry. As you saw him approach, you shut your laptop, looking at him top to down in an ensemble that fit him all too well. Seungcheol’s eyes wandered over the pretty way you did your hair, and the plunging neckline of your blouse, a sliver of your pink bra peeking from underneath the fabric-

Both of you cleared your throats and looked away.

“We should leave, the cab should be here in-” He glanced at his watch. “-should have been here ten minutes ago, fuck.”

“It’ll be here in ten.” You pushed a cup of coffee towards him, looking at him pointedly to take a seat. Seungcheol glanced at it then back at you.

“You changed the time on my watch.” He huffed annoyed. “Again.”

“Glad to know you are still capable of basic comprehension.”

“You vile woman.” Seungcheol gritted between his teeth, sitting down. “I showered so fast I thought I was going to pass out.”

“But you didn’t.” You shrugged. “And learn to be grateful Seungcheol, you’re only ever on time when I meddle, so say thanks to me.”

“I’d rather die before I thank you.” He took a sip of the coffee before the extreme bitterness hit his tongue, making him spit it out right back into the cup. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“You did say you’d rather die.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know ten minutes is more than enough for you but personally, I prefer longer.”

Every single time. Every single time you flashed him that sweet, mocking smile and every single time it pushed his buttons like no other. One day he swore to put you in your place but right now he was too low on energy for that.

Well aware that you loved strawberries more than anything, he grabbed the last one on your plate and walked off to the taxi stand, ignoring the way you whined behind him.

“Oh, real mature of you Choi Seungcheol!”

You knew in your stress about perfecting the proposal early in the morning you had forgotten something important and the moment you stepped into the room that night, you knew exactly what that was.

To close the windows.

Thanks to the pouring rain, the water had drenched your entire bed, not to forget, your bag full of your clothes which was conveniently placed right on the mattress, soaking nearly every piece of clothing you owned. Thank God the laundry in the lodge said they would handle it for you so you still had an outfit for tomorrow’s conference but there were still two major concerns - one, what to wear tonight and two, where to sleep tonight.

You solved the first problem (almost) by grabbing your umbrella and heading to the nearest clothing store as instructed by the receptionist only to find out it sold barely any ‘cloth’ at all. It was an adult shop, filled majorly with lingerie of all kinds which were aiming to cover as little as possible. Groaning inwardly, knowing you didn’t have a phone on you to go any further in this weather, you grabbed the most decent nightgown you could find and rushed back.

A hot shower, a change of clothes and a quick meal later you decided to deal with your second problem, moving your things from bed 7 to 6, not too displeased considering there were still three beds between the two of you. You glanced at Seungcheol’s empty bed and then at the time - it was well past 10. Sighing, you settled under the covers pulling out your journal to write but got lost in your thoughts instead.

You were pretty proud of what you presented today - people praised you, congratulated you for a well drafted proposal and even went so far as to offer you jobs in their company. Yet you were not satisfied. Somehow, the one thing constantly running in your mind was the swarm of women who had flocked around Seungcheol the moment the conference was done, ‘mindlessly’ touching his arms, ‘casually’ brushing their chests against his, ‘genuinely’ laughing too hard at whatever bullshit came out of his mouth.

This was not new to you, Choi Seungcheol being the centre of attention wherever he went. He enjoyed it, basked in it, and chose to make a show of it whenever he got a chance. It was all so fake and superficial; you could not bear to stand it. That’s why even though everyone decided to go out for dinner and drinks tonight, yes, all twenty-seven of them, you politely said goodbye citing a headache and took a cab back. You were not interested in casual conversation and definitely not interested in seeing Seungcheol’s pathetic flirting.

Just as you begin to relish his absence and the beautiful silence that came with it, a loud knocking on the door and his voice screaming your name ended your perfect night. Grumbling, you opened the door to a fully drenched Seungcheol looking absolutely frazzled.

“What the hell-”

He stopped when his eyes fell on you dressed in a white floor length satin gown, the material seductively clinging to the curves of your body, your leg slightly visible between the slit. You crossed your arms to cover yourself up, feeling conscious under his gaze as he gulped audibly.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He met your eyes, a slight worry flashing behind the anger. “You just disappeared without letting me know-”

“I told you I was leaving.” You walked into the room rolling your eyes. “Maybe if you could see something beyond all that pathetic fangirling you’d have heard.”

“Fangirling?” He looked genuinely confused, following you in as he stripped off his jacket. You tried your best to not stare at the way his pecs were so perfectly outlined under the wet shirt sticking to his body but Seungcheol caught you peering, his features lighting up with amusement.

“Would you look at that?” He smirked. “Someone is jealous.”

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wouldn’t be jealous even if we were the last people on Earth.”

“Obviously, if we were the last people, who would you even be jealous of?”

You sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“I actually don't, sweetheart. If a little action is all you want, you can just ask for it you know?”

“Funny coming from a guy who kissed me just because another man was talking to me.”

The first tea break of the conference had led to an introduction that was surprising to you considering people did not really tend to approach you on their own. It was even more shocking that this man chose to speak to you in the lunch break as well, completely unprompted. He was sweet, not egging you too much with conversation, simply limiting it to work and the conference and then Choi Seungcheol appeared out of nowhere, snaking an arm around your waist, uninvited. Before you could glare at him and send him away, he planted a soft kiss on your cheek, excused himself and led you away from there, only to abandon you the very next second without an explanation.

“You call that a kiss?” Seungcheol scoffed. “You were so swept off your feet, you were this close to spilling details on our quotation for the project. That was actually me shutting you up.”

“Oh yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “If you really wanted to shut me up, then you should have kissed me on the mouth.”

Seungcheol stared at you wordlessly.

As you began to walk away, he pulled you by the elbow, putting you against the wall, trapping you between his hands on either side.

“Is that how?” He leaned closer, the scent of his cologne taking over your senses. “Because there is nothing I’d love to do more than shut you up.” He cocked his head with a small smile. “And maybe also show you what a kiss really is.”

You tried not to gulp the phantom lump in your throat, cheeks suddenly hot under his gaze. Somehow, as though it had a mind of its own, your hand traced his exposed collar bone, trailing down his chest slowly, eyes following. Seungcheol held his breath under your touch. You stopped your tracks at his hard pecs, right above his heart beating just as fast as yours and looked up at him.

And then twisted his nipple.

Shrieking in pain, Seungcheol stumbled back, clutching his chest.

“What the hell mate?”

You walked towards your bed, grabbing your matching satin night robe and slipping it on. “It's ridiculous that you even think you of all people could show me a real kiss.”

“You forget sweetheart, I was your first one.”

You turned to Seungcheol as he brought up a memory you had actually done a great job forgetting. It was during your senior year - your parents had forced you to accompany Seungcheol to a house party so you could “get more involved in the social scene” instead of holing yourself up in your room all the time. It was a classic game of truth or dare and the worst dare of your life - to kiss Seungcheol for a minute.

Now the last thing you wanted to hear was him teasing you every day about how you were too scared to kiss him so you held him by the collar and pulled yourself into his lap straddling him, your mouth meeting his in a frenzy. If you were being honest, something about that kiss served as your sexual awakening - maybe it was the way he moaned into your mouth, or his hands gripped your ass, or hands entangled in his soft hair or your chest pressed up against his. Whatever it was, there was a video of it that your classmates took circulating somewhere out there, timed around five and a half minutes as opposed to the one minute it was supposed to be.

“Don’t take too much pride in yourself Cheol.” You sat on the bed, leaning back on your hands planted in the mattress. “Only I know how many other guys I had to kiss after that to know what kissing truly is.”

Seungcheol felt his jaw tighten.

Something in you had changed in junior year. Yes, you were still the same antisocial, inhospitable, unapproachable person you always were but somehow every other day, he found you in a new location with a new guy's tongue shoved down your throat. They were not boyfriends, Seungcheol knew that much, and it was the fact that they weren't that made his blood boil with anger.

“You shouldn’t take pride in yourself either sweetheart.” He looked at you with a strange mixture of anger and pity. “There's nothing to feel accomplished about not forming a single real bond in your life.”

The moment the words left his mouth Seungcheol regretted it, knowing he had hit a soft spot. It was too late now; the damage was done - pain was flashing in your eyes.

You looked at the insensitive man before you and laughed at him sadly, mirroring his hurtful words.

“No real bond? I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.”

And with that you turned away from him, tucking yourself under the sheets, turning off the lights on your side of the room. Grabbing his towel and a change of clothes, Seungcheol locked himself up in the bathroom, your words piercing his heart like no other. Over the years yes, the two of you argued and fought and annoyed each other and couldn’t stand one another but hate? He didn’t ever think that’s what you felt for him. Perhaps he deserved it - he had after all crossed a line with that comment.

He knew you had always struggled around people. He knew that even though you detested taking his help for anything, in every social setting, you would always choose to hide behind him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to interact, you just couldn’t. You were a sick child since birth, constantly brought down by various illnesses that often confined you to your room - you didn’t go out to play with the other children, you didn’t join the kids on their trips to the ice cream shop, you didn’t go late night camping with your classmates, you didn’t do a lot of what kids your age did.

And when you were old enough, when you were healthy enough to step out into the world, you didn’t know how to anymore. Hence you continued to stay in your own shell, closing yourself off from everyone, wary of any and all interactions. Seungcheol knew all this, that’s why when he couldn't lay his eyes on you in the crowd of the conference, the panic he felt was like no other. He never thought he would ever feel his heart stop but Seungcheol felt it twice today - once when he lost you and the other when you said that. I’m afraid you filled that void Seungcheol. Hate forms really strong bonds too.

You stared out of the window, mildly annoyed by all the light falling in your face, Seungcheol’s words ringing in your ears. It might have sounded harsh but he was right. You never formed real bonds with anyone, you could never bring yourself to. Having spent years all by yourself, you didn’t know what it was like to let another person into a space that was entirely yours. That’s why, though you engaged in all sorts of flings and hookups, you never let it go beyond that - you never let yourself lose your heart to someone, walking away from them before they could walk away from you.

In that sense, Seungcheol was indeed the realest bond you had - just a constantly present, mildly irritating, oddly comforting white noise in your life. It was easy with him - you never had to think in his presence, you never had to wonder whether anything would drive him away, never had to worry about keeping him by your side unconditionally - he was always there. Somehow what you felt for Seungcheol was liberating in a way you hadn’t even realized. Hate could hardly define that; you were unnecessarily harsh earlier.

Seungcheol stepped out of the bathroom, eyes falling on your unmoving figure which he just realized was on bed 6 instead of 7. Noticing the damp sheets and piecing it together, he didn’t think too much of it as he switched off the lights and crawled into his bed.

Hearing the sounds of him shuffling, you turned towards him.

“Are you not going for the dinner?”

“It’s too late now. I would have eaten there if I didn’t have to run back here to check up on you.”

“You could have just called me.”

“I did.” He turned to you, looking at just your silhouette in the darkness. “A few hundred times.”

You checked your phone immediately and it wasn’t a hundred times but there were some fifty odd calls from him and two dozen messages.

“I put my phone on silent during the conference and forgot to take it off.” You mumbled, just a little guilty that he was missing out on a gathering because of you. “Did you at least eat?”

“I’m not hungry, thanks to all the Americanos you kept feeding me all day.”

“If not for that, you would have been snoring in the conference barely an hour after it began.” You turned to lie on your back, facing the ceiling. “And I wouldn’t have had to do that if you’d just obediently drank that double shot espresso in the morning.”

Seungcheol remembered you sliding the coffee cup to him and smiled to himself in the dark.

“Then maybe you should also listen to me and stop munching on those strawberries every chance you get, especially when you know they flare your allergies.”

You remembered Seungcheol gobbling up the last berry and smiled to yourself in the dark.

“Goodnight, you obnoxious prick.”

“Goodnight, you insufferable fiend."

When you woke up in the morning, two things had changed - one, Seungcheol had moved from bed 2 to bed 3 in the middle of the night and two, his shirt was gone, discarded somewhere in the mess on the floor. He was lying sprawled on his bare stomach, his back covered in a thin sheet of sweat, his tattoo shining as the light hit it. Ignoring the sight before you with much difficulty, you shook him awake.

“Get up Cheol, we’re going to be late.”

He groaned, rolling over, eyes slowly blinking open, falling on you first thing in the morning. Even though you were dressed in the sultriest thing he had ever seen on you, Seungcheol controlled himself and tore his eyes away.

“The radiator is right across the other bed; I was literally burning all night.” He mumbled, stretching awake, justifying his move.

You turned towards it noticing how it was in fact between bed two and three, closer to three than two to be honest. Considering Seungcheol was still drenched in sweat, his move in the middle of the night was actually quite pointless, but you chose not to say anything about it. Quickly washing up, the two of you rushed for breakfast, skimming over the presentation notes one last time. Today, neither of you noticed but Seungcheol drank the coffee and you didn’t eat the strawberries.

Day two went by in a flash much like day one. Only this time, you didn’t talk to the gentleman from yesterday, choosing to sit quietly by Seungcheol in the break and he didn’t leave your side either, regardless of all the ladies calling him to join them. In the evening, as the team headed to the city’s best karaoke bar, inviting you and Seungcheol again, Seungcheol brushed them off claiming the two of you had a little more work to do on the proposal. To his surprise, you shot him down, agreeing to join everyone, looking at him with a small smile.

“Don’t be such a killjoy darling.”

Seungcheol knew you were compensating for last night so he followed, well aware that you would most likely want to leave the moment the singing started. Well, he was almost right - you actually wanted to leave the moment you stepped foot into the room, turning to him with pleading eyes. Seungcheol turned you by your shoulder, laughing as he led you in.

“Don’t be such a killjoy sweetheart.”

You sat patiently as the beers poured in and people around you fought for the photobooth props. Seungcheol was sitting right beside you, his thigh a comforting weight against yours, laughing with everyone. As the night progressed, you had downed a beer or two, a slight buzz taking over, not noticing the way Seungcheol had his arm around you now or that you were warmly cuddled against his torso. Soon, one by one, everyone settled on the couches, tired from all the screaming, resorting to chatter instead and deciding on an old-fashioned game of truth or dare. Seungcheol smirked at you and you turned his face away with a soft push.

“So Seungcheol,” The man beside him spoke. “Truth or dare?”

“Neither actually. We should leave now.” He stood, pulling you up, stumbling slightly. “I’ve had too much to drink and it's late, Y/n needs to sleep.”

“Didn’t realize wacky wallflower here also had the bedtime of a toddler.” One of Seungcheol’s many fangirls piqued, jealousy stark on her face. “We can book her a cab, why don’t you stay a little longer, Cheolie?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused at the nickname, and at her jealousy but Seungcheol did not find anything about her words even remotely funny.

“No thanks, I go where she goes.”

“I thought you guys weren’t dating? Then why-”

“That doesn’t change what I said.” His voice dropped an octave. “I go where she goes.”

“Cheol.” You placed a hand on his chest, sensing his anger rising. “It’s fine, let’s stay for a few rounds, yeah?”

Seungcheol looked at you frowning as you sat down, pulling him with you. The girl you already disliked but quite vehemently hate now, spun the bottle with a giggle.

“We don’t have to stay.” Seungcheol whispered as the guy beside you excitedly asked the one across him a question. “You stayed long enough, you need sleep-”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m not.” He spoke between gritted teeth. “Just looking at that foul woman makes me mad. I already said I wasn’t interested in her, she had no reason to be a bitch.”

“Well then don’t you want to put the bitch in her place Cheol?”

You looked at him with big doe eyes which terrified Seungcheol even more. What on Earth were you up to?

“Y/n, you get to ask Yuri!”

You looked at the bottle to see it pointing between you and your little conquest of the night. Hook.

“Truth or dare?” Line.

“Dare.” And Sinker.

“Okay Yuri, then I dare you to not take your eyes off.”

You pulled Seungcheol by the collar, smashing your lips on his, swallowing his audible moan. His hands immediately found your waist, pulling you closer, up against his body, teeth roughly tugging your lower lip. Hand sliding up his neck and across his jaw, you entangled your fingers in his hair, drawing him even closer denying even air the right to come between the two of you. Yes, it was all a show for Yuri or whatever her name was, but at a point, she stomped her foot and got up, running out of the room. Perhaps the two of you should have stopped then or at least when you were running out of breath. But you only broke apart when someone dropped a beer bottle, smashing the glass loudly on the floor. Seungcheol and you looked at it, faces flushed, lips swollen. A low whistle echoed in the room.

“We-” Seungcheol cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back. “We should get going.”

“Y-yeah.” You agreed, getting up and grabbing your things as Seungcheol smoothened his hair with his hand, muttering a small goodbye to everyone. As the two of you stepped out of the room, you found Yuri crying at the entrance, her friend trying her best to console her. Not sparing her another glance, you walked away, Seungcheol following you close behind. As the cold air hit you when you reached the taxi stand, you felt a painful sting on your lower lip, making you hiss. Hand cupping your face, Seungcheol wiped the trickle of blood with his thumb.

“Guess you desperately did need a real kiss huh?”

“Shut up.” You smacked his hand away. “I had to help the poor girl get over her pathetic taste in men.”

“By getting a taste of me?” Seungcheol smirked as you rolled your eyes. Before you could say anything, his stomach let out a loud growl making you laugh and look around, spotting a burger joint.

“Let’s get you a taste of that big boy.”

“Sometimes I wonder-” You stared out of the window at the large clouds rolling in. “-considering our parents are best friends and we are not, do you think our children would be good friends or enemies?”

“Wow, children.” Seungcheol munched on his burger furiously. “I never thought that far.”

“Then think about it now.”

“I don’t know.” He hummed. He hated thinking when he was tipsy. “Siblings tend to have a love-hate relationship.”

“I was talking about our children Seungcheol.”

“So was I.”

“No, I mean, my own children and your own children.”

“Yeah, same thing.”

You looked at him exasperatedly.

“Let’s be honest here Y/n. Who else out there can put up with us for long enough to start a family?”

“We can barely put up with each other-”

“But we have, for almost 25 years.” He slurped on his drink. “There’s a reason why you have never been in a relationship and I have never been in one that lasts. Because whatever it is we share, it’s you and I, till the end.”

“Till the end.” You muttered, reaching for his burger, taking a bite from it. Judging by your expression, Seungcheol could tell you liked his better, like you always do. That’s why he made sure to get it without the tomatoes he usually loved and settled to eat your meal instead. He was just about to ask why exactly you were so lost in thought when a loud thunder boomed across the sky sending a shiver running down Seungcheol’s spine.

Shoving the last of the burger down your throat quickly washing it down with some soda, you began gathering your things.

“We should go before the rain starts.”

Seungcheol nodded, finishing up his meal as you threw the trash in the nearby can. As the two of you left, muttering your thank yous to the waitresses, you laced your fingers with Seungcheol’s, gripping him tight as another lightning flashed across the sky. Thank God it wasn’t too hard to flag down a cab because the moment the two of you sat inside, rain began pouring like there was no tomorrow. As you glanced at the obscurity outside the window, Seungcheol stared at his hand, the one that you hadn’t left in all this time.

There were times when he used to stay over in your room, unable to sleep due to all the thundering while you dozed away oblivious to his presence. Those days, you’d turn around, reaching for his hand, holding it in your sleep. Seungcheol now wondered if that might have been a conscious effort to comfort him.

Perhaps not he thought as you began to nonchalantly hum his favourite song. He wondered if you knew he loved that piece because of how beautiful you looked when you danced to it. He wondered if you knew that the reason he was always around you was to make sure you were alright. He wondered if you knew he always carried an extra inhaler for you, that he had written a long list of your allergies in order from ‘can handle’ to ��keep away from at all times’, that he was constantly alert about everything you ate, smelt and touched. He wondered if you knew, deep down how much he cared about you…..but sleep dragged him away before he could wonder anymore.

Sensing Seungcheol had fallen asleep, you stopped humming, turning to him, smiling at his half open mouth. Scooting closer, you slowly pulled his head to rest against your shoulder, and he groaned softly, nuzzling into it. The driver looked at the two of you through the rear-view mirror, making your cheeks go red as you looked away.

“Is your boyfriend afraid of thunderstorms?”

You nodded, ignoring the title. “Since he was a child. I don’t think he’s been sleeping too well the last few days.”

“The forecast shows it’s going to be worse today.” The driver sighed. “Look out for him.”

You nodded again. You did look out for him. In your own ways you always did - you always challenged him knowing that was what pushed him to do better. You always made sure to wake him up or at least meddle with his clocks so he was always on time. You always made sure he ate and slept enough, knowing how it threw him off whenever he was deprived of either. Even now you were humming his favourite song knowing it calmed him down. You wondered if Seungcheol knew, that deep down you really cared about him…..perhaps more than anything.

When the taxi reached the lodge, you softly shook him awake after paying, dragging his sleepy self through the lobby. The receptionist's eyes followed the two of you, stumbling away hand in hand, mouth curling into a small smile as you disappeared. You only let his hand go when you reached the room and that’s what jolted him awake.

The silence that descended the room today was different. It wasn’t because the two of you were too tired to say anything to each other, rather neither of you knew what exactly to say given there was so much to. So instead, you resorted to washing up and filling in your journal for the day while Seungcheol worked on a few changes in the proposal for the final pitch tomorrow. Just as he shut the laptop and you shut your diary, the two of you looked at each other before quickly looking away, settling in your own beds, for the night.

You were almost ready to drift off to sleep, before the driver’s words rang in your mind - the forecast shows it’s going to be worse today. Without thinking much, you moved your things from bed 6 to bed 5, muttering that the light from the streetlamps was falling in your face there. Seungcheol did not point out that you could just close the curtains instead and curled up in his own bed, glad you were closer to him now.

He looked at you across the one bed that was in between and suddenly you felt too far, like the distance was too much.

You looked at him as his eyes fluttered shut, thunder rumbling across the sky, wondering if he could hear you across all this space, humming louder than usual, lulling the two of you to sleep.

When you woke up, Seungcheol was surprisingly awake and fully dressed, trying to knot his tie unsuccessfully in front of the mirror, expression focused with a small pout. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you stared at his reflection, eyes skimming over the beautiful features of his face which you never really consciously admired - his thick hair, thicker eyebrows, plump, pillowy lips, his jawline sharp and chiselled. He was indeed handsome, in a way you really liked….a lot.

You wondered why you always looked at him like he was the bane of your existence. Was it because it was easier to bury the unresolved tension under pointless banter? Or did you wantonly show him your worst side, hoping it wouldn’t scare him away, hoping he would stay despite every flaw, every shortcoming. What did it mean if in 25 years, he didn’t leave even once?

Seungcheol groaned, annoyed at his futile attempts, eyes finally meeting yours in the mirror. You slid off your bed, walking up to him as he turned to you. Yawning, you took his tie in your hands, tying it for him. Seungcheol’s eyes drifted over the features of your face as he held his breath.

He could get used to this, the sight of waking up to a sleepy you, your hair all over the place, your eyes slightly droopy, nose red. God you were so beautiful - he knew that, but why didn’t he ever think about it? Why did he choose to fight every remote thought about you with irritating banter? Was he scared that the tension would remain unresolved? And what did it mean if you were still here, right by his side, helping him out in everything big and small, always making sure he was going the right way and doing the right thing, every single day for the last 25 years?

You pushed the knot up to his neck, smoothening the material, patting his chest with a proud smile. Seungcheol gulped as you walked away to wash up, trying to get his breath under control.

When the two of you came down for breakfast, you pointedly avoided the receptionist's gaze. There was no time to deal with more thoughts.

The rest of the day went like that, thoughtlessly. It was a little awkward at the conference considering the little show you two put up last night, so the moment it ended for good in the evening, you bid everyone goodbye, citing you had an early flight and had to leave soon. It was true though, you did have to travel in the wee hours of the morning, but leaving from the conference so soon also meant having to spend longer with Seungcheol, all alone. He agreed with you though, stating his social battery was at an all-time low and that he just wanted to go back.

Today the two of you were somehow sitting on two ends of the car backseat, bodies pressing against the door, in complete contrast to last night. It was a silent ride, a silent walk to the room and a silent session of packing up. Suddenly there were very conscious efforts to not brush hands, or accidentally walk into each other or catch the other person randomly staring, lost in thought. It was only when you were finally done that you asked Seungcheol if he wanted to order dinner. He agreed, leading to a very small and very efficient discussion about what dishes to eat and then silence descended upon the room again. While waiting for the food to arrive, Seungcheol muttered that he was going for a quick run, leaving you alone with the thoughts you could no longer stop from plaguing your mind.

Something had changed over the last 3 days. It wasn’t you or Seungcheol - he was still throwing his damp towels on dry clothes and you were still meddling with his clocks. No, the two of you hadn’t changed. Neither did the arguing, neither did the banter, neither did the subtle flirting, neither did the silent support. No…. nothing had changed. It was all the same. It was all the exact same except now, you were finally willing to acknowledge something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself since the age of five, that-

“I’m in love with him.” You whispered, smiling to yourself.

Seungcheol on the other hand thought running around the lodge would mean those thoughts wouldn’t run in his mind anymore. He was wrong - even though you were not there, like always you were on his mind, in his every thought, in his every breath. Seungcheol didn’t know of a life without you. He also knew that you would be there with him for the rest of his life but for the first time in 25 years, he finally found himself owning up to it - that he truly wanted you be a part of his future, that he could not bear to think of one without you in it, that-

“I’m in love with her.” He whispered, smiling to himself.

By the time Seungcheol had returned, dinner had arrived. Between each bite you searched for the right words to say, noticing that Seungcheol was trying the same. Somehow, neither of you could bring yourself to say anything.

You couldn’t peacefully finish up your journal and Seungcheol couldn’t take a relaxing shower, both muttering under your breaths, practicing long speeches, determined to confess everything before sleeping tonight.

But when all was done for the night, both of you laid down on your respective beds, staring at the ceiling, unable to talk, unable to sleep.

Seungcheol turned his head as you did towards him, making his heart clench a little.

Sighing, he grabbed his pillow and put it on bed 4, lying down, facing you.

You looked at him blinking slowly.

Seungcheol held his breath.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your duvet and joined him on the fourth bed, throwing it over the two of you, lying down, facing him.

Seungcheol slid his hand over your waist, pulling you closer.

You gripped the material of his shirt, snuggling into the warmth of his neck.

Nothing was said that night.

Nothing had to be said as the two of you drifted off to sleep.

It was the harsh morning sun and the annoying chirping of the birds that woke you up.

You stared out of the window surprised at the bright light given the last few days were as gloomy as it could be. Seungcheol’s soft breaths tickled your shoulder as his arms held you tight, your back against his chest. Smiling you wiggled in his grip turning towards him, taking in how much more stunning he looked in the morning light-

Morning?

“Cheol.”

He hummed softly.

“Cheol!”

“What?”

“It’s bright outside.”

“That’s how mornings are Y/n.”

“Oh thank you for enlightening me.” You rolled your eyes. “Might I return the favour by reminding you that we had a flight at 5am?”

Seungcheol’s eyes flew open.

He quickly grabbed his phone from the nightstand, 11am flashing on the screen.

“Fuck.” He muttered, running his hand through his hair. “Fuck fuck fuck, I can’t believe we missed the flight!”

You took the phone from him and scrolled through the app. “The next flight out is tomorrow morning, same time, 5am.”

“But the company hasn’t paid for the room tonight, where will we stay?” Seungcheol groaned. “How could you not wake me up?”

You frowned at him. “And why is it my job to?”

“Because, you don’t like it when I put alarms on my phone.”

“Uh no, I don’t like it when you continue to sleep through the dozen alarms you put on your phone.”

“Whatever your reasons are, I think its been established that you are the one who's supposed to wake us both up.”

“Yeah well thanks to you I forgot to set an alarm.”

“Thanks to me?” He looked at you bewildered. “What did I do?”

“Who asked you to..” You pointed at everything around with the wave of a hand, the two of you only just registering the situation you were in.

“You were the one who came to my bed.” Seungcheol shrugged. “This is on you because you were desperate.”

“Says the one who’s boner poking into my back woke me up.”

Seungcheol gawked at you, stuttering. “M-morning wood is a scientific phenomenon, okay? I can’t help it-”

“I could have.” You muttered, slipping out of the bed.

Seungcheol pulled you back under him, half hovering over you.

“Oh yeah?” He bit his lower lip with a small smile. “How exactly?”

You hummed, “I happen to know some good meditation techniques-”, running a finger down his abdomen, tracing a random design.

Seungcheol grabbed your hand and pinned it to the mattress by your face, leaning close.

“Think of a better way, baby.”

The nickname sent a delightful chill down your spine as you slightly squirmed under him, smiling.

“How about I get you some ice-”

“That’s not what I want right now.”

“Then what do you want right now?”

His eyes ran along the features of your face.

“I want to kiss you.” He whispered. “So bad.”

“And what are you waiting for?”

Seungcheol groaned, immediately pressing his lips onto yours, needy and ravenous, like he had been waiting eons for this. Well, so had you.

Pushing him off you and onto his back, you straddled his hips, kissing him again, rolling your tongue over his. Seungcheol moaned into your mouth, one hand wrapping around your waist, the other holding you by the nape of your neck, taking back control. When you ran your hand over his thick pecs, he pulled away with a dreamy sigh, planting a trail of kisses along your jaw, down your throat.

“Strip for me.”

Sitting up immediately, you lifted your hips a little letting Seungcheol push the material of your nightdress up your thighs and you pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere. In the ten seconds it took you to do that, Seungcheol was a changed man. The old him wanted to take his time unravelling you slowly, pushing you to the edge but the new Seungcheol felt the animal in him come alive with a throbbing, insatiable desire. It became exponentially worse when you pulled your hair up, tying it with the hair tie on your wrist, baring your neck, perfect breasts, soft stomach….unable to reign it in anymore, Seungcheol lunged forward, hungrily sucking a tit into his mouth, making you lose your balance over him a little, grabbing his bicep half laughing.

“Huh, I really thought you were more of an ass guy.”

Seungcheol let go with a wet pop, looking up at you from between his thick lashes. Oh wasn’t that a sight.

“For you, I’m an everything guy.” His hands gripped your ass hard. “Your derriere does take the cake though.”

You laughed, “Who even uses that word?”

“I don’t know, I have no idea what is coming out of my mouth right now.” He confessed, his tongue running up the gap between your boobs, the sweet and salty taste of your skin driving him insane. “I just know what I want in it.”

“Yeah?” You sighed, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him back with a harsh grip, before he latched onto your other tit. “I have better things to put in it.”

Seungcheol grinned like he couldn’t wait, flashing his canines, biting his lower lip.

God he was going to be the end of you.

But you’ll beat him to it.

Palms planted behind you, you slid yourself back off his thighs and sat between his legs, lifting your own up for him. Seungcheol’s eyes darkened in an instant and the moment he saw the wet spot in the middle of your pink panties, he could not hold himself back anymore. With a swift movement he was up on his knees before you, hooking his fingers in the elastic by your waist and slowly dragging your underwear along your legs. Like a man starving he crumpled it in his hand, breathing it deeply, eyes fluttering shut like he was intoxicated by your scent.

“I’m going to be borrowing this, for whenever you’re not there.”

“Pervert.” You whispered as he tucked it in the back pocket of his tracks. “But I’m never not going to be there. I’m afraid you’re stuck for life now.”

Seungcheol fisted the material at the back of his neck and pulled it over his head, flinging it somewhere before he put his hands between your knees and spread your legs apart, groaning at the sight before him. You were quite literally hiding his paradise between your legs.

“Trust me,” He reached for a pillow behind him, throwing it to you. “I want to be stuck here.”

The moment you tucked it under your head lying back, Seungcheol wasted no time in crawling between your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, descending on your sex. You felt your back arch off the mattress as he devoured, his tongue, mouth, lips all showing you stars in daytime.

“Fuck Cheol.” You whimpered as his tongue slipped into your hole, his moan sending a wild vibration against it. Bringing your hands to his head, your fingers gripped his hair, pushing your hips up against him “Give me more.”

Seungcheol smirked, pressing your hips down, continuing his ministrations in a way that made your toes curl. Damn he knew what he was doing. For a split second you wondered how he knew so much and an ugly jealousy began coursing through you but it was lost almost immediately, when he began to suck on your clit.

“Cheol….” You moaned, the sudden stimulation too intense for you, a tightness growing deep inside. “F-fuck that’s good.”

Seungcheol knew he was good. Not because he was experienced, not exactly - more because he was desperate to taste every inch of you. If he thought the taste of your arousal was heavenly, the moment your legs trembled and your breaths got harsher and you came against his mouth, Seungcheol knew he’d cast aside the heavens for it. This wasn’t enough.

This was probably the fastest orgasm you ever had, waves of the buzz washing over as your jaw fell slack. You rode it out against his mouth, tense shivers running down your body as his nose grazed your clit before falling limp into the softness of the bed, chest heaving.

Seungcheol was so noisily devoted to making you fall apart on his tongue, he wasn't sure if you didn't moan his name or if he was too entranced to hear it. Either way, he had to go again, keeping in mind to put his eyes on you this time. When he looked up at you, your face was flushed, lips curled into a blissful smile and Seungcheol thought he fell more in love with you, if that was even possible.

“We're gonna have to talk about why you're so good at that.” You half laughed, trying to sit up. Seungcheol pushed you back down, throwing another pillow at you, humming.

“How good was I exactly?”

“Nice try big boy,” You stacked the pillow over the previous one, leaning back against it. “I'm not going to feed your ego.”

“I'll feed myself then.” He smirked before licking a long strip between your folds making you tremble with over stimulation.

“Cheol not yet-”

“If I don't hear you I'm not going to stop.”

And he descended upon you like a mad man again, making you gasp in surprise. You did not think he'd go through with it.

“Cheol I really can't-”

but Seungcheol did not stop.

When he didn’t listen, you reached to pull him off you but Seungcheol was quicker as he grabbed both your wrists in a flash and held them against your heaving chest, continuing to eat the life out of you.

“Seungcheol please.” You couldn’t even squirm if you tried to, held down hard by his brute strength. “I really can’t-”

He looked up, his mouth wet with his spit and your arousal as he licked his lips. Fuck you really loved this man.

“Do you actually want me to stop?”

He was taunting you but there's a slight concern laced in his voice.

You shook your head slowly.

“I thought so.” He chuckled before continuing his act of wolfing down on you.

Your second orgasm began to rush in with an unreal speed and you don't know how Seungcheol could read your body so well already but the little bitch backed out before you could cum again.

“Cheol…”

You whined, frustrated at the feeling ebbing away, desperately clenching to hold on to it.

“I said I wanted to hear you.”

You glared at him, not used to him having the upper hand. He knew he's got you under control when he finally loosened his bruising grip on your thigh to sit up and you opened your mouth on your own accord to let him slip his fingers into them.

“What a pretty little girl.” He sighed as you sucked on his digits. “My pretty girl.”

“Yes yours.” You moaned, as he pulled them out of your mouth and pushed them into his, wetting them more as you practically panted below him.

“I'll do what you want, just put them in me Cheol.”

“You're quite demanding baby.” He leaned over you looking amused. “I hope you deliver as well as you talk.”

“I'll suck the life out of your dick after this I swear, just let me cum again.”

Enticed by the idea, Seungcheol captured your mouth in another one of his messy kisses, his fingers slowly slipping into your heat. You gasped into his mouth, surprised by how thick his fingers were. Oh his dick would probably make you pass out and god were you ready for it.

“Say my name baby.” Seungcheol pressed his forehead against yours, still holding your wrists between both your bodies with his other hand. “Tell me who's making you feel so good.”

“You.” You moaned as he pumped his fingers, slowly stretching you open, your arousal dripping down between your thighs. “Fuck Cheol, faster.”

He obeyed, picking up the pace as you babbled a string of curses, legs squeezing his hand desperate to feel more. Seungcheol sucked on your neck, enjoying the way you were crumbling apart for him. How was he ever going to be away from you after this?

“Oh god yes.” You sighed, as his fingers curled hitting the spot, eyes rolling back. Seungcheol looked at you in awe.

“I apologise if I ever told you that it was annoying when you rolled your eyes.” He continued to push you over. “That was the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

“Yes yes yes.” You chanted not hearing him, too lost in your own pleasure building. Pleased with himself, Seungcheol finally put his thumb over your clit and that was all it took for you to cum all over his fingers with yet another silent scream.

Seungcheol let your hands go and sat back on his heels, admiring his artwork. Your chest heaved erratically like you had forgotten how to breathe, squeezing your tits, hands desperate to claw something. Hair sticking to your forehead, sweat running down your neck next to the bruises he marked, you were a vision to behold.

Seungcheol sucked his fingers clean, relishing the taste of you yet again. You stared at him wide eyed, curious.

“Have you never tasted yourself?”

You shook your head.

“Oh sweetheart.”

Seungcheol pushed his tracks down just a bit, enough to pull his dick out. It's not the longest you've seen but God was it thick, a stark vein running down the length which looked painfully hard. The thought of having him fill your mouth and choking around it literally made you drool.

He pumped it a few times before hooking his hands under your thighs and pulling you towards him with unsurprising ease. You scrambled to raise yourself up on your elbows, watching as he ran it up and down your slit, gathering your release on it.

“Come taste.”

You blinked at the man holding out his dick to you like it was a treat, like he expected you to crawl to him, stunned at just how cocky he had gotten in 20 minutes. Hell no.

You shook your head, tilting it in challenge.

“Come fuck my mouth.”

If Choi Seungcheol had a fatal flaw it was how much he desired control but right now, there was nothing he desired and craved more than you.

Moving over not so gracefully he aligned himself by your mouth, knees planted on either sides of your waist, looming over you.

You immediately wrapped your lips around his tip, humming at the weight on your tongue as he pushed your hair off your face softly.

“I know baby, you taste fucking divine.”

Giving him a half nod, running your tongue over his slit before hollowing your cheeks around him. The mix of your and his arousal indeed tasted….right, like they belonged together.

You tried to take in more of him but you might have underestimated his girth and overestimated your ability. Pulling back with a pop, you licked your lips.

“You're too thick.” Mumbling you tried to push him off you, onto his back. “Let me move over-”

“Oh no no.” Seungcheol clicked his tongue, grabbing the back of you neck, forcing you to look up at him. “It can't be that bad, someone claimed they could stack fruit loops on it.”

You rolled your eyes realising he was a bit too proud of himself. “I still can. I just don't have the cereal to prove it.”

“I'll buy some on the way back and when we go home that's the first thing you're going to do.” He wiped the spit leaking around the corner of your mouth with his free hand. “And if you don't manage to prove your point, that's grounds for punishment.”

You grinned at him.

“Oh you like that.” He hummed, guiding your head back to his cock. “We'll see how much of it you can take baby.”

A lot apparently.

Seungcheol should have known. You were like him - you didn't like to be challenged. That's why the moment he thrusted himself into your mouth, you held onto the back of his thighs with both hands, pushing it in a lot more than Seungcheol had thought you were capable of. Throwing his head back with a satisfied moan, he began moving his hips ever so little, slowly fucking your face, but you had other ideas, taking him as far back as you could, your throat constricting around his dick.

“Alright that's it.” Seungcheol pulled you off him, staring at your confused face. Somehow you had no gag reflex and Seungcheol suddenly had the endurance of a teenager. “Want to actually fuck you.”

He muttered drawing back, kicking off the remaining of his clothes and sitting up, trying to hide his breathlessness.

“Aw Cheol, was I right again?” You laughed, getting up and clambering onto his lap. “Is ten minutes really enough for you?”

“You'll see.” He pulled you into a deep kiss before abruptly breaking away, leaving you confused yet again. “Or not.”

“What?”

“I just realised… I don't have a condom.”

You waited for him to tell you he was kidding but he looked serious.

“Cheol….” He looked at you apologetically. “Ugh Choi Seungcheol, why not?!”

“One, don't call me that and two, I don't know, maybe because this was a work trip and the conference dress code didn't mention dick envelopes.”

You sighed annoyed. “I just always thought you'd carry one on you, xl sized.” You shot his overconfidence down before it even grew on him. “you know, for your head.”

“Oh because I'm a dick?” He rolled his eyes at the comment you had used on him too many times already. “Well, wouldn't that make you a little slut? Since you’ve been in love with me for so many years.”

“Who said I was in love with you?”

Seungcheol looked at you with the biggest, fucking cutest eyes. “Are you not?”

You smiled, surprisingly shy despite all that transpired so far. Honestly, you didn't have to answer that question. What you felt for each other was clear as day.

Putting a finger on his mouth, you whispered. “Less talking, more fucking please.”

Seungcheol groaned. “What do you want me to do? Go buy them now?”

“No…” You hated the thought of him leaving.

“Or…. I could pull out?”

“The last thing I trust in this world is your timing.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, don't you want to be inside me when you cum? Squeezing you tight? Milking you dry?”

“Kinky.” Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, secretly delighted. “And shoot me if I ever say no to that, but you're not on birth control are you?”

“No…” You drawled. “But I can get plan b?”

“Baby, you realize how reckless this is-”

“I know.”

“-we've barely just-”

“I'm aware.”

“-plus your health-”

“Choi Seungcheol.” You pushed him back into the bed, annoyed. “Are you gonna fuck me or not? Because if you don't then I'm gonna do it myself and all you get is to watch-”

Seungcheol, tucked his arm under his head, looking like he liked that idea a little too much.

“-while I cum taking someone else's name.”

His eyes darkened as his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you down to his eye level, “Try me sweetheart.”

“You know how I feel about challenges.”

“And you know how I feel about sharing what’s mine.”

“Then fuck me like I’m yours.”

Seungcheol smiled, dropping a soft kiss on your mouth, much in contrast to what followed. “Remember, you asked for this.”

One arm wrapped around your waist, he flipped you over, putting you below him once again, the hunger in his eyes burning a lot more now. As he shifted to push your legs apart, hand leaving your neck, a soft whine left you and Seungcheol caught it immediately.

“You’re into that too?” Seungcheol smirked as you frowned at him, annoyed.

“Apparently. I just found out as well.”

“I wonder what else you’re into.”

“You can wonder all you want, after you put that dick into me.”

Seungcheol clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I don’t like how you think I’d listen.”

Yet before you could talk back, he slid his cock along your folds, the tip slightly dipping into your hole, pulling out the most exquisite moan from you.

“Now that’s something I’d listen to.” He pushed himself a little further, your hands immediately coming to grip his biceps, gasping again at just how big he was. Seungcheol had been dying to listen to you sound like this and god was it so worth it.

You attempted to relax, adjusting around his girth as he eased himself in, but gave up even trying to maintain the facade of composure when he bottomed out, pressing all the way in.

“Fuck yes Cheol.”

He hissed softly, feeling your soft walls flutter around him. He had never fucked anyone raw and after this, how was he expected to just not spend his whole life buried in you?

“Please, move.” You begged, and he folded immediately, his hips slowly picking up pace as he kissed you along your neck.

“We should have done this years ago.” He groaned, wrapping your legs around his hips, pounding faster, harder. “We should have been doing this for years now.”

You nodded half listening, half submerged in your pleasure, nails running down his back. “Let’s just never get out of this bed.”

Seungcheol chuckled, absolutely agreeing with that idea, snapping his hips faster, delighted by the way you were reacting under him.

He wanted to flip you around and take you from the back, mark your ass with the red prints of his hand. He wanted you sitting on him, fucking yourself on his dick while he watched, your head thrown back in pleasure. He wanted to eat you out till you cried, fuck your throat and make you swallow, pull every moan and every whine and ever chant of his name out of you. God he wanted so much but Seungcheol wasn't capable of any of those right now - he had been hard for almost an hour now and your grip around him was like a vice.

“Seungcheol more.” You whined, despite him already railing into you like there was no tomorrow. He still listened though, sliding his hand down between your bodies and finding you clit, well aware that you would probably go unbelievably tight the moment he touched it, rendering him absolutely helpless. Sure enough, you keened, clamping down on him hard the moment he began rubbing circles, a string of curses leaving your mouth.

“Cum for me.” He whispered, hips rutting against yours harshly, holding his own release back desperately. “Cum all over me.”

And you did, the pleasure washing over you in waves, legs tightening around him before they finally went slack, exhausted. Seungcheol pulled them off him, gripping your thighs instead, shifting from an erratic rhythm to quick, deep strokes as he finally came inside you, collapsing on top.

He was careful enough not to crush you under his weight, holding himself up a little so you could regain your breath, watching your eyes flutter tiredly.

“We need to get you cleaned up.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, glancing at your mixed arousals dripping out of you. “I don’t know how long the statute of limitations for ejaculate is….”

For the first time in your life, Choi Seungcheol had managed to turn you dumb, as you nodded mindlessly, not having registered the stupidity that just came out of him.

He chuckled, rolling off you, but you dragged him back by the wrist, wrapping your arms around him.

“Hold me.”

And as though the universe hated you, a sharp knock on the door made you two jump apart. Seungcheol still proceeded to hold you but the knocking only repeated, louder this time. He huffed annoyed, sliding off the bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and threw it on. Opening the door just a little, half hiding behind it, lower half specifically, he peaked out but his plan was foiled when the receptionist pushed the door fully open and came barging in, throwing her hands around.

“Check out time was 12! You’re late-”

She froze as Seuncheol quickly covered himself with a towel from nearby and you scrambled in a hurry, hiding under the sheets, squirming in embarrassment.

The old woman slowly, still shocked to the core, muttered an apology and walked out of the room as Seungcheol smacked his head against the wall, regretting not wearing his pants.

“You…” She cleared her throat from the other side of the door. “You have till 2. Get it together and get out of my lodge.” She then walked away, the sound of her footsteps fading, before they suddenly got louder again. “I would also like to add that I knew this was going to happen from the moment you two stepped foot in here!”

You covered your face trying not to pass out from the embarrassment as Seungcheol locked the door laughing.

"Why does she sound so happy?"

“I cannot believe she saw us." You groaned. "Who walks in like that-”

“Who cares?” Seungcheol walked over to you. “I cannot believe we still have two more hours.”

“You’re not even ready to go again.” You looked pointedly at the softened dick in his hand that he was pumping lazily. “Besides, we're going to have to book the room again, for tonight.”

“2 hours isn’t enough for you? Oh baby-”

“Our flight is at 5am tomorrow you idiot, we still need a place for the night.”

“Right.” Seungcheol recalled, “I forgot we had to go… that this had to come to an end.”

“Nothing’s ending.” You clarified, putting a rest to his worries. “Didn’t you say, you and I, till the end?”

Seungcheol nodded as you held your hand out to him. He walked over taking it, dropping a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“Say.” And you knew an unholy thought was brewing in that head of his. “We have all this time and there are seven beds here.”

“I don’t care how many there are.” You laughed, pulling him into the softness of the sheets. “I only want one to share with you.”

A/n - this was supposed to be out a few hours ago but tumblr was being a bitch to me. Im adding the tags in the comments! Reblogs with tags, comments and asks are much appreciated, thank you for reading :)

[monzabee]

woah, baby! - s. reid

criminal minds masterlist ||

Summary: spencer regrets his words about not wanting kids. how can he not when he sees you with a baby? 

Pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: spencer doesn’t want a baby (or does he?), talks about schizophrenia, kissing, babies, talks about pregnancy 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

In retrospect, he should’ve known his words would eventually come back to bite him in the ass. Especially because they hadn’t been spoken in anger or frustration. No, Spencer had said it casually over takeout and an old documentary playing in the background. 

“I just don’t think I want kids,” he’d said, chopsticks paused mid-air. “I mean, I just don’t think it would be fair to them, with our line of work and all. You know?” 

You’d gone quiet then, your smile faltering for just a second before you recovered. You didn’t argue. You didn’t press. You just nodded, picked at your noodles, and changed the subject. “People around us will have kids,” you had said to him later, “you’re more important to me.” 

And he’d believed you. Or at least, he’d convinced himself you meant it. Because you were always understanding, always willing to compromise. Spencer had taken that quiet acceptance and tucked it away, like an old piece of paper, pretending it didn’t ache to think about having kids with you.  

It’s not that he doesn't want kids per se, because he does. He really, really does—and with you. But he’d spent so long convincing himself that it isn't a good idea, that it wouldn’t be safe, that he wouldn't be good enough, and there was a risk he would pass on the gene for schizophrenia. But all of that—the logic, the statistics, the what-ifs—starts to crumble the moment he saw you with a baby in your arms.  

It had been an impromptu visit to JJ’s. A rare weekend with no case, no jet, just brunch on her back patio while Henry played in the yard. You’d offered to help with Michael, who was fussing, and within seconds you had him nestled against your shoulder, bouncing gently and humming something soft under your breath. Spencer had looked up from his plate, and everything in him stops. 

But now, you weren't just holding JJ’s baby—you were glowing. Calm and natural and heartbreakingly beautiful as you whisper silly things to make him giggle. He sees your eyes soften when the baby grabs your finger, the way your lips curls into a secret little smile meant just for him. And that’s when something shifts. Like a dam inside his chest, like every carefully constructed wall of rationality and fear finally gave in to something far more powerful—want.  

Not abstract or theoretical, not someday or maybe.  

But real and immediate. Now. 

It’s completely irrational, and irresponsible, and Spencer knows this. But the only thing he wants to do right now is to take you home and—well, to put it crudely, put a baby inside you—in the most gentlemanly way possible, of course. He doesn’t do it right away though, of course not! And he doesn’t say anything when Will asks him whether he’s fine, no. Not while you’re cradling Michael and smiling like that, like you were meant for it. He just watches you, heart thudding with the weight of a thousand unsaid things. He thinks about the future—the possible future where the two of you have a baby of your own.  

He thinks about the scattered toys around the apartment, and lazy mornings where you all pile into bed together, your child nestled between the two of you, giggling as Spencer pretends to be asleep just so he can feel the weight of their tiny body crawling over him, demanding attention. He imagines late nights, bleary-eyed and half-asleep, warming up bottles while you rock the baby against your chest in one of his old FBI hoodies. He pictures your shared smiles when they take their first steps, say their first words, when their sleepy eyes blink up at him like he’s their whole world. 

He thinks about it, and he thinks about it a lot. But he stays silent, knowing that once the words are out, there’s no taking them back. And for something this big—this life-altering—he needs to be sure. Not just that he wants it, but that you still do, too. That somewhere deep down, after all this time, after his half-hearted deflections and logic-laced excuses, you’re still holding onto that quiet hope. 

So, he waits. 

Waits until you are in the safe confine of your home. You're humming as you put away the leftovers from earlier, and Spencer leans against the doorframe, watching you with the kind of reverence that aches. It hits him again, the thought that this is what he wants every day, forever, with you. 

He walks toward you slowly, almost hesitantly, as though afraid that moving too fast might make the fragile thing blooming inside him shatter. You glance up at him and smile. It’s so easy, so effortless, and he wonders if you even know what you do to him. 

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, a little unsure. 

You raise an eyebrow, catching the slight change in his tone. “Hey. You okay?” Spencer nods, but then shakes his head, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. “Is it your stomach? I told you to stay away from the dairy, Spence, you never listen to me—” 

“I want kids,” he blurts, voice higher-pitched than intended, sharp enough to cut right through your sentence. 

You freeze, a Tupperware lid still in your hand, eyes wide as you turn to face him. “Huh?” 

“I—” He exhales shakily. “I know it sounds sudden. And maybe it is. But it’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about today after seeing you with Micheal and I just thought about kids. Our kids.” 

You blink, still not moving. “Kids. Like—plural?” 

“I mean, I’d start with one,” he says, a little breathless, a touch desperate. “Just one. Though I guess twins do run in your family, so that means at least a fifteen percent chance of multiples, but that’s not the point—” He stops himself, clearly spiraling into statistics out of nerves, and drags a shaky hand through his hair. “What I mean is, yes. Plural. If you want. I just… I want this with you.” 

The Tupperware clatters onto the counter as you slowly set it down, turning to face him fully. “Spence, you told me you didn’t want kids, remember?” 

“I know,” he says, voice thick now, eyes wide with something raw. “And I meant it—at the time. Or I thought I did. I was scared. Scared of passing things on, of not being good enough, of loving them so much it would undo me. But you…” He takes a step closer. “You make it make sense. You make it feel possible and safe... right.” You swallow hard. It’s a lot. All of it. The past, the memory of that night he so casually shut the door on this dream. The quiet ache of acceptance that came afterward. And now—this. “I don’t want to pressure you,” he continues quickly, seeing the conflict flicker in your eyes. “This isn’t me asking you to decide right now, or even soon. I just needed to be honest. I needed you to know.” He stops a foot away from you, eyes searching yours. “Do you still want that? With me?” 

The silence stretches for a moment. And then you reach for him, wordless, threading your fingers through his and placing his hand gently over your heart. “I always wanted that with you,” you whisper, and he releases the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

Spencer leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Okay,” he breathes, soft and reverent. “Okay.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh, a little breathless and a little teary. “Let’s do it. Let’s have a baby.” 

Spencer exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. After a beat, he mumbles into your skin, “I still think it was the dairy, though.” 

You snort. “Spencer.” 

“What? I’m just saying, correlation isn’t causation.” His voice pitches higher as he tries to defend himself, making you smile into his shoulder. 

You sigh in faux-exasperation. “God help our future child.” 

“I’m a very fun fact at parties.” You laugh, as he grins, holding you tighter. Then, suddenly he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes soft but filled with something raw and hopeful. His hand cups your cheek, brushing his thumb over your skin like he’s trying to memorize every detail of you. 

“What?” You ask, laughing softly. 

“I love you,” he says, voice barely a whisper, “I just—really, really love you.” 

“I love you too,” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips, but it’s a smile full of so much more than just happiness.  

It’s full of everything you’ve both been through, everything that’s led you to this moment, and everything that’s to come. And somehow, you think it’s perfect. 

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 1 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: After getting attacked at the train station, you get rescued by a mysterious stranger. But is that really better?

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, attempted rape, violence, murder, hints of blood and gore, trauma talk

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

He was a twisted motherfucker. And you knew it was your own fault you ended up in his claws. But how could you have possibly known? After all, at first he seemed like the good guy.

Looking back, it was entirely lost on you, how he managed to pull that off.

You remembered vividly how it felt when you sat on the cold bench in the waiting area of the underground train station, just like you did every evening of your life. Except for Sundays. Sundays were reserved for books and tv shows, to numb out your mind. Sundays were for you.

Your thoughts had been occupied with work and the feeling of your lower body slowly freezing off.

UTI, honey. You'll get UTI, if you sit on cold surfaces for too long. Your mothers voice took up a lot of space in your head, despite the fact that the last time you saw her was years ago. It still made you feel uneasy, but there was not much you could do. She was your mother, your inner voice, your compass. The part of your mind that still relied on her advice didn't know that she was long gone from your life and for a reason.

The first thing you noticed was a pair of cold hands reaching for you. Everything seemed to be cold that day. And God, you hated the cold.

His cold hands reached for you and before you even realized it, he had you pinned against the bench, trapped in-between him and the cold surface. You didn't have time to react at all. His one cold hand went up to cover your mouth, while his other cold hand cupped your breast through the fabric of your clothes.

Of course you struggled. It was a reflex. You tried to fight him off as soon as you realized what was going on. You struggled and squirmed, at some point you even tried to knee him in the crotch. But he straddled your waist, keeping you down with his weight and you knew where this was leading.

You hadn't even seen his face. His ugly ass blue hat with the dove on top was pulled down deep in his face and you couldn't make out his eyes. Not that it would have changed anything, but it made everything even worse for you.

But what was by far the worst thing, wasn't the cold. It wasn't even the fact that the station was empty except for the two of you. The worst thing was that no sound came out when you opened your mouth to scream. No sound at all.

Oh, how you had feared that. The dream came often, frequently even and it was a shitty feeling every time, wanting to scream but no sound came out. Your throat was tight, your tongue useless, your lips parted in a silent plea.

No.

This was the end, you were sure.

He'd violate you and if you were lucky, he'd leave you like that, on the cold bench, to fend for yourself. But that wasn't your biggest fear. Your biggest fear was what would happen if he didn't decide to leave you like that.

Maybe it'd be quick. A blade to your throat and within a few minutes everything would finally be over.

But what if not?

A knot built in your stomach as you saw your future right infront of you. Sold off to some twisted people, spending the rest of your life as a tool for someone else's pleasure, someones amusement, someones-

No, being violated wasn't your worst fear.

Being sold off was.

At some point people would believe you were dead and then they'd stop searching.

Tears streamed down your face and your body shook with suppressed sobs as he ripped at your shirt impatiently. Your lips parted in another desperate plea, but still, no sound.

You were done for. This was your end. You couldn't breathe.

Until, suddenly, you could again.

You let out a shuddery gasp when you felt his weight lift off of you. You were frozen solid after you backed away against the wall.

The man appeared out of nowhere, looking like someone from a novel or a movie.

His hair, which looked like it was normally slicked back neatly, hung into his face as he dragged the man off you, his expression twisted into something you couldn't read.

You took a deep breath. In. And out. In. And out.

You were safe. The police would come, the man would get arrested and he wouldn't ever touch you again. You would finally see his eyes and-

Oh God.

You winced outwardly when you heard the cracking sound and the man with the blue hat went limp in his arms. His unreadable expression turned into something resembling smugness.

You watched in horror as he tossed the lifeless body onto the train line. The train came on time. Of course it did. Punctuality was a good deed, especially here in South Korea.

What you witnessed then was probably the most gruesome scene of your life and you immediately knew you would never get that picture out of your head.

The sound of a gunshot forced you back to reality and you winced painfully. When you looked up, you saw him still pointing his gun at the security camera in the left corner of the area. On his face a subtle smile. The twisted smile of an avenging angel...or an obvious demon.

He pushed the gun back beneath his waistline and held out his hand to you.

The man who had almost destroyed your life was dead, scattered across the train station in blood and gore and the man who would undoubtedly destroy your life held out his hand to you.

You heard your mothers voice again, small and subtle.

Don't take his hand, honey. Something's most definitely wrong with him. I bet he's dangerous.

That was what made you take his hand in the end. However bad he was, he couldn't possibly be worse than her, could he?

A few minutes later, he made a point of passing about every car on the highway.

"Where do you live?" His voice was like silk. It was terrifying.

After what had happened, you felt like you had stopped breathing for a while and just now were you slowly getting back to it again.

No ins and outs. Straight up hyperventilating.

"I- I don't know." You gasped out truthfully.

He cocked a brow and briefly glanced at you from the drivers seat.

"You don't know?"

You frantically shook your head.

"I always take the same path. From the train station, take a turn left and- and-"

"Where are you from, sweet girl?" His voice sounded so calm, as sweet as honey. It was almost offensive, it was infuriating.

"Yorkshire." You whispered without missing a beat.

He hummed softly and briefly eyed you up and down. "England, hm? I should have recognized from your grace and beauty."

Was he fucking flirting with you? After he just...just murdered someone?

"What takes you to South Korea then? School? Uni?"

"Work." You murmured, not even recognizing your own voice. But at least by now it was back. Fucking betrayed by your own body, wonderful.

He raised his brows as he passed another car in a nerve-wrecking speed.

"Work? You look a little young to be that far from home, working here. Do you even speak the language?"

You subtly shook your head and he nodded.

"I work with...with computers." You mumbled absentmindedly. In your head, the scene from earlier kept repeating like a broken record. All that blood...

He hummed again. An odd sound. He radiated such a calm energy, it was truly confusing.

"You were awfully quiet earlier." He remarked.

You swallowed back the lump in your throat and looked out of the window.

"Ah. Sore spot. I get it."

At first you had thought he might be taking you to the police station. But then you realized; after he just butchered someone down without flinching? Probably not.

Still, you had hope. That was until you saw the city sign disappear in the rear view mirror. This wasn't good. Maybe for once you should have listened to your mothers voice.

"Where are you taking me?" You asked quietly.

He didn't respond, just kept his gaze firmly on the highway before you. You kept glancing at him for a while, before eventually you looked down at your hands. You hadn't even realized how much they were shaking. You wanted to ask many, many questions.

Who the hell are you?

Where are we going?

Why did you kill that man?

...Am I next?

But all you managed was a quiet, desperate exhale.

"Are you hungry?" He asked matter-of-factly.

You thought back to the massacre and immediately felt nauseous again, so you shook your head.

"Yes, you are. You need to keep your strength. Don't worry, sweet girl. We'll be home soon. I'll take good care of you."

The cold sweat that broke out on your body was nearly painful. You knew he wasn't normal, but you couldn't yet tell to which extent he was crazy.

Was he just a little twisted?

He was a killer after all. And now you were with him. In his car. Maybe, just maybe you could...

You glanced down at the doorhandle, when his calm voice made you jump.

"Don't even think about it, sweet girl. That won't work. I'm driving so fast, the second your body hits the pavement, your head will explode like a balloon."

The was that tightness in your throat again. But this time something was different. He had his hands on the steering wheel, not on you. You could still breathe.

Suddenly you saw yourself again, sold off. And damn it, suddenly exploding didn't sound so bad anymore.

You furiously tugged on the door handle, but it didn't work. It was locked. You kept trying it desperately, a soft passing your lips. After a few moments you realized it was pointless.

Slowly you tilted your face back towards him, only to realize he was already watching you. He was still smiling that subtle, not at all genuine, smile, but this time something was different. It was like a cold fury had taken possession of his eyes.

Maybe he wasn't a demon. Maybe he was the devil.

"That one was free. Because we don't know each other all too well yet." He said slowly. "But next time, I won't be so forgiving."

You looked back at the street ahead of you. And suddenly you realized something. Maybe he was worse than your mother.

God, what a terrifying thought.

About half an hour later, there you were. Home.

A great apartment complex, somewhere God knows where.

Suddenly it hit you. He hadn't covered your eyes. Not in the car, not infront of the house, not in the elevator.

You weren't leaving this place, at least not alive.

He led you inside one of the apartments. To your surprise, everything looked pretty normal, except for the part that it looked fairly expensive.

The walls were painted in a warm apricot color and the floor was made of dark wood.

He led you deeper inside and you realized, it was indeed a normal flat. The couch was made of black leather and there was a giant bookshelf, next to a big tv. For some reason the sight of the bookshelf brought you an odd sense of comfort.

How bad could a person be, if he was well-read?

Your mind soon wandered off to Hannibal Lecter and you dismissed the thought.

"Sit."

You sat down on the couch as instructed. All the while you were careful to keep your shoes off the cream colored carpet so you wouldn't get it dirty. It was odd how your mind worked.

He followed your gaze, his expression unreadable again.

Then he crouched down before you, so you were eye level with him. His eyes were of a pretty brown and soulless to the core. You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He sized you up for a while, until eventually he sighed. An exaggerated, mocking sound.

"How do you like it here?"

Your insides twisted.

"It's pretty." You said in a choked whisper.

He laughed, a hearty, yet sarcastic sound.

"Look at you. Just look at you. Being my good girl already." He said slowly.

He leaned in so close that his breath tickled your ear. You forced yourself to stay still.

"The door can be opened only by me. The same goes for all windows. All the walls are soundproof. There's no way you can get out, until I want you to. Do you understand?" For the first time, his voice was low and you could grasp the subtle threat. He didn't pretend to be cheerful for once.

Or was it truly pretense?

You forced yourself to nod.

And just like that, his twisted smirk was back.

"Very well." He swiftly stood up. "What would you like for dinner?"

You slowly tilted up your head to read his expression. Read his intention. Read his character or the lack of it. But there was nothing. Nothing for you understandable, nothing that made any kind of sense.

"I'm not hungry." You whispered.

He pretended to pout, but eventually held out his hand to you again. A bittersweet deja-vu. As much as you wanted to refrain from taking it this time, you were far more afraid of what would happen if you refused him.

You hesitantly took his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

"Maybe a nice, hot shower then?" He purred.

Of course. This time, it wouldn't be a faceless man with a blue hat to violate you, it would be him. The devil himself. You could already feel it, smell it and taste it. In the shower, on the bed, the kitchen counter, the floor and against the wall, until he grew tired of you.

That was why you were there. That had to be.

Before you could react, he had led you back to a spacious bathroom. Everything looked ridiculously clean and expensive. The freestanding tub was sparkling and the fluffy towels begging to dry you off.

He'd bend you over the tub. Maybe push your head under water. You knew he would. Just a minute more.

Instead, he gently ushered you inside.

"I'll get you something clean to sleep in." He said matter-of-factly. "I'll leave it infront of the door. Take as much time as you need."

With that, he disappeared and closed the door behind him. Your eyes widened almost comically. You then rushed forward to lock the door, which worked with ease. Next, the window. You tugged on the handle, desperate to open it. Not that it would have made any sense, you were too high above the street. But the thought of opening the window still filled you with hope. Like maybe, at least there would be one way out.

When nothing worked, you tried to break the glass. But you quickly noticed it was no normal glass. He hadn't lied. The windows provided no way out.

You slumped down below the sink and cried for a while. To no great surprise of yours, your tears ran dry quickly and you just sat in silence for a while.

You were trapped.

And you had no idea what you were here for.

After what felt like half an hour, you got up with shaky legs and decided to check if the door was truly locked. It was. You unlocked it and perked your head out, only to realize he had left you a bathrobe outside, as well as slippers and a nightdress. It was pretty basic, made of cotton. But it wasn't revealing or anything. The thought was oddly comforting. You picked up the clothes and disappeared back into the room, where you locked the door and sighed.

Your eyes settled on the tub and you thought, why the hell not?

You made quick process of it. You got rid of your sweat-soaked clothes and stepped into the tub. The water filled up the tub rather quickly. At least the warmth of it provided some kind of comfort. You poured some scented lavender oil in and sunk deeper down.

You didn't dare close your eyes though. You were still sure he would come and take what he wanted. Mayhe he just wanted you to be clean first? He would come. He surely would.

But he didn't. Minutes passed, another half an hour. And he didn't come. You rinsed off and stepped out of the tub. The giant, fluffy towels felt heavenly against your skin. It was almost like you were in a hotel. Except for the murder and abduction part.

You slipped into the nightdress and the slippers and towel dried your long hair. Then you folded the towel neatly and placed it on the radiator. After a few long, deep breaths you carefully stepped outside. The cold air brought you back to reality as you followed back the same path he had led you earlier. You were surprised to find the living room empty, but you heard rustling sounds from the kitchen.

And then your gaze settled on the door.

It were less than five steps. You could make it. You could. If you were quick and took off the slippers, you could stealthily...

"Sweet girl?" That fake sweetness again, with the hint of underlying warning to it. You swallowed thickly and looked up. He stood in the doorway and looked at you with something resembling a warm smile.

"How was your bath?"

You stood frozen. Five small steps. If you thudded against the door loud enough, maybe someone might hear. Alert the police. Rescue-

"I asked you a question."

"Good." You whispered. And involuntarily added: "Thank you."

Good girl, purred your mothers voice.

But all he did was smile.

"Come, I made dinner. Just a few bites."

Your mind drifted back to Hannibal Lecter and you nearly spat. A careful glance into the kitchen and...

Pancakes. You gasped in relief.

He tilted his head to the side, smiling softly.

"You don't like pancakes?"

"I do." You whispered involuntarily.

They might be poisoned, but the fact that you hadn't eaten anything since lunch at work got the better of you. He slowly guided you into the kitchen and sat you down on one of the chairs, before he sat down opposite you.

He caught you staring down at the food suspiciously, which made him chuckle.

"They're not poisoned."

When you still didn't move, he rolled his eyes and took a bite off your fork. He chewed and swallowed with a smug expression.

"See?"

You reluctantly moved. They weren't bad. Pretty good even. You chewed carefully and never took your eyes off him. He did the same. And he still looked so unbelievably calm.

After you finished eating and downed a glass of water, you stared at him...expectantly.

His smirk widened.

"A curious little bird, aren't you?"

He narrowed his eyes somewhat and reached out to touch your cheek. "You cried."

To your surprise, when you flinched, he pulled his hand back and hummed softly.

"No need to cry, sweet girl. I'll take care of you. All you have to do is agree."

You already regretted asking. "Agree to what?"

He leaned back and bared his teeth in a predatory smile.

"Being mine."

Your brows furrowed in confusion and straight up stress. The calming effects of the bath were slowly fading away.

"What?"

"Mine, sweet girl. My girl."

"Your girl?" You asked somewhat incredulously, which was something he didn't seem to appreciate.

He reached out and cupped your face in his hand, his grip firm, but not painful. Yet. Your heart immediately skipped several beats.

"Oh, you will agree, sweet girl. The question is, will you agree willingly? Or do I have to make you?" He narrowed his eyes even further.

"Who are you, sweet girl?"

You stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Something told you that there was no right answer to that question.

And then, in a rare fit of courage, you said your name.

He took a long, deep breath and slowly dropped his hand from your chin.

"That's very tragic, sweet girl."

With a disapproving tsk he shook his head.

"Unfortunately, that was the wrong answer."

[bnnysweets]

APPLE CIDER

loser!ellie x ditzy!reader

author’s note: english is not my first language. they’re inspired by cat and robbie in victorious bc i saw this edit and i couldn’t just don’t do nothing. ellie is just so mf in love with you omg.

warnings: ellie is IN LOVE, truly. reader is clueless. mention of marriage. reader is going out with a girl (booo🍅🍅) and she’s a asshole, ellie comforts you. fluff!

ellie is DELIRIOUS ’bout you, you share the same friend group so everyone knows she’s in love with you, but everyone also knows they can’t tell you because they already tried, but you didn’t believed, always excused it.

once, julien tried to tell you: “i’m telling you, she fucking loves you!” you laughed, “i knows she loves me, i love her too.” you said smiling and julien rolled her eyes, “i mean she wants you! like a girlfriend!” “yeah! we’re totally girlfriends!” you answered genuinely, “lord help me…ellie is in love with you. she wants to kiss you, with tongue. she draw you naked on her sketchbook, she writes songs about you, she gave your name to her favorite star.” you looked at her for a moment, without saying anything, just analyzing. “you know i don’t understand irony.” you said and julien gave up, changing the subject.

little did you know it’s aaaalll true, ellie’s big motivation to go the college everyday is to one day she have a great job and earn a lot of money to spoil you with all the expensive makeup you like and a pretty ring that you deserve. one page on her sketchbook has you in a wedding dress and veil, with your name + williams wrote on it. nobody else has ever saw it, it’s too precious to her.

so imagine her state when you started seeing a new girl, rachel. she was miserable, thinking you would never look at her the same way, but in one radom thursday you sat at the cafeteria table with a pout and sad eyes, ellie was experiencing a bittersweet feeling: at the same time time you looked so cute and sweet with that face, she was mad someone or something had made you sad. “rachel told me she liked me more when she didn’t really know me.” you announced to your friends, almost crying but before anyone could say anything ellie let a loud scoff, “are you fucking serious? this girl is insane?” she said and everybody was shocked, no one had ever seen ellie so mad and speaking so loudly, you just looked at her, speechless, batting you eyelashes at her, she swore you were trying to hypnotize her. “anyone who says they don’t like your personality is fucking insane, anyone should be fucking proud to get to know you. to know the pretty person you’re, inside and out, to know your kind heart and your bright mind. i’m not gonna sit here and listen to you say how rachel it’s just a difficult person when in reality she’s just a asshole, she’s a damn prick. she doesn’t deserve you, and you don’t see this! you don’t see how she talks ‘bout you when you’re not around, you don’t see because you trust her and it is the saddest and yet the prettiest thing ‘bout you, you believe her besides everything. but you need to wake up, she doesn’t like you! she likes to have you by her side, to show you off, to kiss you and show everyone how she has a pretty girl by her side. but she doesn’t truly like you, she likes how you make her feel, because she fucking knows how much you like her.” when ellie finished your face was all wet with tears, and ellie was out of breath, looking at you, fearing your reaction.

you got up and went to hug ellie, who was on the other side of the table. she embraced your body, smoothing your back while you cried and tightly hugged her body. when you calmed down you took your head out of her shoulder and looked at her, “thanks for the cold shower els, i needed it.” you said and waved goodbye to the group. you head to the rachel’s dorm to end everything right after this. maybe ellie has a chance after all.

[ladysharmaa]

My miracle

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good

warnings: mentions of death

“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”

“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”

Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.

His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs. 

“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”

“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”

“Like you are giving birth?”

“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.” 

“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.

She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”

“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”

"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.

It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."

But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.

"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"

"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.

"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.

"Anthony..."

"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face. 

The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.

With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.

"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."

"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."

"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.

On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.

Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.

And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.

It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.

Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.

"You have a daughter, Anthony."

He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."

"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."

Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.

"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.

The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.

"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."

"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.

"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.

Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.

Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."

"She is beautiful."

"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment. 

He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.

[januaryembrs]

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted. 

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck. 

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin. 

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again. 

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest. 

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him. 

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene. 

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been. 

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men. 

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to. 

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions. 

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,” 

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently. 

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face. 

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet. 

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry. 

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.” 

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage. 

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,” 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him. 

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them. 

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob. 

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand. 

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter. 

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights. 

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible. 

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was. 

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed. 

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him. 

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands. 

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,” 

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. 

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in. 

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years. 

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe. 

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe. 

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second. 

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing. 

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late. 

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them. 

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed. 

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new. 

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them. 

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them. 

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently. 

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands. 

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt. 

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building. 

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him. 

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use. 

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard. 

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign. 

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?” 

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,” 

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes. 

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested. 

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again. 

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible. 

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything). 

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright. 

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet. 

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance. 

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock. 

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,” 

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,” 

 “I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing. 

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin. 

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down. 

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?” 

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised. 

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point. 

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

 “Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,” 

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion. 

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise. 

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off. 

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him. 

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,” 

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again. 

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his. 

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,” 

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all. 

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him. 

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.