#i am TERRIFIED of muses slipping like that - the last time they did i would do full fucking resets and/or backpedal on established shit that

[sixx-writes]

                                                                        Desire II

Frieza x Reader

Word Count: 1,934

cw: choking, noncon, pheromones, size difference, second form frieza, rough sex, vaginal fingering, stomach bulge, creampie, pwp, forced orgasm

AO3 Version | Masterlist

Summary: Frieza is in heat and reader ends up being the one to ‘help out’. PWP. Straight into the lewd this time lads hehe.

Part One

18+ ONLY NSFW BELOW

It's thrilling to imagine that you were most likely the first of any species that Frieza had fucked. It certainly seems that way with how he's selfishly taking his own pleasure without a care for your own fragile human needs. He's clearly getting off on how you tighten around his cock each time his tail constricts around your throat, using it to lift you up and down along with the movements of his hips, a lascivious smirk twisting his full black lips.

Still, this was Frieza, the most selfish prick in the universe, and even if he'd fucked a hundred before you the outcome would probably be the same.

You'd lost count of how many times he'd emptied himself inside you in this way. Three? Four? You were out of your mind for the last two times that you were aware of so it could have been more and he showed no signs of tiring. Whether he was bored or had thought of a new way to torture you his tail uncoiled from around your throat and you all but fell off of him to the side with a weak cry into the soiled sheets.

You gasped down lungfuls of air as your oxygen deprived brain righted itself. Through hazy eyes you thought you saw Frieza strolling around the bed before he began powering up until reaching a new transformation right in front of you.

In all your time as a soldier you had never seen Frieza in any of his other forms and now you were rightfully terrified of what he intended to do with you.

He was absolutely demonic with his intimidating height and much larger horns you blanched at the sight of it.

"I've had an epiphany during our time together," he mused, his voice deeper than before, sending chills down your back, "perhaps in my suppressed state I cannot fully experience my release. So, I wondered what would happen if I did this. Since you've so enthusiastically volunteered yourself I'm sure you are as excited as I am to explore this fully."

Frieza wore a wicked smirk and your eyes drifted down to his, Gods above, much larger cock that pulsed angrily with unsated lust. Even as slicked inside and out as you were it was frightening to think of Frieza trying to force himself inside you as much as it excited you.

You were paralyzed when he approached you again and it wasn't until his hand clamped down around your ankle in an inescapable manacle that you snapped out of it and tried to struggle pleading the entire time, "Please, Lord Frieza, it won't fit. Allow me to use my hands or mouth at least."

Nervousness made you act foolishly as it was never the right decision to deny Frieza anything that he desired, but he merely chuckled at your change in attitude, "What's wrong? There's no point in running away now is there? Not when you so obviously want this as well."

You jumped at the sensation of his tail trailing through the fresh slick mingling with his cum between your legs and you had to bite back a whimper. Perhaps he found your hesitance charming because he seemed more relaxed than before, almost playful. In a movement so fast that your head was left spinning you were turned over and your armor was suddenly gone from your lower half making you gasp.

Your cunt was fully on display from behind and Frieza ran his fingers along your folds parting them and learning your flesh for the first time. Humans had never interested the emperor as they reminded him too much of the saiyans that he despised so greatly and until now he had only felt disgust at the mere thought of copulating with them.

You, however, sparked a new interest in Frieza's cold heart that perhaps there was something to your species after all. The way you fluttered around his fingers when he slipped them deeper sparked something primal within him and he would have to take great care not to break you too early.

You bit back a whine as his thick fingers filled you nearly as much as his cock had in his first form, even in the inexperienced way that he probed your insides it still brought pleasure in your over-sensitized state. Frieza seemed to catch on quickly to your reactions, how you liked it when he stroked that uniquely textured spot along the ceiling of your cunt, unable to hold back your mewls.

His thumb accidentally grazed your clit and you moaned loudly trying to seek friction already so close but needing more. Frieza caught onto this immediately as well pinching the engorged nub and smearing it with your fluids. Your orgasm was nearly painful from being touched too roughly and your mouth dropped open in a soundless scream while he continued toying between your legs well past the point of over-stimulation.

"S-Stop," you choked out, feeling your eyes start to burn with unshed tears.

Again, Frieza surprised you by listening, ending the onslaught on your cunt. You turned to see what he had planned next and felt nearly delirious seeing his purple tongue sliding along those same fingers that were just inside you. His eyes were filled with an intensity that made your fear return like a lead weight in your stomach.

Especially with how his behavior was becoming noticeably less controlled with the way he stroked himself shamelessly and buried those fingers in his mouth with a low growl sucking until there was nothing left on them. It was both horrifying and horrifyingly erotic knowing how easily he could hurt you right then without even meaning to but those same feelings of fear only made you more excited. You silently cursed your own weakness.

Frieza noticed you staring and he grinned knowingly, "My turn."

You had believed he intended to take you from behind but his tail wound around your wrists knocking you flat before lifting you into the air with a startled squeak. Your back hit something hard, his chest, leaving you suspended over his cock while his lips ghosted along your throat. This new position was far too intimate and you couldn't help the flush that crept up on your cheeks and across your chest.

Frieza's hands were on your body again, this time removing the rest of your armor without any care for if it survived or not, easily breaking the straps of your chest piece until you were left fully nude. One big hand slid along your ribs until finding a breast and you gasped feeling your nipple harden under his palm. Like everything else about you Frieza focused his attention on this new discovery, squeezing and kneading pliant flesh, while your shoulders burned as if they would be torn from the sockets.

You were conflicted, panting, and could feel pulsating cool flesh brushing against your nether lips so near to having Frieza's cock back inside you that it had you salivating in anticipation. You were grateful when he stopped abusing your breasts and gripped your thighs from beneath, spreading your legs so there was no escape from what came next, the head of his cock starting to breach you.

"You should relax or this will hurt much worse," Frieza purred into your skin making you shudder.

 Easy for you to say..

How you weren't supposed to be tense in this situation was beyond you, although you did try, the first pop of his cock past your entrance made you hiss in pain. The stretch pushed you to the edges of your limits and he wasn't even halfway in yet. Frieza's hands flexed around your thighs while his own limits were being tested as he struggled not to claim your cunt fully in one stroke.

If you were torn you would have to be sent away to the healing tank and that would take time he didn't care to waste. Not when he could savor your velvety walls around him instead. Besides that, Frieza enjoyed the little noises you made when you came, or when he touched you in just the right way. It was more appealing than imagining your screams of pain and was very effective at quelling his urges. Although not nearly as effective as filling you with his seed over and over. The sight of your swollen little cunt dripping with his essence was truly delicious and something he could get used to.

Allowing his thoughts to drift in such a way Frieza couldn't stop his hips from reacting forcing in a few more inches that made you sob and arch your back overwhelmed.

"Gods, fuck, ah-"

Frieza's fingers returned to your clit molding your suffering into something so intense it scared you. It felt like you needed to relieve yourself, the familiar sensation of needing to urinate building, and you couldn't get the words out to warn him. Not with the way his fingers moved relentlessly against you faster and faster - fuck if he wasn't already too good at knowing how to touch you - until you fell apart spraying fluid from between your legs.

He groaned at the irresistible sensation of being milked by the tightly stretched confines of your cunt, finally brought to his own limit, he started to move inside you while you babbled uselessly for him to stop and wait just a few minutes more giving you no time to recover from what had just happened.

Frieza's primal instinct to breed you had finally won the battle and your words fell on deaf ears. Truthfully, it no longer hurt, and the pressure inside you had already shifted into blistering ecstasy leaving you a drooling moaning mess. His massive cock stimulated new places that had never been touched before and you were certain you had lost your mind already.

"Shall I show you something special?" Frieza said trailing his tongue along your pulse to taste your sweat. You were such an intoxicating thing for him with the way your arousal leaked from your very pores turning his claiming of your cunt violent. Wet slaps filled your ears as he took out his frustration on your body and you struggled to find your voice.

"Y..es.." you choked out and felt him grin against your throat.

Inside you, the shape of him changed, punching all the air out of your lungs as Frieza's cock grew even thicker. You screamed trying to twist away absolutely certain you would turn inside out at that point if you didn't. His hands clamped down around your waist halting your movements before he started using you like a literal sex toy, easily manhandling you up and down his length without moving his hips. You were reduced to Frieza's living fleshlight and he reveled in the bulge of his cock beneath your skin where it pressed at his fingers on each downward thrust.

Most of all, Frieza enjoyed your warmth, it brought him to greater heights feeling the heat of your body against his own. Something he could never experience mating with his own kind and the main reason he reached climax so quickly. The coolness of his cum felt blissfully soothing against your abused insides, trapped against your womb unable to leak out, plugged by his sheer girth, you were forced into another orgasm at the same time with a ragged sob pleading with the Gods for mercy.

Frieza's hearty chuckle made you realize you'd spoken out loud.

"I'm not finished with you yet," he promised, starting to move your body up and down his cock again.

[hoes4hoseok]

enhypen as folklore

i enjoyed writing this so so so much and i had forgotten how much i liked writing these! the last few i churned out from a sense of obligation but i had a lot of fun with this one :) i hope you like it!

ni-ki as my tears ricochet

"cursing my name, wishing i stayed, look at how my tears ricochet"

i'm so sorry for this...we sure are starting with a bang because the lyric "i can go anywhere i want, just not home" physically makes me ache when i'm thinking about ni-ki 😭

1. he's literally far from home irl & 2. if you were with ni-ki...he'd feel like home & any end to the relationship would make you feel lost

overall, i just associate that type of hurt with ni-ki (yikes🤧💔)

jay as mirrorball

"i'm still on that tightrope, i'm still tryin' everything to get you laughing at me"

oh my goodness jay is such a mirrorball.

i'm not saying that he's desperate for attention or that he doesn't get any, (that's not what the song describes, anyways) but rather that he's trying. his best.

i get it if you don't understand the vision at first glance but after i gave it some thought i can see it so clearly

jungwon as seven

"we can be pirates, then you won't have to cry, or hide in the closet"

this song is so sweet & innocent in how it describes a childhood perspective of things & how simple we thought problems were then

i think that jungwon maintains a little bit of that innocent optimism even though he's older now :)

what really seals the deal for me is that he's the leader & literally solves problems for the group all the time (presumably)

i don't mean that he solves them like a child would, but the nostalgic comfort that the song brings is similar to the comfort i feel you'd get talking to jungwon 🤧

jake as august

"august slipped away into a moment in time 'cause it was never mine"

jake is wouldn't hurt you on purpose, & i think that goes without saying because he seems like such a sweetheart

but man, if you catch him at a vulnerable moment when his heart resides with someone else...he will break. your. heart.

the whole idea of not being able to call the end of a relationship what it is in your heart because you were never really together & he never really cared the way you did...CHILLS. terrifying. (my heart goes out to those who have experienced that irl, i'm so sorry).

jake fits the idea because i think he's trustworthy. like,, he could smile & you'd probably be sold (no offense)

again, at the end of the day, he didn't mean to hurt you. maybe that's what hurts most 👊

heeseung as illicit affairs

"you know damn well, for you, i would ruin myself a million little times"

i've always heard this song in two ways: a very literal sense of having a physical affair in secret && a more emotional version of it

personally, i can picture myself getting my heart broken by heeseung in both senses! might just be me though 😀

the thing is, he seems so charming & falling fast for him would be so easy that if you did, it's very possible that he wouldn't fall in the same way you did (i'm crying the song has been playing on loop for ten minutes now)

i was originally gonna give this one to jay & mirrorball to heeseung!! lmk what you think

sunoo as betty

"the only thing i wanna do is make it up to you"

sunoo would 100% be willing to serenade his apology...that being said, i do not think he's a cheater!

i feel like if he hurt you he'd want to make it up to you & apologize at the same time instead of hoping you just take the apology alone...like this man will make you feel WORTH IT

AGAIN he'd never cheat though ✋ (i think) but if he made you feel bad he's gonna fix it,, he isn't leaving you feeling like an old cardigan under someone's bed

for the record, i'm a 'betty takes james back' truther though.

sunghoon as the lakes

"i'm setting off, but not without my muse, no, not without you"

i am so passionate about preaching how this song & sunghoon are perfect for each other EEK

i love assigning songs about heartbreak to sunghoon because i just see him as a heartbreaker (whoops) but whoever he DOES end up with (if anyone) is one lucky mf

the idea of "all you need is each other" makes me melt because it's so so so romantic

it's not realistic for all couples & that's okay but i can see sunghoon wanting that kind of relationship someday :)

but beyond that he's also private & not very social (by his own description) so he just generally seems like he'd resonate with it 🥰

txt version ☆ evermore version ☆ masterlist

[auricbound]

i have not been doing well.

[yandere-sins]

can i have a yandere gojo who impregnates reader, y/n manages to run away, moves out to another country and after a year and a half, gojo, who sort of came to his senses, founds y/n and wants y/n back? only for his yandere traits to come back again out of fear that he'll lose y/n and the baby for good?

also, thank you so much for your hard work!

Thanks for the request!

»»———————— ♡ ————————«« 

♡ There probably are only a few people in the world able to understand a maniacal mind like Gojo’s. The amount of willpower and discipline to overcome an obsession like he had for you borders on the opposite end of the psychopath as he was when you were still with him. The time it took for him to forget your perfume, to not stalk random people that had your hair color, to exit a store when a song began to play that you would hum from time to time. That time was nothing more than divine punishment, it seemed; otherwise, it would be hard to explain. His heart and body could understand you were gone, but his mind just couldn’t let go of your image. Gojo would see you in the corners of his eyes, hear your laugh when a group of people passed him, and sleep in your apartment just to get the last bit of comfort that you left. For a long time, he believed you’d be back, but even he had to realize you wouldn’t at some point or another.

♡ Imagine the surprise when he did actually see you, passing by the storefront of a 7-Eleven while he was reading magazines inside. Imagine his eyes following you, thinking how odd it was that you’d be back after he managed to forget you. The magazine slowly slipping from his hand and falling to the floor as he storms out of the store, trying to find you in the masses of people. Every alleyway could be your hideout and every store a place for you to avoid him, but he just knows. He knows you’re returning to your apartment that holds all the stuff that you left behind. Why else would you be back? Surely not for him.

♡ Gojo can’t stop his heart from racing as he watches you enter the apartment from across the street. Nothing changed. Not the passcode at the door, not you, not his love. The latter is beginning to rip at his heart, making him want to scream as the waves of suppressed pain return, the pain that you put him through. Yet, one thing is different. You’re not alone, judging by the stroller you are parking in the hallway of your apartment building. Gojo can tell by the little baby hands gripping tightly into your shirt, less white hair than his, but a remarkably fair color peeking over your shoulder, and the rocking motion you’re making that you were extremely busy the last few months. That’s probably the reason you never contacted him, right?

♡ Admittedly, he’s a bit impatient as he rings the doorbell, standing right before your door waiting. Over and over, his fingers pushes into the button, the sound overshadowed by his own thoughts. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” you yell, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, he hears your voice. It echoes through his body, his thoughts shifting to the feeling of your voice dripping over every fiber of his being. Gojo shudders as he waits for you to open, impatient, barely holding back from bursting down the door. He has questions. Oh, so many questions, and he steps aside from the peephole, waiting for you to open the damn door before he loses it.

♡ Your reaction time is still bad, or maybe his is just too good. Gojo’s had always been better. That’s why he got a hold of you first. With his hand covering your mouth, his foot in the gap of the door before you can smack it in his face, and a warning, “Ah-ah-ah,” from his curled up lips, he steps inside, pressing you to the wall. His hand only disappears from your mouth so he can replace it with his lips, the taste of your tongue still as exquisite and desperately wanted by him as he remembers, when you two suddenly get interrupted by a fussy baby asking for attention. His head turns towards the living room as he puts his hand back in place to keep you from alerting anyone, and your eyes follow, your whole body growing tense as Gojo’s grin widens.

♡ He lets go of you - a great price to pay, but his curiosity wins. But no matter how much you claw at him, try to hold him back, and plead with Gojo, he doesn’t stop, only pushing you aside with the tiniest bit of effort, walking right over to the child sitting on your bed. Picking it up, you can only stare in horror as Gojo holds your kid, their resemblance almost terrifying, and Gojo calmly soothes the fussy baby as if he never hurt a fly in his life. Rocking it and talking nonsense, you only grow more and more scared of what he will do, knowing his true nature a bit too well to trust him with your baby. But he’s nothing close to the monster you experienced in your past. Even your child seems perfectly fine, slowly falling asleep in the arms of the beast. You try once again, try to get closer to save your baby, at least if you already cannot protect yourself from Gojo, but he presses the little one closer to his chest, leaning forward as if to spite you. There’s still a smile playing on his lips, but you’re not someone he can fool with the mask he put on. Under his blindfold, his eyes are probably those of the psycho you remembered. “I never knew you wanted a family,” he muses, and you can’t help but feel disgusted. “Not with you,” you hiss back, and Gojo straightens his back, sighing as he looks down on the kid in his arms. “Too bad,” he fakes pity. “When you know what’s good for you, then I am sure you remember where to find me. I’ll be taking my child.”

♡ Before you can protest or even reach out to your baby, Gojo is gone. He knows as well as you do that you can’t abandon your own kid. It was the leverage he always needed against you, that lacked in the past. This time, you’d have to return to him, the exact opposite from what you did one and a half years ago, and there was no way you’d be able to leave as long as he had this power over you. Gojo sat down with that little clone of his, waiting for you to return to the hell, confident that with this responsibility, you two simply were bound to be together forever. His child was just one more person he could never let go of; that much was evident by the beautiful, shining blue eyes coming directly from him.

[frenziedslashers]

Do you think you could Urge and Lower for Vincent, please? Maybe Y/N broke a rule and Vincent is repremending them (grabbing their face so they look at him when he tells em off for doing something dangerous/stupid) but then feels bad bc Y/N is scared of him (he's tol+stern+angry=scary) so he gets down to their level to, well level with them?

-Wallhusband

Yeah of course! Thank you so much for the request by the way! I appreciate it :)) I am in a Vincent mood(AGAIN) and appreciate this one haha

Prompts:

[ URGE ]  for the taller muse to tilt the shorter one’s chin up so they can look at their face.

[ LOWER ]  for the taller muse to kneel in front of the shorter one so they’re less intimidating.

Silent Apologies

You knew what you had done was idiotic. It was dangerous and put you at a risk and you knew vincent didn't like. He demanded that you stayed home. But no, you had to go with him. He caved in like he always did with you. You could ask for anything from him and he would eventually say yes. The only rule was that you stayed in the truck. That you didn't get out and you did not interact with the tourists.

"Vincent they would have killed you!" You snapped as he stormed into his room behind you. The two of you hardly fought, but when you did it scared you a bit. Bo was scary when he was mad, sure, but Vincent terrified you at times. Hell, you could tell that he scared Bo and Lester at times, even.

When he grabbed you by the shoulder to face him the look in his eye behind his mask had you shuddering. Full of rage and annoyance. Maybe today was the day you died. Finally pulling his last straw with how stubborn you were.

'I can take care of myself, they wouldn't have hurt me, I had the upper hand,' He signed, and you scoffed. Rolling your eyes while glancing to the side. Slipping past his grasp to treck over to the bed. "Oh, and I can't take care of myself? Vincent, I saved you, I didn't get hurt okay? Do I need to prove myself?" You snapped, yelping when he spun you around once more. Fingers reaching to grip at your jaw. Moving your head to meet his gaze. Which was practically boring into you.

'I didn't mean it like that, I just hate it when you interfere!' He told you, moving his hands quick and fast. It wasn't until after his sentence he realized how poorly he worded it. Frowning when you backed up from him. The look of betrayal in your eyes. 'Y/N...' He signed again, and you shook your head. "Get away from me, please." You murmured. A small sob forcing its way from your throat. Eyes clenching shut. You didn't really want him to leave, a part of you thankful when he grabbed you by the shoulders to set you on the bed. Kneeling down on the ground. Now in between your legs so he was a bit lower in height than you. Eye softened into an apologetic gaze. Hands rubbing at your thighs. Waiting for you to open your eyes before he spoke.

'I didn't mean that I don't like you interfering.' He told you. Thinking of his words before speaking again. 'I just get scared when you're around the tourists. They could hurt you, and if I lost you I'd never forgive myself.' He told you, and you nodded. Wiping your face with the back of your sleeve. "How do you think I feel when you nearly get killed?" You asked, and he frowned beneath his mask. 'I know.' Was all he signed before pulling you in for a hug. "I'm still mad at you." He let out a breathy chuckle. Nuzzling the side of your neck with a sigh. He knew you meant that light-heartedly. He hated fighting with you as much as you did with him. It didn't stop him from snapping and growing frustrated when you went against his wishes, but the arguments would never last longer than a day or two. He loved you too much to stay mad at you for too long.

You were his everything after all. The flame to his candle. The flame that melted his heart, time and time again.

[quinncupine]

Scars

Word Count: 1,341

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Summary: Old scars drag up old memories for a certain pro hero, but you’re there to comfort him.

Warnings: past trauma, scars

Quinns Masterlist

The gun pressed deep into his lower back and he couldn't help the groan that rolled out of his lips. You towered over him, snickering as he pressed his face further into the comforter, twisting the fabric between his fingers.

"That's okay?" you leaned down to see his scrunched-up face. "I'm not pressing too hard am I?"

"No," he gasped, "no, I'm fine."

"It looks painful. Are you sure this is supposed to help?" Twisting the massage gun to reach a new muscle, you frowned.

"Good pain," he let out another heavy groan and blinked open his eyes. "Thanks."'

"You know, tapping the massage gun along his shoulders, "maybe this is a sign that you should take a break. You've been working non-stop lately. When was the last time you took a day off?"

There was a particularly tight muscle that you focused on in his right shoulder. His whole body flinched as you dug into it.

"I'm - agh- I'm managing it."

"That's not an answer and even if it was, it's not a very good one." you huffed, moving to his left shoulder.

"Sorry," He whispered.

"What are you sorry for? It's not like I can really complain. I mean you are out there saving people every day." Shrugging, you switched hands, shaking off your numb one, and continued down his back. "But you need to take a break every now and then."

"I don't save people every day," he laughed, turning his head enough so he could see you. "Most days I'm helping little old ladies cross the street."

"And they would never get home without you," you leaned forward with a smile, momentarily letting the gun slip.

He flinched hard and yelped. "Spine!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Lifting the gun and switching it off, you patted his bareback. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he took a deep breath. "Maybe just go a bit slower."

Nodding, you turned the setting down, then slowly traced his back along the tight muscles next to the spine with the gun. As you stared at his bare skin, you took in each scar he'd made over the years of gritty hero work. The recent ones you knew about, but there were some older ones that you'd never asked about.

A large jagged one that ran length-wise down his spin caught your eye. It was probably the biggest one he had and the scariest one that nearly cost him his life. It was close to your third anniversary when a bad earthquake hit downtown, demolishing several buildings in the process.

Izuku had been nearly the first hero on the scene as he was in one of the buildings that went down. He spent hours sifting through the rubble, plucking people out of the rubble one by one. It was when he found someone pinned underneath one of the last remaining structures that things took a turn for the worst. The building had been unstable as it was and had deteriorated as the hours passed. He shouldn't have gone in, but it wasn't in his nature to abandon someone in need.

When the building did collapse, he used himself as an anchor point until the other heroes could dig them out. He saved the man's life, though he took a sharp piece of shrapnel right through his back in the process. He nearly bled out on the scene and even after that, they were worried it hit too close to the spine to fully repair. That had been a terrifying day for both of you. Thankfully, lady luck had been on his side.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Izuku sat up on his elbow, head cocked to the side.

You hadn't even realized you stopped, fingers still touching the scar. "Just thinking. I don't know where some of these came from."

"Most of them are boring," he smiled warmly. "I don't even remember half of them."

"Hmm," you traced your fingers over to another, much smaller scar. "What about this one?"

"Let me think. That was a few years ago. My first solo year." He mused. "Got caught off guard by a mugger with a boomerang quirk. Didn't even see it coming."

"And this?" you went lower, smirking as you touched the barely noticeable thin white scratches.

"You and I both know who that one's from," he turned over onto his back and seized your hand. "And that's not the only one."

"Probably won't be the last one either."

A heated blush bloomed across his freckled cheeks and he quickly pulled you flush against his chest to hide it. When you looked up at him, a sly smile spread across your face, he bumped his forehead against yours then slowly slid his lips down to your own in a soft sweet kiss. He pulled away, leaving you breathless in the process, and dropped his head back into the bed, running his fingers along your back. It was a quiet, content moment that you basked in, letting your fingers absentmindedly roam over the various scars marring his chest.

"You never told me about this one," you murmured, fingers stopping at the raised tissue across his sternum. It was oddly circular in shape but roughly formed, almost like a knife wound.

"It's an old one," he whispered, not bothering to look at it. "One I'd rather forget about."

His tone made it clear he didn't want to talk about it. Izuku never liked to talk about his days before U.A. You'd heard most of it from either Bakugo or whenever Izuku's tongue loosened enough, usually with alcohol. But you never pushed. Being quirkless had its toll, you knew this, but from what Bakugo's told you, it was worse for him. Far worse than any kid should've had to deal with.

"Was it from middle school?" The question fell out of your mouth before you even realized it.

Izuku tensed underneath you, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed. That in itself gave you most of the answer you needed.

"I'm sorry," you backtracked, eyes widening. "I don't mean to pry."

He lay frozen in place before he shook himself out of wherever his mind had wandered to. "No, it's okay." He gently rolled you off so he could sit up, absentmindedly rubbing the old scar. "It was a mistake that happened a long time ago. A reminder of sorts I guess."

"A reminder?" Staring at the scar a bit closer, it wasn't just circular in nature. It seemed intentionally carved that way.

Hesitantly, you brushed your fingers along the curves. Izuku watched your face with a slight tremble to his form, though you were completely captivated by the scar to notice. There was a small curl off the circle.

"Q," you muttered and then it clicked, your eyes flicking up to his. "Quirkless."

Izuku remained silent, eyes darting across the room. He grabbed your hands and pulled them down into his lap to squeeze. "They thought I needed another reminder," then he chuckled, a dark tint that you barely recognized as his laugh. "As if I needed another."

No wonder he didn't like to talk about his younger days. For someone to do something so permanent, so cruel to a child no less…How could anyone let someone suffer for so long?

"Does Bakugo know?" The words were hoarsely whispered, still trying to comprehend the cruelty of the scar. "Wasn't he your friend?"

He stiffened his shoulders, staring a hole into your hand. "No." Though you weren't sure which question he answered. "But that's in the past. I'm fine now. I have a quirk. I'm not useless anymore."

"You never were," cocking your head and cupping his face in your hands, you gave him a warm smile. "Having a quirk doesn't make you valuable. Having a heart does. Something you have in tenfold."

Forced to stare into your intense gaze, he finally cracked a teary smile. "I suppose that's something we have in common." Then he leaned forward and bumped his forehead back into yours. "Thank you."

[sukirichi]

acquainted

You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.

REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place

WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex

WC. 5.4k+

NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑

There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.

So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.

“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.

The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.

“I believe you’re in my seat.”

You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”

Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”

“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”

“You little — who do you think you are?”

“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”

His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”

“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”

“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”

“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.

That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”

“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”

“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson.  “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”

It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.

You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.

No wonder that name was so familiar.

The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.

Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.

You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.

It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?

For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.

You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.

The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more.  Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.

You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”

Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.

He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.

You were beyond appalled.

“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”

“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”

“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”

Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”

“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”

“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”

You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”

Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.

From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.

“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”

“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”

You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?

Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?

If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.

God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.  

Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.

“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”

For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”

“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”

“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”

You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”

“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”

“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”

“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”

A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.

“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”

Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.

It was a blurry mess from there.

Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.

It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.

Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.

Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?

Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?

Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.

“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”

“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”

Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress.  “Get on your knees. Now suck.”

He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.

Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.

Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.

You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.

While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.

A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.

You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.

“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”

“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”

Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”

Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.

Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”

“Go faster. This is unfair!”

Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.

“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”

You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.

The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.

You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.

Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.

“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop ­— and by then Naoya was losing his mind.

Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”

You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.

“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.

“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.

Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”

Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.

You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.

The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.

Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”

“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.

Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.

“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”

“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”

“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”

Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.

“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”

“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”

All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.

Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”

Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.

You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”

“You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.

“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.

As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.

Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”

“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.

Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.

It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.

“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”

There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.

“Be ready for me, Zenin.”

“I always am.”

All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?

[ray-ray-writings]

A Dedicated Pig-Technoblade

#3 and 47 from this prompt list! Check out my masterlist here! This is in the DreamSMP Au. I

This is a Technoblade x GN reader! 

So in this AU I am making it so that your cannon lives are shown on your left wrist. And if someone types something in chat or if someone joins the server, it appears as text on your right arm until you dismiss it! If you are confused feel free to ask me any questions!

Part Two! Part Three! Part Four!

Y/N finally meets the one that everyone has been walking on eggshells over.

Y/N’s POV

I will never forget the gasps, murmurs, and then tense silence that followed the notification that everyone received on their right arm. Technoblade had joined the SMP. I didn’t understand why it was such a big deal though. Of course I had heard the stories. The horrors that he had done. The fights he picked and won. The amount of blood that had been shed at his hands had earned him the title of “The Blood God”. But when push comes to shove, he’s just another mortal man.

Everyone was a little freaked out and on edge because of the new addition to the server. I mean, Schlatt had just banished Techno’s family, his two brothers, from the nation that they created and fought for. Everyone knew that family was everything to Techno and if there was one thing Techno would do anything for it was his family. He would literally go to hell and back if it meant that his brothers and his father were safe. 

Finally after a few minutes of everyone holding their breath, I scoffed, rolled my eyes, and went on with my work, cleaning up the election decorations. All eyes turned to me “Y/N” Niki hissed, “Do you not understand what just happened? He could be anywhere” I let out a joyless laugh as I looked at my best friend, “You really think he’s going to come here right away? With nothing on him? With his brothers on the run? You think he’s going to worry about coming here, where it would be a 1 vs…” My eyes scanned the crowd doing a quick mental count, “15 plus? Come on Niki, think with that big brain of yours.” I claimed, a little annoyed, as I took down a banner. 

Niki let out a shaky sigh but nodded and continued helping me. “You’re right,” I chuckled at her response and bumped her shoulder, “You know I always am”. Soon, everyone went back to their own tasks, forgetting the news we all had just received. ‘See Mr. Pig Man Blood God’ I silently thought to myself, ‘You’re not as scary as you may think’. 

*Time skip*

A week and a half had gone by since Technoblade had joined the server and no one had seen him. Like I had predicted, he immediately had searched and met up with his brothers and had stayed clear of the main part of the server. That being said, I should have known that he would rear his pink head at some point…

When I first joined the server, I had made myself a small farm for food. Well of course everyone found out about it and wanted a part of it. So my small farm grew and grew. When Niki built her bakery, she needed a steady supply of well… supplies. Sugar, wheat, eggs, milk, and all that. I had plenty and I was more than happy to give her what she needed in exchange for baked goods. So once a week I would haul boxes of supplies across the SMP from my farm to her bakery. 

Everyone was aware of this and so on these days everyone would stay out of my way. Which is why I was so surprised to slam into someone while carrying a box of eggs to the bakery. 

I let out a huge gasp as the sound of eggs cracking filled my ears as I slammed into someone. The box fell out of my hands as raw egg covered my hands and body. “What the hell!” I cried out, looking up to yell at whoever had just crashed into me. I was momentarily stunned. There in the flesh, right in front of me, stood the Blood God himself, Technoblade. My surprise  didn’t last long as I remembered why I was angry in the first place. 

“What the hell are you doing here? It’s bakery day, sure you didn’t know that, but you should have taken the hint not to be here when you didn’t see anyone walking this part of the Prime path!” I shouted at the pink haired man. Techno’s brown eyes widened as I verbally attacked him. “And now I’m covered in raw egg! This is not pleasant! It’s gross and sticky and cold and I do not enjoy it! You are sooooo lucky I have a change of clothes at the farm and that my chickens laid a lot of extra eggs this week or else you would have had to explain to dear sweet Niki why she wouldn’t be able to open her cute bakery this week.” I hissed out. 

“I’m sorry,” Techno began with a raised eyebrow, “Do you not know who you’re talking to?” He questioned with a deep voice. I let out a loud scoff at the audacity of his question, “Of course I know who you are, Mr. Blood God,” I mocked. “So. You do know who I am and what I am capable of.” I scoffed at his smug words. “I said I did, didn’t I? And frankly I couldn’t care less about you and your reputation. You’re just a guy. A guy that has ruined my day because I now have egg all over me!” I complained, wiping my hands on my pants. 

I reached down and began picking up the box and the eggs and egg shells that had fallen on the ground.“You know, I could kill you with no hesitation?” Techno claimed as he crouched down, moving his face close to mine. “I’ve done it before to many others. They blink and my sword has entered their chest. I’ve probably slaughtered more people than you’ve ever met in your life,” Techno mused, a smug smirk tugging on his lips. 

I looked up from my box with a blank expression on my face, “Am I supposed to be scared of you? Is that supposed to scare me? Make me shake in my boots?” I questioned, my eyebrow raised. Techno’s smirk slowly slipped off his face. He quickly stood up and stared at me in shock, “Didn’t you hear me? I could kill you!” He explained. I rolled my eyes and also stood up. “So could another human. Literally anyone else. So could a fall from a huge height. So could a dedicated chicken. You’re not special.” I stated, turning on my heel and began walking back toward my farm. 

“So you’re really not scared of me?” I heard Techno question as he began to jog to catch up to me. “Haven’t I made that clear? You may have scary stories and legends surrounding you, but when it comes right down to it, you’re a man. Well, part pig, part man, but a man and mortal all the same.” Techno let out a scoff, “Technoblade never dies,” he claimed. “But you could. You have three cannon lives just like the rest of us.” I concluded. 

Techno silently followed me as I moved through the barn, replacing the eggs that had cracked when we collided. After I filled the box once more, I set it down before stepping into the bathroom I had built. “I’ll be right out. Don’t touch anything.” I commanded. Techno gave me a mock salute before looking around the barn once more. I closed the door and quickly cleaned up. I took off my egg covered clothes, washed my hands and body before putting on the clean clothes I kept here. 

I found Techno where I left him. “You ready to go?” I questioned softly. His eyes trailed from my horses back to me as he gently nodded. I made my way back to the boxes before picking the egg box back up. “Is this going to?” Techno asked. I looked over and found him pointing at the last box needing to go to the bakery. “Yeah, but you don’t have to-” I was cut off by Techno picking up the box. “Let’s go” He said walking out the door. I let out a laugh before following him, being sure to close the door behind me. 

The two of us made small talk about anything and everything on our way to the bakery. Techno told me all about Wilbur and Tommy’s constant squabbles and I told him all about everyone’s wariness ever since he joined the server. Techno helped me put everything away, which caused me to be done a lot sooner than I usually get done. The two of us left the bakery and made our way back outside. We began strolling the prime path and subconsciously came to a stop where the two of us met. 

Our conversation died down and the two of us stood there for a moment, just staring at each other. I finally cleared my throat, “Thank you for helping me today. I really appreciate it.” I thanked, running a hand through my hair. Techno mirrored my actions with a shy smile on his face, “No problem. It’s the least I could do.” There was a slight pause before he spoke again, “Hey. Listen. I’m sorry for threatening you earlier. It’s just… Everyone I’ve ever met has been terrified of me and when you weren't… It really threw me for a loop. So… thanks. Thank you for giving me a chance.” I let out a giggle at his vulnerability, “It’s no problem…. Maybe when this is all over and you and your brothers are welcome back into L’Manberg, we could hang out more.” I offered. Techno gave me a soft smile and a gentle nod, “Yeah. I’d like that. A lot.” 

“Techno!” A voice whisper shouted. The two of us jumped at the sudden interruption and turned to look at who had called the pink haired man’s name. It was Wilbur. “There you are! Where have you been?!” He questioned, marching up to the two of us. Techno made a gesture to me. Wilbur’s eyes shifted to me. I gave him a smile and a wave. “Hey Wilbur. It’s great to see you” Wilbur’s eyes softened as he gave me a smile, “Hey Y/N. It’s so good to see you too. We’ve got to go. Techno was supposed to be on a spy mission, but I see he got distracted…” I laughed at his words and nodded. “Something like that,” Techno claimed, rubbing the back of his head a blush. 

“Well it was great to see you Wilbur. Tell Tommy I miss him and that I say to stop trying to decorate with things that aren’t his, yeah?” Wilbur gave me another soft smile and nod, “Will do Y/N. Tell Niki I miss her?” I returned his smile and nod. I then turned to Technoblade and gave him a smile as well, “It was lovely to meet you. I really hope this is over soon so I can show you my weapons collection.” Techno’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “It was amazing to meet you too Y/N. And I would love that. So much.” I giggled at his response and nodded. “I knew you would. Bye guys.” I gave them both one last smile before turning and headed back to my farm. 

As I was leaving I overheard the next part of Techno and Wilbur’s conversation. “So… Y/N huh?” “Shut up.” “Who knows, when this thing is all over maybe you’ll get together and have pink haired, Y/E/C babies… Oh I would be the best uncle and-” “I’ll give you a five second headstart.” “Oh come on Techno-” “Five” “Please” “Four” “Tech-” “Three” “You know it’s-” “Two” “Oh come on” “One” “OH GOD! RUNNING!” 

I let myself look over my shoulder at the two. Sure enough Wilbur was sprinting down the prime path as fast as he could, but Techno was right behind him. “Get over here!” Techno shouted after Wilbur. “NO!” I let myself giggle at the two’s antics. My eyes focused on the two for as long as I could, but soon enough the two were out of my view and my ear shot. Oh I can’t wait until this is all over. 

There you go! I hope you enjoyed! And I hope I did the anon that requested this justice! If you did enjoy, be sure to leave a like! And maybe even a reblog or reply telling me what you liked about it! Until next time!

[shycoconutt]

I Found My Light: Chapter 2 (Kakashi X Reader)

Chapter 1

A/n: Well, I decided to continue! I'm very excited about this. Hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Left confused after last night, you talk with Kurenai over breakfast at your favorite diner.

Word Count: 1400

Warnings: fem!reader, SFW (but might not be later lol)

“You… cuddled?” You could feel Kurenai’s eyes burning into the top of your head as you stared down at the coffee cup between your hands, her tone of disbelief unquestionable.

“I mean, yeah, I don’t know how else to describe it,” you started, nervously biting your lip, “one moment we were under the tree with his arms wrapped around me, and the next I was waking up in my own bed this morning with him nowhere to be found.” It was strange really. You don’t remember even moving from the spot you two were in, so how could you have made it all the way home without waking up? Did he carry you all the way there? Teleport? How does he even know where you live?

“Are you sure you’re not imagining it? Sounds to me like you were just having a realistic dream.” You could see Kurenai’s hand reach out and grab your wrist, giving it a small squeeze. “Didn’t you say you were thinking about him the other day? Maybe he just ended up slipping into your dream because you miss him.”

Looking up from your cup, you meet her sympathetic eyes. Kurenai knows more than anyone else about the feelings you had for Kakashi when you were young, so dreaming about him wouldn’t be a far-fetched idea.

“Listen, I get why you would think that way,” you started, “but I’m telling you, as ridiculous as it sounds, that’s what happened.” You lean back into the booth and fold your arms across your chest, escaping Kurenai’s grasp. There’s absolutely no way you will let anyone take that moment away from you, you decided.

“Alright, alright, I believe you!” Kurenai chuckled with her hands coming up in defense. “If you want I can ask Asuma to tell me if Kakashi says anything about it to him. I mean I highly doubt Kakashi would go around telling people you two had a cuddle session, but who knows? He sounds like a whole new man.”

“Order’s up!” Your waiter exclaimed, bringing three plates of food over to your booth. “Let’s see I have the eggs and bacon,” placing the plate in front of Kurenai, “the veggie scramble, and the pancakes you wanted to share.” Placing the rest of the plates down, you both give him a warm smile and a thank you.

“Mmm yum.” You both say in unison as you begin to eat.

“Honestly, (y/n), you better hurry up and eat that scramble because I am ravenous right now and will finish our pancakes before you even get to them.” Kurenai teased with a mouth full of eggs.

“You eat my half of the pancakes and you can expect a kunai in your back during training today.” You threatened, pointing your butter knife at her.

“Wait,” Kurenai paused and then gasped, “that’s right!”

“What?” You ask, a tad concerned at her excitement.

“Kakashi!”

“Kakashi—”

“Will be at training today!” She exclaimed. You could feel the blood begin to drain from your face. “Yeah since he’s not a member of the Anbu anymore he has time to train with us. Gui finally convinced him to, saying something about taking advantage of the springtime of our youth.”

“Ah, typical Gai.” You spoke flatly, trying to remain as casual as possible, but inside you began to panic. How are you going to face Kakashi so soon? You have absolutely no idea how he feels about last night. I mean, he instigated the cuddle session but left you in your bed this morning without any word. Were you supposed to keep that moment between you a secret? Did you already mess up by telling Kurenai? How could you be so—

“(Y/N)!”

You snapped out of your train of thought and met Kurenai’s concerned eyes, a small smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

“(Y/n), I can feel you spiraling from over here.” She gave you a small chuckle. “You’re going to be fine. If anything, he should be the one nervous to face you. How can he explain what happened last night without admitting he has feelings for you?” She reasoned while taking the last bite of her half of the pancakes.

“Admitting he has feelings for me?” You repeated in disbelief after a pause. “You can’t be serious.”

“Well, how else do you explain it?”

“He’s lonely, or lost.” You begin to think out loud. “Ah, or he needed human connection and I was the only one around, simple as that.” Proud of your answer, you take the last couple bites of your food as well.

“I suppose you could be right,” Kurenai began, “but you're definitely wrong.”

“How am I wrong?”

“Well, to be completely honest with you, if anyone in the world ends up with Kakashi, it’s going to be you,” Kurenai stated matter-of-factly.

“What!” You scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

“Hey, hey, not too fast there with the rejection.” Kurenai reasoned. “Besides Rin, you were the only girl he gave any attention to.”

Rin.

My poor Rin.

I miss her.

“You realize that’s because Rin and I were best friends right? I was only given attention by association. He was close to me because he had to be.” Your voice began to trail off at the end as you could start to feel your throat tighten, Rin’s death still stinging like salt in an open wound. “Don’t forget what happened in the months after Rin’s death.”

“I know,” Kurenai said almost to herself.

You continued anyway, “He avoided me. We crossed paths probably a thousand times at Rin’s grave, no words exchanged. Until one day I told him that I knew what happened and that I didn’t fault him for any of it. Then we exchanged a few words here and there only for it to ultimately fizzle out again. Now here we are, years later, and we’re somehow connected again? Seemingly out of nowhere? It makes no sense.” Damn, maybe I was dreaming.

“Maybe it does.”

“How?”

“Well,” Kurenai sat back and began to play with the ends of her hair, “what if he wants to start over? What if he wants to get back to the way things were before?”

“When we were just little genin?”

“Sure.”

“Or,” you began after a moment, “he feels guilty and wants to clear his conscience.” That sounds more realistic.

“Ah, there you go being a grade-A pessimist again.” Kurenai chuckles with her hand covering her face. “How about we quit the speculation and just find out naturally?”

“Fine.” You sighed, putting your chin in your hand while gazing out the diner window.

“It’s tragic really.” Kurenai pondered, also staring out into the distance.

“What?” You looked at her confused.

“We should’ve gotten two orders of pancakes. I’m still hungry.” She complained.

You stared at her for a moment, unamused while she gave you a big, goofy grin.

Finally feeling yourself break into a smile, you laughed and threw your napkin at her face. “I swear the only things on your mind are Asuma and pancakes. You have a problem.”

“Ugh, not true!” She joked, pretending to be offended. “I also think about how nice it would be if my future maid of honor and Asuma’s future best man were in a happy, fulfilled relationship together.” She stated, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Shut up.”

“Careful, (Y/n),” she smiles, getting up from the table and taking your hand in hers, “at this rate your eyes are gonna roll out of your pretty head.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You mused, putting your arm over Kurenai’s shoulders as you stroll out of the diner, leaving money and a tip for your waiter.

“You never know, (Y/n).” Kurenai spoke as you made it outside. “Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind tonight, okay?”

You sighed, feeling stressed again about the training session.

“Yeah, okay,” you finally answered, turning to face her. “And you promise me you won’t tell anyone else about what happened last night, not even Kakashi can know that you know, okay?”

“I promise to not tell a soul.” She spoke sincerely. “I’ll see you tonight, my love.” She gave you a strong hug, a kiss on the cheek, and walked off in the direction of her apartment making sure to look back and give you a teasing wink.

You smiled and yelled after her, “People are gonna start thinking we’re lesbians if you keep that up!”

“Let them think what they want!” She yelled back without turning around.

And just like that, there you were, one of the strongest kunoichis of the Hidden Leaf, feared by many, standing alone on a busy street terrified to attend your training session tonight because of one silver-haired shinobi.

One very handsome, insanely smart, terrifyingly strong, porn-reading, sharingan-wielding, silver-haired shinobi.

That you cuddled.

Last night.

Shit.

[mingying]

[spoilers] hospital playlist s2 ep 11; ikjun/songhwa

I can’t believe this finally happened. And it happened in arguably the best ways possible for us IkSong shippers. As usual, this post is just basically my own thoughts and opinion of the episode and my interpretation of things - feel free to disagree, and I hope you enjoy reading this musing of mine!

22 years later, finally they found each other again <3

TL;DR: Everything happens for a reason and we have finally reached the rainbow end <3

Let’s begin by addressing the ER scene, but before that, I would like to point out that since Ep 10, Songhwa has been shown to be somewhat forgetful and a klutz - in Ep 10, she was searching for her socks and insisted that she wore them for her rounds. She also seemed to have forgotten to take off her surgical cap until Seonbin pointed it out to her.

In Ep 11, the episode starts off with Songhwa leaving her handbag in Ikjun’s office, and subsequently her handphone, followed by her handbag in the car again. This is not a dementia arc, guys (haha) but I genuinely think that this is her mind being occupied by her newly realised feelings for Ikjun that her normally composed self had started to crumble (and that’s entirely ok!). Another interpretation of this scene could be that unintentionally and subconsciously, she just wanted to remain in the hospital knowing Ikjun may return to collect his gift later.

Can I also point out her sixth sense in this scene? When she peered out of her window and heard the sound of ambulance, followed immediately by Dr Bong calling, she looked disturbed. Normally, she would have answered her calls immediately without hesitation but this time you could tell that she frowned and waited for maybe 2 seconds before answering Dr Bong. Well, never messed with a woman’s intuition I guess!

The ER Scene. Gosh. I actually have a lot of things to say about this. I know some people do not like this trope and that it is a typical trigger for characters to realise their feelings. But, I’d have to say that ShinLee did not intend for this scene to be a trigger of Songhwa realising that she likes Ikjun.

Because she already knows and had realised, somewhere around Ep 8-9 but more obviously 9, that she does like him as a man (all over again). If anything, this ER scene was meant to give Songhwa that one last push to confess, otherwise she may end up regretting not to. Another reason why I felt this scene was necessary was that Songhwa has been too comfortable in Ikjun’s constant presence by her side -- perhaps she has been wanting to confess but still lack the courage to and she didn’t think she needed to act on it rightaway because Ikjun would always be there by her side.

Gosh, the way she rushed to Ikjun and didn’t even hear Dr Bong trying to report to her that he actually wasn’t in such a terrible state. The way she slipped her hand in his and was so gentle in her questions - you can really just tell that she was trying her best not to crumble.

(side note: Jeon Mido, your acting was truly stellar during this scene. That suppressed professionalism vs personal feelings. I really felt her worry and regret in this entire scene. I loved it so much)

Now, why do I firmly believe that Songhwa already intends to confess to Ikjun eventually? Other than the fact that Songhwa herself confirmed during her confession that “I should have told you that I liked you”, it’s because of the Gift that she has given him for his birthday. It’s a cap, and initially we don’t think much of it until the flashback sequence showed and we realised that, a cap was what 99z Songhwa wanted to give to Ikjun but never did because he had turned her down for dinner and lied that he has a blind date.

Present day Songhwa gifting Ikjun a cap can be interpreted as her having let go of the hurt he had caused her in the past and that she was willing to try, again.

Interestingly, I’d like to also point out that the 99z flashback in this episode was truly necessary for us to understand Songhwa’s aversion to ‘Sad Sea’ and why she has rejected Ikjun in the first episode. 99z Songhwa didn’t give up when Ikjun stood her up for her birthday but mustered the courage to confess to him - she tried twice too, asking if he really has to go on that blind date that evening and couldn’t he go another time? Ikjun, in that scene, was playing Sad Sea. 

I would like to apologise to Ep 7 Songhwa because I had been frustrated with her then, but now that everything has been rolled out beautifully, I do not blame her at all for her hesitancy and year long passiveness. Ikjun kinda deserved it after breaking her heart twice (HA!) and remember this shot of Ikjun in Ep 7? 

I now interpret this scene as him realising that he knew Songhwa’s reasons of rejecting him. Because there was no way he didn’t know that Songhwa had liked him in the 99z, and he was perhaps regretting turning her down for dinner that day during his birthday. He knew he had a chance with her then but blew it, and that is perhaps why he never faltered in making Songhwa happy now. Not that he expects anything in return, but perhaps he wanted to make up for the indirect hurt he had caused her.

Bab Meokja had been something initiated by Songhwa back then. And now, it is a treat he gives himself -- I really do think that is the reason why he keeps asking Songhwa out for meals in the present time, because Ikjun probably wanted to indrectly make up for what happened in 99z.

Let’s move on to another great scene! The card game scene!

For some, it may seem to be a random scene but for me, I saw it in a different way and I’m glad Kfans and some users on Twitter pointed out this theory as well. 

As you all know, the card game IkSong was playing was “Bluff/Cheat”. Here, you could see that Ikjun could read Songhwa so well that he knows when she would lie. But Songhwa on the other hand, could not read Ikjun as well -- and this is further affirmed by Songhwa’s confession when she said “If your feelings for me haven’t changed,”. This is beautiful because it makes Ikjun’s expression during the confession scene even more sense -- a user on reddit pointed out that his expression at that time wasn’t more of a “omg she likes me after all”, it was more of a “she has realised her feelings for me,” and I think that’s absolutely beautiful. He even nodded subtlely a few times as Songhwa struggled to get her confession out, as if encouraging her and saying “you can do it, just a bit more”. 

Back to the card game - Ikjun even threw down a 9 Hearts - which I believe is a metaphor of his feelings for her, steady and still unwavering. 

(Bonus note: I absolutely love how Iksun caught on to them being lovey dovey at once and Junwan’s expression catching them was HILARIOUS)

On to my next scene which was absolute favourite.

Songhwa had finished a difficult/challenging surgery, and out of excitement (she even skipped omg whipped girlie), she called Ikjun first to convey the good news to him. Her tone here really depicts a difference in how she talks to Ikjun before. This scene alone tells you that Songhwa has pretty much fallen for Ikjun again and I love love love that finally she has someone she would want to immediately call to share her good news with! 

And the best part? Our best boy Lee Ikjun never went to Changwon. Instead, he waited for her for probably hours (it was bright day when they said goodbye, but night when Songhwa returned to her office) and even told her straight that he has to see her before he leaves because of how worried she had been before. Good lord find me a man like Ikjun please? 

image cr: iksongarchives @ twitter

This entire shot, with I Knew I Love playing in the background pretty much hits. It is in this exact moment that Songhwa has probably made up her mind to confess for real, that she wasn’t going to waste another second because I am sooo sure she would have ran to hug him if not because of their status at that moment. I love this scene so much. It is the personification of the lyrics of I Knew I Love, which goes “I called you out of habit today and you answered warmly, you make me the happiest in the whole wide world, I love you so much”.

And finally. 

Finally.

*takes a deep breath*

SONGHWA CONFESSED!!!!!!!!

AND THEY KISSED!!!! UNDER THE RAIN!!! 

The whole directing of this scene, with the slow camera panning into them - Ikjun was restless, probably breaking into cold sweats (he commented it was cold) while Songhwa was nervous and trying to muster enough courage to confess (she commented it was really hot). I held my breath for so long I felt like I was about to faint I swear to god.

Songhwa looked legit terrified that Ikjun was going to reject her man, and it all makes sense why after we got the 99z flashback this episode. 

And Ikjun, he really waited for her cues. Even after she was done confessing, he looked at her and waited for her to look at him back before he went “I’ll give you my answer”. And it was only after Songhwa nodded in fear and anticipation, that he swooped in to kiss her!!!!!

Songhwa definitely also leaned in first before Ikjun pulled her closer. She wanted this just as much as he did and it showed through their first kiss. Gosh I’m still shaking just thinking about how perfect that entire sequence and kiss was. They really went all out for it (yes I believe there was tongue involved) rather than soft and gentle. 22 years of suppressed yearning and feelings really popped out in that kiss alone and I am so blessed to have been a part of their beautiful journey.

And now, with only one episode left, we are finally able to see IkSong as a couple and on dates. I have a feeling Songhwa would be the clingy gf man, judging from the Preview keke. I cannot wait to see the rest of the boys finding out, and for sure, I cannot wait to see how their dynamics would change now as lovers rather than just best friends. I do think their transition would be seamless, only that now, they get to do what other lovers could.

This post is so long but I felt the need to address another matter that I have seen roaming around the internet. Apparently, some people are annoyed that Songhwa was ‘forced to change her mind’ and that we cannot accept her ‘No’ in ep 1. I would humbly and respectfully disagree on this point. Songhwa’s ‘No’ in ep 1 was not a “I don’t like you therefore I am rejecting you”. It was more of a “I do not know how to sort out my feelings yet, and am not ready to revisit the past, so it is best not to tamper with it”. 

Songhwa did not change her mind overnight or weeks. It took her one year and a few months. She has had all that time to weighs her decisions again and properly thought out how she wanted to bring forward her relationship with Ikjun. She was not forced.

She may have said that she liked being single in S1, but she has never been averse to love. In fact, she is always encouraging other people to go for it. I for one, am single and absolutely enjoying it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to ever change my mind if I find someone worthy enough to share my space and happiness with. I like being single now because guys around me are idiots and I’d rather save myself that headache LOL.

Her conscious decision to accept Ikjun now does not and will never invalidate her decision to reject him back then - in fact, it goes to show that as human beings, we constantly undergo character growth and our minds are often changed to suit the present circumstances. 

ShinLee did not portray Songhwa in that light where ‘women needs to say yes if a guy treats her right’. Ikjun did all of those things for her without expecting anything in return. He never once crossed the line and never once forced Songhwa into accepting his love for her. Songhwa said yes because she likes Ikjun and is now ready to move their relationship to that of romantic. It is as simple as that.

And one last point to make is that Songhwa being in a relationship does not in any way invalidate that she is a strong and independent woman. Please do not associate the relationship status of a woman to her being ‘strong/independent’. A woman in a relationship and a woman not being a relationship are still BOTH strong AND independent. Love is a universal element in life, why deprive a person of it simply because she’s portrayed to be a “strong” female character? If that love brings her greater joy and ardent happiness, why stop her from enriching her life further?

Anyway. I digress. 

If you made it until the end of this ridiculously long post, thank you. I hope it was an enjoyable read! Till Ep 12!

[cower-before-power]

Lovers in D Minor

Summary: Gojo requests you play his favourite song. You can’t deny him anything.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

TW: Swearing, implied sexual content

Link to A03 here

A/N: I’m back with another fic starring everyone’s favourite sensei! Thank you to all who read, liked, and reblogged my first fic, you are amazing and it has given me the confidence to write more! Please excuse the shitty title, I was thinking of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony while writing. Please enjoy, sweet potatoes!

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“Play.”

His voice is soft, quiet, and yet the one word resonates with an unyielding command. You run your hands over the keys in front of you gently.

You have no desire to deny him. You never do. Your trust in him has been built up like an iron fortress; unbreakable, unyielding. You know he will never demand that which you are unwilling to give.

Many worship the Honoured One, but it is only you he will bestow his unwavering favour upon.

“What would you like to hear?”

A lone finger runs down your spine, tracing the knobs with a feather light touch. Such contrast to the rough and demanding hands that were on you not an hour earlier.

But that was your Gojo Satoru.

“My favourite, I think.” His finger reverses, then slips lazily down again. Back and forth, back and forth. Your nerves cry out; it’s not enough. Not tonight.

“I should have guessed,” you say, leaning back into his touch. His finger stops at the base of your spine and spreads out into his whole hand. It’s a lazy warmth, like slipping into a hot bath at the end of a long day.

It feels like home.

He laughs softly. “Am I becoming that predictable, sugar plum?”

“Never,” you grin, turning to look at him beside you. He’s pretty in a way that should be illegal, white hair and blue eyes and sharp features that would make angels wail in despair. Perhaps he is an angel, you muse. An angel fallen from grace, doomed to a fate of exorcising the world’s demons. Darkness wrapped in a sheen of glittering light, terrifying in his ethereal beauty.

The celestial being in question cups your neck with steel fingers and drags your face up to his. Your eyes flutter closed as his lips cover yours, smooth and saccharine.

You could write poetry about his mouth.

“Are you going to distract me the whole time?” You mumble between kisses, your arms already reaching up to snake around his neck.

“Probably,” his tongue lolls out to run along your bottom lip, slowly, teasingly. A kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your chin, then down, down, down the column of your throat.

“Sa-to-ru,” you drag out his name in a reedy whine as his grip on the back of your neck tightens. He hums in pleasure; if he has but one weakness, it’s the sound of his true name cascading off your lips.

“Again,” he sighs dreamily. Teeth scrape the hollow of your throat. Your skin suddenly feels too tight, too small.

“Satoru,” you whisper, and the rumbling purr from his chest has you trying to claw your way into his lap.

You wonder why it comes like this, some days. The desire. The need. Other days are normal, when the touch of his skin brings pleasant comfort and warm affection. Everyday feelings. But days like this, nights like this, it’s different. Nothing is quiet or gentle. Every brush of fingers burns, every press of lips stirs a beastly hunger that roils in your gut until you’re practically foaming at the mouth. To touch him. To taste him. To be lost in the myriad of feelings he plucks from the depths of you.

To slake the ravenous craving to devour and be devoured in return.

Your move into his lap is suddenly halted. You open your eyes to meet his sapphire ones, brimming with hazy lust and tender amusement. He slowly peels away from you, gently setting you back down on the bench beside him.

“You said you’d play.”

You huff. You’ll never understand how the damn bastard can turn it off and on like that.

He senses your mood, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading across his face.

“Greedy thing,” he murmurs, tapping your nose gently. “Don’t worry sugar plum, I’ll reward you when you’re finished.”

“You better,” you grumble, reaching for the binder of sheet music you keep beside the piano. You begin to flip through, your eyes watching for the piece you’re looking for.

“Still can’t believe you wrote me a love song,” he teases, letting his white head fall gently against yours. His arms wind naturally around your waist; he feels it too. The need to be close, to touch, to ground and anchor.

He’s just as starving for it as you are.

“I’m beginning to wish I never did,” you find what you’re looking for and spread it out on the stand. “Your already overinflated ego did not need to be fed.”

He nuzzles into your hair. “Silly, you’d write me a thousand love songs if you had the time. You’re obsessed with me.”

“Says the man who hasn’t let me out of his sight-or arms for that matter- all day.”

He squeezes you once, laughing. “Touché. It’s true I’ve fallen under whatever bewitching spell you’ve cast on me.” His lips press against your scalp. “And I couldn’t give a flying fuck about trying to get away.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning. “Well, duh. I’m quite the catch. Now shut up and let me play.”

He laughs again and falls silent. Your fingers stretch one, twice. And then you begin to play.

Sometimes trying to describe your love for him is difficult with mere words. There just weren’t enough of them capable of conveying the emotions he invokes in you. That’s why you took to your passion, your talent. What you couldn’t say in words, you’d say in song. In sweeping movements, lilting notes, heartfelt melodies. Your hands conveying what your heart cries out.

He hums along, the tune committed to memory. It’s no surprise; how many times has he asked you to play it? Too numerous to count.

He knows the way you share your love, your devotion to him. He knows words often stick themselves in your throat. But through the tinkling of keys he could feel what you were trying to say.

It’s what he says when he buys you too expensive presents, or kisses your forehead softly between classes, or drags you out of bed at one am to eat candy in your underwear.

I’m here, and I love you.

You finish with a flourish, the last notes hanging in the air like early morning mist. Quiet falls over the room. It’s just you and him and the heartbeats between you, softly thumping in time.

It’s perfect.

But......

“Satoru?”

“Yes?”

“.....my clothes won’t take themselves off.”

He snorts with laughter, and the soft romance of the moment disappears.

“Someone is neeeeeedy,” he sings, pinching your side. “You just can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You squirm away from his questing fingers but he holds you in place. “Don’t be mean! I always give you what you want, now give me what I want.” Your lips turn down into a pout.

He coos at you, leaning down to rub his nose playfully against yours. “Sugar plum, you know you’ve got me wrapped around those talented little fingers of yours. Have I ever denied you?”

He kisses you one, twice, three times- lazy, indulgent things that leave you whimpering as you cling to him.

“Please, Satoru.” You’ll beg. You’ll beg a hundred times over and you won’t feel any shame. There is no shame in wanting to be loved, to be treasured and cherished and worshipped the way you know he can.

He drags his lips over your jaw, chuckling darkly. “You want me to play you like you play that damn piano?” His teeth catch on your earlobe, tugging gently. “See what sweet music I can coax from you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, winding your fingers through his soft white hair. “Yes, yes, yes.”

He pulls back to grin at you, canines sharp and gleaming in the dim light.

“Then buckle up, sugar plum. Tonight, I’m writing a whole fucking symphony.”

[wandsandwheezes]

Sleep Tight | F. W

T/W - none its literal pure fluff unless you’re scared of clowns then pennywise 

A/N // 1.2k // massive thank you to @n3ssm0nique for tis request, it was so cute to write ahhhh // “reader is spending summer at the burrow with the weasleys and one of them have the great idea of watching a very scary movie at night and reader gets super scared and basically cuddles into Fred and he promises to keep her safe.. and later that night reader comes into his room cause she can’t sleep? “

taglist; @weasleysflowr​ @theweasleysredhair​ @whiz-bangs78​ @hufflepuffgirly​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ 

"Come on, Y/N it wont even be that scary!" Fred teases, pulling you down to sit next to him. Ginny had the fantastic idea of having a scary movie night, which to everyone but you seemed like a bit of fun. You were absolutely terrified of clowns so the thought of watching 'It' made you want to curl up under the covers out of fear.

Arthur had set up a small TV after Hermione had suggested it would make for a great bit of summer entertainment, especially knowing how unpredictable British summer was. Harry had helped the pair in setting it up, with Arthur marvelling at the muggle invention of moving pictures. 

When the movie started, you found yourself curling up into Fred's side, his arm draping over your side, pulling you into him. It's crazy that you'd faced trolls and dragons but yet a clown on a TV screen made you cower in fear. You did at least try and watch the movie, however the moment you'd started trembling, Fred brought his hand up to your head, pulling it into his chest, gently smoothing your hair down in an attempt to comfort you. 

Fred had never seen you so scared and a part of him wanted to pull that fear right out of you and make you ok again, he pressed a small kiss to the crown of your head, whispering an ‘I’ll protect you.’ into your hair as you slowly drifting off in an attempt to try and skip out of watching the end of the film. Fred's chest was absolutely perfect for that, warm and comforting and you could hear his heartbeat lulling you off to sleep like the perfect lullaby. 

When the movie ended, Fred had gently shook you awake, causing you to flutter your eyelids open with a smile, stretching your limbs a little, looking up at him fondly, thinking about how amazing it was to wake up to such an incredible man. The siblings all started discussing the movie, with Ron trying to throw pieces of popcorn into Harry's mouth, Ginny and George having a rather loud debate over their movie theories. You were reminded of how amazing this family was and how lucky you were to be surrounded by them.

The group had headed up to bed one by one as time rolled into the early hours of the morning. The others found it easy to fall into a well needed slumber, you however were still shaken up; the image of pennywise the clown springing up in your vision every time you shut your eyes. You contemplated rummaging through your bag for a vial of sleeping draught you had brewed in anticipation of any insomniac struggles, but decided against it, rolling onto your front, burying your face into your pillow with a sigh. No matter how hard you tried to push the vision of clowns from your mind, each image rattled around your brain at an antagonising pace, unmoved by any and all attempts. This caused you to toss and turn restlessly on the mattress you were laying ontop of. 

Without really thinking, you’d slipped out from under the covers, shuffling quietly out of the room as not to wake Ginny and Hermione. You found yourself drawn to Fred’s protective hold, tiptoeing down each creaky step to the first floor, pushing open the door to the twin’s shared room, thankful that George was asleep, because knowing how much of a light sleeper he was, you were sure he’d be sat bolt upright and awake. You pulled up the covers, cuddling into the tall boy’s side, causing him to stir slightly, wrapping an arm around you. “I must be dreaming, lucky man I am to have an angel like you in my bed…” he muses, causing you to giggle softly, this wasn’t the first time you’d crept into Fred’s bed in the middle of the night and although he hated to admit it, he always slept a bit better with you right next to him. 

You and Fred had never put an exact label on what you were, not that you needed it but you had both realised that you were more than just friends, sure you slept together occasionally but you weren’t exactly ‘friends with benefits’ because there were most definitely a hell of a lot of strings attached. You wanted to be in his arms all the time and he loved kissing you just casually but even more than that; you were emotionally connected. You’d both be lying to each other if you said there wasn’t something there

“I can’t sleep, Freddie” you whispered, burying your face into the crook of his neck. His hand soothingly rubs your arm, shushing you softly. “You’re still shaking, Princess, I’m not surprised.” You always felt safer in his arms and the pet name he gave only perpetuating a warmer feeling in your stomach. It was as if he had the ability to wipe away any bad thoughts and wash comfort over you so that you could finally find some rest. Not even having time to register or process his faint whisper as you fall asleep.  “I love you, Angel, sleep tight.”

You woke up the next morning to Fred still snoring his head off, taking in a moment of sweet bliss as his soft breathing perfectly complemented the summer warmth and chirping birds, making your morning that much more perfect. You pull yourself from his arms, despite not truly wanting to, in an attempt to beat the morning rush for the burrow’s highly demanded shower. Being under the warm droplets of water, made each and every muscle relax, relishing in the feeling of being at ease. 

You weren’t sure when or how Fred had managed to sneak in behind you but a sudden presence forced you to spin around, you noted that he looked absolutely delicious in the mornings with messy hair and groggy eyes, however not before smacking him in the chest for scaring you with his presence. He laughs a little, pulling you in by the waist, his other hand pressed to your cheek in a slow and tender kiss, for a moment you felt like you were in a movie rain pouring over both of you as you kissed and you just knew you were enamoured with him. The kiss was perfect, the way his lips moved with yours with no rush, made you feel like the only woman in the universe, his thumb was running over your cheekbone and despite how tender and loving the kiss was, it was filled to the hilt with all of the passion the boy could muster.

“I meant what I said last night when I said I loved you, because I do. Something yesterday clicked for me and made me realise that you’re the one, I know it’s not the most romantic me asking you out in the morning shower but I knew it had to be now.” Your smile was beaming ear to ear as he spoke, you didn’t realise just how in love with him you were. You were laughing now because truly, was it Fred if he wasn’t doing it in the most unconventional way possible. “Oh, Freddie you big teddy bear, I love you too.” you press your lips to his again, unable to shake the feeling of pure love coursing through your veins.  He proceeded to help you wash your hair, him laughing as he had to bend down when you attempted to return the favour. As if you couldn’t fall more in love with the Weasley boy who had your heart, with every pining look, you fell just that little bit harder.

[falling-pages]

Let me be your strength: MoriHaru

I transcribed this at 2 a.m., so it's not edited nor well put-together. But I liked it and thought it was cute, and there is not nearly enough MoriHaru content. Shoutout to @ohshcscenerios for listening to me cry about this AND for making the mood board!!!!

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Summary: When the pressures of life threaten to snap Haruhi like a twig, she learns to fall into the arms of an old friend.

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(AKA me thirsting over Takashi for 4k words)

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Takashi Morinozuka x Haruhi Fujioka

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Talk of terminal illness

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It wasn’t the champagne that made Haruhi lightheaded or twisted her stomach into knots, but she refused her second glass and sent the waiter away with a polite wave. The heat from the throngs of crowded pressed down on her, though the space was large and cool. She wished she could move outside, but the unbearable heat of a summer evening kept her clinging to her cold glass of water and air conditioning.

She dabbed at the sweat lining her brow, threatening to wash out the makeup Renge had so carefully applied. Haruhi rarely wore it, and when she did Renge always did it for her. They usually stuck together at parties, but she had slipped away as soon as they walked inside. For that, Haruhi couldn’t fault her--the ball was to celebrate hers and Tamaki’s engagement, after all.

The foundation was sticky in her pores, thick eyelashes framing her vision. She was too hot, too tired, too shifty. She tried to enjoy the party, but the source of her discomfort roared deep inside.

“Hello, Haruhi.”

She jolted, briefly, at the voice, so locked up in her thoughts she didn’t even notice the man approach her. Her old classmate towered above her, but his presence was welcome.

“Hi, Mori,” she sighed, leaning into the shadow he cast. Her skin cooled, but her heart burned at how close he was. “It’s nice to see you.”

Mori chuckled, eyes aglow with mirth. Or maybe alcohol, she couldn’t really tell. She had spent the last few minutes searching for anyone she knew at the ball, and it had seemed everyone was classily drunk on their wealth and drinks. It only added to her longing to go home, the guilt lodged in the back of the throat.

How could she be at a party when her father was so sick at home?

“Same to you,” her friend replied. His silver eyes raked down her body, taking in her dress, her makeup, her hair. His glance didn’t feel perverted, though, nor unwelcome. More like an artist working his eyes over a classic masterpiece. “You look very beautiful.”

Haruhi blushed magenta. Renge had worked her magic, lining her eyes and brushing pink wax against her lips, transforming the tired law student into a high-society lady for a night.

“Thank you,” she whispered, holding his gaze, despite every nerve telling her to look away. “You don’t think it’s too much?”

Mori inhaled. He blinked, washing his eyes anew, forcing the bourbon out of his system. He needed to see her straight, and he looked. He looked carefully. Dutifully. Rolling something over in his mind. “On you?” he answered. “Never.”

Haruhi sucked her tongue and smiled, letting herself feel beautiful, letting her insecurities dissipate under his gaze. “You know, this is all Renge’s work,” she explained. “The makeup, and we went dress shopping together.”

Mori grunted, envisioning it a precursor to wedding dress shopping Renge would surely drag her to in the upcoming months. He had to admit, the young lady did a great job -- the light green stitching against the pale yellow silk made Haruhi look like a flower in spring.

“We had to lock Tamaki in the house to keep him from coming with us,” Haruhi continued. She joined Mori’s laughter. “He still thinks of me as a doll he can dress up and play with.”

“Would you rather he had gone with you?”

Haruhi considered, squinting her eyes. “I’m not sure if he would have calmed her down or just doubled the madness.”

“Calmed her down, doubled your madness.”

“Yeah.”

“Mm.”

They shared an easy smile before Mori stepped away, by her side, to scan the crowd. Tamaki and Renge were sitting at a table overflowing with wine and hors d'oeuvres, chatting as he fed her a bit of cheese on a cracker. Both of them, likely drunk out of their minds, fell into laughter as he missed her mouth, snapping the cracker against her cheek.

“They’re good for each other,” Haruhi mused, not bothering to hide her wistfulness. “The king of excessive compliments, and the queen of backhanded ones.”

Mori noticed the lilting quirk in her voice, veering on the slight edge of jealousy. He grunted again, prompting an explanation.

“While we were getting ready, I asked her if it were too much,” Haruhi said. She sipped from her water glass, swallowing delicately. “I didn’t want to outshine the bride-to-be at her own engagement party. And you know what she said? She said, ‘Don’t worry, you don’t outshine me.’” This time Haruhi was the one to grunt, indignation crossing lines on her forehead. “Maybe she didn’t mean it like that. Maybe she meant something nice in French and it just came out bad in Japanese.”

Mori stayed silent as a waiter approached them with a tray of champagne. He reached for a flute, raising his eyebrows in a silent question to her, but she shook her head, and he refused as well.

“It’s strawberry.”

Haruhi perched her lip in question.

“The champagne.” He finished his bourbon, setting the glass down on a nearby stand. “They did that for you. They remembered you like strawberries.”

Haruhi briefly smiled, but took another sip of water. “That’s kind of them.”

Mori noticed the way she gripped her drink, the way she stared at the happy couple with blacked-out pupils. She couldn't be jealous of them individually, he knew. But of them as a couple? As a concept? Of their happy smiles?

He wanted to tell her she could outshine a thousand suns, that the golden shimmer on her cheekbone reminded him of a fairy queen, that in the lightness of her skin she could have trapped the moon. But he didn’t; he raised his fist to his mouth, cleared his throat, and tore his eyes away.

“You’re jealous,” he muttered. “Why?”

Haruhi snapped her gaze back to him. He had always been able to read her like a book, a riddle solved without explanation as the others stood scratching their heads. He looked back down at her, seeing how small she really was beside him. Confusion stirred in her deep eyes.

“Are you not?” he repeated.

She tore his eyes away from his, feeling movement in her chest. The terrifying ordeal of being known. She knew the champagne wasn’t the cause of her stomach knots, this time, either; rather, the smell of his cologne, strong and musky, left her lips parted in silent contemplation.

“I am,” she confessed. The drink weighed heavily in her hand. “They’re so carefree. There’s not a thought behind those eyes. They’re happy and don’t have stress or law school or a sick parent at home they should be caring for right now--”

Mori took the glass from her hand and set it on the table before stepping in front of her, bowing and extending his hand. She paused her rambling, just now noticing the change of music into a love song and the couples thronging onto the dance floor.

“Haruhi,” Mori said, “may I have this dance?”

Without hesitation she slipped her hand in his, allowing him to lead her onto the floor.

Just that little bit of touch sparked an inferno in his lungs, and he strained against the desire to just wrap her in his arms and whisk her away.

Once they floated to a free space, he took her right hand clasped in his left and took her waist with the other, spreading his fingers over the soft bodice of the gown.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Haruhi gasped, nearly euphoric at the feeling of his strong hands on her. She had been alone for so long that she didn’t even realize how touchstarved she was until his thumb rolled over her knuckles. Like it was right, like it was the only thing that mattered.

Mori led her in a waltz, guiding her clumsy feet with his experienced steps. He was a man so prone to the wild that she had nearly forgotten he was raised in aristocracy, trained and learned in all things fine and elegant. He probably learned this waltz as soon as he could walk.

And yet he held her with firm hands, looked at her with gentle eyes, softly correcting her mistakes without annoyance, only a speck of amusement playing in the upturned smile on his lips. He was in control, and this dance was the only thing she didn’t have to stress over. It made her want to fall into his arms and have him take care of everything else, too.

She noticed, too, his handsome features, as there was nowhere else to look but his face. He was taller now than in their youth, a broad-shouldered man of 26, heady and well-established and strong. She thought him too tall and muscled to be a graceful dancer, but she had forgotten he was a hunter, a fighter, a swordsman at his core. His suit, dark green and black, barely clung to his athletic frame. He was absolutely massive compared to her. Gone were the lanky, tall boy and flat-chested girl that once walked Ouran’s halls. Now they were man and woman at their peak.

She wondered how he had not found a wife yet, then wondered how she had never noticed him before.

He noticed, too. Every girlish feature he had adored in high school matured into ones of a woman mother nature scorns. When his fingers brushed her ribcage, she turned her attention back to his face. He was looking at her with the same intensity, but not the same recognition, like he was seeing something he had always known. His nose was noble, lips full, jaw sharp as his eyes. But what caught her attention was the scar, white against his tan face, jutting through his left eyebrow. It had healed long ago, the result of a kendo accident his first year of college, but the hair of his eyebrow never grew back correctly. The scar was turned and jilted and railed against the puckered skin, so untameable that Mori had stopped trying.

But Haruhi thought it suited him. The man could outrun the wild, but the wild would always catch up to him. The bit of evidence that he was more than what his last name got him.

Suddenly, she wanted to touch it. She had never felt the urge before; she barely noticed it, to be honest, and would never disrespect her friend like that.

But then again, he had never held her so intimately before.

Before she could, Mori cleared his throat. He had waited until she was settled in the dance to question her further, but she was staring so intently at him that he kept quiet. Had he been less tan, she would have seen him blush.

“What else is going on,” Haruhi?” he asked, turning slightly to avoid bumping into another couple.

She took a breath, disappointed that her reprieve had ended. She enjoyed looking at him. If he allowed it, she would have all night.

“You know, my dad,” she said simply, and Mori nodded, pulling her closer. Feeling his hand squeeze her made her woozy. “He’s still so sick. Not getting any better, not getting any worse. Just on the verge of needing someone to care for him at all times.”

Mori nodded again, chin hovering above her head. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he spoke. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you.” Haruhi did not miss the singular I. “Kyoya has been gracious with paying for the medical care, and for the nurses staying at our house. You all have done enough. Truly.” She looked up at him and did her best to smile, but even she knew he wouldn’t believe it. “It’s just so difficult because he needs care 24/7. So I feel guilty about going to class, guilty about sleeping, guilty about being here.” Her steps and voice faltered, eyelids fluttering to avoid tears. “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, tugging her hands away from him. “I should be at home, with him. He needs me--”

She tried to turn around, but Takashi grabbed her waist and pulled her to him, shuffling so she could look into his eyes. Her gaze wandered just above them--to his scar, he was sure--but he shook her very slightly, very gently, like waking a baby. “Haru,” he whispered, taking the liberty of a nickname. Her eyes flashed in pleasure, in a memory, bright with tears and charm. But her bottom lip trembled.

“You deserve a break,” he said, using his strength against her for the first time, making her look at him, to hear every word he spoke. “You have done so much. You have suffered so much. You deserve a break.”

Haruhi tried to fight him, but it was useless--he was right, and he was here, willing to provide it. Beneath her anger, beneath her sadness, there was just exhaustion, burning like a bed of red-hot coals, and she was dangling just over the edge of it, so close she could feel the hellish fumes on her face. They drew smoke up her nose, wracking coughs through her chest, burning and blistering her palms as she clung to the rope just barely keeping her alive.

Either the rope would snap, or she would.

Her father had depended on her ever since she was a child, and she had no choice but to claw her way up the frayed thread. But now her lungs burned, her fingers bled. All she wanted was rest.

She had to drop sometime.

A warm hand on her shoulder roused her back, and she looked into her friend’s steel gray eyes, now warm and pooling like molten lead. When his fingers glided along her cheek, she realized she had been crying, and wiped away the tears. He didn’t speak, only caught the ones she missed.

“I’m not strong enough,” she whispered. Her mouth twisted into neither a smile nor grimace, but a ghostly combination of both. “They were right. I’ll never be like my mom, I’ll never be good enough.” Her exhaustion poured over her in buckets, weak knees finally giving in, stumbling forward into Mori’s chest. He caught her without reservation; he had since the moment they met, and he always would.

He was strong enough to stay still when she fell, propping her back up and sheltering her against him, within his arms. He held her fastly, tightly, as she cried, nine years worth of pining and love for the taking, manifesting in front of their very eyes.

He knew how difficult it was. He had just graduated from the same law school only months prior, had the same professors and took the same classes. He himself barely scraped through at times. Even though he had given her his old books and notes, she struggled--and no wonder, having to constantly take care of her father.

“You’re right,” he said against the shell of her ear. She shivered, and he ran a hand up and down her back to soothe her. “You’re not like your mother. She ever had to carry the burden you do.”

Mori saw the weights tied to her feet, dragging her over the edge. She was going to slip, and soon--she couldn’t continue the facade of strength when she barely slept at night, barely processed her mornings over coffee, barely found the motivation to shower and brush her teeth when all she wanted was to sit at her father’s side and cry.

Maybe she thought she was concealing it well, but he was a Morinozuka, trained and battle-hardened and able to pinpoint weaknesses. He didn’t want her to hide from him.

A cold hand wrapped around Haruhi’s heart, and she pressed further into Mori’s chest. Then she realized herself and flung back, cheeks reddening at her boldness.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry, Mori, I forgot my place,” she said, keeping her eyes fixed on his very expensive shoes.

“No, no, Haru, no,” he said, scrambling for words. He cursed his silent nature. “I’m not going to let you fall. You are safe with me. I am never going to let anything happen to you.”

For a man whose strategy was always holding his cards close to his chest, he threw them down, baring his heart and soul to her mercy, desperately, as he tried to comfort her. He bent down, awkwardly long limbs sufficient in holding her, pressing her head to his chest. Her shampoo smelled so sweet, like the cherry blossoms waving just outside, and she felt so small curled up in his protective embrace. It sparked a heat in his knuckles, anger in his heart.

No one so sweet and good should have to suffer like this.

When she was ready, she moved away from his chest, accepting his willing hand wiping away her tears and the handkerchief in this pocket to hide behind until she regained her composure. Her makeup was ruined, and her hair was in disarray, but Mori thought she had never looked more beautiful than under his arm, pressing her cheek against his hand, chasing his comfort.

As soon as she smiled at him again, he took her hand and spun her back into the waltzing position. Mori built up the confidence to speak again.

“Is it alright if I call you Haru?”

A blythe smile. Pink tinged around her ears. “Yes.”

“Good.” He swallowed. “Haru, you are strong, and beautiful. It breaks my heart to see you like this. If you need to lean on someone, lean on me. Let me be your strength."

A fluttery sigh escaped her lips. “Okay.”

Mori nodded, leading her quickly back into the dance. Amazing, how many songs could be waltzed to. His agile feet knew them all by heart, so he could bask in the young lady’s presence.

Their eyes met periodically, blushes exchanged, and then gazes wandered. His traveled to the dance floor, landing on Tamaki and Renge.

They danced like two fools in love--which they were, obviously. Clumsy, falting steps, swathed in each other’s arms, mouths colliding in mismatched kisses and loud laughter. When he read their lips, he saw them chattering away in French. He saw the light pouring into each other’s eyes, both of them the sun pouring warmth through the window of the other’s soul.

He saw the way Tamaki’s bride-to-be looked at him, and wondered if the woman in front of him would spare him the same glance.

“You’re jealous,” Haruhi said suddenly. “Why?”

He turned to look at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Why did she use his own words against him?

She hid her smile behind her hand. “Are you not?”

He rolled his eyes, taking her firmly by the waist, as her hand returned to his shoulder.

“If you must know,” he muttered, twirling her under his arm, smiling as she giggled, “I am jealous. Because Tamaki has a beautiful lady in his arms, whom he loves, and who loves him, whom he can kiss and woo whenever he pleases.”

The orchestra suddenly roared, or maybe it was the blood in his ears when he noticed Haruhi’s hand tense in his. But, at least she didn’t drop it. She spun back into his chest, clinging to his shoulder like her grip would imprint on his suit. And when she looked at him, eyes bright and wide and full of wonder, he saw the knowing glint within.

She cocked her head aside. Her steps slowed, and she looked at him, running her eyes up and down his body as if just now realizing how long they had been dancing together.

“And you long for that?” she asked.

Mori sighed, ears pricking as the music ended. He let her go and bowed, assuming her wariness a rejection. Parallel to the floor, at least, gave him time to hide his face, regain his composure, mask the pain flowing quickly to his hands.

“Yes,” he sighed. And then, throwing all decorum out the window with a cracking toss of the head and a to hell with it for social commentary, he spoke again. “I long for it the way a bird longs to fly. And it makes me jealous of them, because I, too, had a beautiful lady in my arms, whom I love most dearly, whom I also wish to kiss and woo, but I do not know if she loves me back.”

His heart rose in his throat, and he gasped as he uttered the last words, oxygen leaving his lungs and brain at the sight of her chewing her lip. She had likely never heard him speak so many words at once. But they had clouded his mind. He had lived with them for nine years, pushed them down beneath the surface even as they slithered and crawled around in the form of blushes on his cheeks and pats to her head.

Finally, she spoke. They had stood there for an eternity, watching the other breathe. Wondering whose heart would give out first.

“Well,” she whispered, stepping forward and taking his hand, “she does.”

And then she pressed herself on her tiptoes and kissed him, just in time of the climax of the new song, in beat with the swells of strings and cymbals and trumpets, forgetting, momentarily, where they were. Takashi didn’t forget, but he couldn’t have given less of a damn. He turned off his practiced decorum, the polite manners of the aristocracy, all he had ever known, and kissed her like a man starved. Like she was his last meal, like he was poisoned and she was the antidote. It was Tamaki and Renge’s ball, yes, but he, too, deserved to be selfish for the first time in his life.

Haruhi knit her brows in concentration. His body was so hard, rough and solid and muscled from his years of training, but his lips were soft. Even harder were his practiced hands as they clung to her waist. They bunched the dress, moving and touching and exploring, and it reminded her of some exploring she also wished to do.

Without breaking the kiss, her hand wandered from his shoulder to his jaw, threading in his hair, before landing at his temple stroking the fine hairs of his eyebrow. But she hesitated. Even as her tongue was in his mouth, she was nervous.

When her fingers brushed the scar, he grunted. Though it was muffled by her mouth, the shame filled her stomach. She moved her hand back to his hair, but he grunted again, pulling just inches away to see the mortification hollowing her pupils. He pulled her hand forward, pressing a kiss to it, and replaced it where it belonged. He clutched her closer, watching in amusement as she touched as she pleased. The scar was rough and tattered, like the rest of him, but it distinguished him from the fine elegance of the ball.

She never cared for fine elegance, anyways.

Mori leaned down to press a softer kiss to her swollen lips. Haruhi’s stomach twisted into knots. How this force of nature could love her so tenderly was beyond her.

But when the song ended all too soon, he took her hand and led her to a table, snagging a glass of water for her. He whispered her name, his voice the soft type of strong that made her feel safe. “If you’ll have me, I’d like to call you mine.”

Haruhi’s mouth filled with cotton. She cautiously moved her hands up his chest, circling the knot of his tie.”Mori…”

“Call me Takashi, please,” he said, reaching down to hold her face. His thumb swiped gently over her lips, seeing how flushed and full they were. “Or you can call me Mori, or anything else you wish. It only matters to me that it comes from your lips.”

She gave off a sigh, a damp, fluttering sound from the back of her throat. “Yes,” she cooed, breathless. “Yes, Takashi, yes.”

At her perfect annunciation, Takashi swept her into his arms, lifting her high into the air, almost like the first time in Music Room Three, but this time she was smiling, and laughing, and maybe it was the candlelight and stringed musicians that made him feel so romantic, but he thought he could see forever in the way her glistening tears met her smile.

-

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

A fluorescent green gaze pierced through him from the rearview mirror. As much as the eye contact sent chills down Dale's spine, he didn't want to look away. Some primal part of his brain was much more comfortable keeping his eyes firmly planted on the predator in the back seat of the police car.

"Why won't he leave?" Dale whispered to his partner, the woman grit her teeth.

"I don't know, but I'm not the idiot who decided to fucking arrest him." spat Whitney.

"I didn't think it would work!" Dale hissed. They were trying to be quiet, but he was certain the ghost boy could hear them clear as day, especially with the quiet of the late night streets. "I was just following protocol. We're not supposed to ignore criminal activity."

"The protocol," Whitney's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as she circled the block for the third time. "Is to not fuck with the ghosts Dale. Especially that one."

She jerked her head roughly to the boy in the back seat, he was looking around the car and humming to himself, he didn't appear to be paying attention, but that didn't mean he wasn't listening.

"Look I just... we need to at least keep up appearances. We can't just let people think we aren't even trying."

"Yes! Yes we can!" Whitney snapped her mouth shut as her volume started to rise with frustration, she glanced nervously into the mirror and took a deep breath before continuing in a low tone. "We aren't paid to deal with this kind of bullshit, we radio it in and let a Fenton or a Guy in White deal with it."

"Okay I get it!" Dale ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I just... I feel so pathetic doing nothing when ghosts are just running around destroying public property-"

"Oh yeah no that's fine Dale that's a great reason to go and put handcuffs on the most powerful ghost in the fucking city." Whitney took the next turn a little too sharply, Dale felt himself lurch sideways, but the boy in the back hardly moved. It wasn't especially surprising given his usual disregard for the laws of physics.

As well as all the other laws that Officer Dale was supposed to be enforcing.

"I told you I didn't think he would actually come willingly." Dale whispered harshly, his voice containing just the barest hint of hysteria. "I just wanted to show him that we aren't total pushovers, I didn't expect it to go this far."

They circled the block once more as Dale checked the rearview mirror again. Phantom was playing with his handcuffs, jiggling the chain and twisting his hands around them. It was almost like he was trying wriggle his way out of them, Dale knew perfectly well that they were just ordinary handcuffs, and he could phase through them at any moment. Phantom had to know that too.

Whitney flicked her eyes between the mirror and the road.

"Asshole," the word was barely audible, Dale would have missed it had he not seen her lips move. "He's just doing this to fuck with us."

"Of course he is." Dale rubbed at his face tiredly. "He's probably got nothing better to do, maybe he'll leave if another ghost shows up?"

"And exactly how long do you expect us to go around in circles waiting for that to happen?" Whitney asked through gritted teeth. "This is getting fucking embarrassing."

"Maybe we should just take him in," Dale sighed in defeat. Whitney took another corner way too hard, jostling him roughly in his seat.

"I am NOT taking Phantom back for processing. They will NEVER let us live this down, and I am NOT becoming the joke of the precinct because YOU decided to be a god damn moron and arrest a fucking ghost."

Another sharp turn and the entrance to the city park flew by their windows again, Dale had lost count how many times they'd circled the block, but somehow he was certain that Phantom hadn't.

The little shit was enjoying this, why couldn't he just sneak into a movie theatre to get his kicks like a normal teenager?

Whitney growled and pulled the car into a complete stop, the wheels screeched and Dale let out a loud WHUFF as the inertia jerked him hard against his seatbelt.

His partner violently wrenched the door open and pulled herself out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her with far more force than was necessary.

Dale followed suit and looked over the roof of the car as Whitney pulled open the back passenger door and whistled sharply, pointing up and out into the sky.

"Go on, get. Ride's over, you've had your fun."

"Awww come oooon," Phantom whined, "I didn't even get to hear you use the siren!"

"Don't care, we're the police, not baby sitters. Go find some ghost cops to bother."

"The ghost cops aren't as fun," Phantom moaned, but he did as he was told and stepped out of the car. "You know, you guys shouldn't swear so much around minors, you're corrupting the youth!"

"I'll corrupt my foot up your ass if you don't get going." said Whitney, flatly. She put her hand out and Phantom effortlessly dropped the cuffs from his wrists and tossed them at her.

He pulled a face at her as she fumbled with the handcuffs, sticking out a very green tongue.

"I saw that young man!" Dale pointed at him from the other side of the car. "Don't let us catch you disrespecting an officer of the law again! Next time you won't get off with just a warning-"

"Dale! For the love of all that is holy shut your damn fool mouth!"

Phantom hopped backwards from the irate woman, his last few steps landing on empty air. He floated gently upwards with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Well this has been fun but I gotta head off, but thanks for the company! We should do it again some time, see you around!" He waved a casual salute and swung around, legs stretching out into a long swirling tail as he sped off into the sky.

Dale felt his knees shaking as he slipped back into the car. Whitney settled into her seat, hands steady as a rock as she belted herself up and started the car.

"That was terrifying." He gasped.

"And yet you still had to keep playing bad cop."

"I'm sorry it just slipped out! He's no different to any of the other punks we deal with around here. A wiseass with no respect for authority." Dale huffed and folded his arms, crossly.

"...He probably wasn't any different, before he died." Whitney said, quietly.

Dale didn't respond, letting the statement sit heavily between them as the car pulled away from the curb.

"I forget that sometimes, you know." said Dale. "This is the first time I've ever seen him up close and he... he really does just look like some kid. How do you think he... how do you think it happened?"

Whitney let out a deep breath as they completed their final lap around the block and headed in toward the city centre.

"I have no idea, and I'm pretty sure that's the kinda thing you can't ask." she paused for a moment, before continuing with a quiet pain in her voice. "He's so young."

"I wonder if his parents know," Dale mused sombrely, "That he's, you know, still around?"

"Who knows."

A car cut them off suddenly at an intersection.

"That was a red light." Dale announced.

The police car's lights flashed as the siren echoed through the empty streets, and Whitney slammed her foot down to catch up with the offending vehicle.

The conversation was over, but neither cop forgot about the incident, and neither could look at their city's hero and menace quite the same. Dale had gotten quite good at seeing ghosts as merely 'creatures', or 'monsters', things that were entirely Strange and Other. Being up close and personal with one had been a much needed reminder of what a ghost truly was.

And that ghost, the one messing around in the back of his car, was a boy. Just a boy. A boy who had a family, a boy who had a life, a boy who had died.

When Dale got home in the early hours of the morning, he hovered by his kids' bedroom, carefully easing the door open to look at their little sleeping faces. Just to make sure they were still there, right where he left them. Still breathing, still alive.

He knew there was a family out there somewhere, parents who had looked through their son's bedroom door and seen only cold, empty sheets.

Dale stepped very carefully over the spilt lego pieces on the floor, and gave his girls both a long, heartfelt kiss on their little heads, before going back to his own room to lay by his sleeping wife's side.

No, no he truly couldn't look at Phantom quite the same way, not anymore.

[seanfalco]

Next Time, Lock the Door | Vincent Rhodes x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k a/n: I ended up combining three different prompts. Takes place directly after Get Warm. Prompts: To make one muse watch the other masturbate + Vincent smut in general but also mayhaps getting caught + I wish you would write a fic where Vincent and reader/oc take things to the next level. Requested by: @badsext & Anonymous

It had only been a couple days since Vincent had spent the night with you, warming up after getting caught in the rain and ending up in your bed.

Your cheeks warmed as you found yourself thinking about it again, unable to get the event from your mind no matter how you tried. Even during your therapy session that morning Dr. Rose had noticed how distracted you were. It seemed the only way to get Vincent out of your head was to see him.

Having the rest of the afternoon free, you decided to surprise him.

When you got to his and Alex’s room, you could hear the faint sound of Bach playing within and you tapped softly on the door. When there was no response you tried the handle, finding it unlocked.

Shutting the door quietly behind you, you slipped your shoes off, per Alex’s rules, when another sound, half masked by the classical music caught your ears. Making your way further, into the room you soon found the source of the sound.

Laid back on his bed, one arm draped over his face, you found Vincent, pants undone and cock in hand, your name on his lips and you felt your face flood with heat. Watching for a moment, the way his hand pumped over his length and the way he squirmed atop the bed, you bit your lip, arousal swiftly pooling between your legs at the sight of him pleasuring himself, clearly thinking of you as he did so.

“Oh, [y/n]...”

“Would you like some help with that?”

With a startled cry at your words, Vincent’s eyes flew open and he hastily yanked the sheets up in an attempt to cover himself as he swore loudly, ticcing in his surprise.

“[y/n]?” he asked once he realized it was only you standing there and he collapsed back with a sigh, still twitching slightly.

“I’m sorry V, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you exclaimed ruefully, lowering yourself to the edge of his bed. “I wanted to surprise you, and the door was unlocked…”

“I knew I was forgetting something…” Vincent muttered, shaking his head before peering sheepishly up at you through the springy curls that had fallen into his eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not,” you admitted, your gaze traveling down his body. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the other night, and it looks like you couldn’t either.”

The unmistakable flush suffusing his face was your answer. Slowly pulling the sheet back, you wet your lips as you reached down to stroke him. Gently gripping his length, his cock twitched eagerly at your touch and a choked moan left Vincent’s lips.

“Does that feel good?” you asked, your own lips curling at each desperate sound you pulled from him.

“Yes!” Vincent gasped, forcing his eyes open to look up at you. “Fuck me faster! FUCK!  FUCKING CUNT!” he ticced abruptly, his body tensing and jerking.

Not giving him enough time for embarrassment to take hold, you leaned in to kiss him, capturing his lips. “My cunt, is that what you want?” you whispered with a smirk, relishing the way his green eyes widened, his mouth falling open with a silent groan.

Clearing his throat, he nodded and you stood, unbuttoning your jeans to let them fall to the floor with your panties before you straddled him, pulling the sheet up around you to cover your bodies somewhat.

“Are you ready?” you breathed, rolling your hips to grind against him.

“Mhmm,” Vincent hummed, slowly running his hands up your thighs and over your hips.

“Feel good?” you asked, watching his expression.

“Yes!” he gasped, his chest heaving.

Smiling, you reached between you, gently guiding him to your folds, slowly easing onto him, letting him fill you inch by inch til you’d sheathed him completely. “Oh, [y/n],” Vincent moaned, his mouth falling open as you moved, slowly rolling your hips with him inside you, grinding lazily against his pelvis.

“You’re so-you’re so beautiful,” he whispered and you grinned, pulling your shirt over your head so he could see more of you, guiding his hands to your breasts. You loved that you never felt the need to hide when he looked at you.

“So are you,” you murmured, a soft moan escaping your lips. “Are you nervous?” you asked, noticing the way he tensed every so often, a focused look crossing his face.

“A little…” Vincent admitted sheepishly.

“We just did this the other night,” you gently pointed out.

“I know,” he said, glancing down, his hands tightening on your waist.

“V, talk to me,” you murmured, pausing to lay down atop him, pushing a stray curl from his forehead. “I don’t wanna… mess this up,” he admitted quietly, swallowing, his eyes darting away.

“What do you mean?” you asked, tracing the slope of his nose with the tip of your finger.

“I don’t wanna ruin th’moment if I tic,” he answered with a sigh.

“One, even if you were to tic, you wouldn’t ruin anything,” you assured him, kissing his neck in between words. “And two, you didn’t have any trouble the other night. The more you tense up and worry about it, the more likely you are to tic,” you soothed. “So, just relax and focus on me.”

Vincent’s eyes roamed your face as he took a deep breath. “I can do that.”

“Good,” you purred, kissing him deeply as you began to move again and soon he was lost in you, guiding your hips eagerly as he writhed beneath you, his anxiety falling away with each desperate moan.

“I’m close, V,” you gasped. “I want you on top,” you admitted and you rolled off him to switch places, Vincent sliding between your legs almost confidently, surprising you with the power behind his thrusts.

He didn’t speak much, but his eyes never left your face, those emerald pools you could get lost in, each soft moan and whimper, soothing. It had never been so easy to lose yourself in something.

Though he’d seemed to gain more confidence, he was gentle, kissing you tenderly in between deep groans of bliss, your own pleasure rolling through you with each movement. “V, I’m close, please don’t stop,” you begged with a gasp, your climax hovering just out of reach.

The focused look on Vincent’s face made it obvious he was desperately holding on so you could finish before him. “Oh God, yes, right there!” you cried, your voice more of a whine, but Vincent obeyed, and soon your body was tensing, warm pleasure sweeping over you, everything else falling away.

Before you could encourage him to come, Vincent gave one last shuddering thrust before his face dropped to your shoulder, pressing into the crook of your neck as he emptied himself inside you. Breathing together, you wrapped your arms around him, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck and he fully relaxed atop you.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” The high pitched sound of Alex’s frantic voice in the doorway pulled you to your senses and Vincent’s head jerked up, yanking the sheet up higher. “Did you just--? Are you still--? Oh God!” he cried disgustedly, grabbing the door handle to wrench the door open behind him, compulsively opening and closing it several times before pulling it open all the way and stepping back outside.

“Alex--!”

“Next time, lock the bloody door!” Alex cried before Vincent could apologize. “Ugh, the secretions! You’re gunna hafta clean everything!” you heard him exclaim through the door.

By the time you were alone again the pair of you dissolved into laughter at being caught in such a compromising position, the entire situation absurd, shaking against each other with mirth until you were laughed out, Vincent stilling atop you before sitting up.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, sobering, his eyes not quite meeting yours as you sat up as well, worry tickling your gut.

“Of course, anything,” you murmured, resting your hand on Vincent’s arm.

“The first time I… slept with someone, I… I told her I loved her… and she didn’t… feel the same way,” he explained with a sigh. “And the first time we… you know… it was such a spur of the moment thing, I didn’t have time to be nervous, but this time…” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“That’s why you were afraid of ruining the moment,” you finished for him and he nodded. “Oh, V,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around him. “You don’t have to say anything until you’re ready.”

“But I want to,” he insisted quietly. “I like you, [y/n]. I like spending time with you. I like how you make me feel…” he huffed a heavy sigh. “I’m terrified of saying what I wanna say and scaring you off--”

“I love you too, Vincent,” you cut in, taking him by surprise and his head snapped up, his eyes seeking yours. “I feel the same way,” you assured him, threading your fingers with his and bringing his hand to your lips.

Before you knew it, his mouth was on yours, his free hand slipping behind your head as he kissed you hesitantly. “I love you so much,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand to slip your arms around him, holding him tightly.

A sharp rapping in threes came at the door, followed by Alex’s impatient voice. “Are you two almost done in there? I have to use the loo and I am not using the public toilets!”

“We better get dressed,” Vincent mumbled, though he couldn’t seem to wipe the dazed smile from his face.

“Yeah, probably,” you agreed, your own cheeks burning from grinning so widely. Sliding off the bed, you reached for your discarded clothes and quickly dressed. “Come find me later, okay?” you murmured, stealing a kiss as Vincent stood to pull up his pants.

You could feel his eyes on you as you stepped into your shoes and opened the door. “Hi Alex,” you greeted, still grinning giddily as you slipped past him.

“What was that about?” he exclaimed, turning to Vincent who was busy making his bed.

“Nothing,” he answered still smiling himself.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Alex shut himself in the bathroom, grumbling under his breath.

-------------------

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[listentothelittlebird]

I was looking through some drafts and I found this - I think it’s my first attempt at writing Burning Iceberg. Here, Damian tagged along with Jason when he went off for training!

Word Count: 2942 words 

enjoy!

It’s Talia who sends him away.

“Training,” she says, but there is something in the way that she moves, the way that the base is silent and waiting with bated breath right up until they leave. 

Jason leaves alone. Talia watches him go, her posture too unnaturally relaxed for anything not to be amiss. 

He gets one day away from the base before he realises he has a tail.

“Damian?” 

The young boy scuffles out of the shadows with a haughty sniff. “Took you long enough to notice me, Todd,” he huffs. Given the boy’s night clothing - the one’s he wore to sleep - Jason guessed that he had just arrived.

“Why’re you here?” Jason asks, curious. Sure, he had talked to the kid, had trained with the kid, but why was he here?

Damian glanced at Jason, then glanced away. “You were going alone,” he declared stiffly, “I would think that you would prefer company.”

“Mother agreed, and sent me after you,” Damian added, not at all convincing. Talia would never allow Damian out of her sights, especially with the tension in the air back at the base. Something was definitely up, but Jason let it slide and gestured for Damian to come closer. “You hungry, kid? I’ve got enough food for both of us until the next village.”

He knows that Talia might come after him. There’s no way he would let Damian disappear, just like that. For the moment, however, Jason could care less.

He had never asked for a big brother, and he had never asked for a little brother, but he was definitely willing to risk his life for the eight-year-old beside him. 

-

“Where are we going?” Damian asks, quietly. They’re stowed away on a cargo ship headed for the South Pole.

“I want to find a bender,” Jason replies, “The North pole is more connected to the world, and there’s more people to worry about. I’d think that a bender would hide in the South, where there’s less people.”

Damian scrunched up his nose. “Your skills are not adequate to face a bender, Todd.”

Jason pauses, then snorts, “I’m not gonna fight the bender, D. I just want to… talk to them.”

Damian eyes him with a skeptical look, but otherwise says nothing.

-

They’re riding through a brutal storm when Damian loses his grip and tumbles towards the railing.

Jason follows, one hand gripping tightly onto the metal rail and the other holding onto Damian as he flailed. For once, the kid looked genuinely terrified.

A wave crashes into them, and pulls them over. 

-

Jason is surprised to wake up. He tried to gauge his surroundings, but nothing really added up. He was under a fur blanket, a fire crackling near him. Someone was shifting beside him.

“You’re awake,” the voice murmurs, “I thought you’d sleep longer, but it seems not.”

Jason, carefully pulled himself up, narrowing his eyes as he gazed around the igloo. It was sparse, but large enough to fit him, the new man, and-

“Dami,” Jason breathed, headless of the man’s presence as he jerked out of the furs and toward

 his brother’s still form. He pressed two fingers to the boy’s neck, and his heart only calmed when he could feel the steady thrumming for a full minute.

“You’re welcome,” came the dry remark. Right. Jason turned back to the man, assessing him silently. He wore a blue parka, and was currently wearing the hood low over his face. 

“The two of you washed ashore last night,” the man explained, without prompting, “Your friend was barely breathing, but he made it through. You were surprisingly fine once the threat of frostbite was removed.”

Jason glanced again at Damian. 

“Thank you,” Jason stated, before his voice hardened, “But can we trust you?”

The man sighed. “Figures that two kids running around in the Antarctic wouldn’t trust a stranger,” he mused to himself. His amused smile was the only thing that Jason could see, the fire and the shadows obscuring the rest. 

“We are a long distance from the nearest village, but I can take you there. I can send the two of you on your way the moment that your friend feels better.”

-

“You know that you’re safe here, right?” Jason stated quietly. Anuk had left them in the igloo and went hunting by himself. He claimed that he worked better alone.

Damian looked up from where he was curled up in a corner of the igloo, his back pressed tightly against the icy wall. He wrinkled his nose, but there was still apprehension in his eyes. Jason sighed.

“Look, if this guy meant bad, he’d have done something already,” Jason reasoned, spreading his hands along the icy ground. He was glad that his resistance to low temperatures had survived the pit, even if his bending had not.

“Your trust will get you killed,” Damian murmured. Jason winced, “Yeah, well, it kinda already did. But that’s besides the point,” Jason rushed to add, “Just- trust is dangerous, sure, but can you really live your life without trusting anyone?”

Damian was silent. Jason, taking a dive, spoke up, “Do you trust me?”

Damian jerked his head up, staring at him with wide eyes. Then, quietly, “Yes.”

Jason nodded, and pressed, “Talia? Ra’s?”

Damian hesitated. Jason moved on.

“Listen. I know you just wanted to tag along for my training, but we’ve been under the radar for at least a month.” They had arrived on a full moon, and that night was a full moon, again. 

“Even Talia would have to admit to Ra’s that she thought we were dead somewhere in the Antarctic. Firebenders hate the two poles - they won’t be sending a search party for us, much less coming to find us themselves. You don’t have to go back to them.”

This time, Damian glared. “Where else would I go, Todd?” he spat, and Jason realised that the kid had already thought of this, had already considered this, “Where else am I supposed to go, if I do not return to my home?”

Jason pursed his lips, and despite the green raging inside him…

“Bruce would take you in,” Jason admitted, shoving the green away, “I can’t say the same for myself, not when I’m done with him, but… you. You’re his kid. He’d definitely take you in.”

Jason grinned, “He’d love you. Hell, he already took in the Replacement, what’s one more?”

Damian shifted. “Why won’t he take you in?” he questioned.

Jason stilled. “It’s not-” Jason started and stopped, and shook his head. The Joker was still alive. He had adopted a new kid. He wasn’t needed, hell, he wasn’t wanted. He really had just been a charity case. He breathed, trying to push the green down.

“It’s complicated. I don’t know if I can forgive Bruce, and I don’t know if I can stare at him without wanting to put a knife to his neck.”

That was what scared him the most. That he would lose control. He hated Bruce right now, hated him for what he had done, what he had not done, but his nightmare was his vision going green and fading to a Batman bleeding out from a knife in his grip.

Damian looked confused, so Jason tried to explain. “Bruce is… not a perfect man,” Jason sighed, “But he’s all Gotham has. And the Robins - what he does for them, that’s good. Even if-” Even if it gave him false hope for a rescue that never came. He swallowed that down.

“For all of his faults, he did give me some of the best memories.” Not that he remembered many of them. The pit took that away, too. “I hate him, but I loved him, too.”

-

“You’re ready.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at Anuk. “Ready for?”

“The full moon,” Anuk explained, not really explaining at all. He pointed towards the sky. “Tonight should be a full moon. We’ll set out onto the ocean at midnight, and you can perform the traditional water-bending stances for Tui and La. If nothing else, it is a tradition that I practice, and as my student, I want you to practice it as well.”

Jason sighed, but went along with it. He still had no bending - sometimes he thought that the water would move just so, but most of the time, there was nothing. He diligently learnt all of the water-bending moves, but Anuk was probably lying when he said that he was “ready”. How do you tell if someone knows their stuff if they don’t even bend?

-

The night was quiet. Serene, silent in the way that Gotham never was. The League had been silent, too, but not in this way. There was tension in the air, in League bases, sounds controlled and quenched before they could travel. Here, there were only expanses of snow and ice to echo back each scrunch of their boots.

Anuk bended a gondola made of ice, and Jason hopped on, not willing to show his own hesitation. Anuk waved his arms and the gondola moved out onto the calm Antarctic sea.

“According to my Gramps, we used to have big ceremonies on full moons,” Anuk started conversationally, filling the cold silence with soft murmurs. Jason realised belatedly that they should have brought a lamp, or at least a torchlight, but it seemed like Anuk knew where he was going, even in the dim moonlight.

“I live in the South pole, but my Gramps hailed from the North. He says that the late princess Yue gave her life to keep the moon spirit, Tui, alive. The Northern water-benders would present their bending on full moons to pay homage to Yue and her sacrifice.”

The gondola slowed to a stop, and they were left bobbing softly on near-silent waves. Anuk stretched his arms out and pulled, and a square platform of ice froze before them. Anuk stepped back and looked towards Jason expectantly.

Jason had grown used to the icy tundra, enough so that he did not immediately slip off the icy block when he hopped out of the gondola. He took his place at the centre of the ice block, glanced up at the moon, and started to run through his bending forms.

Nothing happened at first. Jason felt kind of stupid, actually, bending without bending at all. He nearly slipped a few times, but he managed to keep his balance, and powered through the basic forms into the more advanced attacks.

Then, something shifted.

“Jason,” the wind whispered, and Jason stumbled. His foot slipped, and he ended up on all four as the ice block rocked, waves pushing over the sides and washing over his hands and knees. The voice sounded like Bruce.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” came again, and it really did sound like Bruce. Jason blinked into the moonlit ice and nearly gasped. 

It was a bird’s-eye view of the Batcave. He would know that cavern anywhere. Batman was stooped down beside a glass casing, positioned at the centre of the cave.

The vision zoomed in. The casing had a blood-stained Robin uniform, burned and tattered, way too destroyed to be repairable. Jason realised it was his suit. The one he had died in. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Bruce was saying, and Jason could only watch as Bruce absolutely bawled his eyes out in front of the casing, still wearing his batsuit, only having pulled the cowl down.

Just when the sobs died down, Jason heard, “I left Joker in the helicopter. I knew it was going to crash, but I- I thought he didn’t deserve to live,” Bruce admitted quietly. Jason’s breath hitched.

“He survived. Of course he did. If I keep going after him, he’ll just keep surviving, and… I have to stop, before I can’t. Before I lose myself in a world that took you. I’m sorry,” he choked out, and the tears continued to flow.

The scene changed.

“Why?” Dick’s voice screamed, raw and so full of emotion that it jarred Jason to the bones. “Why did you let him live?”

“We can’t be the dictators of who lives and who dies,” Bruce started, but Dick cut him off. “This is the Joker we’re talking about, B!” Dick yelled, somehow louder than the previous shout, “Joker doesn’t care who lives and who dies! He definitely didn’t care when he-” Dick cut himself off with a sharp exhale.

Bruce waited as Dick took measured breaths. “I just don’t get it,” Dick whispered, “A man like him? B, why did you save him?”

Silence. 

“We fight for justice,” Bruce rumbled, steadfast and sure compared to the crying mess in the last vision. Confident, like he had worked through his thoughts and come to a conclusion. “We can’t just kill people as we see fit. Not even if we hold a personal grudge. Not even if we want revenge for our own.” 

They both glanced towards the casing.

“I still want to kill him,” Dick stated bluntly. Jason thought Bruce would reaffirm his rules, that he would cook up a convincing argument and strike down Dick’s motives.

Instead, Bruce only answered with, “Sit on it for a few days. Don’t make an impulsive decision you’ll regret.”

Dick sighed harshly, and left the viewing range of the vision. Bruce turned back to the casing.

“I never got to apologise to you,” Bruce murmured, “For accusing you of pushing Garzonasa.”

“I was worried for you. Nobody should have to live with the guilt of taking someone’s life. I’m sorry if I came off as distrustful. I should have done more. Been better.”

One last scene. A young kid, black hair and blue eyes, looking up at the casing, fiddling with a new Robin suit that Jason had only seen through grainy newspaper prints.

“You were my hero,” the boy said, and checked his empty surroundings before he continued, “You were… awesome. You had so much energy and spunk, and-” he huffed, a small smile on his face, “-much more fire than me. Which is ironic, to say the least.”

Jason watched as the kid produced a photo from his gauntlet. It was a photo of Jason and Nightwing, on the rooftops, laughing and joking around. 

“I always wanted to be your friend,” he admitted, “I never wanted to replace you. I just knew that Batman needed a partner, and I guess nobody else was gonna do it, so. Here I am.”

The photo slipped back under his cape. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be like you, but I’m trying. I… I know I shouldn’t miss you, because technically I never knew you, but. I do.”

Timothy Drake looked up at the suit for a long minute, before turning and pressing his domino mask across his eyes. “I’ll do my best to make you proud,” he whispered to the air.

The vision disappeared with the pull of the tide. Jason was suddenly aware of the ice block he was still on, as it tipped against the slightly-larger wave. A combination of water and ice made him slide right off the block’s edge. 

Anuk’s yell was drowned out by the freezing water rushing to meet him. It was the very opposite of being dipped into the Lazarus pit. The water was a dark blue, and he could still see the moonlight piercing through the water’s surface. The light bent above him, and he blinked, because it almost looked like a face. A young woman, with long white hair flowing around her serene smile.

The light pulsed, and suddenly he could feel the water around him, moving and flowing, pulsating with its own energy. He could feel the water turning and churning around Anuk’s gondola as he steered towards him. He spread out his arms and pushed-

-and shot out of the water, landing with a slight stumble back on Anuk’s gondola. The boat rocked slightly, but Jason smoothed his palms downwards and the rippling waves ceased.

 “Tui and La,” Anuk cursed to himself, “You were under there for quite a- oh.”

Jason tilted his head. “Oh?” he prompted, still reeling from how alive he felt. He was surrounded by his element, and he almost wanted to dive back under just to soak in his renewed bending.

Anuk produced an ice mirror, angling it to catch the moonlight. It was hard to make out, but there was definitely a patch of hair that was no longer black, dangling right in front of his eyes.

His eyes were blue, like the colour he was born with.

“Yue’s blessing,” Anuk breathed. “What?” Jason questioned, looking up from where he was scrutinising his new hairstyle. Anuk had his head tilted reverently towards the moon.

“Princess Yue lived because Tui gave her life,” Anuk recounted, “Her hair was a stark white because of this. When Tui’s mortal form was killed, Yue gave back her lifeforce to revive Tui.” Anuk chuckled, “It’s why most people from the poles don’t bother dyeing their hair.”

Jason himself eyed the moon contemplatively. He closed his eyes, and realised with a start that the green was gone. The pit’s effects - the murderous rage, the unnaturally-green eyes, the blockage of his bending - they were gone.

Anuk had taught him a traditional bow used to start and end water-bending fights, a sign of respect for the opponent. Jason bowed towards the moon, and hoped he was doing it right.

“Thank you,” he breathed quietly, “Yue, Tui, whatever you prefer to be called. Thank you.”

The moon shone on the ocean, and he swore he could see Yue’s face once more, smiling.