#i am just an annoyance and i know that i wish i could stop existing and stop being annoying

[himalayaan-flowers]

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[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part IV)

Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 11.5 K

Warnings: Angst begins, still lots of fluff, smut (of course), Aegon still being an ass

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

~~

The court was in a frenzy.

The news of their betrothal spread through King’s Landing like wildfire. It was all anyone could talk about for days on end. Some felt vindicated, that the rumors they had been spreading for months had finally come to fruition, while others were skeptical, unsure of what such a sweet young girl saw in the surly one-eyed Prince. 

The gossip was never ending, with many speculating the couple had been consorting inappropriately in private. While many knew of Ixtal’s customs, that they weren’t as strict about their Ladies maidenhood as they were in the rest of Westeros, it didn’t stop the looks of indignation she received from certain members of the court who turned their noses up at the mere possibility she had sullied herself before her marriage.

While Aemond hated the speculation and had to be held back more than once from storming over to a group of tittering Ladies and threatening to take their tongues for daring to speak ill of his betrothed, she found it laughable. She had to remind her betrothed they weren’t exactly wrong. 

Their nights of pleasure together were only all the more exciting and mind blowing knowing they would have each other forever, that they no longer needed to fear what the future held. 

They could finally relax, they would soon be each other’s in the eyes of the Gods and no one could take that away from them. 

Their wedding was spared no expense. Lords and Ladies of great houses from across the realm traveled to the Capitol to witness the union of a Targaryen Prince and the daughter of the most prosperous house in the realm. 

Aemond paid no mind to the fanfare. All he cared about was her. 

He barely got to see her in the weeks leading up to their wedding, with her swept up with the Ladies of the court in dress fittings and as her family arrived at King’s Landing, she was rarely seen without her dear younger sister or mother at her side. 

The King demanded a three day tourney be held to celebrate, with lavish hunts and feasts raving practically each night. Aemond had never seen his father so excited and he knew it had little to do with him and all to do with his dear friend, the Lord of Ixtal, that their families would officially be uniting. 

He rolled his eyes at the whole affair. He just wanted to marry his love. He didn’t want all this attention and unnecessary flourish. 

She would laugh softly everytime he slunk into her chambers at night, her bright eyes alight with mischief, a delighted smile on her face at the annoyance on his.

“Couldn’t stay away?”

“You know I couldn’t.” He crooned, inhaling her scent as he hugged her tightly from behind. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“I am.” She answered with a blissful smile. “Are you?”

“I was ready to marry you years ago.” 

She practically swooned, leaning her head back onto his shoulder, her gaze filled with nothing but devotion. She never would have pictured this for herself. She never could have imagined she would be able to marry her best friend, that she would find a love so pure and so beautiful for herself. She didn’t think that kind of love even existed. 

“Everything seems so perfect.” She spoke softly, reveling in his embrace. 

He hummed in agreement, wishing they could go find a Maester now to perform a ceremony and bind themselves together. He didn’t want to wait another minute. He just wanted to be her husband. 

The next morning, the entire Keep was a flurry of activity. Maids scurried in and out of her chambers to prepare her, most desperate to catch a glimpse of the Island girl that would soon become a Targaryen princess. 

She sat nervously at her vanity, her hands fidgeting in her lap. 

Today was the day she would finally marry her best friend. It all seemed too good to be true, as though they had gotten away with some elaborate plan. 

“You look beautiful, my love.” Her mother spoke, her eyes already brimming my tears.

“I’m not even in my dress yet.” She laughed as her mother waved her off, wiping under her eyes as she had been doing all morning. 

To her left, Alicent stood, her demeanor much more reserved than that of her own mother and sister, who could barely contain their excitement. The Queen had yet to crack a smile since she had entered her chambers and had been silently picking out jewelry for her to wear, barely sparing a glance to her soon to be good daughter. 

A nervous lump grew in her throat. She didn’t have the best relationship with Aemond’s mother, even as children, the woman seemed disinterested in speaking more than a few words to her. She at least thought the day she wedded her son she’d try to bridge the gap between them, but it seemed she still had little interest. 

She didn’t seem all that thrilled her son was even getting married. 

The maids around her all gestured for her to stand and move towards the floor length mirror, their excited giggles growing in volume as her dress was brought forward. 

Her breath hitched. It was real. This was happening. 

Her heart was racing as the maids helped her dress, her eyes beginning to sting with the pressure to cry the happiest of tears. 

“I assume you know what is expected of you tonight.” Alicent’s voice broke through the throng of excited chattering, abruptly shattering the positive energy in the room. 

The way Alicent looked at her, so intently, almost judgmentally, made her want to shrink. She swallowed and nodded. 

She felt a hand at her shoulder, her mother’s presence steadily at her side.

“We have already discussed what her duty is tonight.” Her mother answered for her, her voice sounder stiffer than before. 

Her mother had been in King’s Landing barely a day before she figured out what her daughter and her betrothed had been up to for months. Aemond had been horrified when his future good mother blurted out their long held secret. 

She was sure he would be blushing for the rest of his life. Even after her mother laughed heartily and assured them she would never tell a soul, that she held no judgment for them, he still had trouble meeting her eye out of sheer embarrassment. 

With one look at Alicent, the Lady of Ixtal knew she would do whatever she needed to do, say whatever she needed to say, to not let the frigid woman before her try to sink her claws into her daughter. 

She would not ruin her daughter’s big day. 

 Alicent hummed, the sound neither that of satisfaction or disdain, and she remained quiet, though her critical eye never lessened. She had no compliments for the young girl who donned her beautiful, extravagant dress, she had no well wishes for the girl as her eyes brimmed with happy tears.

All Alicent could fixate on was how angry her father was at the turn of events. They had lost a monumental opportunity to gain allies due to the girl in front of her. She had bewitched her son, her uncivilized ways weakening Aemond’s sense of duty and proprietary. She never forgot how her son had stormed into her room, practically demanding a betrothal. It was so unlike him, not at all how he had been raised to act and she knew the Ixtal girl was to blame. 

All she could do was plaster on a fake smile and hope everything her father had worked on for years wasn’t all for naught. 

~~

She was a vision as she stepped out of the carriage, her pulse thrumming in her ears, her hands trembling in anticipation. 

In a matter of minutes, she was going to be married to the love of her life.

“Are you ready?” Her father asked, a soft smile on his face as he stared at his first daughter with barely contained emotion. She nodded eagerly, latching onto his arm, taking in a final deep breath before they stepped inside. 

The crowd of guests were in awe as she passed, though she could not spare a glance to any of the onlookers that seemed to swoon at the sight of her. Her gaze was locked onto the man at the front of the room, meeting his eye effortlessly.

Aemond had been watching the door and nothing else for the past few minutes, anxiously awaiting her arrival. The second she stepped inside, his breath had been stolen from him. 

He felt nervous flutters within him, as if he was once again that little boy who was in love with his best friend before he even knew what it meant to love someone. 

His vision blurred slightly as tears gathered in his eye at the sight of her, so beautiful, so perfect, his wife. 

They couldn’t take their eyes off each other as her father removed the cloak from her shoulders. Aemond felt his breath hitch at the sight of her in her dress, the shape of her body, the delicate silk outlining every curve he had spent many nights memorizing and worshiping. 

As he stood before her, placing the heavy Targaryen cloak over her shoulders, he breathed in her familiar scent, calming every one of his nerves. 

He took her hand, guiding her up the steps of the dais. No one said a word as he kept his hand in hers, the crowd was absolutely enraptured by the sight of them, the Ladies dramatically sharing looks of longing at the couple as neither one of them spared a glance to the Septon that began the service. 

They only had eyes for each other. 

No one could deny the love they shared. As they spoke the words that bound them together, their smiles dazzling, no one could deny this was a marriage of pure love. 

“I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

The words left him with ease. He used to dread this moment as a child, hating the idea of being bound to a woman he didn’t know and didn’t care for for the rest of his life, purely out of duty. 

Now, he couldn’t imagine saying the words to any other person but the woman in front of him. The thought of spending the rest of his days with her, his love, brought him nothing but relief and endless happiness, a feeling he never pictured for himself. 

Since he lost his eye, since a piece of him had literally been taken from him, he had always felt slighted, but now, as the Septon announced their union, as he kissed her for the first time as his wife, he felt whole again. 

He was no longer that overlooked second son, he was no longer that scarred and feared man who longed for revenge. 

He was a husband, he was her protector, her friend, her love. He felt he finally had a meaningful purpose, one that meant so much more than the duty his family expected from him. 

The crowd cheered voraciously. It wasn’t often they got to witness a union so blessed by affection. 

Aemond kept his awed gaze on her as they made their way down the aisle, his hand clasped tightly in hers, paying no mind to anyone else around him. 

They could scarcely keep their hands from each other. 

During the feast, Aemond kept his hand on her thigh, his touch thankfully hidden by the long train covering the table. As both of their fathers gave speeches, spouting lovely rhetorics of family and peace, he couldn’t bring himself to listen to a word of it. 

His attention was focused solely on the woman beside him. His wife. 

He felt himself smiling just at the thought of it, that he could finally say the word. 

When the music started and they made their way to the floor to share their first dance, a moment Aemond had been dreading for weeks, he found he couldn’t care less that everyone’s eyes were on him. 

He realized nothing else mattered. Everything he thought would make him feel insecure wasn’t even a thought in his mind. He held her closely, his heart racing as if they were dancing for the first time, as if he was touching her for the first time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.” She spoke with a laugh.

“I have a good reason to smile.” He responded with a smirk as he twirled her. 

The guests couldn’t take their eyes off the couple as they danced. Most felt they were intruding on an intimate moment with how intently they gazed at each other, their love radiating from each of them effortlessly. 

They noticed how the couple sparsely ceased their touch from each other. The Lords present couldn’t help but feel slighted there would be no bedding ceremony. They were sure it would be a spectacle with how the Prince eyed his new wife with a hunger most men couldn’t conceive for their own wives. 

Aemond’s pout as his new wife accepted Helaena’s offer to dance, leaving him to sit by himself, would be fodder for most of the gossip the next morning. 

He watched her with a small smile, looking more at ease than the court had ever seen him, content at the mere sight of her delight as she twirled around with Helaena, their shared laughter ringing out louder than the music playing. 

He took a small sip from his wine, content to not drink much more, knowing he’d rather have a clear head for what the rest of the night held. He would finally take her as his wife, he would lay with her, spill his seed inside her without consequence. 

After tonight, her stomach could swell with his child and no one could say a thing. 

The thought made him desperate to drag her to their new shared chambers. He would be eager to see the end of the feast and lay with her for the rest of the night, but with how happy she was, he wouldn’t do a thing to take her away from it. 

As she twirled with Helaena, her head back, eyes closed, a picture of pure happiness, she suddenly lost her footing. She stumbled slightly, her eyes widening, but sturdy hands on her waist stopped her from falling to the floor. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

She stiffened at the voice in her ear, turning to see Aegon’s smarmy smile. She wanted nothing more than to wrench his hands off her, but she couldn’t make a scene at her own wedding. If she displayed any ounce of discomfort by his hands, she was sure Aemond would forever be tainted as the man who killed his own brother on his wedding night.

“Aegon…” Helaena called out wearily, not wanting her dear friend to be subjected to her brother’s cruel games, though she didn’t have power in her own corner to derail him.

“It’s alright Helaena.” She assured her, giving her a weak smile to the Princess who eyed her worriedly for a moment before retreating back to the head table. 

She cleared her throat and stood stiffly, holding back a grimace as Aegon’s hand slipped around her waist, his other taking hers, his grip tight and domineering, as if he wanted to prove to her how much stronger he was than her.

“You were lucky my grandsire allowed this to happen so quickly.” He spoke blatantly as they began to dance. “I was hoping to expose your big secret to the court.”

She felt her insides twist. Knowing Aegon was aware of her and Aemond’s secret, of their sneaking around, had her wanting to retreat where no one would find her. Even now they were married, Aegon still had the power to destroy her reputation.

She just hoped he ruined his own before he had the chance to tear her down. 

“You think they would listen to the words of a drunken idiot?” 

His smile turned wicked, his disdain for her clear, though there was no denying the lust in his gaze as he looked at her. He didn’t have to like her to fuck her. 

“More than they would listen to a whore who spreads her legs for anyone.”

“You mean my husband?” She retaliated, her patience for him wearing thin. 

Aegon chuckled, though his bitterness was clear. He leaned in close, his nose almost brushing against hers. She jerked back, sending him a vicious scowl, all she could allow herself under the prying eyes that surrounded her. 

“You could have been mine.” He crooned, the wine on his breath making her feel nauseous. “Gods only know why you decided to settle for my twat of a brother. As if he could please you better than I could, as if he could fuck you the way I could. I bet you were the first woman he ever bedded.”

His words made her feel sick to her stomach as she staunchly looked past his shoulder, refusing to look him in the eye. She didn’t want him to know how much he could get under her skin. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I would rather let the entire brothel of whores you sully yourself with flay every layer of my skin off slowly until I beg for death than ever crawl into bed with you.”

Aegon only smirked joyously.

“The mouth on you.” He admired with a shake of his head. “Such a shame it’s wasted on my brother.”

“Aegon.”

The stern voice of his brother made his eyes widen for a fraction of a second and he quickly schooled his expression, quickly removing his hands from his new good sister, plastering on a smirk so his brother wouldn’t see how successfully he could intimidate him.

She turned, meeting the questioning gaze of her husband. She nodded subtly, silently assuring him she was ok. 

He’d been chatting with her brother but the moment he spotted her in Aegon’s arms, he had abruptly given his well wishes to his new family and was quickly making his way to rescue her from his lecherous brother’s grip.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded eagerly, linking her arm through his, more than eager to say goodbye to the feast and make her way to bed with her new husband. 

“What, no bedding ceremony?” Aegon called out, forcing Aemond to send him a wicked glare. 

“Not if you wish to live, brother.” He spat and turned on his heel, desperate to get his wife far away from his depravity. 

He was more than thankful his good father had appealed to his father about doing away with the bedding ceremony. The Lord of Ixtal cared about his daughter too much to put her through that embarrassment. 

“Did he do anything?” He asked under his breath as they walked away, ignoring the cheers of congratulations from the guests he cared little for.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched in anger, his instincts telling him to turn back and threaten his brother within an inch of his life for daring to speak to his wife in ways that were anything but cordial. 

The moment they stepped out of the grand hall, allowing them a brief moment of privacy in the empty hallway, she pulled her arm from his and took his hands in her own, turning to face him, a soft smile on her face.

“Don’t let him ruin our night. This isn’t about him or anyone else. It’s about us.” 

He let out a long breath and nodded, though it wasn’t an easy feat to let go of the anger that burned hotly at the mere mention of his debauched brother’s attention on his love. 

“Besides, I’m quite eager to get to bed and if my husband chooses to delay any longer, I might begin to rethink this union.” She teased, smiling victoriously as his eye darkened with desire.

Her laughter echoed in the halls as Aemond practically dragged her to their chambers, his quick pace signaling he was equally as eager as she was to lose themselves in bliss.

~~

She lay draped across his bare chest, the sheets pooled at their hips. She hummed in contentment, her limbs aching, her eyes heavy with exhaustion as Aemond gently ran his fingers up and down the length of her arm. 

Any other night, his touch would lull her into much needed sleep, but the excitement that continued to course through her veins stubbornly kept her eyes open. 

She turned her head, looking up at her husband.

Gods, she would never get over saying that.

He looked down, their shared smiles growing as their gazes met. 

Her hand that was placed on his strong chest cheekily began to move lower, making him laugh.

“You can’t possibly be needing more.” He spoke tiredly. They had already gone multiple rounds, he had already pulled a countless number of orgasms from her. 

“I thought I married a dragon.” She teased. “Are you saying you no longer have the stamina to please your wife?” 

Aemond’s gaze darkened, his exhaustion worn out by his desire she could so effortlessly spark. 

“You dare to doubt me, wife?” He crooned, knowing how deeply the word affected her, watching with satisfaction as she practically preened against him, a wickedly delightful thrill coursing through her at the mention of their newly married status. 

She laughed and pushed at his chest, forcing him to lay back onto the pillows below him. He eagerly expected her to crawl atop him and ride him in the deliriously, mind bending way she could, but he was left in a pleasured surprise as she began to press heated kisses across his abdomen, moving lower torturously slowly.

He let out a heavy breath, his body thrumming with anticipation. He hissed as she took him in her mouth, his head falling back, already feeling weak under her touch, sensitive from his previous leg-shaking peaks. 

Her wicked tongue knew exactly what to do to render him a useless fool who couldn’t remember his own name. His hand tangled in her hair that was already a mess from their previous passionate rounds. 

His breath left him in heavy pants as she worked him with her mouth at a quick pace. He knew her well, he knew the determined glint in her eye signaled trouble for him. She went further and further and took him deep in her mouth until the tip of him hit the back of her throat. 

He whined, writhing against the bed, his hand that wasn’t pulling at her hair pathetically fisting the sheets below him in an effort to keep himself tethered to some semblance of control that she was steadily shattering. 

“You are wicked.” He moaned, the delight in his voice causing her lips to curl around him in the guise of a victorious smile. 

His lips were parted with a litany of moans and whines as he watched her, eagerly taking in the sight of her, his cock in her mouth, her eyes alight with desire, greedily taking his pleasure. She sped up the pace of her mouth, delighted at the sound of his loud groan echoing throughout the room. 

His toes began to curl, his weak body, already spent from hours of ecstasy, leaving him powerless under her. 

He called out her name frantically, sounding more debauched than he ever would have imagined he could have. 

“Oh fuck, just like that, darling, don’t stop.” 

She doubled her efforts, eager to see him fall apart. She loved to hear his noises of pleasure, to see him so unrestrained as he let himself fall to the haze of bliss. His back arched, both of his hands grabbing fistfuls of her hair, as if to ensure she wouldn’t leave him wanting, that she stayed worshiping him as she was, as only she could.

“Love,” He warned, feeling his end nearing, feeling the familiar fire beginning to stir within him, one that came before a powerful release. With only a few more flicks of her tongue, he felt himself shatter. 

He cried out, a loud, desperate sound most wouldn’t believe to have come from the surly Prince, as he came. His vision was stolen from him as he had squeezed his eye shut in the moment of climax, though he wouldn’t have denied that she had just extricated his soul from his body, leaving him to lose what was left of his sight. He didn’t doubt she had the ability. 

His chest heaved, his jaw slack, small whines leaving him as she was slow to part from him, her mouth lazily working his spent cock that twitched in overstimulation at her touch. 

He reached for her blindly, his limbs weak as though he had just fought a grueling battle. She grabbed his hand, laughing softly at the sight of him thoroughly exhausted. 

She allowed him to pull her over him, his hands desperate to touch her, to feel her close to him, to prolong the pleasure running through him. 

He kissed her hand, his lips moving up the length of her arm until he reached her neck, smiling at the sound of the contented noise that left her lips as he found the spot that always made her giggle with ticklish delight. 

“One of these days you are going to stop my heart.” He told her, still working to catch breath. 

“I would never do such a thing.” 

He smiled and kissed her firmly, his mind a haze of delirium. He briefly wondered if he was dreaming, for this seemed too perfect to be his life. He kissed her again, as if to confirm that this was real, that the woman that just brought him pleasure like no other was truly before him, that he was lucky enough to now call her his wife. 

“Give me five minutes and I will return the favor.”

~~

Their marriage was nothing short of blissful. Now there was no longer a need to hide, the public was shocked by how affectionate the dragon Prince acted towards his wife. One was seldom seen without the other. 

Maids constantly gossiped about the salacious noises heard from their shared chambers practically all hours of the day. With the noises the new Princess made nightly they couldn’t help but begin to lust over the elusive Prince, or at least wish he could give some tips to their own lovers. They almost fought over who got to service the Prince and his new wife to catch a glimpse of the lovesick expression on the feared one-eyed dragon’s face. 

It had to be seen to be believed. 

They knew it wouldn’t be long until the announcement of a new Targaryen babe was made. 

Aemond hated the attention. He wished he could take his wife across the sea and indulge in their newly wedded bliss in private. 

He had just sneered at yet another passing Lady who practically fawned at the sight of the two of them, when she laughed, tucking her arm tighter in his. 

They had simply been walking in the gardens together and still couldn’t escape the gossiping Ladies of the court who could talk of nothing else but their marriage and ponder about the feared one-eyed Prince’s new found prowess among the Ladies. 

“Do they have nothing better to do?” Aemond muttered in annoyance.

“Our novelty will wear off soon.” She assured him. “They are just not quite used to seeing you so… soft.”

“I am not soft.”

She laughed, the sound causing him to look over at his wife incredulously. The disbelieving look on his face only had her suppressing more laughter, 

“Tell me, dear husband, if I told you my legs were hurting and I couldn’t possibly make it to that bench over there, would you not carry me?”

Aemond regarded her for a moment, an almost imperceptible pout growing on his lips as he contemplated the situation. He knew there was no way he wouldn’t indulge her in anything she asked for. 

“That does not make me soft.” He answered defensively, though he knew he was a lost cause. 

She giggled at the obvious answer as they continued to walk. Aemond looked over at her, eyeing her carefully for a few moments, his brows furrowing.

“Your legs are not hurting are they?” 

Her laughter rang out in the gardens as she leaned in closer to his side. Aemond felt his own smile tugging at his lips and he placed a kiss to the top of her head.

He knew he would endure all of the petty gossip that came his way. He would endure a lot worse just to hear that laugh again. 

He almost couldn’t believe the bliss he was living in. He loved her more than he thought it was possible to love someone. Now that they no longer had to hide their true feelings for each other, now that they were married and could freely show affection without any repercussions, he found himself living in a dreamlike state. 

It felt too good to be true. 

Every day was spent showing the rest of the court just how much she meant to him, how he was hers and she was his and no one else mattered, while late nights were spent tangled in bed, their limbs weak with pleasure, a time just for them and no one else. 

As she got up to pour them another cup of wine they had been drinking before he had dragged her to their bed, she looked over her shoulder at her husband who was looking up at the ceiling tiredly, a content smile on his face.

“Have I finally worn you out?” She teased as she handed him his cup. 

He chuckled softly and took the cup, drinking down much needed swallows of the sweet wine. She crawled back into bed beside him, settling herself in his open arms once again. She pressed teasing kisses across his chest, feeling the hum of soft moans that escaped him. 

He cupped her face and kissed her firmly, the gesture lacking much heat as they were both thoroughly spent from the haze of pleasure they’d been tangled in for hours. 

He pulled away, letting his forehead rest against hers as he took her in, simply admiring his wife with an awe that was certainly not unfamiliar to either of them. 

She noticed a flicker of something she didn’t recognize flash across his face, his eye softening almost imperceptibly. 

“What’s on your mind, Love?” She asked, nuzzling in closer to him as she sensed his sudden anxious energy. 

He stayed quiet for a moment longer, carefully contemplating his next words and if he should divulge the sudden thought in his head to her. 

“What if…” He started softly, his teeth worrying his lip as he feared her reaction. “What if you didn’t drink any moon tea tomorrow?”

Her expression smoothed out in surprise at his request. She couldn’t deny that it was something she had thought of since their wedding, but she had never spoken of her fantasies of silver haired children with her husband. She knew he had complicated feelings for his own family, especially his father, and she never wanted to bring it up in fear of pushing him to something he feared.  

“Is that something you want?” 

“I want everything with you.” He told her sincerely. 

The beaming smile that grew on her lips soothed every ounce of anxiety he had and he breathed out deeply, leaning forward to kiss her once more. 

“You’re going to be a wonderful father.” 

Her whispered words made his insides twist and flutter in ways that left him holding back the flood of emotions he hadn’t expected, her words soothing the deep rooted anxiety he felt at the prospect of starting a family, no matter how badly he wanted it. He had no way to tell her how grateful he was for her, there were no words conceivable to tell her the depth of his love for her. 

So he settled for kissing her, silently thanking the Gods above for bringing him to the woman in his arms. 

~~

Aemond stepped into their shared chambers the same time he always did, his perfect hair slightly disheveled from his time spent training. He stopped in his tracks, the warmth in his expression gone in an instant as he eyed the Maester sitting before her with growing apprehension.

“What’s wrong?” 

She laughed at his blatant worry as he approached her quickly, reaching for her hand. 

“Everything’s fine, Darling.” 

“What happened?” He turned to ask the Maester, all care gone from his voice, leaving nothing but strict power as he demanded an answer. 

“The Princess wasn’t feeling well this morn-”

“Are you alright? Why didn’t you tell me?” He interrupted, turning his attention back to her, his concerned tone back in full force, all traces of the demanding Prince gone as he kneeled before her, his expression wracked with worry. 

She smiled again in amusement and looked to the Maester. 

“Would you mind giving us a moment?” 

The old man nodded respectfully, giving her a warm smile and hastily leaving the room, most likely relieved to gain some distance from the dragon Prince with the feared temper. 

She intertwined her fingers with Aemond’s, taking in a deep breath as she prepared herself to bring him the life changing news. 

“I have been feeling a little off the last few days and I called the Maester to confirm my suspicion.” She explained vaguely, her mischievous smirk remaining as she watched Aemond’s brow furrow deeper in concern. 

“And?”

Deciding to finally let her husband off the hook and spare him his heart that was no doubt racing in anticipation, his dramatic mind probably conjuring horrible conclusions, she guided his hand forward, letting his palm rest flatly on her stomach. 

She watched him carefully, noting the exact moment he realized what she was telling him. His lips parted and his gaze moved from his hand to her face abruptly, his eye shrouded in disbelief, looking at her pleadingly, as if needing confirmation that this was real. 

She let out a laugh and nodded, tears brimming in her eyes at the pure love she saw in Aemond’s. He let out a breathless laugh, the sound of delight one she had never remembered ever hearing from him before. He grabbed her hands, swiftly bringing her to her feet and barely a second later, he was hugging her tightly, his hands gripping onto her desperately.

Her delighted laughter filled the room as he twirled her around, the moment filled with nothing but elation. 

“Thank you.” He whispered from where his head rested in the crook of her neck. 

She smiled, her own emotions rising at the sound of him so touched, so loved. 

He pulled out of the embrace, his gaze immediately falling to her stomach that had yet to show any evidence of the life that grew there. He pictured it swelling, the bump that would grow with their child, the life they had created together and he was sure his heart was moment away from bursting out of sheer love. 

“I can’t believe it.” He breathed out in awe. It had only been about a month since they had made the decision to forgo moontea, he had no idea it would happen for them this quickly. 

“With how often you take me to bed, surely this isn’t a surprise.” 

He looked almost proud at her jest and she shook her head, pulling him in for another embrace that he gladly returned, his arms holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world and if anyone were to ask, Aemond would certainly agree. 

He kissed the top of her head and pulled back, taking her face in his hands as he looked down at her reverently.

“You have given me more than I ever could have imagined I would have.” He told her honestly. “You’ve made me the happiest man to ever live.” 

He kissed her with all the love he could, hoping it would be enough to convey every ounce of adoration he held for her. 

However, their peace didn’t last long. 

Rhaenyra and her sons would soon be arriving at King’s Landing to counter Vaemond Velaryon’s petition for the Driftmark throne.

The moment Aemond heard the news, he became reserved, building that familiar brooding wall around him, portraying that of the feared one-eyed prince the court loved to gossip about. 

The night before they were due to arrive, he had resided in their chambers, wishing to avoid the prying eyes of the court and their whispers about his bastard nephews and the likelihood of there being another duel between them that would result in bloodshed.

He heard the door of their shared chambers open and close, but his gaze remained on the flickering flames in the hearth in front of him. 

“There you are.” Her sweet voice called out, his wife taking her place at his side. “I’ve barely seen you all day.”

“I’ve been here.” He responded softly, his voice lacking its usual warmth that was always present with her. 

She watched him carefully, knowing exactly what was eating away at him, but hesitant to mention it, unsure of how he would react. The mere mention of his nephews was enough to incite his rage. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” She asked softly.

“No.”

His voice was curt, betraying just how tormented he felt. A flare of pain lashed his scar, the sapphire in place of his eye seemingly burning, as if the thought of that Strong bastard’s imminent arrival alone could cut him like the dagger he wielded that night. 

A tense silence lingered between them, one they both hated. 

With a pained hiss, he tore his eye path off, tossing it to the side carelessly, his sharp features contorted in pain. He leaned his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands as the sapphire in his eye bloomed with pain. 

It wasn’t often the wound still caused him aggravation, but in the moments it did, he always felt like he was that young, helpless boy again. His hands shook slightly as the pain flared so deeply it was all he could do to breathe through it. 

Within seconds he felt gentle hands on his, carefully prying them from his face. He looked up to his wife sitting before him, the concern on her face stirring his emotions he tried desperately to hold back. 

He noticed the vial of ointment in her hands, the one the Maesters gave to him to use whenever his wound became unbearable. He was tense as she cradled his cheek, her thumb caressing the edge of his scar, her eyes taking in the angry looking wound. She had seen him do this for himself a few times but he had never let her do it before. 

She looked at him thoughtfully, posing a silent question to which he nodded slightly, still hesitant to let her touch what was his greatest shame, but the pain was becoming unbearable, he was left out of options. 

She dipped her finger into the ointment and carefully applied it to his eye, her own heart racing as she felt her husband was baring a piece of himself he had been adamant on hiding for so long. 

As her fingers brushed as gently as possible across his wounded eye, the cooling ointment bringing him relief immediately, he finally started to let himself relax, releasing a long breath. 

She reached out with her other hand, laying it over his own that was still clenched into a fist, beginning to trace meaningless shapes over his knuckles. Her touch soothed something in him he didn’t even know could be soothed, the simple gesture enough for him to feel comforted in a way only she could give him. He sighed loudly as he sank into his seat, the rigidity leaving him limb by limb. 

Smiling softly at the sight of him so much calmer than before, she moved to sit next to him once she was finished. Aemond was quick to close the distance between them, moving in closer to her side, taking her hand in his, eager for her touch. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, the look of reverence he sent her stirring her own emotions and she suddenly found herself on the verge of tears. She would never understand what he went through as a child, she would never understand what he felt for his nephews, but she was adamant she would be there for him in the moments he struggled. 

“You never need to thank me for this.” She assured him. 

Another heavy breath escaped him, as if his ire was leaving him with each exhale. His resentment was no match for the love his wife gave him. It would succumb to her each and every time. 

His hand roamed gently over her body, eventually finding its place on her stomach, where it stayed, pulling a small laugh from her.

“You do realize there’s no bump yet.”

Aemond just shrugged, the look of contentment on his face a far cry from the derision that had steadily remained all day. 

“It doesn’t matter. He’s still in there.”

“He?”

He seemed bashful as he looked up at his wife, a slight blush on his cheeks, as if embarrassed to admit the many nights he spent thinking about their child, imagining their son as the perfect mix of them both, of how much he already loved their child. 

“It’s just a feeling.” 

She began to picture it, Aemond cradling their son, his eyes the same vibrant blue of his father’s, his smile wide, his cheeks chubby, every bit of him absolutely perfect. 

Her own smile grew, her vision growing blurry as tears gathered in her eyes at the thought, her hormones that were now on a hair trigger since her pregnancy, coming to a head. 

“Hey,” Aemond called out in concern, reaching up to caress her cheek and she shook her head, letting out a small laugh.

“They’re happy tears.” 

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her softly. It was easy to forget the turmoil he felt, that he was soon to face the object of his anger, when he was next to his wife, their child growing within her. 

That night, he was ravenous. He had taken her with a fervor he hadn’t felt in weeks. He had been insatiable when he knew of her pregnancy, but he seemed to treat her like glass, as if she were now delicate because of the precious life that grew within her. 

His touches had always been gentle, but urgent, hungry yet loving. 

Tonight, he was starved. He fucked her as if they were newlyweds again, every touch portraying just how desperate he felt for her. 

“Aemond!” She cried out, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling hard as he brought her to yet another blissful orgasm.

He growled, burying his face in the crook of her neck, the enticing nip at her neck making her moan. His steady pace never faltered, his powerful hips crashing against hers as he chased his own end. 

Her cries turned to laughs, delirious with pleasure. 

“I love you.” She breathed out and screamed as his pace became quicker, his thrusts becoming harsher, more frantic as he quickly approached his high. 

“Say it again.” He growled, now hovering over her as he gazed down at the beauty beneath him, his eye and the striking sapphire a sight that left her shivering under his tight grip.

“I love you.” She repeated, hoping he believed every word, hoping he knew just how much she cherished him, how much he meant to her. “You are the only man I’ve ever loved, the only man I’ll ever love for the rest of my life.”

His jaw clenched, his eye squeezing shut as the sight of her below him, writhing in pleasure, was just too much to handle. He was powerless against her. 

His thrusts became relentless, the bed shaking beneath them with every one of his brutal strokes. 

He breathed harshly, feeling as though flames were alight in his veins. 

“Again.” He commanded roughly. 

She shivered at the commanding edge of his voice, her toes curling as she felt sparks ignite within her. 

“I love you, more than anything.” 

Her breathless words were his undoing. He shouted a curse and groaned loudly, his arms feeling weak as he practically fell over her, never stopping his movements, his cock thrusting into her almost violently as he came, his body shaking against hers. 

She gasped at the feeling of him spilling inside her, her arms wrapping tighter around him, her head thrown back as she cried out, his name falling from her lips in a chant, as if he were a deity she prayed to for salvation. 

“I love you.” She whispered breathlessly and began to laugh tiredly as he planted kisses over the expanse of her neck, making his way upwards until he met her lips, kissing her soundly, as if she were the very air he breathed. 

“I love you.” He panted in a blissful daze. 

By the next morning, every good feeling Aemond had coveted the night before had dissipated like smoke in the wind. 

He woke early and spared his sleeping wife a kiss to the forehead before heading to the training yard where he spent the rest of the morning, endlessly sparring with Ser Criston and any other worthy opponent available when the knight needed a break from his endless plights. 

Those that dared to step up were left bloody and bruised in a matter of minutes. 

Aemond was wound tightly, his entire being ready to snap as he laid his eye on his nephews for the first time in years. The fury that had been buried deeply within him for years bubbled to the surface with one look at the brown haired bastards. 

The sapphire in place of his eye burned as his glare remained steady on them. 

He preened inwardly as they cowered under his eye. To know they couldn’t meet his gaze brought him more satisfaction than he had expected. He grabbed his sword and gestured to Ser Criston to get into position.

He fought with determination as if he were in actual battle, as if his life was truly threatened and every movement dictated his survival. With every powerful strike of his sword against Criston’s shield, he felt vindicated, as though the years of shame that had come from the bullying he endured from his own brother and nephews stripped off layer by layer with each powerful swing of his weapon. 

His eye drifted to his nephews, a sickly satisfied smirk growing at the sight of their intimidation. 

They held no power over him now. He had made sure of it. 

“Husband.” 

Her voice cut through the haze of victory he had been lavishing in. He turned on his heel, confusion overtaking him as he saw his wife standing in the training yard. He dropped his sword and rushed over to her side. 

“What are you doing down here? Is everything alright?”

She didn’t often make her way down into the training yards and with her current state, he couldn’t help but fret over her every minute of the day he was with her.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t killing yourself before the petition.”

He sighed heavily. He didn’t know if he loved or hated how easily his wife could read him. She took his hand and he let her guide him out of the yard. 

“You’ve been here for hours, I think you’ve earned yourself a break.” 

He opened his mouth to retort, but she stopped him with a knowing look. 

“Based on the looks on your nephews face’s I think you’ve proven everything you needed to prove.”

The smirk that grew on his lips should have worried her, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel any concern for the ire he felt for his nephews. It was more than justified, she just hoped it would be enough, that their visit to the Keep wouldn’t result in any more bloodshed. 

Aemond looked back into the training yard, as if hesitant to leave the glory he’d managed to carve out for himself, for the retribution he felt he had finally earned, no matter how slight it was, but her hand in his forced him back to her in an instant. 

“Don’t let them get to you. They hold no power over you.” She told him softly and he let out a long breath, allowing the hatred that had been clouding him all day roll over him like dark thunder clouds making way for the shining sun to warm up the earth after a vicious storm. 

His hand remained steadily in hers, as if needing her like a lifeline in tumultuous waves. She was the only thing that kept him tethered to himself, that kept him from spiraling into his anger. 

She could see how tense he was and if it were any other day, if they didn’t have royal duties to attend to, she would’ve been content to keep him in their chambers and let him use her to both of their delights until he was spent, too exhausted to feel any anger at all. 

She didn’t like to see him in this state. It was so unlike the sweet boy that had been by her side for years. She didn’t like what her nephews had created in him the night he claimed Vhagar. 

~~

The petition unfolded as she expected. While King Viserys’ presence had been a surprise, Vaemond’s demise certainly wasn’t, especially after the accusations he had spouted to Princess Rhaenyra and her sons. 

Aemond had tugged on her arm, instinctively pulling her behind him as Daemon brought his sword down upon the man. 

He had shielded her from the violent display, something she had been grateful for. With the pregnancy hormones swirling within her, she most often felt nauseous around anything that wasn’t plain bread. The sight of Vaemond’s severed head would’ve been enough to put her off eating for the rest of her life. 

As the court reacted in a frenzy to the brutal display, Aemond had placed his hand on her stomach, his eye looking her over carefully, ready to rush her out of the room at the slightest hint of nausea. 

She gripped his hand and nodded to his silent question, assuring him she was ok, that she wasn’t about to spill her guts in front of everyone, though the darkened look in his eye remained. Who it was targeted at, she wasn’t quite sure. 

Neither one of them had been looking forward to the family dinner Viserys was adamant on hosting. It was as if he was completely oblivious to the tension in the family as he forced them in proximity to each other. 

Aemond had barely spoken a word as they readied themselves for dinner. He was tense, his face drawn tightly, as if he expected the worst to unfold, as if he were facing enemies on a battlefield and not a simple dinner with his family. 

“We don’t have to attend.” She told him, wishing she could protect him from the torment he felt in the face of his nephews. 

He didn’t spare a look to her, every inch of him was shrouded in anger, barely contained fury that he couldn’t shake. He didn’t seem like the man she married at that moment. 

“Why wouldn’t I attend?” He asked, as if his torment wasn’t visible, as if she wasn’t aware of the burning anger he couldn’t shake, the vitriol he experienced as a child coming back to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of the slights that he had been faced with. 

“Aemond,” She started softly. “No one expects you to forgive them.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head, his expression filled with bitter irritation. 

“No one expects me to hold any anger at all.” 

She frowned deeply and approached him slowly, eyeing him carefully. She had never felt so out of depth when it came to her husband but she would be damned if she left him to suffer alone.

“We don’t have to go.”

He clenched his jaw, his eye holding a faraway look, signaling he was deep in thought. 

She reached out, cupping his face in his hands, startling him out of his reverie that was filled with nothing but hatred. 

“You just tell me and we’ll leave. I’ll make an excuse and we can go without any question.”

Her words, her ability to show him she was staunchly in his corner, a feeling no one else had ever assured him of, disarmed him completely. There was one thing his nephews would never take from him, the love he felt from his wife stood the test of time, standing strongly against any other force that dared to weaken him. His eye softened, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm, his fingers gently caressing her skin. 

“What have I done to deserve you?” He whispered, his voice cloaked with reverence, as if surprised by the love she held for him. 

She frowned, hating when he spoke as if he didn’t deserve the love she showed him, as if it was some kind of gift he wasn’t worthy of coveting. 

“You read to me my second day here.” She answered simply, reminding him of the beginning of it all, when they were nothing more than two wonderstruck children. 

He exhaled deeply, desperately wanting to hold onto that feeling that always surrounded him when he thought of their childhood together, like warmth embracing him soundly. 

It was a feeling he kept close to him as they walked to the dining hall, though he knew it was futile. The feeling would be gone, shielded in the depths of him in the face of his family.

As they stepped into the hall, Aemond left her side to grab her a drink from the servers, allowing her to step towards Rhaena and Baela, greeting them politely. Rhaena was quick to give her a smile, while Baela only had distrustful eyes to throw in her direction. 

Her name was called and she turned to see Rhaenyra approaching her with a warm smile. 

She smiled and embraced the Princess slightly awkwardly. She had fond memories of the woman growing up, especially in times when she was desperately missing her own mother, but it had been years since she had seen her and knowing her actions on the night Aemond’s eye had been taken had irrevocably changed her view of the woman since.

“It’s good to see you again, Dear.” Rhaenyra smiled warmly at her. “Where is your father, I was hoping to say hello.”

“He’s at Ixtal. He was missing my mother and decided to take a short visit.” 

“You didn’t join him?”

She felt her cheeks heat at the question and she couldn’t help but smile. 

“I would, but I wasn’t exactly in a good state to travel.” She explained and placed her hand on her stomach exaggeratedly. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened and she beamed a smile, laughing happily. 

“That is wonderful news.” The Princess congratulated. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.” 

A hand on the small of her back made her look up to see her husband now at her side, his steely eye locked onto his half-sister whose smile faltered at his sudden presence. She cleared her throat, her demeanor now tense as she nodded politely in greeting.

Rhaenyra left their side quickly, leaving her to wonder just how deeply one family could fracture. She couldn’t imagine ever greeting her brothers in that manner. She couldn’t imagine hating the ones she shared blood with. 

Letting out a long breath, knowing she was in for an eventful night, she turned to Aemond, placing her hand on his arm that was stiff, as if he wouldn't allow himself to relax or even take a breath in their presence. 

They all took their seats, the tension in the room strangling as King Viserys was carried in. 

She held back a grimace at the sight of the decrepit King. He was a far cry from the man she had met all those years ago, far from the man who was a dear friend to her father. 

The awkward aura in the room remained steadfast, with most avoiding eye contact with each other. Even Viserys’ heartened speech about family and the uniting of the house of the dragon did little to mend the obvious rift in the family.

Until Rhaenyra stood. She was shocked to hear her speak such lovely words about the Queen and for the Queen to return the sentiment. 

Their apparent truce for the time being broke the tension, though her husband at her side remained tense, his lone eye unflinchingly cold as he regarded his distant family. 

Her eyes kept circling back to him, as if waiting for the moment he would strike. She wondered when the wood of the chair under his white-knuckled grip would splinter. She wondered when the night would take an irredeemable turn.

She didn’t even get to enjoy Helaena’s thinly veiled jab towards Aegon in her toast, she was too worried about her husband to pay attention to the others around her. 

When the music began, signaling the end of the toasts, she leaned back in her seat, giving her husband a small encouraging smile, anticipating that they had made it through the worst the night had to offer. 

Aemond remained stiff as stone, his posture straight and rigid. She noticed his eye darken further, his gaze locked past her and she turned, her brows furrowing slightly as Jacaerys stepped towards her, a hopeful smile on his face.

“Would you care to dance, Princess?” He asked, offering her his hand. 

She stared at his hand for a long second, contemplating her choices. With the entirety of the table watching the exchange, she knew she had little choice but to accept his offer. 

She spared a brief glance to her husband beside her and the fury that blazed in his lone eye would have melted the wall in the great north. With a heavy breath, she gingerly took Jace’s hand and stood from her seat, allowing him to guide her away from the table.

Her husband’s gaze practically burned at her back. 

Aemond watched with barely contained rage as the bastard danced with his wife. His teeth grinded together so harshly it was a wonder they didn’t crack. He briefly contemplated what the repercussions would be if he murdered the Strong bastard where he stood. 

The fire within him was simmering, ready to unleash as he watched another man touch his wife. The smile on the bastard’s face left Aemond wondering whether he should slit his throat, dismember him, or let Vhagar turn him to ash. 

None of the choices seemed punishment enough. 

As Jace twirled her, her eyes briefly met Aemond’s and her stomach twisted at his expression. She knew tonight wouldn’t end peacefully. 

She flinched slightly as Jace quickly spun her back into his arms, causing her to almost crash into his chest, forcing her much closer to him than she felt was necessary. She leaned back to gain some distance, hoping it wasn’t noticeable, hoping her husband hadn’t been able to tell she had been uncomfortable for a mere second.

Jace would be dead and buried before the sun rose if that were the case. 

“I have to admit, I was quite shocked when I heard the news of your wedding.” Jace suddenly spoke, keeping his voice low so only she would hear. 

“What was so shocking?”

“I didn’t expect you to end up with someone like him.”

“Someone like him? You mean my oldest friend?” She questioned, disdain creeping through her tone, her defenses raised, which didn’t allow her the wherewithal to speak in a friendly manner. 

Jace sighed, as if wanting to dispute the simple fact that she and Aemond had been close for years before marriage was even a thought in either of their heads. 

“You two are very different.” He said with a slight shrug. “I pictured you with someone more… warm, romantic even.” 

“I assure you, my prince, my husband is plenty romantic. You do not need to worry yourself about my marriage.” She smiled stiffly. 

Jace, seeming to sense her attitude, remained silent for the remainder of the dance. As the song ended, she politely curtsied and was walking back to the table before he could rise from his bow. 

The tension didn’t dissipate as she took her seat at her husband’s side once more. If anything, the fury radiating from the man beside her only set her more on edge. Aemond leaned into her, making her shoulders tense both in apprehension and desire. 

“If he touches you again, I will break every bone in his body.” Aemond hissed in her ear, smirking delightedly at the shiver she repressed. 

She looked up at him, his fury now morphed into an insatiable hunger only she could tame. She knew she would be in for a long night. 

She was just thankful he seemed to be feeling anything other than murderous rage. 

But it did not last long. 

She had been speaking quietly to Helaena, Aemond’s hand in hers, his thumb caressing over her knuckles a steady comfort when he suddenly pulled away. 

She barely had time to look over at her husband before he was bolting out of his chair. His fist that slammed on the table made her flinch in surprise, her wide eyes looking up at him in confusion.

“Final tribute.” 

Her heart raced wildly in her chest, her gaze wandering around the table, wondering what could have possibly stoked his fury. It wasn’t until she saw the sheepish guilt that permeated with fear on Lucerys’ expression that she began to understand. 

“To the health of my nephews. Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise… strong.”

She felt her breath hitch in her throat, her wide eyed gaze meeting Alicent’s for a brief moment, his mother looking equally as petrified for what was to unfold. 

“Let us drain our cups to these three Strong boys.”

She sent her husband a pleading look, but it was lost on him, his gaze, full of hatred, cemented on his nephews. 

“I dare you to say that again.”

“Why? Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?”

She gasped, her hand covering her mouth as Jace landed a punch to Aemond’s cheek. The room erupted in chaos. She could watch with disappointment as her husband pushed his nephew to the ground, as Aegon joined in and shoved Lucerys against the table. 

Helaena stood from her seat and rushed towards her, her face shrouded in fear. She sighed and stood from her seat, wrapping her arm around her friend who seemed disturbed by the rift tearing in her family before her. 

“It’s alright.” She assured her. 

Across the room, Rhaenyra’s eyes bored into hers, pleading, as if she had any control over her husband’s ire. She sent her an apologetic look and bowed her head, wishing Aemond had taken up her offer to avoid the dinner altogether. 

The room came to a standstill, the fighting men separated, a room divided by two factions. 

Aemond glared at his uncle who looked at him as if disappointed, as if he were out of line to enact revenge for the slight against him. 

He grit his teeth and in a quick motion, swallowed the wine left in his cup before turning back to the table. He avoided looking at his wife as he grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him as he stormed out of the room.

Her feet moved quickly to keep up with his quick pace, her heart in her throat as he led them through the halls.

Once they were back in their chambers, her eyes seldom left him, watching every one of his movements carefully, noticing how highly strung he still was, how stiffly he moved as paced for a moment before he finally took a seat on the edge of the bed. 

His anger wouldn’t be leaving him easily. 

“Are you alright?”

He stayed quiet for a long moment, gazing ahead blankly, the burning fury that simmered in his veins leaving him practically trembling, the desire to wreak havoc not yet dissipating. 

Every part of him was wrought with tension, his mind a mess of thoughts, though his anger was the easiest to make sense of. 

“Don’t try to convince me that what I did was wrong.” He spoke bitterly.

“I won’t.” 

His jaw clenched, the events of the last few minutes running through his head on a loop, keeping him in the state of rage that made him shake, that made his hands twitch, wishing he had done more, wishing he could hurt that bastard the way he had been hurt all those years ago.

The thought briefly startled him. It was a thought he used to have frequently, when the rage in his heart was so new he didn’t know what to do with it. It was a thought he hadn’t focused on since being with her. 

The revelation had an unfamiliar upset stirring within him.

“I should sleep in my old chambers tonight.” He muttered tersely. 

The bitter anger burned within him, he felt on the edge of cracking and he would hate himself if he ever took it out on her, his sweet wife. He felt he needed to be far away from her to avoid darkening her with his presence.

“What?”

The sadness in her voice almost broke him. He closed his eye and bowed his head, he couldn’t bear to see the look on her face. 

“I don’t want you to see me like this.” 

It was quiet for a long moment, his words lingering in the room like an ominous death rattle that signaled the bitter end after a long, torturous fight. 

But she refused to let him sink into his despair. 

He flinched as she stepped before him, catching his gaze. Her hands smoothed out the doublet he wore, roaming upwards to brush the hair off his shoulders and gently caressing his neck as she reached up to hold his jaw affectionately. 

He let out a deep breath, the tension slowly but surely easing from him in waves under her touch. 

“I am not letting you feel this alone.” She told him, her voice soft yet stern, letting him know there was no way he would change her mind about this, that nothing could force her to accept his absence from her side. 

“I don’t seem to recognize myself around them.”

His whispered confession hit her harder than she had expected and she felt her breath hitch in her throat, her own emotions rising to the surface at the sight of him so tormented. 

“You can never undo what they took from you.” She began slowly, her voice wavering slightly. “I’ll never understand what you’ve been through. I wish I could and I’m so sorry I don’t, but you cannot let this consume you.”

His face remained a mask of torment, his derision and anger battling against the exhaustion that permeated his bitterness, that left him feeling weak in the aftermath of his rage. 

She gently guided him to tilt his head upward so she could look at him, so he could see her and the resolution on her face and understand her honesty.

“You are more than your eye. You are more than the rage you feel when you look at them. You are more than them.”

He almost shuddered under her hands, the words striking him with force as though they were dealt with a physical hit. 

“I see you, the real you. The one I fell in love with, my sweet husband, the father of my child.” 

With that, she grabbed his hand to place it over her stomach and his expression changed in an instant, the anger gone as he caressed where his child grew. 

He leaned forward, his forehead falling to rest against her chest, his arms circling her waist. He spread his legs, allowing her to step closer to him, her own arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him tightly. 

She ran her fingers through his hair, the soft motions pulling a soft sound from deep within him, his rigid body falling lax against her. 

As she hugged him tightly she felt her eyes begin to sting with tears. She wished she could pull the agony from him, untangle the strings of rage that wound him so tightly. 

She wished she could’ve gone back in time and held tighter to the wounded boy who hid his despair from her for so long. 

~~

The girls are fightinggg

And the angst is coming xx

~~

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ー☆ㅤㅤ [ pgw x fem!reader ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤacademic rivals au, sugg 𓏧 it sucks when you are bad at a subject, but your academic rival helping? worse ㅤㅤ warnings make-out ㅤ﹢ㅤ2.5k wc ㅤ𓏧ㅤ req

You clutch your head in annoyance as you look at the marks in your Chemistry paper. It is stupid really how you aced every subject this term except this one, the awful one. Chemistry! The other subjects’ mark sheets lie neglected on your table as you go over it again and again trying to make sense of the mistakes in Organic, not that any of that made sense.

You hear a chuckle from behind you and your head shoots up in annoyance. Park Gunwook! The bane of your existence right after Chemistry, the demon that reincarnated from hell itself.

Your other classmates would describe the boy as sweet and helpful, and “too hot for a nerd” which is absolutely brainless of them because he isn’t sweet, he is evil, he isn’t helping, he specializes in teasing you, and he definitely isn’t “hot”. Ever since the beginning of high school you two have been competing in every class and one-upping each other at everything.

And it was fair because you loved competition, you were happy you had a reason to fire up and do your best, especially if you got to see the defeated face and glare of Park Gunwook after every result. It was not that he went easy but you knew your strengths and beating Gunwook just happened to be the biggest of them.

Until eleventh grade knocked at your door and you suddenly dropped in one subject and life has never been happier for Gunwook. His annoying smirks and taunting eyes after each term went by and you still didn’t get better at the said subject. Gunwook was on top of every rank, while you came later because you were too bad at Chemistry.

Agonising glances, and teasing remarks from Gunwook increased and so did the whispers in the hallway about the painful decrease in the ranks of one of the top students.

“How’s being a lesser rank again, y/n?” his voice cuts through your thoughts making you groan in annoyance, if only, if only you can ace this stupid subject you can just show him why messing with you is not fun!

“Shut up,” you grit, angrily slamming the paper back to its place and looking up at the cocky smile engraved on his face which you wish you could slap right off. Your teacher glanced at the two of you once and sighed before going back to his work.

“It sucks I know,” he puts a hand over his heart faking a pouty face and you search for it frantically before picking the compass up and pointing it at him and saying, “Leave my desk or only one of us is getting out of this classroom alive.”

He gasps before deadpanning and slapping the compass out of your hands and it hits the ground with a clink. “Sure, I would know, you Thomson’s model of atom,” as soon as the sentence leaves his lips your eyes widen and you scream, “What did you just say?”

Before you can strangle him the teacher comes up and coughs behind you saying, “You two to my desk, now!” The end-of-class signal goes off and you two quietly walk back to his desk as the other students leave.

“When will you two stop arguing?” your teacher breaks the silence and sighs and you two glare at each other making him groan quietly. “First things first, apologise to each other.”

“What?”

“Absolutely not.”

You two speak at the same time making him stand up and say, “Are you disobeying a teacher?” You quickly shake your head and Gunwook looks down before saying, “Well she started it.”

“Me? You called me the Thomson’s model of atom because you think I am incorrect and useless,” you scoff at him, folding your arms and he snickers, “Hey, you said it, not me.” You gasp loudly before fisting your hands and your teacher puts a hand in the middle and yells, “Enough you are not first-graders.” He was definitely not paid enough for this.

“Y/n, your chemistry scores are not improving and this is the pre-finals of your last year in high school. Your grade depends a lot on the finals, and so do your applications to universities so you have to improve by finals. What is going wrong?” your teacher asks and you shrug looking down. If only you knew what was going on!

“If you must know, Organic Chemistry can’t be done by mugging up, you have to understand the concepts,” he continues and you nod knowing he is right. “I wish I had the time to personally address your issues but since I don’t, I have a better solution, Gunwook will help you!”

Your head snaps in your teacher’s direction who has a determined look on his face that makes your eyes widen in horror. No way had he said that!

Gunwook will help you?

Gunwook will help you?

Heck no!

“But Sir, I never agreed to that,” to your relief, Gunwook speaks up but your teacher shushes him saying, “I will give you extra credit.” As soon as the sentence leaves his lips you know you are dead. Gunwook is the type to do anything, anything for extra credit.

“Sir I think I can do just fine by myself,” your desperate plea falls on deaf ears as he says, “I waited for that y/n, so trust me, I wouldn’t take this measure if I saw you improve. You didn’t and you clearly need help, a little can do a lot. I have seen your paper, your concepts are not clear and finals are in two months. If I was in your place, I wouldn’t take the risk.”

He has a point. You hate it, but he has a point. Too bad, you will not need Gunwook in this equation. You nod lightly to an agreement but hatch a plan to get rid of Gunwook.

“I don’t need your help,” you dismiss him as he tries to sit beside you in the library and cocks an eyebrow at your sentence. “Sure you don’t, do lie to someone who hasn’t known you for long,” he makes a face and continues, “Unlike me.”

“For fuck’s sake,” you curse under your breath as you turn towards him and say, “Where’s the harm if you just lie?” A weird noise leaves his mouth sounding like a half-gasp and half-scoff as he tries to calm himself down.

He can’t kill you, then he will lose both the extra credit and his non-criminal status. He is too young to go to jail!

“I am not lying to anyone, you will be tutored by me, whether you like it or not,” Gunwook states and sits down beside you forcefully pushing your bag towards you. Your glares and whines are futile as he takes out his chemistry notes and opens up a chapter on organic chemistry.

“So we will start with Haloalkanes and Haloarenes, you have your class notes right?” Gunwook starts and you smirk mimicking his deep voice, “You have your class notes right?”

“Don’t test my patience,” he states, running his hands through his hair and for a moment your breath hitches as your eyes train on his veins and messy lock before you blink and internally slap yourself. He is annoying, stupid and- god, you need more adjectives to define his annoying habits.

“Don’t test my patience,” you mock him, this time in a high-pitched voice, grinning when you see him take in a deep breath and say, “Real mature.” Rolling his eyes he goes back to arranging your notes and you scoff. He wants maturity, fine, you will give him maturity.

“Okay, let’s start with the basics, you know Darzen’s process right?” He looks at you hoping you have shut up in for good and he can proceed in peace. He was never more wrong.

“Yes, of course, the theory that says organic compounds do not have Carbon,” you say cheerfully as Gunwook chokes on air and looks at you. You fake your innocence and continue, “Or was it the one that says about colligative properties,”

Gunwook’s eyes narrow but he keeps quiet letting you keep up your act and you gasp quite dramatically saying, “Oh then it is the one that says atoms can’t be broken right?” Gunwook snorts saying, “Stop shitting around and answer me.”

“But I am answering you Wookie,” you say in a sing-song voice, batting your eyelashes knowing full well how much he hates being called Wookie from your mouth. “Don’t test my patience,” he warns, his voice dropping an octave before he cocks his head to the side and continues, “Sweetheart!”

You purse your lips and curse yourself as you scan his face, eyes lingering relatively longer on his lips. In what world do library lights make a person look attractive? Probably in Park Gunwook’s world!

“I am asking actual questions though,” you whisper as Gunwook cocks an eyebrow saying, “That mouth of yours does nothing but talk dumb.”

You know you are playing with fire already but what’s the harm you think as the next sentence leaves your mouth, “Do you want to know what else it does?”

Gunwook smirks as he slowly stands up and hovers over your figure all while keeping his eyes locked with yours and says, “Not really, I just want to shut it up.”

“Sure, try it,” you are in too deep to back out and one thing about a competition is you never back out. However petty the competition is you need to win!

Grabbing your jaw, Gunwook says, “Last chance to back out,” and you scoff saying, “What and let you win?” You know you have struck the chord you want to when he presses his lips to yours. Gunwook kisses you with an intensity that blurs the line between reality and dreams and you kiss him back with equal fervour.

The kiss is anything but soft, as Gunwook’s hands press against the base of your neck making him deepen the kiss and you fist his shirt to keep up with the pace. You find yourself gasping for air as soon as he breaks the kiss and looks at you asking, “That shut you right up, didn’t it?”

“Don’t know really,” you take in a breather saying, “I might need some more convincing.” Messy hair, loose tie, unbuttoned collar and swollen lips- you have never seen Park Gunwook this messed up. And to be the reason behind that boosted your ego more than it should.

Gunwook fixes his glasses as he sits down and cocks his head saying, “Sit on my lap.” Your face heats up as soon as you hear that from him. You have never seen this side of Gunwook and to say it is intriguing is an understatement.

You are quick to get back your composure as you stand up and pretend to pick up your bag saying, “What makes you think I will listen to you say?” Gunwook’s eyes train on yours and travels down your neck and down checking you out fully before returning your stare with a boring one of his own.

“Fine, leave,” his voice is taunting you and it makes you curse your past self for thinking he is not hot, clearly, you were out of your mind. You want to walk away, prove to him and yourself you were not attracted to him at all.

“Three seconds,” he whispers staring at you as he mouths the numbers backwards and when you stand exactly where you are he knows he has you right where he wants you. It would be a lie to say Gunwook isn’t equally attracted to you but he prefers to push that thought to the back of his mind.

His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you and you sit down on his lap, the breath you had held for so long finally being released. He looks up at you, eyes sparkling with anticipation making you roll your eyes and whisper, “I hate you.”

A deep chuckle leaves his throat as he replies, “I wish I could believe that princess, but you didn’t leave.” You hate how much you love cocky Gunwook but you are not a person to back out as you pull him by his collar and say, “Shut up and kiss me.”

When Gunwook’s lips presses to yours, you let out a satisfactory hum tracing your fingers along his collarbones and to the back of his neck. He grips your jaw, deepening the kiss and bites your lower lips earning a surprised gasp from you. His tongue easily roams your mouth exploring every inch of it like a starved man.

A groan builds up your throat when you find him easily taking dominance making you run your hand through his hair trying to tie yourself to the last strands of reality left in your system. How many times have you pictured him to kiss you exactly like this, to finally lose his cool and abuse your mouth leaving you breathless?

Obviously, this was much better than those midnight thoughts! You run your hands through his arms, groaning at the fact that the boy in fact did work out. A lot. A shiver runs down your spine when Gunwook bites and nibbles lightly on your lips making you lightheaded.

Gunwook fingers trace along your jaw and collarbones and he holds your waist with his other hand tracing slow circles on the exposed skin below your shirt. You feel a light haze settle over your senses as he starts leaving open-mouthed kisses down your cheek and jaw. You take in a quick breath when you feel him sucking lightly down your neck and you lean back hoping he has more access.

Hooded eyes, heated glances and fidgety hands. You feel almost blessed to see Gunwook like this.

He attaches his lips to yours and your mind empties everything as it fills with thoughts of him, his senses, his touch, his smell and his everything. If Gunwook wasn’t holding your waist, you surely would have melted to the ground by now especially trying to wrap your head around the intensity with which he is kissing you.

When you part, albeit breathless, silent anticipation fills the air as you look everywhere but his eyes. A red hue adorns Gunwook’s neck and face as he coughs softly to gain your attention. When you look back at him, reality drips back and you manage to croak out a sentence.

“If you kiss me like this after every lesson I wouldn’t mind being tutored really,” the voice is breathy, soft and slightly desperate, very unlike you, but it feels worth it as soon as a smile etches its way into Gunwook’s lips.

“I don’t need tutoring excuses to kiss you like this, princess,” he whispers back and your eyes widen but before you can comprehend he makes sure your brain shuts down again.

Pressing a soft peck on your lips he giggles as you stare at him in shock.

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤtysm 🥭 anon for requesting, not my best work but the picture is giving me a lot of hope lmao ㅤ𓏧ㅤ libraryㅤ zb1 shelfㅤ navi

੭ 𝅄ㅤ ꒰ TAGLIST ꒱ ㅤ⏤ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added.

@haneagerr @slytherinshua @aaa-sia @yeosayang

@haecien @sxmmerberries @gong-fourz

some dialogues from @urfriendlywriter & @girlwithherheadinthestars tysmmm, they are awesome !!

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[shaisuki]

CIGARETTE SMOKE

|| the third entry for the series “𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄”

content warnings ─── yandere themes, implied kidnapping, hints of smut, jealousy.

is it bad that you want to take someone just to protect them from this world? aki regretted but doesn't feel bad about it.

we devil hunters don't have the long life to live.

there's a certain annoyance that has been creeping up on me since you joined the division. you clearly didn't belong here and sometimes i would ask myself why are you here? why are you wasting your life in this hellhole for no reason. you're alive. happy. you aren't here for revenge. to avenge your loved ones from the devils. you have no purpose here. you don't belong here.

however it's not my place to dictate someone's choice of being here but you infuriate me to no end that i wished for your demise. i didn't understand why i feel this way towards you. it doesn't make sense. you were a nobody to mine. not the one i should care for but sometimes i can't take my eyes off you.

the gnawing feeling of seeing you so friendly and close to someone like denji makes my blood boil and it's easy to ignore it but i can't not when you're starting to grow on me.

what casual moments between us, i have cherished it. not realizing what effect it could have on me. i started to see you on my dreams. started to crave your presence that i can no longer breath and it hurts me so much that i have started to feel this way to you more than i would like to admit.

then we started to lay on the same bed. where can i hear you breath. feel you under my fingertips. the softness and warmth you provided for simply existing. how it provided the intimacy of comfort and security. drown in the depths of the pools of your eyes that i can no longer swim and sink in to you.

is this what it feels to fall for someone who is close but is distant. how could it be when you're the one who initiated it. how cruel are you but i can't blame you. we simply comforted each other with our bodies and it's my fault that i let myself feel what i wanted to feel.

this would be our last night together. allow me to cherish you. let me feel you. let me sink my teeth unto your skin that you will feel me for days.

the gasps and moans that left your lips breathlessly is the air i breath. say my name the way i like it. say my name as i touch you in places where it brought you pleasure. the stretch marks and scars decorating your skin that i have memorized. the curves and every swell of your body where i have kissed and worshipped. allow me. allow me. allow me. allow me to savor all of it. you won't deprive me of it. i know of it since you're helplessly under me.

that's right. that's how things should be. you and me. nothing else in this world that can stop us. not even the devils.

why won't you be mine?

the thought occured to me. why? we have shared our thoughts. the touch that i came to miss. the kisses that i denied at first and learned to crave. i have touched you. we've exchanged sweet nothings. the string of salivas connecting our lips. my lips on yours and my spent deep inside you. painting your walls white as you came around me. isn't it enough that we belong to each other. you're mine. you're mine. you're mine. you are mine.

so forgive me. forgive me that the last thing you will ever see is the smoke coming from my cigarette as i lay claim on you. protecting you from this cruel world that took the people i loved and i won't let it happen to you. i don't understand myself why i am asking for your forgiveness when i know you won't forgive but it won't hurt to ask. you're too kind and that was your mistake for having me. for letting me in your world that I claimed to be mine.

my thoughts are muddled and the only thing that keeps me sane of my reality is the light coming from the end of my cigarette and your warm body resting beside me. warm. it is a good thing. you're still alive and you'll wake up with me beside you. that's better. is all i can think as i watch my cigarette smoke disappear in the thin air like you were.

[thirtysomethingloser92]

If you are still takin one shot prompts can you write something with Remy x female reader where they are always arguing but everyone knows they’re in love with each other except the two of them? With smut?

(Idk if u do kinks and feel free to ignore this bit if u don’t but if u do can you write in heavy praise kink?)

Love ur writing ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Warning: Contains Smut. I dunno how to feel about this one honestly, it was written in a haze of sleep deprivation and absence of coffee; but I still hope you enjoy!

The X-Mansion was unusually quiet that afternoon, a rare occurrence that most of the team appreciated. With no missions on the horizon and the younger students out on a field trip, the mansion basked in an almost eerie calm. That is, until Remy Lebeau strolled into the kitchen, whistling a tune with his typical swagger, and found you rummaging through the fridge.

“Mon dieu, chérie, y’ coulda left me somethin’ to eat,” Remy drawled, leaning casually against the counter.

You didn’t even glance back at him, too focused on your hunt for leftovers. “If you weren’t always late, you’d have something left,” you shot back, finally pulling out a container of pasta. “Besides, you’re lucky I didn’t eat this too.”

He smirked, staring at you with those infuriatingly charming red-on-black eyes. “Lucky, huh? I’d call it somethin’ else, but I ain’t here to argue semantics.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh really? Because that’s all you seem to be good at.”

“Non, non, I’m good at plenty o’ things, chérie. You just never give me a chance t’ show you.” He winked, and you felt a familiar heat crawl up your neck—annoyance, definitely annoyance.

“You know what, Remy? You could charm the devil himself, but it won’t work on me,” you retorted, grabbing a fork and digging into the pasta defiantly.

“Is that a challenge, chérie?” Remy leaned in closer, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that always made your heart skip a beat, not that you’d ever admit it.

“You wish,” you muttered around a mouthful of food.

Before he could reply, Storm walked into the kitchen, her eyes flicking between the two of you with an amused smile. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer. You and Remy had been at each other’s throats for years. From the moment you first joined the team, there was something about him that rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was his cocky attitude, the way he sauntered into every room like he owned the place, or the way he always had some snarky comment ready no matter what you said. It didn’t help that he was infuriatingly charming, either—always ready with a flirtatious quip, especially when you were at your most exasperated.

But as the years went by, something shifted. What started as irritation evolved into something more complex, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was as if every argument, every sarcastic exchange, was building something between you—a tension that neither of you could deny, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

You’d find yourself lying awake at night, replaying your latest spat with him in your head, only to realize that you weren’t just angry—you were excited. You started to notice the way his eyes sparkled when he got under your skin, or how his voice softened ever so slightly when the banter got too heated. It was maddening, really, how much he affected you, and how you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about him, even when you wanted nothing more than to forget he existed.

The worst part was, you knew he felt it too. You could see it in the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, or in the way he’d linger just a little too long in a room after everyone else had left, as if waiting for you to say something—anything—that might break the tension. And yet, you both kept dancing around it, neither one willing to be the first to admit that the fiery arguments weren’t just arguments anymore.

That morning in the kitchen was just the latest in a long string of these encounters. Five years of sniping at each other, of pretending that the growing heat between you was just frustration, not something deeper, something almost… intoxicating.

“Just tryin’ t’ get somethin’ t’ eat, Stormy,” Remy said with that familiar grin, leaning casually against the counter. You could feel the weight of his gaze even as you busied yourself with your breakfast, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up whenever he was near.

Storm raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. “And are you succeeding?”

“Not yet, but y’know, she likes t’ make it difficult,” he replied, his grin widening as he glanced at you.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes even as your pulse quickened. “If by ‘difficult’ you mean not letting you steal my food, then sure.”

Storm chuckled, shaking her head. “You two are impossible.”

“We’re not the problem here,” you insisted, but even as you said it, you noticed the knowing look Storm gave Remy. He just shrugged, clearly enjoying this little game far too much.

“Whatever you say,” Storm replied, her tone light but her eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t quite place. “Just... try not to burn the kitchen down, alright?” With that, she left the room, leaving you alone with Remy again.

“She’s got a point, y’know,” Remy said after a moment, his voice taking on that maddeningly smooth tone that always seemed to get under your skin. “We do seem t’ have a bit of a... fiery relationship.”

You glared at him, refusing to let him see just how much his words affected you. “Keep dreaming, Lebeau.”

“I don’t need t’ dream, chérie. I got all I need right here,” he replied, his voice softening in a way that made your stomach do flips.

And there it was again—those words that left you momentarily speechless, thrown off balance by the sudden shift in his tone. For a moment, you didn’t have a snappy comeback, which was rare. Instead, you just stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or just messing with you.

Before you could decide, Jubilee burst into the kitchen, her usual energy crackling around her like static electricity. “Hey, have you guys seen—oh, never mind, found them!” she said, her eyes darting between you and Remy. “You two arguing again?”

“Not argu—“ you started, but Remy cut you off.

“Just a lil’ friendly banter,” he said with a wink in your direction.

Jubilee sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “You two need to just kiss already and get it over with.”

You almost choked on your pasta, your eyes widening in shock. “What?!” you spluttered, while Remy just laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

“See, even Jubilee agrees,” he teased, leaning in closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine, and you had to fight to keep your voice steady.

You pushed him away, your heart pounding in your chest. “In your dreams, Lebeau.”

“Maybe so, but y’know, dreams do come true sometimes,” he murmured, that infuriating grin still firmly in place. You wished you could wipe it off his face—preferably with your fist, but you knew that would probably just make him laugh harder.

Jubilee just rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by your continued denial. “Whatever, keep denying it. But everyone knows you’re totally into each other.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. Because the truth was, part of you already knew she was right. You’d been fighting it for years, but deep down, you couldn’t deny it any longer: you were falling for Remy LeBeau, and that scared you more than any mission or enemy ever could.

But if you were falling, you sure as hell weren’t going to let him know that. Not yet, anyway.

“Everyone’s wrong,” you snapped, but the words felt hollow even to you.

Remy just chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “We’ll see ‘bout that, chérie.”

As Jubilee left the kitchen, you found yourself alone with him again, and for once, the silence was more uncomfortable than the arguing. You could feel his gaze on you, and it made your skin tingle in a way that was more than just irritation. “No we won’t,” You said simply, turning on your heel and walking out.

The next morning, you were in the Danger Room, running through a solo training session. You needed to clear your head, to burn off the frustration that had been gnawing at you ever since that conversation with Remy. But as you moved through the simulation, dodging holographic enemies and firing off energy blasts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

“Y’know, chérie, y’coulda asked me t’ join,” a familiar voice drawled from the observation deck.

You gritted your teeth, not even pausing as you executed a perfect roundhouse kick to one of the holograms. “I don’t need your help, Remy,” you replied, your voice clipped.

“Didn’t say y’ did. Just thought y’ might enjoy some company,” he said, his tone light and teasing.

“Well, I don’t,” you snapped, launching another energy blast that obliterated a row of targets. “And I’d appreciate it if you stopped watching me.”

“Can’t help it, chérie. Y’ too fascinatin’ t’ ignore.”

“Oh, give me a break,” you muttered under your breath, but your focus slipped for just a second, and one of the holograms managed to get a hit in, knocking you off balance.

Before you could recover, Remy was beside you, his staff spinning in a blur as he took out the remaining enemies. “Y’ gotta keep your guard up, ma chère. Otherwise, y’ might get hurt.”

You pushed yourself to your feet, glaring at him. “I had it under control.”

“I’m sure y’ did,” he said, that damn smirk still on his face. “But it doesn’t hurt t’ have a lil’ backup.”

“I don’t need backup,” you snapped, brushing past him. “And I don’t need you butting in every time you think I’m struggling.”

“Who said anythin’ ‘bout strugglin’?” Remy asked, following you as you stormed out of the Danger Room. “Just tryin’ t’ help.”

“Well, you’re not helping,” you shot back, rounding on him. “You’re just... you’re just being annoying!”

Remy raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your outburst. “Annoyin’, huh? That’s a new one.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Yes, annoying. You’re always there, always making these stupid comments, always... just always in my space!”

His grin widened. “Y’ don’t like me in your space, chérie?”

“No!” you snapped, but even as you said it, you knew it wasn’t entirely true. The truth was, Remy being close to you made you feel things you didn’t want to feel, things that made your heart race and your thoughts scatter. And that scared you.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Remy said, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to that low, smooth tone that always made your pulse quicken. “’Cause I like bein’ in your space.”

You took a step back, trying to create some distance between you. “Well, I don’t. So back off, Lebeau.”

He didn’t move, just watched you with that infuriatingly calm expression. “Y’ sure ‘bout that, chérie? ‘Cause from where I’m standin’, it looks like y’ don’t mind it so much.”

Your jaw clenched, and you could feel your temper rising again. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a shrug. “But y’ like a challenge, don’t y’?”

You glared at him, frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t a game, Remy. You can’t just... just flirt your way out of everything!”

“Who said I was flirtin’?” he asked, his tone suddenly serious.

You blinked, thrown off by the change in his demeanor. “What?”

“Maybe I’m just tryin’ t’ get t’ know y’ better, chérie. Maybe I’m tired o’ all the fightin’.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. “You’re the one who always starts it!”

“Non, I just finish it,” he corrected, his voice softening. “But maybe it’s time we stop all this fightin’ and start talkin’.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Talking? About what?”

“About us,” he said simply.

The word hung in the air between you, heavy with implications. Us. You and Remy. It was something you’d never let yourself think about seriously, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t ignore it.

“Remy, I...” You trailed off, unsure of what to say, how to even begin to address the tangled mess of emotions this man stirred up in you.

But before you could figure it out, Remy took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Y’ don’t have t’ say anythin’, chérie,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Just... think ‘bout it.”

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was so tender, so unlike the usual banter between you, that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’ll be waitin’,” he added, his breath warm against your skin, before he finally stepped back, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

As he turned and walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t know what to do.

Because as much as you wanted to dismiss Remy’s words, as much as you wanted to pretend that nothing had changed, you couldn’t. Not anymore. Not after he’d so easily slipped past the walls you’d built around your heart.

And that scared you more than anything else.

The next few days were a blur of awkward encounters and tense silences. You avoided Remy as much as possible, but it seemed like the universe had other plans. No matter where you went, he was there—at breakfast, during training, in the hallways. And every time you saw him, you felt that same confusing mix of anger and something else, something that made your heart race and your palms sweat.

It was driving you insane.

Finally, after a particularly grueling Danger Room session, you couldn’t take it anymore. You stormed into the rec room, where Remy was lounging on the couch, casually shuffling a deck of cards. He looked up as you entered, his expression immediately shifting to one of concern.

“Y’ look like y’ got somethin’ on your mind, chérie,” he said, setting the cards aside.

“You think?” you snapped, pacing back and forth in front of him. “You’ve been driving me crazy, Remy!”

He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“How so?” you repeated incredulously, stopping to glare at him. “You’re always there, always saying these things, always... just always around! It’s like I can’t get away from you!”

Remy’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Maybe that’s ‘cause I don’t want y’ t’ get away from me.”

You froze, his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “What?”

“Y’ heard me,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m tired o’ playin’ games. Tired o’ pretendin’ like there ain’t somethin’ real between us.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Remy, this is... I don’t even know what this is. We fight all the time. How could that be anything real?”

“’Cause fightin’ is better than nothin’,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’d rather argue with y’ every day than not have y’ in my life at all.”

The sincerity in his voice took your breath away. You’d always thought the arguments were just part of who you and Remy were, but now you were seeing them in a new light. Maybe the fighting wasn’t about hating each other. Maybe it was about caring too much.

But that realization only made things more complicated.

“Remy, I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can just... turn off the way I’ve always felt about you.”

“I ain’t askin’ y’ t’ turn anythin’ off,” he said gently. “Just askin’ y’ t’ let yourself feel whatever it is y’ been fightin’.” You shook your head, not daring to look away from him as he stepped closer to you, a small smirk crossing his face, “I don’t know how to,” You said simply. A laugh escaped his lips. “Yeah y’ do. Y’ know damn well how t’.” His eyes flickered to your lips, a silent ask of permission, and for a moment, the world narrowed down to just the two of you, standing on the edge of something neither of you fully understood. His presence was electric, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him as he closed the distance between you. The tension in the air was thick, almost tangible, and you found yourself caught between the urge to push him away and the undeniable pull that drew you closer.

There was a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, a crack in the confident facade he usually wore so well. It was as if he was laying himself bare, offering you a glimpse into the parts of him that he kept hidden from everyone else. For once, there was no playful banter, no flirtatious remarks—just the raw, unfiltered truth of what he felt.

“Y’ don’ have t’ figure it all out right now,” Remy continued, his voice low and soothing. “We can take it slow, see where this goes. But I don’ wanna pretend like there’s nothin’ here when I know damn well there is. And I think y’ know it too.” You wanted to look away, to turn and run from the intensity of his gaze, but something kept you rooted in place. The way he was looking at you made it hard to breathe, like he could see right through the walls you’d spent so long building. It wasn’t just the fights or the tension between you; it was the fear of what lay beyond them—the fear of letting yourself feel too much, too deeply. Remy was chaos and comfort all wrapped into one, and admitting what he meant to you felt like stepping off the edge of a cliff.

You clenched your fists at your sides, the familiar rush of panic creeping in. “Remy, I don’t think you get it,” you said, your voice breaking. “If I admit it—if I admit what I feel—it means I’m giving up control. It means letting go of this idea that I can keep everything in a neat little box and pretend like it’s all fine.”

Your heart pounded as you continued, each word feeling like a risk. “And I’m not used to that. I’m not used to letting someone in, not like this. I’m scared that if I do, it’ll all go wrong. That one day you’ll just—”

“Walk away?” Remy finished softly, his eyes still locked on yours. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, chérie. I ain’t askin’ y’ t’ give up control. I’m just askin’ y’ t’ be honest with me. Honest with yourself.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost too much to bear. Every instinct told you to protect yourself, to guard your heart like you always had. But the way he was looking at you, the way his touch lingered on your skin—it made you want to believe that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to do this alone.

“I’ve spent so long convincing myself that caring was a weakness,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “That showing you how much I care would give you power over me. And I can’t help but think... if I let myself feel this, it’s just going to hurt.”

Remy’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, closing the gap between you. “I ain’t here t’ hurt y’,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “I’m here ‘cause I care about y’, and I want y’ t’ see that. I want y’ t’ know that all those arguments, all that pushin’ and pullin’—it ain’t ‘cause we hate each other.”

You searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was unwavering determination. He believed in this—in whatever this was between you—and for the first time, you allowed yourself to consider that maybe, just maybe, it could be real.

Swallowing hard, you finally let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Okay,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “Okay.”

The uncertainty still lingered, but as you stood there, holding onto him, you felt the first stirrings of hope. Maybe fighting wasn’t the opposite of love—maybe it was just another way of holding on when you didn’t know how to let go. And as Remy’s lips finally met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, you realized that some battles were worth fighting after all. As Remy’s lips brushed against yours, it was gentle at first, almost tentative, like he was giving you one last chance to pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and let yourself sink into the kiss, something inside you snapped. All the tension, all the arguments, all the things you’d kept bottled up came rushing to the surface, and before you knew it, you were kissing him back with a desperation that surprised you both.

Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, as if you were afraid he might vanish if you let go. Remy responded in kind, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you against him with an intensity that made your heart race. The kiss deepened, growing more urgent, and you could feel the heat between you building with every passing second. His tongue teased against yours, and you let out a small, involuntary moan that made him grip you even tighter.

“Chérie,” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged with need. “Y’ sure about this?”

You nodded, barely able to find the words. “I need this. I need you.”

His eyes darkened, and he kissed you again, harder this time, like he was trying to pour everything he felt into that one moment. You let yourself be swept away, losing yourself in the feel of him—his hands on your hips, his mouth trailing heated kisses down your neck, the way he whispered your name like it was the only thing that mattered.

Without breaking the kiss, Remy guided you backward, his hands never leaving your body. You stumbled slightly, your back hitting the wall with a soft thud, and Remy followed, pressing against you with a possessiveness that made your head spin. His mouth moved lower, grazing the sensitive skin of your throat, and you tilted your head back, giving him more access as your breathing became more erratic.

He slid one leg between yours, pressing against you in a way that sent a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. You arched into him, your hands roaming his back, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. It wasn’t enough—you needed more, needed to feel his skin against yours, and your fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion.

Remy’s lips quirked into a brief, mischievous smile before he did the same for you, tugging your shirt up and over, his eyes darkening as they took in the sight of you. He paused, just for a second, his gaze meeting yours in a silent question, and when you nodded, he wasted no time. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve, every line, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you beneath his fingertips.

You shivered under his touch, your own hands exploring the expanse of his chest, the hard planes of his stomach, and the feel of his skin against yours sent a thrill through you that was impossible to ignore. You tugged him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him, and he obliged, pressing against you so that there was no space left between your bodies.

Remy’s mouth found yours again, the kiss hungrier now, and he shifted his hips, grinding against you in a way that made you gasp. He swallowed the sound, his tongue delving deeper as his hands slid down to your hips, lifting you slightly so that your legs wrapped around his waist. The movement was smooth, almost effortless, and he held you there, pinned against the wall, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

“Tell me what y’ want,” he breathed, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip, your fingers threading through his hair as you tried to catch your breath. “I want you,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “All of you.”

He grinned, a devilish glint in his eyes, and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone, making you tremble. “Then y’ got me, chérie,” he said, his voice a husky promise against your skin. “Every last bit.”

“Been wantin’ this for a long time,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you reached up, brushing a hand along his jaw. “Me too,” you admitted, the weight of the confession hanging between you. “More than you know.”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile before he kissed you again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. The rest of the world faded away as you lost yourself in him, in the heat and the urgency and the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered. Remy’s gaze was heavy, full of promises and unspoken desires as he moved away slightly, his breath warm against your skin. The air between you crackled with anticipation, each second stretching out like an eternity. His fingers traced a line along your side, his touch featherlight, sending a shiver of anticipation racing down your spine. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension building as he let his hand drift lower, skimming over the curve of your waist and dipping just beneath the waistband of your pants.

Every touch felt like a question, a silent plea for permission, and you answered by arching into him, your hands roaming over his shoulders and down the length of his back, feeling the play of muscle beneath his skin. He dipped his head, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss that left you breathless, and you lost yourself in the taste of him, the way his tongue tangled with yours in a rhythm that felt both familiar and new.

You let your fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble under your fingertips as you tugged him closer. He responded with a low growl, a sound that sent a rush of heat straight to your core, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp as his mouth moved to your neck, nipping and kissing along the sensitive skin. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding under your clothes and pushing them aside as if they were nothing more than an obstacle keeping him from you.

“Y’ such a good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with a mix of lust and something deeper that made your heart race. His hands were everywhere, exploring, mapping every inch of you like he was committing you to memory, and you reveled in the way his touch set your skin on fire.

You arched beneath him, a moan escaping your lips as he found a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear. He smiled against your skin, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you, and you couldn’t help but smile back, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the press of his body against yours, the way he made you feel like you were the only two people in existence.

His hands moved lower, deftly unfastening your jeans and sliding them down your legs with a practiced ease that made your breath hitch. You helped him, kicking them off as he watched, his gaze hungry and appreciative. He made quick work of his own clothes, his movements hurried but careful, as if he couldn’t wait another second to have you but still wanted to savor every moment.

When he finally settled between your thighs, the feel of him grounding you, you let out a shaky breath. Remy paused, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that took you by surprise. “We don’t have to rush, y’know,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “We got all night.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. “I know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing heart. “But I want to. I want you.”

The words seemed to light something inside him, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all heat and need. Remy pressed closer, his body aligned with yours as he deepened the kiss. The world around you faded into the background as the heat between you intensified. His hand trailed up your thigh, fingers dancing along your skin, and a shiver of anticipation coursed through you. Remy’s low groan resonated between you, a sound that sent a rush of heat through your veins, pooling low in your belly. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and smoldering, the flicker of desire mixed with that familiar, playful mischief that always kept you on your toes. It was a look that promised so much more than words ever could, and your heart raced at the thought of what was to come.

“Someone’s eager,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, dripping with that smooth Cajun drawl that always made your knees weak. There was a teasing edge to his tone, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he watched your reaction.

You couldn’t help but smirk back, feeling bold under his intense gaze. “I guess I can’t resist that Cajun charm after all,” you quipped, your breath hitching as his hand continued its slow, deliberate journey up your thigh, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

His chuckle was deep, resonating from his chest in a way that made your pulse quicken. The sound was warm and intimate, like he was letting you in on a secret only the two of you shared. “Good thing I’ve got plenty to spare,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver straight to your core.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, claiming you in a kiss that was hungrier, more insistent. It was as if he couldn’t get enough, the taste of you driving him wild as his hand slid higher, exploring with a mix of confidence and reverence that made your body arch toward him. He pulled you closer, his tongue sweeping against yours, and you let out a soft whimper that only seemed to spur him on.

His touch was electric, a perfect mix of rough and gentle that had you gasping against his mouth. When his hand finally reached its destination, you could feel the heat of his palm pressing against your most sensitive spot, and you shuddered at the contact, a breathy curse escaping his lips against your mouth. The sound of it—the raw need in his voice—sent a thrill through you, and you knew just how much he wanted you, how close he was to losing control.

“Mon dieu,” Remy breathed, his accent thickening as his fingers traced delicate patterns, teasing and testing your resolve. His forehead rested against yours, his breath hot and uneven as he watched your expression shift with each calculated touch. “Y’ feel so good, chérie. Been dreamin’ ‘bout this.”

You bit your lip, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself against the wave of sensation crashing over you. “Keep talking like that,” you managed, your voice trembling with barely restrained desire, “and I might just lose my mind.”

Remy grinned, his thumb circling with maddening precision, coaxing a low moan from your throat. “Well, ain’t that the point?” he said, his breath ghosting over your lips as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His hand worked skillfully, each movement deliberate, like he was savoring the way your body responded to him. The tension built steadily, your breaths mingling as you both lost yourselves in the rhythm, the dance of push and pull that you’d been perfecting for what felt like forever.

The anticipation was maddening, the way he hovered on the edge, drawing out every little gasp and shiver, every whispered plea that slipped past your lips. He was relentless, his touch both gentle and commanding, as if he knew exactly how to unravel you piece by piece. And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, that the tension might break you, Remy leaned in, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.

“Tell me what y’ want, chérie,” he murmured, his tone dripping with desire and a hint of challenge. His thumb pressed down just a little harder, and you felt the world tilt, your breath catching in your throat. “I wanna hear y’ say it.”

You met his gaze, your own eyes blazing with want as you finally gave in, letting the last of your restraint slip away. “I want you, Remy,” you confessed, your voice raw and unguarded. “I want everything.”

His response was immediate, a soft groan escaping him as he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, the full weight of his need crashing into you like a tidal wave. And in that moment, with his hands and mouth working in perfect harmony, you knew you were lost to him, lost to the undeniable pull that had drawn you together time and time again. You weren’t fighting anymore; you were falling—fast and hard—and this time, you didn’t want to stop.

With a surge of boldness, you let one hand drift down his chest, tracing the lines of his toned abdomen before reaching lower. You felt him tense at your touch, and he broke the kiss with a moan.

You melted into his touch as his fingers explored every inch of your heat, teasing and tantalizing until you were dripping with need. The world around you ceased to exist as pleasure consumed your senses.

Needing more than just his touch on the outside of your panties separating him from where he longed to be; Remy’s fingers slipped past the fabric effortlessly; sending shivers coursing through your body. He growled at the feel of how wet and ready you were for him. His thumb found its way to your clit circling it slowly driving waves after waves of ecstasy. In between moans, you managed to slide down Remy’s briefs freeing an erection throbbing so hard it wanted nothing more than bury itself within your warmth without any other obstacles.

His fingers kept their steady rhythm inside of you bringing you closer to the edge with every passing second, each deliberate thrust like a promise of what was yet to come.

With a gasp that turned into a low moan, you tightened around his fingers as your orgasm crashed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. He watched every blissful moment, his eyes full of admiration and lust; before he withdrew his hand and placed it behind one of your thighs lifting it slightly in a silent request, “Good girl,” He whispered, his forehead resting on your own. You gladly obliged, wrapping your leg around his waist and pulling him impossibly closer.

Remy positioned himself at your entrance, his tip teasingly grazing your folds. He locked eyes with you, seeking permission, and you nodded, desperate for him to fill the ache inside of you. With agonizing slowness, he pushed forward, inch by glorious inch, until he was buried deep within your heat. A symphony of sighs and groans spilled from both of your lips as he stretched you deliciously.

“Fuck,” Remy muttered through gritted teeth. “Y’ feel s’ good.”

You echoed his sentiment with a breathy moan as he began to move. Each thrust was a perfect blend of passion and restraint, hitting all the right spots and driving you higher with every stroke. The world around you faded away until it was just the two of you, lost in the rhythm of each other’s bodies.

His hips rocked against yours in a deliciously torturous tempo that had your head spinning. He held onto your hip tightly guiding himself deeper. Without warning, you moved one of your hands, moving its way up and down his chest until it reached its final goal. Softly grasping one nipple between thumb and index finger before applying more pressure, tugging it as you felt another low growl rumble through his chest.

“Merde,” he hissed, a mix of pleasure and frustration lacing his voice.

Feeling the effect you had on him only spurred you on, and your hand trailed lower, gripping his ass tightly and pulling him impossibly closer. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the air along with your combined moans, driving the passion between you to new heights.

Beads of sweat rolled down your bodies as the temperature rose with every stroke. Your senses were overwhelmed by the feel of him inside you, the sound of your mingled breaths, and the delicious friction that threatened to send you both hurtling over the edge.

Then, with a primal groan that could have set fire to a room, Remy came undone; his whole body trembling as he spilled himself inside of you. His grip on you tightened almost painfully as he rode out his release; whispering incoherent words in French that made heat pool between your thighs. His orgasm triggered yours too, waves after waves crashing through your body leaving in their wake nothing but pure bliss.

You clung to each other as reality slowly seeped back in, your breaths ragged and hearts pounding. Remy pressed soft kisses along your shoulder, struggling slightly to maintain balance but never separating from within. He eventually pulled out, cupping your face gently and capturing your lips in a tender kiss full of unspoken promises.

Remy gently placed you down, a soft exhale escaping your lips. Your body still hummed with the aftershocks of what had just transpired, a mix of lingering heat and a deep, unexpected tenderness that left you feeling both exhilarated and vulnerable. You watched as Remy reached for the clothes you passed to him, a simple gesture that felt strangely intimate—more so than anything else that had just happened between you.

There was a flutter in your chest, a complicated tangle of emotions that you couldn't quite sort through: the satisfaction of closeness, the warmth of his touch, but also the creeping uncertainty that always seemed to follow moments like this. You wanted to savor the way his fingers brushed against yours when he took the clothes, the unspoken connection that made your pulse quicken despite the calming aftermath. But beneath that was the faint whisper of doubt, the question of what this all meant, and where it would leave the both of you when the morning came.

You studied Remy as he pulled on his shirt, his movements unhurried and almost thoughtful, as if he was taking his time not just with the task but with the moment itself. He glanced up at you, catching your eye with that familiar, roguish smile that always seemed to know more than it let on. It was a smile that made your heart skip a beat, because it was impossible not to be drawn in by it—by him. You couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way, if his mind was as clouded with thoughts of 'what ifs' and 'where do we go from heres.'

The air between you was charged with unspoken words, the room thick with the weight of shared breaths and the faint scent of him lingering on your skin. There was a comfort in it, an aching sweetness in the quiet that stretched between you, but also a nagging fear of missteps and misunderstandings that seemed to lurk just outside the glow of the moment. You found yourself caught in the delicate balance between wanting to keep things light, easy, as they'd always been, and the sudden, overwhelming urge to reach out and make this real, to solidify the intangible connection that pulsed between you.

As Remy pulled on his pants, you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze softened when it landed on you, a subtle shift that made your breath hitch. It was as if he could see straight through the walls you’d built, right into the heart of your hesitation and hope. It unnerved you how easily he seemed to read you, how effortlessly he could make you feel seen without even trying. And maybe that was the scariest part of all—how much you wanted to be seen, to be known, even when it felt risky, even when it meant opening up to the possibility of more.

You pulled your own clothes closer, the fabric cool against your still-warm skin, and took a moment to steady your breathing. The urge to say something—anything—bubbled up inside you, but the words seemed to tangle on your tongue. What do you say when everything feels like it's teetering on the edge of changing forever? When you're caught between the safety of what you know and the terrifying promise of what could be?

Remy caught the hesitation in your eyes and paused, his expression softening as he leaned closer, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Y’ good, chérie?" he asked quietly, his voice laced with a gentleness that made your chest tighten. It wasn’t the playful banter you were used to; it was sincere, almost vulnerable, like he was reaching out to you in a way that went beyond words.

You nodded, but the truth was, you weren’t sure. Your feelings for him were a messy, beautiful tangle of affection and desire, friendship and something more profound that you were still too scared to name. It was overwhelming, this rush of emotions that left you feeling like you were standing on the edge of something vast and unknown. But as you looked into Remy’s eyes, that familiar spark of mischief mixed with something deeper, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you were ready to take the leap.

"Well, someone looks pretty pleased with himself," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

Remy chuckled, turning to face you with that infuriatingly charming smile. "Can’t help it, chérie. I aim t' please, and from th’ look on y’ face, I’d say I hit th’ mark."

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a grin. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head, Lebeau."

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Who, me? Naw, chérie, m’ ego’s jus’ fine right where it is." His hand drifted lazily to trace patterns on your arm, his touch light and absent-minded. "’Sides, y’ didn’t seem t’ mind a bit of that charm earlier."

“Don’t push it,” you warned playfully, though the smile on your face betrayed you.

“Too late,” he quipped, his grin widening. “Y’ already all tangled up in it.”

You shook your head, laughter bubbling up as you pulled your jumper on, "I can’t believe I put up with you," you sighed dramatically.

Remy’s laughter rumbled through him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “’Cause y’ love m’ charm, chérie. An’ y’ love me, too, even when y’ won’t admit it.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, trying to keep your tone light despite the flutter in your chest. "You know, you’re lucky you’re good at this, otherwise you’d be out of here so fast."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Lucky f’ both of us, then."

You swatted at him, but your laughter spilled over, mingling with his. It was moments like these—caught between playfulness and something deeper—that made everything else feel worth it.

[k-hotchoisan]

toothbrush (Seonghwa x fem!reader)

Baby, you don’t have to rush, you can leave your toothbrush at my place.

We don’t have to keep it hush, you can leave your toothbrush at my place.

He’s in love with you, but he doesn’t know how to tell you, so he asks you to leave your toothbrush at his place.

Genre/Warnings: friends to lovers, confessions, fluff, unprotected sex, night before sex, morning sex, cream pies

Word count: 5.5k

A/n: this mf song has been stuck in my head so I gotta write this to get it out of my system.

A little something for ✨ 200 followers ✨

2 SEX SCENES IN 1??? YALL EATING SO GOOD OK 🌶️💯🥵🔥

thank you for the support 🩷 words cannot express how grateful I am for every like, reblog and reply!

You didn’t mean to but there you were again, being irritated and crying from another heartbreak from a relationship that wasn’t even a relationship. It sucked because he seemed like a really nice guy, good even, well, if you squinted hard enough I guess. But still, it didn’t change the fact that it gutted you.

You lie on your friend’s lap, wiping your wet eyes while she snatches your phone to block that scum’s contact number.

“You need to stop doing this to yourself”, she scolds, and you’ve heard it many times from her but love makes you an absolute dumbass.

Seonghwa walks over, his arms folded, evident he heard your sniffling from across the room. You glance at him, tears still watering your eyes because you know he’s about to give you another earful. But the moment he sees you vulnerable like that, he can’t bring himself to do it, and he’s sure you’ve heard a million times, especially from him. He simply sighs and puts an outstretched arm to get you to sit up.

You remain silent as you take his hand gingerly and he pulls you up. He kneels down to your eye level. “I’ll bring you to supper okay? Forget about that son of a bitch.”

You still wear a pout on your face as you sigh and lean forward a little. For a spilt second, Seonghwa is taken aback and pulls back immediately, thinking you were about to kiss him, and his ears grow red very quickly, unnoticed by you, but definitely caught by your friend, who turns away and snickers at the ridiculousness of it all.

Seonghwa immediately stands up and looks away, walking back to whatever he was doing. You slap your cheeks gently before leaving to wash your face in Seonghwa’s bathroom.

The three of you spend the evening playing horrible matches of Super Smash Bros, before your friend decides to leave early, only leaving you and Seonghwa with each other. You excuse yourself to the washroom to freshen up before your supper appointment with Seonghwa and he nods as he attempts to switch off the console.

Just then, your phone lights up and that catches Seonghwa’s attention. He at first decides to merely glance over to check if it was your friend who messaged you, but irritation and annoyance bleeds into his system the moment he sees the Instagram direct message notification, from that exact guy who ghosted you, asking you if you had him blocked on the app the both of you were messaging on.

The fucking audacity of him. Seonghwa could only furrow his eyebrows in complete frustration as he doesn’t want to invade your privacy, even though you gave him your password in case of drinking emergencies. Instead, he simply opts to swipe the notification away, as if it never existed. That barely keeps him satisfied, because he wishes he could just send a “go fuck yourself” to him before blocking him on Instagram as well.

You come back and Seonghwa is standing up, taking his essentials in his pretty hands as he hands you your phone.

You thank him as you receive your phone from him. “Remember to block him”, Seonghwa reminds you out of the blue, only leaving you confused since you did block him already. You don’t question it nonetheless, and go to grab your wallet from your bag.

By then it was almost 11pm, and the both of you settle on a local Vietnamese restaurant for some nice Pho. Seonghwa helps you order the food before you could even iterate yours. You scrunch your eyebrows in curiosity at him.

“Didn’t know you were so nice,” you tease as you receive the utensils from him on instinct. He rolls his eyes. “I’m always nice. You’ve just been accustomed to it.”

“Of course you are. My Park Seonghwa is always the nicest”, you hum, and Seonghwa freezes in his place, his noodles in midair, hanging by the chopsticks he’s suddenly grasping so hard. There it is again, the slow tinting of his ears, that you thought you missed for a spilt second.

Seonghwa obviously opts not to say anything back, letting the words sink as he slurps the noodles. He notices your mood had significantly lightened up the moment you indulged yourself in the meal, and he internally sighs in relief. He lets you run your mouth as he listens intently, just wanting to hear your voice and opinions, at the same getting lost in the gaze of your twinkling eyes. He loved that part of you so much for some reason. It was so addictive to indulge in, and Seonghwa knows, it’s never gonna be enough for him. He hasn’t gotten to a certain point yet, and he’s sort of afraid to because;

One, he doesn’t want to get caught;

Two, he knows if he starts, he’s never going back. A fucking rabbit hole that constantly coos him to step into.

“No dates recently? You ask, as you munch on the meat.”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “Not interested.”

You pull your lips thin, offhandedly thinking his standards must be high.

“Oh right. I need to head to the convenience store to grab some stuff”, you say, reminding yourself aloud. “Shall we?”

Seonghwa nods as you stand up quickly, shocking Seonghwa as you block him from leaving first, as you tunnel to the cashier to pay for the meal. He barely registers what’s going on and the second he does, it’s already too late and he rushes over to you, frustrated that you paid the bill when it was him who suggested the meal.

You roll your eyes playfully at him. “It’s fine Seonghwa. Take it as thanks for making me feel better”, you say patting his cheeks lightly before sliding your card back into your wallet. You and Seonghwa thank the staff before heading to your next destination.

The door rings as he pushes the door open for you and lets you go in first. You immediately head for the toiletries section and Seonghwa spilts to the snacks section.

He’s done picking out his snacks, arms full of chips and cup ramen, as he dumps the small load into the basket. He picks it up and decides to look for you.

And you were there, at the same section. Seonghwa’s curious at what you’re so intently looking at and why you were at the toiletries section to begin with. He assumes at first that you needed sanitary items but as he nears you, he sees that you’re looking at—

“Toothbrushes?” He asks as he leans in closer to take a look.

You nod. “Yeah. About time I get a new one.”

“Get the pair one.” Seonghwa suggests, his hands overlapping and covering yours as he reaches out for the twin pair beside the one you were looking at.

“For what? You need one too?” You ask, turning to face him.

“No”, was all he replies. You raise an eyebrow in confusion, waiting for him to continue.

“Soooo, why should I get the twin pack?” You ask again, tilting your head at him. Seonghwa can’t seem to meet your gaze.

And you realise, once again, his ears are slowly turning into a pretty shade of red. But it still doesn’t make sense. The blush creeps to his cheeks slightly, barely noticeable if it wasn’t for the fluorescent lights beating down on the both of you, and the silence only grows more heavier. You hear a small inhales taken by Seonghwa.

“So you can leave one at my place”, he finally responds, his eyes darting from the toothbrushes to your eyes.

Your words are stuck in your throat, completely taken aback. You blink at him.

“Your place?” You reiterate, already slowly tugging the pack.

Seonghwa cuts the eye contact, and he hastily pulls the pack from under your hands and dumps it into the basket. It’s fucking evident—he’s fucking blushing even though he’s keeping a straight face. Nothing is still adding up in your head—like where that even came from, what that even meant.

“Hwa”, you sounded, your hands curling around his arm to get his attention. He flinches slightly at your contact. “What do you mean by that? I don’t stay over-“

“You should stay over tonight since you don’t have anything on tomorrow. It’s late”, he cuts. He’s barely calm as his back is facing you, and he feels himself shaking from the ballsy words that left his mouth. He was so fucking relieved that the only people in store was the both of you. But what made him vocalise those thoughts? He doesn’t know as well. But since he already pushed the suggestion to even leave a fucking toothbrush at his place, he may as well go all out.

A hell lot of thoughts were running through your mind. The reason of asking you to stay over solely because “it’s late”, you both knew it was a fucking lie. But the question still stands—since when?

Then he suddenly backtracks. “I can sleep on the couch. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” That only strengthens your resolve for some reason, only wondering how this impromptu conversation will evolve from here.

“Sure, I’ll crash at your place.”

And Seonghwa doesn’t reply, because he’s struggling to cover his red ass face as he quickens his pace to the cashier, leaving you still stumped behind him. But being the guy Park Seonghwa is, he turns behind and ushers you to follow him, causing a small smile to dance on your lips as you almost skip to his side.

Thank fuck the route back was like a five minutes walk because the both of you don’t say a word—just Seonghwa holding the plastic bag as you tail him, sneaking glances at him as he covers his lips with the back of his palm.

“You’re blushing a hell lot, Park Seonghwa”, you point out, intentionally nearing his face. His palm flattens on his cheek, and then lowers to his neck and he sighs. “I know”, he replies, finally able to crack a small smile the moment his eyes meet yours. He can’t help it. Deep inside, he’s still bewildered that you agreed to stay over.

Seonghwa dumps his stuff on the dining table and starts digging for your toothbrush, knowing you are gonna ask for it the moment you remove your shoes. Before you could even ask, he whips the toiletry out right into your hands.

“Thanks bro”, you say, taking the item from him. And from the corner of your eye, you see a pout form on his face, and that only elicits a small chuckle from you as you tear open the packaging to take one out.

“Do you have spare towels?” You ask.

“I’ll grab some for you, and a shirt too”, Seonghwa replies as he leaves the vicinity, a little too quickly, as he snatches one of the toothbrushes already in your hand.

A few minutes pass and Seonghwa emerges from the bathroom and gestures for you to go in when you’re ready. “It’s on the sink. Be careful okay? Call out my name if you need anything.”

You nod as you disappear into the bathroom.

And then Seonghwa’s composure completely dissipates the moment you close the door. Red flushes his neck and ears again as he sits on the couch, covering his face with both palms. Fuck, he can’t believe this is happening. He’s not expecting anything obviously because he doesn’t know how you feel about him, and he doesn’t want to push it. But undoubtedly, the thought of you being in the same vicinity as him, is sending him into a spiral.

“Fuck me”, he sighs, leaning back into the couch, his face under his arm, feeling his blush not going away.

You leave the bathroom after fifteen, agonising minutes, and Seonghwa is relieved he lent you his boxers because he wouldn’t know what he would have done if you came out just in his shirt and your underwear.

“I’m done. I’m going into the room first. You don’t have to sleep on the couch. I’m fine with sharing a bed with you”, you tell him before disappearing with your phone. Seonghwa’s thoughts grow hazy because the situation is just escalating and his mind is slowly creeping into areas where he had promised not to seep into. Maybe it was the comfort he gave you because he always looked out for you ever since the both of you grew close and that you knew he would never hurt you, but it’s reaching a fever pitch at this point and he doesn’t know how much more he can take because his crush on you is that fucking bad.

He emerges from the bathroom, his hair wet and dripping, in the cutest matching silk grey pyjamas you finally see him wear in real life since you’ve only seen once through discord. Fuck he’s so adorable, like he’s totally prepared for bed already. He climbs into bed, his gaze never leaving yours as he drinks the look of you in his clothes. It was almost dream-like in his eyes.

“I finally get to see you in those cute pjs”, you tease. “Maybe I should get a set too.”

Seonghwa snuggles to a comfortable position, since the bed isn’t too big, and you feel his knee bump onto yours. You turn to face him, and he feels himself melt under your gaze.

“Park Seonghwa,” you call out, snapping him out of his little day dream, and he straightens his back in attention. “What’s up with you?”

Seonghwa doesn’t answer, and it’s evident he’s getting nervous. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek and you shut your eyes as you feel the tips of his fingers brush against your skin.

“It’s you. It’s always been you”, Seonghwa suddenly confesses, removing his hands from your face.

Your heart bursts into thousands of butterflies at his response. You don’t know how you never noticed it, but now that he’s mentioned it, you realise the soft spots he seemed to have for you, which you brushed off his actions as how he’s always been with other people, now more evident as it floats to the surface.

For a moment, you don’t know how to feel because it was all so sudden. But the more Seonghwa’s sinks into your brain, the more you feel yourself falling—fast. And now the both of you are staring at each other in the dark, on the same bed, sharing the silence between the both of you.

“I think it would devastate me if you didn’t like me back”, Seonghwa breaks the silence, as a small laugh escapes his lips. “But it’s fine. I don’t-“

Your hands cup the male’s lips, and his eyes widen in surprise, wondering if he said anything wrong.

“Seonghwa. Stop talking.”

His heart races, bracing for a rejection, only to feel a pair of hands cup his cheek as you lean in and press your lips against his.

Seonghwa feels himself falling apart as his hands snake to the side of your head, his lips parting, desperate to taste all of you as he closes the distance between the both of you. He becomes more aggressive as every second passed, craving for every part of you. The smell of his body soap on you engulfs him entirely and can’t help but turn into mush against your lips.

As he pulls back and drinks the sight of you heaving softly and eyes hooded, he moves above you, his hands trailing up and down your body as he dives in for another hungry kiss. He’s still not processing it—the fact that he confessed to you at the heat of the moment, the fact that you kissed him and the fact that he’s above you right now.

His thumb brushes against the corner of your lips and you part your lips—something he doesn’t expect—as his thumb slides down past your lips as you stick your tongue out shyly and he’s aroused by the whole scene.

“Could I-?” He asks, trying to keep his cool. You take his hand and lick his thumb, sending electricity right to Seonghwa’s dick, which is hardening very quickly above you.

“Please do. Anything, if it’s with you”, you sigh, your arousal burning you up. Seonghwa’s heart skips a beat as he pulls his shirt off and your breathe quickens at how scrumptious his body looks. Fuck, his tits look amazing. You absentmindedly reach out to feel them and boy, did they feel so good. Seonghwa’s face contorts into one of pleasure as a whimper escapes his lips. Your eyes flicker to meet his and a small smile appears on your lips. You don’t realise what he’s doing until his hands snake under your oversized tee and he cups your tits in return, causing you to squeal in pleasure as he pinches your nipples tenderly. “That feels good, Hwa”, you whimper, trying to hide your shyness. He takes it as a signal to lift the shirt up and over your head, your bare chest fully exposed to him now. His breath hitches because never in a million years would he have thought it would be right before him like that. He still cannot fathom it.

He cups your tits as he goes down and sucks on your nipple, causing you to arch your back in reaction as a cry leaves your body. Your fingers tug on his hair gently and this time, he whimpers. His eyes slowly open as he soaks in the view of you, face contorted with pleasure as he sucks and kisses your tits. He can’t get enough.

His hands soon leave your chest, giving you a moment to catch your breath, but you realise it’s because he’s palming his crotch—his dick just erected and pushing against his silk pants, which were starting to get stained from his precum.

“Come here”, you gesture, and he moves in closer, his gaze never leaving yours, wanting to immerse himself with you. You have him leaning against the pillows that were propped up, and you move in for another gentle, open mouthed kiss. He immediately reciprocates, sighing into your mouth lovingly as he cups your cheek while he palms his clothed erection.

You straddle him, and your pussy is just above his erection. A little bit of teasing wouldn’t hurt, you think as you grind up his clothed dick. Seonghwa stares down at your pussy as the wetness continues to pool and leak through your clothes with heavy breaths. The friction from the layers is making him whine. It’s not enough. Seonghwa wants more. But oh gods, did it feel so good. He stops you when he can’t take it anymore.

“Please, y/n. Need to be in you”, he begs, squeezing your thighs. “It’s not enough.”

You pull back and tug on his waistbands, pulling off both his pants and his boxers, staring at the string of wetness between his cockhead and his undergarment. His cock twitches at the contact and more precum oozes from his tip.

Seonghwa is definitely feeling shy but the horniness is just overpowering him at this point.

And you were not gonna let it go just yet.

You give him small strokes and he fucks into your hand, and whines. You never knew Seonghwa to be the greedy type but from the way he’s begging—twitching and whining to be fucked—it definitely gave you a new perspective.

“Are you ready?” You ask, stroking his jaw.

He nods a little too quickly, his gaze locking onto yours as you position his cockhead to your entrance and sink down.

It was a fucking treat—watching Seonghwa’s face contort into absolute euphoria, eyebrows scrunching together, more whimpers and whines escaping his lips alongside your name.

Your cunt finally swallows his cock whole and Seonghwa’s hand trembles slightly as he lets himself soak in the warmth of your pussy.

Your fingers go around his jaw as you lift his chin up to face you.

“You’re not gonna cum yet right?”

His eyes look so glazed as he shakes his head frantically. You lean in and kiss his jaw. “I’m gonna start moving”, you mutter, loud enough so that he could hear, and he nods.

You lift your hips off and slam down, the pleasure buzzing through the both of you as you begin bouncing on his cock. Seonghwa fights the urge to shut his eyes as his fingers grip your thighs.

“Mm, so good. So fucking good, y/n. Fuck. More, please.” He begs. “You feel so fucking amazing.”

On the other hand, you felt as euphoric as well, his cock hitting you in all right places. You lean in to rest your head on Seonghwa’s shoulders as you do your best to fuck into Seonghwa’s cock. The sounds were so pornographic—squelching and wet skin slapping non stop—only keeping the momentum going.

You were starting to lose grip on reality as well, the only thing that settled in your mind was the feeling of Seonghwa’s cock just being shoved deep in you. Soon enough, his hands move to your ass, lifting it before pushing it down, loving how your cunt just devours his cock whole like that. He doesn’t forget to pull you in and stick soft kisses against your neck and temples every time you lower yourself on his dick, exacerbating the tickling that flushed in your cunt. Your mind slowly melts into mush every time Seonghwa’s melodic moans burn straight into your ear.

Your hands cup both sides of his face as you tilt his head to face you. His eyes were half-lidded, and his lips parted, and he’s trying to regulate his breathing as his eyes focus on yours. You hear your heart hammer in your ears. You never realised how fucking gorgeous he actually looks.

“You put Aphrodite to shame, you know?” You suddenly break the silence. Seonghwa grows red again. He attempts to look away but your hands aren’t letting him. “You’re so fucking pretty.” And he hardens right beneath you, his neck fully flushing red now.

You turn to nip and kiss his neck this time, and his breath gets caught in his throat, now small sobs leaving him. The orgasmic feeling begins chasing you as you feel yourself squeeze around him, and undoubtedly, Seonghwa feels it too, judging by how erratically he’s rutting into you.

“Fuck, Hwa, I’m cumming”, you crack, as you sink so fucking deep into his cock, feeling his cockhead just dragging along your cunt, that his fingers are leaving light imprints on your thighs.

“So fucking deep-“ he pants, just before his face seeps into another realm of pleasure when your orgasm bursts in waves and you are clawing his arms, barely keeping it together as the pleasure washes over you. Your eyes are rolled back, eyebrows scrunched as only Seonghwa’s name leaves your lips over and over.

Seonghwa’s hands curl around your jaw as he brings your lips to his, kissing you hard through your orgasm, and your mouth hangs open, still fucked out from the pleasure. You’re pretty sure you creamed so much on his cock at this point, but you were too much in euphoria to care.

In between wet kisses, he winces, “I’m cumming too”. Without much of a warning, his cock twitches in you, and he shoots ropes of hot cum right into your hole as he groans into your neck, right at your fucking ear. His grip moves to your hair as he tugs gently as he empties himself in you.

As the high dies down, the only sounds in the room were you and Seonghwa’s pants. You were the first to break the tension with a soft laugh.

“Oh god Seonghwa, I think I’m in love with you.”

Seonghwa blinks, not expecting those words to leave your mouth. He wants to grab you and kiss you so hard till you fight for air but he holds back, kissing the shell of your ear before whispering, “you don’t know how long I’ve been in love with you.” You pull back, covering your ear, your turn to blush.

You lift yourself off him, feeling his cum leak out of you as you wince. Seonghwa is fighting every nerve in his body to look away but his gaze stays glued onto the way his cum oozes out of you, his heartbeat turning up a notch.

You head to the bathroom to clean up and so does Seonghwa. He washes his hands and combs through your hair with a hairbrush delicately, and you realise you’re falling way too fucking hard for him.

He takes your hand and leads you back to the bed, where he pulls the covers open for you to climb in as you snuggle into his warmth.

The warmth of the sun kisses against your skin as you stir awake. Seonghwa faces you, his hair tussled against the pillow and his lashes splay prettily on his face. You can’t help but stroke his face gently, smiling to yourself.

Seonghwa’s eyes flutter open and he soaks the figure of you looking at him fondly. He definitely blushes but you could tell he was more confident and it shows at the way he presses a soft kiss onto your palm.

“Morning, Angel”, he greets. Your heart flutters at the pet name.

“Good morning Hwa”, you reply, this time it was you feeling shy.

“So, have I upgraded from a “bro” already?”he asks, poking your cheek.

You roll your eyes, wondering how he even remembered that. “Yeah, yeah. I don’t think I could be with anyone else but you.”

Seonghwa’s grin spread wide as he covers his face with the covers. You separate yourself from him and he follows your movements as you leave the bed to wash up.

Seonghwa stares at you speechless as you pull your panties from your ass with your thumbs right in front of you as you leave for the bathroom, and his breath is knocked out of him when he remembers that that you left his boxers somewhere on the bed, and that you slept in with his shirt and your panties. He wets his lips as he decides to get out and follow you.

He enters the small bathroom and admires the way his shirt hangs off your shoulders and the way you’re just leaning into the mirror as you brush your teeth. He walks over and intentionally bumps into you playfully, and you frown at him, mouth still covered in foamed toothpaste. He takes his toothbrush from the holder, presses a small amount of toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

There was something strangely calming about just standing together, side by side, brushing teeth. The cute moment definitely did last, until Seonghwa’s gaze wanders down to your ass.

And suddenly his dick is hard against his pyjama pants, and you were too caught up on washing your face and checking the mirror to notice it.

Seonghwa continues to stare at you as you wash the toothbrush and fit it in the holder, and the thought of you and your toothbrush being a permanent part of his household, sent his brain into a frenzy. You were his, undoubtedly.

He finishes up his teeth brushing duties, letting his toothbrush sit opposite yours. You don’t realise he’s behind you until you a feel a pair of strong arms snake around your waist, causing you to squeal.

“Babe, what-“ and your question is cut short when begins pepper kisses on the nape of your neck, sending electricity down your spine as you shiver.

In between hungry kisses, his gaze pins you from the reflection in the mirror and you freeze. “I’m sorry Angel, but seeing you look that first thing in the morning… I can’t help myself.”

And you feel his erection just pressing between your legs. You turn your face to side, your lips pressed to his ear as you whisper softly, “then help yourself, Seonghwa.” It sends goosebumps down Seonghwa, and for a spilt second, his eyes look crazed at your invitation.

He doesn’t even bother to pull your panties off, he only pulls it to the side, and the cold air hits your exposed cunt as you wince. Seonghwa pushes his fingers past your lips and then plunges it into your heat as your grip on the sink tightens, feeling the pressure of his fingers digging into you so well.

Seonghwa doesn’t wait—he can’t wait. He fucking needs you, and he needs you now. He pulls quickly after determining that your pussy stretched enough (no thanks to yesterday’s session) he lets his pants and boxers drop to his ankles, exposing his thick and heated cock, which was sleeked with precum as he pumps himself.

Seonghwa then drags you slightly backwards and positions himself his cock dives into you, and your back arches as you gasp. Fuck, you don’t remember his cock was this thick even though the both of you just fucked the night before. You feel so fucking full just by Seonghwa’s dick pressing against every area of your nerves. He doesn’t give you any more time to adjust as he starts fucking you, making sure each slap against your cunt was heard loud and fucking clear within the constraints of the bathroom. Your moans are choked in your throat as Seonghwa’s hand pushes your chin up to look right at the mirror before the both of you. Your hair is a in mess from the bed hair, your lips coated in your spit from the arousal and your eyes are half-lidded from the endless amount of pleasure Seonghwa was fucking into you.

“Look at you, so fucked out, yet so beautiful. All mine. All fucking mine”, he hums into your ears and you can’t help but squeeze his cock in response to how he’s making you feel. You don’t know where the sudden possessiveness came from, but it’s not like you didn’t mind. You would submit yourself perfectly to him.

“So good, babe. Fuuuuck”, you draw out your moans. You don’t know how much longer you could hold yourself up when he’s fucking into you so hard like that. Every time he pushes in, it was a dopamine rush in your cunt. He was about to fuck you dumb and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Such a good Angel, creaming for me like this”, he praises as he looks at his cock when he pulls out, full of your arousal just leaking off his cock, before shoving his cock in again, pushing more moans and cries out of you.

“Hwa, please, I’m close. Gonna cum”, you pant, feeling your cunt spazzing around his dick. He definitely feels it too because he grabs your chin to face him as he devours you in a hungry kiss, trying to keep the momentum.

“You can let go, Angel. You can do it for me”, he says, stroking the sides of your face, and by some kind of miracle of timing, your orgasm washes over you, your cunt fluttering, which makes Seonghwa groan in bliss as he feels his cock being squeezed perfectly.

He leans into you, pushing you further down against the sink, as he begins to rut into you. “Cumming. Fuck”, he barely responds, engulfed in his own realm of pleasure as he ruts in a couple more times before his cock empties out in you, so much that some seeps out of your sore cunt, trickling down your thighs and some straight up dripping onto the bathroom floor.

Seonghwa takes a minute to gather himself as he pulls out gingerly, wincing at the sensitivity. He straightens you up, and pulls you into his arms as he presses another kiss onto your forehead. He steps out of his soiled clothing and helps you out of yours, as the both of you go on to shower together.

“What the heck got into you?” You ask, as you help him lather the soap on his broad back which you forced yourself not to excessively gawk at.

“You just looked too good. Like I said, I couldn’t help it.” And he’s so glad that he’s not facing you right now.

You laugh, pressing against his sides playfully, making him squeal as he faces you in surprise.

“I get that you’re embarrassed but you know it’s okay to look at me right?” You say, poking his chest—also definitely something you wanted to explore. Seonghwa pouts at you, and then his face relaxes.

“Y/n. I like you. No, I’m actually fucking in love with you”, he suddenly says, which only makes you cock an eyebrow.

“About fucking time you said it”, you reply, rubbing your arms up with more body wash. You look up at him with mischievous expression. “My toothbrush isn’t going anywhere, babe”, you tease, giving him a small peck on his lips before blasting him with the shower head.

[theemporium]

3 with james potter pretty please <333

3. “Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

. 

James Potter fucked up. 

He wasn’t exactly sure how he had fucked up, but he knew he fucked up monumentally when you came down for breakfast, slumped down a few seats away from him and totally blanked him.

He played it off as a rough morning at first. After all, you were never a morning person and you seemed pleased enough with him last night when you sat curled under a blanket with him as your friends laughed and joked around you into the early hours of the morning. 

He was clearly just overreacting. 

But then your shared potions class after lunch came around and you still weren’t talking to him. You weren’t talking to anyone. 

“You must’ve done something to piss her off,” Sirius said to him, watching as his best friend slumped back against the grass as he glared above at the cloudless sky.

“No shit,” James grumbled.

“Have you tried talking to her?” Remus asked, propped on his elbows with the book he was previously reading abandoned to the side.

“Well…no,” James murmured, clearing his throat a little when Sirius snorted. “But she won’t even look at me!”

“And how will poor Prongs ever live on when his little girlfriend won’t even smile at him,” Sirius teased, reaching over to poke his cheek only for James to bat his hand away.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” the boy whined helplessly, though both boys sitting next to him knew well enough how much James wished that weren’t true. He just hadn’t quite gained the courage to ask you out yet—how truly Gryffindor of him.

“Just ask her, mate,” Remus suggested with a shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen?” 

James established that there were at least three outcomes that could come from asking you, and each was just as bad as the last. One: you wouldn’t even acknowledge his question. Two: you would hex him and then go back to pretending he didn’t exist. Three: you would laugh at the fact he even cared to ask, hex him and then go back to pretending he didn’t exist. 

Each left James completely unsatisfied with your sudden distance and a bitter taste in his mouth at the mere idea he may lose you. And despite all these outcomes racing through his head, James still found himself standing outside your dorm, muttering to himself before he bit the bullet and knocked. 

It took thirty seconds for you to open the door and they had to be the longest thirty seconds of his life. However, when you did open the door, James barely gave you a chance to properly take in who was even standing across from you before he began rambling. 

“Listen, I totally get that you might hate my guts right now and that maybe you wanna hex me but I just need to say this before I lose the chance because it would kill me if you didn’t know that I am so sorry for whatever I have done to make you try avoid me or whatever else it is—”

“James.”

“—but I really like you and this is totally not the time to say it, like at all even and I just—”

“James.” 

“—I really wanted you to know that if there is any chance you could forgive me or even tell me what I did so I can rectify it—” 

“JAMES!” 

The boy stopped suddenly, his cheeks burning red as he took in your expression for the first time and held back his wince. “Tell me to leave and I’ll never bother you again. I promise.”

“What are you going on about?” you asked, still feeling bleary and fuzzy from the nap you were taking minutes ago, and not finding much help in the annoyingly bright torches in the corridor. 

“I–” James cleared his throat. “You were angry with me today and I just wanna tell you I’m sorry for whatever I’ve done.” 

Your brows furrowed together. “James, I’m not angry with you.”

He blinked. “You’re not?”

“No, I’m not,” you sighed.

“But…you ignored me all day,” he murmured, looking a bit like a kicked puppy with his pouted lips.

“I didn’t mean to,” you explained, feeling your face softening and your annoyance from him waking you up quickly melting away. “I just…I woke up with a migraine and it wasn’t getting any better no matter what I did. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, James.”

His lips parted with a soft ‘oh’.

“If it’s any consolation, I was ignoring everyone,” you offered with a weak smile.

“That’s good,” James nodded, eyes widening when he realised what he said and quickly scrambled to take back his word. “Not about the migraine! Not that at all! I just meant….fuck, love, I meant about you not being angry at me—”

“James,” you called softly, a hint of a smile on your lips.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” James asked helplessly.

“Cuddle with me?” you asked in a sweet voice that he could never say no to. “I was trying to take a nap but it would help if I had a wizard who’s always ridiculously hot laying beside me.” 

James grinned. “You think I’m hot, love?”

“I take it back. I can nap myself.”

“No take-backs, sweetheart. Now budge over, I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you.”

.

[lilacmingi]

EVIL QUEEN (DISNEY VILLAINS AU)

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. NO SPAM-LIKING PLEASE

Pairing: Evil Queen!Yeosang x fem!reader

Word count: 5,970

Yeosang watched as you strolled through town, an annoyingly cheerful smile on your face. Why were you always so happy? What was there to be happy about?

Everyone you passed greeted you with a bright grin, their faces lighting up when they saw you, especially the men. Yeosang grimaced at the sickening sight, observing from his window. He didn't understand why everyone was so fond of you. There was nothing special about you. You were average, dull, and ordinary. Yeosang, however, was royalty. He was powerful, intelligent, and wealthy. He ruled over the kingdom and had an magnificent castle, furnished with only the finest pieces of furniture. He should be the one getting all of the praise and attention, not you.

"Why does everyone like her so much?" He grumbled.

It took everything in him to step away from the window though he wanted to keep watching you. It sounds absurd, watching someone you despise. Yeosang never once stopped to consider that fact. He was too busy keeping tabs on you and peering at you through his large viewing window. When he wasn't doing that, he was watching you through his enchanted mirror.

He paced around his room, taking long strides across the floor, his mind fogged with thoughts of you.

"You need not concern yourself with her, your majesty." His mirror spoke.

"I'll do as I please." Yeosang snapped.

"She is only causing you stress." The mirror continued. "This obsession you have is not good for you."

"It's not an obsession." He hissed. "And how do you know what's good for me?"

"This behavior is no good, your majesty. It will only cause you harm."

"Stay out of my business. What I do is none of your concern."

"Very well." Sighed the mirror.

Yeosang continued stalking around his room, his temper being pushed to its limits. He was already annoyed with you to begin with, then his nosey mirror had to get in his business. He's there for Yeosang to watch the townspeople (and you), not to give him unwanted opinions.

The king had to come up with a solution to this issue. Perhaps he could just try to be better than you. He reached up, running his fingers over the long hair at the base of his neck. Maybe he could grow his hair out more? His hand then moved to his black and purple attire. Maybe wear flashier clothes?

How could he bring more attention to himself?

He was quick to shoot the idea down, thinking it was too foolish. It would never work. He had to come up with another idea.

Yeosang sat in front of the magic mirror that hung in his chambers, a scowl on his face as he did so. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?"

He already knew the answer.

"As you wish."

The face in the mirror disappeared, an image of you strolling down the street replacing it. You smiled brightly as you waved to everyone. Yeosang glowered at the sight of you. He couldn't understand how the townspeople adored you and fawned over you.

"She's not anything special." He grumbled. "Her looks are mediocre at best. What about mine?"

"It's not just her looks." The mirror spoke.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's her personality."

"What about her personality?" Yeosang inquired, his tone becoming snappy.

"She's extremely kind to everyone she meets. That is why everyone loves her."

Yeosang let out a scoff. "Please."

"You need not be so sour towards her, your majesty."

"What did I tell you about staying out of my business?"

"I am only looking out for you, your majesty."

"Well, stop."

"She has done nothing wrong. Tell me, what has she done to you personally?"

Yeosang's jaw clenched in annoyance.

"Existed."

"That is not a valid answer."

"You have no right to ask me these questions." He snapped.

"I am only curious."

"She's become the center of attention. I'm supposed to be the one everyone pays attention to. She is only a citizen, I'm royalty."

"Perhaps you should try being nicer." Mirror suggested.

"I am nice. I've never once been unfair or harsh with the people of this town."

"That may be true, but you're not a very friendly king. Y/n goes out on a walk through town every day and is always kind to anyone she meets. You stay cooped up in here."

"And?"

"You should try getting out. Perhaps try and socialize with the townspeople."

"I've heard enough." Yeosang held his hand up. "I don't need you to sit here and nag me."

"I am not nagging. I am merely making suggestions."

Yeosang glared at the mirror before stalking away.

Yeosang was deep in thought as he sat on his throne. He had to do something to get rid of you. Attempting to switch up his appearance to shift the attention to himself was a stupid idea. There had to be another way.

I could have her killed. He thought to himself. Then I wouldn't have to deal with her anymore.

He shook his head at the idea. For some reason, thinking about ridding you from the planet left a bitter taste in his mouth. He had to think of something else.

Moments later, a devious idea popped into his head, one that would surely take all the attention away from you.

Yeosang then began constructing a plan.

For once, he listened to what the mirror had suggested and decided to get out of the castle. His perfectly polished shoes tapped against the cobblestone streets as he strode down them.

With a plan on his mind, he went to your quaint home nestled just outside the trees. He came to a stop in front of your door, giving it a few brisk knocks. You answered shortly after, a look of surprise flashing across your features.

"Oh. Hello, your majesty." You greeted with a small curtsey. "What brings you here?"

"I wanted to invite you to the castle for dinner."

Your eyes widened, cheeks flushing.

"Me?"

Yeosang nodded.

"Why?"

"You see, I've decided to do something special and choose one person to come have dinner at my castle, as well as receive a personal tour of the place."

Your eyes sparkled. "Really?"

"Of course, my dear."

"Wow." You placed your hand over your mouth in shock. "I can't believe this."

"Do you accept my invitation?" King Yeosang asked, awaiting your answer.

"Yes, absolutely!"

"Wonderful. Here are the arrangements." The king retrieved an invitation from inside his coat, handing it over to you.

You stared down at it, the date and time written on the decorative parchment in perfect calligraphy.

"I'll see you then, my dear." Yeosang waved as he walked away, a sinister smirk tugging at his lips once he was turned away from you.

You were immensely excited about having dinner with the king. You always thought he was a rather attractive young man and couldn't help but feel giddy at the fact that he chose you of all people to come to the castle. He could have chosen any one else, but he picked you.

You couldn't help but wonder why he was allowing a citizen to have dinner with him.

King Yeosang has never had anyone by his side. He's ruled the kingdom on his own ever since he took the throne. Perhaps he was holding this dinner to find a queen of his own.

You let out a gasp as the thought crossed your mind. If that was the case, did that mean he was considering you to fill that position?

You were quick to shake the thought away, not wanting to get ahead of yourself.

"There's no way." You chuckled. "That couldn't possibly be it."

Instead of allowing yourself to be delusional, you chose to settle on the possibility that he just wanted to build a better relationship with some of his citizens.

The number of days until your special night with the king dwindled down to zero. You spent all afternoon searching your wardrobe for the perfect dress, planning your look accordingly. You couldn't believe how lucky you were. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and you didn't want to squander it. This would be your first proper meeting with the king and you wanted to make a good impression.

Once evening rolled around, you got yourself ready for your special night. When you were done, you stepped outside, ready to head towards the castle. You came to a halt when you saw a carriage sitting in front of your home.

"Miss Y/n. The king sent me to bring you to the castle." The coachman informed you.

You were surprised, and somewhat flattered, that he sent a carriage to take you to the castle. You had never experienced anything like that before.

Without wasting a moment more, you stepped inside the carriage, your heart racing.

Yeosang stared out one of the windows in his chambers, watching for you. It didn't take long for the carriage he sent to roll up at the entrance.

"Finally."

The king couldn't stop the evil smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. His plan was beginning to be put in motion.

"Your majesty, are you sure this is a good idea?" The mirror asked.

"It's the only way I'll ever be satisfied." Yeosang responded, impassively before striding out of his room and into the foyer.

He put on a fake smile when he greeted you, welcoming you to his home before escorting you to the dining room where he allowed you to take a seat at the opposite end of the large table.

"You have a wonderful home." You complimented as you sat down.

"Thank you." He then called for his kitchen staff to start bringing in the food.

The meal the staff had prepared looked amazing. You thanked them and let them know how delicious it looked.

Yeosang's jaw tightened as he watched the exchange. Even his own staff seemed delighted by your presence and kind compliments. It angered him.

"Just eat it." He demanded, his words coming out much harsher than he intended.

His anger was getting the best of him.

"Oh. Of course." You responded softly, reaching for your fork.

Yeosang gave a sharp glare to the kitchen staff, causing them to scurry out of the room.

"This is really good." You told him.

"Wonderful." He responded, trying to make his tone light.

Yeosang could hardly stand it. You where right there, just mere feet from him. His eyes moved to the steak knife sitting on the table, his mind wandering to dark places.

No. He thought. Stick to the plan.

All he had to do was endure you for the rest of dinner, then his plan would come into play.

"The townspeople are quite fond of you." King Yeosang spoke up.

"They are?"

"Of course. Do you not see them staring?"

You shook your head.

"You don't see everyone looking at you with adoration?"

You shook your head again.

"My." He chuckled. "You're an oblivious one, aren't you?"

"I—"

"The townspeople adore you. Their faces light up when they see you."

"I like to greet everyone I pass down the street."

"So you do." Yeosang murmured.

"Is there something wrong with that, your majesty?" You inquired.

Yes.

"No. Not at all." He lied.

You were so blissfully unaware of what you put him through on a daily basis, it was sickening.

Dinner had ended and Yeosang could finally begin the next part of his plan, but not before you stopped to compliment the cooks on the meal. They were so happy to get that praise from you. Yeosang tried not to let it bother him, but seeing how they smiled at your words made him livid.

"Come along, Y/n." He told you, trying to keep his tone light and friendly.

He led you through the halls, droning on about items in his home. It wasn't anything interesting. He was only trying to waste a bit of time. Without anyone noticing, he slipped something in your drink. Not anything dangerous, just something to make you a little drowsy for a short while, just in case you tried to put up a fight later.

"This painting here has been passed down for centuries." He pointed.

You nodded, feeling your eyelids become a bit heavier.

"Are you alright?" Yeosang asked, feigning concern.

"Just feeling a little sleepy."

"I see. Well, the tour is almost over. There's one last place I would like to show you."

You hummed in acknowledgement, following him down the hallway and through a door. The air becomes significantly more humid as you enter an area with stone walls. You pay no mind to it and continue trailing behind Yeosang.

"This is the dungeon." He told you. "Come closer. Have a look."

You moved towards the only cell, looking at the bars that were rusted with age. Yeosang opened the door causing it to groan and creak.

"It may be old, but it still does the job." Yeosang commented.

You took a step forward towards the opening of the cell.

"It's empty." You mentioned, taking notice of the lack of prisoners in the dungeon.

"It won't be for long."

You were about to ask why when you were shoved forward, falling onto your hands and knees, the sound of the creaky cell door being slammed shut. You gasped, turning to see Yeosang standing outside the prison cell with a smirk on his face.

"Oops. My hand slipped."

You scrambled to your feet, hurrying to the door, grabbing onto the bars, shaking them. The door wouldn't budge.

"The door is stuck."

"Yes. How observant of you." The king spoke in a sarcastic tone.

"I need to get out of here."

"I'm afraid the door is locked, my dear."

"There has to be a key."

"Oh, there is." Yeosang retrieved an old key from his suit jacket's pocket, waving it in the air.

"I... I don't understand."

Oh, Y/n. You're so naive.

"You're trapped." He stated, bluntly.

"But why? I didn't do anything."

The king scoffed. "I believe you need time to think about that."

He turned away, his cape billowing behind him as he left the room. The further he got, the more your heart sank. What did you do? You had never met the king before, so why was he so cross with you?

You slumped down on the cot, your eyelids feeling heavier than they had earlier. You were so tired. Maybe if you went to sleep, you would find out that this was all just a dream.

Yeosang sat in his chambers feeling more proud than ever. His plan actually worked.

"How did it go, your majesty?" Mirror asked.

"All went according to plan."

"Well, how do you feel?"

"Right now? Proud."

"I would like to say I'm happy for you, but I believe you've made a horrible decision."

"Well, I think I made the right decision. You'll see."

The next day, Yeosang sprung out of bed with a pep in his step. He strolled over to the window and looked out. The townspeople appeared to be going about their business, not noticing your lacking presence. He smirked to himself before getting ready for the day.

He spent part of the morning watching everyone through the magic mirror, pleased to see that none of them were questioning why you weren't around.

"Your majesty, don't you think you should check on the girl?" The mirror spoke up.

"Let me see her."

The scene of the town was replaced with you stuck in your prison cell. From the looks of it, you were still sleeping. You were curled up on the little cot with your arms wrapped around your small frame. Yeosang felt his chest tighten at the sight of you, but chose to ignore it.

You looked feeble all curled up like that.

Perhaps he should check on you.

You were still asleep when he arrived, but his footsteps woke you up. You pushed yourself up, your body feeling heavy from sleeping so deeply.

Lifting your head, you saw Yeosang standing outside your cell.

"Good morning, your majesty."

He didn't say anything.

"I don't know what I did, but I'm very sorry." You told him.

He scoffed in response. "You don't even know what you're apologizing for."

Even locked in a prison cell you were still unbearably polite. He hated that.

"If we could just talk about it, I'm sure we could work something out." You reasoned.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"If you're upset about something, especially if it has to do with me, I'm more than willing to listen."

"I don't need you to listen." He snapped.

"I see." You murmured.

Without another word, Yeosang turned away and left the dungeon.

You slumped against the cold wall, your hands resting in your lap as you gripped the fabric of your dress. There was a few stains on it and it felt absolutely filthy. The damp air in the dungeon didn't do you any favors. Your hair was frizzy and your whole body felt sticky from the muggy atmosphere. The situation you were in was dreadful, but you refused to let yourself get discouraged. You weren't the type of person to lose hope so easily.

Yeosang told himself he would only come to see you to bring you food and water. That was all. He refused to go down to the dungeon unless he absolutely had to. However, once night fell, he kept thinking about your curled up figure that he saw this morning through the magic mirror. So, he returned once more to the dungeon with a blanket in hand.

"Here." He threw it into the cell before turning on his heel to leave.

You picked the folded cover up off the concrete floor, dusting it off.

"Thank you." You told Yeosang, your tone warm and sincere.

He froze for a moment, then went on his way without saying a word.

Days passed by, then weeks. Yeosang would watch you through the mirror, sometimes getting a tight feeling in his chest as he observed you trapped in your little cell. He would sometimes come and check on you, bringing you food and water. He tried not to go down to the dungeons any more than he had to, no matter what he was feeling.

You were still kind as ever, greeting him whenever he came down to deliver you a meal. You would ask how his day was and thank him for bringing you food. He hated it. He wanted you to be miserable and it didn't seem like you were.

Yeosang thought things would be different by now. He thought you would be begging to come out of the cell and that everyone in town would forget about you and focus more on him.

He even went out one day just to see if the response towards him would be different since you had been gone for a while.

Everyone he passed greeted him, bowing their heads and murmuring, "Hello, your majesty." But no one seemed happy to see him, even if he gave them his best smile.

He tried to hold in his anger as he continued down the street only to have it boiling over the edge after overhearing some of the male townspeople talking.

"Where's Y/n? I haven't seen her in a while."

"Me either. Now that you mention it, it's been weeks since I saw her out."

"Is she okay?"

"I hope she's not sick or something."

Yeosang didn't stick around to hear anything else.

As soon as he got back to the castle, he rushed to the dungeon, his anger fully taking control.

When he stormed in, you jumped up from your cot, startled by his sudden entrance.

"They're still talking about you. Why are they still talking about you?" He growled angrily.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about."

"The townspeople! All I hear is, 'Where's Y/n? I haven't seen Y/n. I hope Y/n is okay.' and it's infuriating. I'm the king. People should be focused on me."

Your brows pulled together in confusion. "I don't understand."

"You're so oblivious! The guys all look at you with adoration. Their faces light up when you flash them a smile. No one does that to me."

You were taken aback by this revelation. King Yeosang was angry because the people in the kingdom are more focused on you than him? That's why he locked you in here?

"Oh my." You placed your hand over your mouth, processing everything. "I'm so sorry, your majesty."

He only stood, staring you down with an emotionless expression. Even now, you were referring to him as your majesty and being so nice. It made him mad.

"I had no idea. I didn't know everyone felt that way. I was just being kind. I didn't know it effected you so much... or the townspeople."

"Well, now you do."

Yeosang turned around and left the room, unable to stay there any longer. The kindness you had consistently shown him was beginning to eat away at him little by little. He knew if he stayed in that dungeon any longer, he would crack.

He stormed into his chambers, slamming the door behind him.

"I don't understand. I have her trapped in the dungeon but I don't feel any better. The men in the kingdom are asking where she is. She's gone, but they're still talking about her."

"What do the men have to do with this?" The mirror asked.

"Men? No. I didn't—I didn't mean that. I mean the townspeople in general." Yeosang clarified, stumbling over his words.

"I thought you were mad that it wasn't you getting the attention?"

"I am. She's gone, and yet, no one bats an eye I pass. They're all too busy worrying about her. She's just another person living in the kingdom."

"Seems to me like your plan didn't work out the way you had hoped."

"We don't know that yet." Yeosang pointed, angrily.

"Your majesty, it's been weeks. Three to be exact. Nothing has changed. All you've done is make the townspeople worry."

Yeosang's jaw tightened.

This is not what he wanted to hear.

"She's being so nice to me. I locked her in a cell and she hasn't tried to escape. She hasn't even yelled at me. It's driving me crazy." Yeosang ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots out of frustration.

"I think you like her."

"What?"

"I believe your feelings are mixed up. You didn't trap her in the dungeon so you could be the center of attention—you want her all to yourself."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're angry that she's being nice to you because you feel bad for locking her up and you feel like you don't deserve her kindness." The mirror continued.

"No." Yeosang hissed. "That's not it at all. You think you know everything, but you don't."

"You're easier to read than you think, your majesty."

Yeosang was ready to smash the mirror to pieces. Instead, he grabbed a cape and threw it over the mirror, covering it up before storming off.

"You'll realize it sooner or later." Mirror told him just before he left the room.

Needing to be somewhere alone to simmer down, he went to the balcony overlooking his garden. His fingers gripped the concrete railing as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, his chest moving up and down as he tried to steady his breathing.

Was the mirror right?

Yes. His subconscious answered.

Yeosang squeezed his eyes shut.

There's no way he liked you. He couldn't possibly like you. Everyone liked you, but not him. No way.

If that was the case, why did his heart feel warm every time you spoke to him?

His head dropped as realization hit him.

Yeosang liked you. He liked you a lot.

And he locked you up. You've been alone in that dusty, old cell for three weeks. He hardly spoke to you, hardly gave you things besides food, water, and a single blanket. He was horrible. Why did he think that was a good idea? Feeling heavy with regret, he stepped back inside, heading down to the dungeon, dragging his feet as he went.

You heard the light thump of shoes against the stone steps, watching as Yeosang entered the dungeon, his head hanging low. His body language was unusual. Normally, he came striding into the room with a sour look on his face, but today was different—much different.

You watched as Yeosang pulled a key from his coat, placing it into the lock on the cell door. There was a quiet, metal sound as he jiggled the key, followed by a click as the cell door was pulled open.

"Go." He said.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said go." Yeosang didn't make eye contact with you as he stood with the cell door open. "Locking you in here was a horrible idea. I don't know what I was thinking. You can go back home."

You slowly stepped out of the cell. Then, you did what Yeosang never expected you to do.

Instead of running out of the dungeon, you hugged him. His body stiffened in response.

"You're a lot kinder than you realize." You told him.

You pulled away, giving him a warm smile.

"Goodbye, your majesty."

You were more than relieved to finally be set free. You hated being trapped in that cell, but you knew you'd be set free eventually. Seeing that Yeosang seemed to come to his senses was reassuring.

You had a lot of time to think while you were locked up. First, you thought about how deceiving Yeosang was. He always seemed like a nice person, but he wasn't. Then, you began to realize he was just troubled, lonely, and confused. Despite having a negative outlook on him at first, you decided to be nice. That's just the type of person you were. Seeing that you were now able to go home, you couldn't help but think that maybe all that kindness paid off.

As you headed up the steps and out of the dungeon, Yeosang called for you.

"Wait!"

Hurried footsteps followed after as he tried to catch up with you. You paused, wanting to see what he would say.

"Your dress is dirty and I'm sure you'd like to bathe."

He was right. You desperately wanted (and needed) a bath. You didn't exactly have access to amenities like a bathtub while locked up.

"I—"

"Please." He cut you off before you could even begin your sentence. "It's the least I can do after what I put you through."

"Okay." You nodded.

He let out a huff of relief. "Follow me."

You wanted to be wary of his offer and wonder if he had some ulterior motive—a second trap for you to fall into, but you couldn't seem to think that way. Based on the way he came dragging into the dungeon, you could tell he was feeling immense guilt.

Once upstairs, Yeosang led you to a bathroom where he asked you to wait while he got you a fresh change of clothes.

When he returned, he still wouldn't look you in the eye.

"Here you go. It's all I have."

You glanced down to see a folded up dress shirt and a pair of navy trousers.

You thanked him and stepped into the bathroom, your eyes immediately landing on a shower. Though you'd be thankful for anything, you were happy to see that the king had a shower. You were filthy and preferred to shower rather than sit in a tub full of dirt and other yuck that's built up over the past few weeks.

After thoroughly cleaning yourself, you felt much better. The clothes Yeosang had provided you with were a little baggy, but nothing you couldn't handle. You looked down at your soiled dress as you left the bathroom.

"I owe you an apology."

You jumped at the voice, lifting your gaze to find Yeosang standing in the hallway.

Did he wait for you?

"I shouldn't have locked you up. My reasoning was completely uncalled for. I was being selfish. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Thank you, your majesty."

"Don't." He held his hand up. "I don't deserve that title. Just Yeosang is fine."

He still wouldn't look at you. His eyes wandered anywhere but your face; he was ashamed. He was a king for goodness sake. He shouldn't have been acting the way he has been. While avoiding eye contact with you, he saw the dress you wore when you first arrived to the castle. It was a little stained and looked dingy from being exposed to the humid air and dirty floors

"I can have that cleaned for you." He spoke up, gesturing to your dress.

"Oh. That's alright." You politely declined.

"No. I insist. Please, just let me do this for you."

You gave in, handing the dress over to him. If getting your dress cleaned would make him feel better, you would allow him to do so.

"Thank you." He bowed his head. "Can we talk?"

"I suppose."

He handed the dress off to one of his castle staff and the two of you went out in the garden. You kept your arms wrapped around yourself, feeling the awkward tension in the air.

"I need to explain why I did what I did." He took in a deep breath, preparing himself. "At first, I was angry that you were getting all the attention because I felt it should have been me. I thought that's why I was mad. Then, I realized the real reason why I felt that way. I was jealous that the men in the kingdom were fond of you and so I locked you up to have you all to myself."

You were taken aback. Hearing his sudden confession made the whole situation a lot weirder.

"Goodness." You muttered. "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to get it all out there."

If Yeosang was jealous and wanted you all to himself, did that mean he liked you?

You turned to the king.

"Thank you for telling me. I think I'll be going home now."

"Wait. Do you want something to eat? I can have my cooks make something."

"No thank you. I think I just want to go home."

He seemed upset, but nodded. "I understand. I'll get your dress back to you as soon as possible."

You bid the king farewell and left. The atmosphere between the two of you was awkward. He was feeling guilty for what he did and appeared to be trying to make up for his behavior. You were forgiving, but didn't really feel like staying at the castle any longer than you had to.

A few days passed and you returned to regular life, falling back into your normal routine. Some of the townspeople bombarded you with questions, many of them genuinely concerned about your abrupt disappearance.

"Are you alright?"

"Where have you been?"

"Did something happen?"

You just brushed them off, saying that you were feeling a little under the weather. Despite what you went through, you wouldn't dare tell anyone what Yeosang did. You wanted to keep it to yourself.

You were currently at home reorganizing your bookshelf when there was a knock at your door. You put a pause on what you were doing and went to see who was at the door. Upon answering, you saw a box sitting on your doorstep. You also saw Yeosang hurrying away.

"Hey." You called out.

He froze, slowly turning around.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"I was just returning your dress." He said.

You picked up the box adorned with a gold bow, glancing down at it.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He nodded. "Well, I'll be going now."

"Wait."

He stopped, turning back towards you.

"I have so many questions."

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't been thinking about what Yeosang told you. It's all you thought about since returning home. You weren't sure how to accept his apology or even if you wanted to.

You always thought the king was handsome and you did kind of wanted him to like you, but after what he put you through, you were reconsidering the way you felt about him.

You watched from your front door as Yeosang chewed nervously on his bottom lip before speaking up.

"I'll answer them."

Minutes later, you found yourself sitting on your patio with Yeosang seated across from you.

"I'm going to be honest with you, I thought you were a wonderful person. I was so excited when I was invited to the castle, but you tricked me."

"I know. I'm truly sorry."

"Yes, well, I appreciate your apology." You pressed your lips together. "I do want to know something, though."

"What is it?"

"Why did you want to keep me all to yourself?"

"I told you it was jealousy, but it was also the fact that I like you."

"You didn't really act like it."

"I know." He fiddled with the rings on his fingers, clearly nervous.

"I'm not a vengeful person, you know. I also meant what I said that day. You are kinder than you realize. You locked me in a cell for three weeks, but you were also able to come to your senses and do the right thing. So, I'm choosing to forgive you."

"You are?"

You nodded.

Yeosang felt like some of the weight that had been on him was lifted when you said that. However, he knew he would have a long way to go. After realizing just how much he liked you, he wanted to right his wrong and maybe even get a chance to make you his for real—the right way.

"I hope it's not too much to ask, but I would like it if we could get to know each other the proper way. I'm sure you don't have the same feelings as I do, especially after what I did to you. But, at the least, I'd like to be friends with you."

"Friends?" You questioned.

He nodded.

You knew Yeosang meant well and that he truly had changed, but it would take some time to fully trust him. Pursuing a relationship with him was something that was currently out of the question, but maybe in time you could work towards that.

"Truth is, I've always thought you were a handsome person. Of course, I don't know all that much about you."

"Right." He nodded.

"We can start with being friends." You told him. "We can work from there."

"That's alright. I absolutely understand. Truthfully, I'm just thankful that you haven't decided to shun me—or worse."

"I told you, I'm not a vengeful person."

Silence settled between the two of you.

"Well, I'd better get going." Yeosang stood up absurdly. "Thank you for your time."

He quickly said his goodbyes and started to head out.

"Yeosang." You called out.

He paused. "Yes?"

"I'm always open to spending time together. Just let me know."

A soft smile pulled at his lips as he nodded. "Will do."

With a final wave, he went on his way.

You were well aware of how odd your situation was. You agreed to try and be friends with a man who trapped you in a prison cell. However, he was a troubled man and someone who clearly didn't have his thoughts together. He needed someone to show him the right path and that someone was you.

Hongjoong: Hades ⟡ Seonghwa: Maleficent ⟡ Yunho: Captain Hook ⟡ San: Cruella de Vil ⟡ Mingi: Dr. Facilier ⟡ Wooyoung: Hyena ⟡ Jongho: Gaston

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

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[typing-catastrophe]

You see me? - part two (stanford pines x hallucination!reader)

series masterlist 630 words | warnings: none* * one sentence that makes allusions to self-inflicted harm, but nothing graphic --------------------------------------------------

"If you keep going, you're gonna end up with a bloody nose." You said, having watched the motion of Ford resting his head in his hand and it slipping off and almost hitting the table one too many times in a row.

You knew he wasn't going to react, but that didn't stop you from trying. He was stubborn, that much was for sure. But so were you. And you weren't going to throw your only chance at getting help, however that might be possible, out the window. You've been wandering around, trying to communicate with someone for so long... You had almost lost hope.

You may not have to eat, sleep, or do anything at all, but not being able to engage with anyone surely wears on you after a certain amount of time. You were even starting to long for mundane things like small talk. And that said a lot.

What would you give for a cashier wishing you a nice day? A passer-by bumping into you and mumbling an apology before vanishing into the stream of people walking down the sidewalk? A single sign of acknowledgement from the man so keen on pretending you're not there...

A frustrated groan startled you out of your thoughts. Ford leaned back in his chair, glasses in one hand, the other sliding across his face.

"I would like to understand as to why... exactly you are doing this to yourself. You clearly aren't staying up to keep doing something, no. You keep doing something, anything really, to stay up. Why?" You could've sworn you saw the corner of his mouth tugging downwards at you speaking up once again. It really wasn't your intention to upset the man, it just so happened that your entire existence seemed to upset him.

"Look, you don't want me here, I understand. But you're the only one who can see me! Believe me, if there was someone else, I would be talking to them, but I can't!" Ford kept his hand on his face, silent as ever. "I would really like to do you the favour of leaving you alone, but unfortunately for you, you're just as much part of this as I am. And I won't stop trying everything in my power to get me out of here!" Slowly but surely his behaviour was getting to you. What was his problem?! How could he be so indifferent?!

After a moment of - again - no visible reaction from Ford, you frowned. "What, did you fall asleep, old man? Am I boring you that much?"

If he was going to keep this behaviour up, your despair would soon turn into anger. And you didn't want to know what would happen if the only physical thing around, you could let out your anger on, was yourself.

-

"I won't stop trying everything in my power to get me out of here!" Your words echoed in his mind. Now this started to sound a little more familiar...

Your choice of words and following taunting brought him very close to just lashing out at you. He could feel the anger boil up at him, almost as if your annoyance and frustration were contagious. Then again, indulging in the tricks of his mind might just make it worse. So he took a deep breath and then another. He felt himself becoming drowsy, darkness clouding the edge of his conscious thoughts.

He jerked up. No! Don't fall asleep! Don't give in!

"This is so not healthy..." he heard you mumbled from somewhere behind him.

Ford was quite sure that hallucinating someone talking to him also qualified as "not healthy". He abandoned the thought right then and there. No point in psychoanalysing himself, it would only lead to self-loathing and regret. Two things that he already had enough of to begin with.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 comments & reblogs are appreciated series masterlist

a/n: excuse me rq while i go insane over figuring out the actual plot and timeline of this story

@cynamon-ancymon thank you again for the wonderful art of ford and hallucination r!!

[mysticalmallard]

Lonely Nights

Description: Tig is struggling, and she knows he is but he hates these conversations and will do anything to distract her from them.

Word count: 2,470

Warnings ⚠️: Angst, suggestive wording alluding to smutty things but nothing graphic. But I am still gonna mark this post as 18+ MDNI

SoA Taglist: @arkytiorlecter @aimkatsz @ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @hatersaremymotivators @theshynerdsworld

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Tig and his girlfriend lay in bed, struggling to get a descent nights rest. Tig stares up at the ceiling with one hand wrapped snuggly around her bare waist. She slowly turns on her side to face Tig, a sign she was still awake too.

"What's on your mind, Darlin' ?" Tig runs his fingers gently down her side in a soothing manner he knows that helps her relax.

"I can't sleep." She says softly, her voice still rasp from the lack of use. She lays her head on his chest, listening to his rhythmic heart beat.

"I've noticed" He responds, his large hand wrapping around her body and pulling her closer.

She sighs and nestles her head into the crook of his neck. He runs his fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. "You worried about something?" He breaks the silence as he continues to soothe her.

"I'm worried about you." She looks up at him from her spot on his chest, her head resting on her arm that is placed against him.

He turns his attention to her, a surprised look on his face. "Me?" He almost laughs.

"Yeah..." she sighs "things at the club are crazy right now and you are barely home anymore.....and since...Donna....you know the way she died....I'm just worried about you.." she whispers wanting to get her point across without upsetting him.

Tig sighs and leans forward to place a tender kiss at the top of her head. "Ain't nothing gonna happen to me doll. I'm fine." He leans back against the pillow and pulls her closer once more.

"Please don't give me that." She rolls her eyes at his nonchalance. "I haven't seen you in almost a month. You look like you've barely been sleeping, I can see the bags under your eyes, and God only knows how much you've been drinking. I'm really worried Tiggy"

Tig looks down at her, a look of annoyance crossing his face. "You sound like my mother right now." He says with a hint of distaste in his voice. "Please, just let it go."

"No...I'm not going to let it go. You aren't looking good and I'm worried you're going to get yourself hurt or...." She trails off, not wanting the words to actually come out of her mouth, afraid of speaking it into existence.

Tig's eyes soften at her tone. He knows she was worried, but he was fine, damn it all. He tightens his grip around her waist, rolling her to her back while he holds himself over her body."I'm fine, Darlin' ," he says in a tone she knows is only meant for her. He leans down close to her ear, his breath hot on her neck. "Stop worryin' so much...you're gonna go grey before ya hit thirty."

She lets out a shaky breath at the feeling of his breath on her skin. She gently rests her hands on his shoulders while he peppers light kisses along her neck. "Stop trying to distract me." She responds, her voice soft.

"It's working, ain't it?" He asks in between kisses, his hands gently roam her body. "Besides, I'd rather do this than talk about all the crap that's going on." He leaves a slight bite to her sensitive skin, her gasp only encouraging him.

"Well, I-" Her mind goes blank as his kisses make their way across her collarbone and onto her chest. He knew damn well what this did to her and he was using it to his full advantage.

His touch is gentle but firm against her skin as his hands roam her body, exploring every inch of her body he could in this moment. The room is filled with her soft gasps and sighs, her fingers lightly tracing his shoulders and arms as he makes his way slowly down her body.

He smirks against her skin as her hands find their way into his hair, pulling softly to coax the sound of a quiet moan from his lips. All her worries seemed to melt away when he touched her like this, but she still couldn't shake the feeling in the back of her mind.

His lips continue their gentle assault down her body until he reaches her stomach. He kisses her hips before going lower and leaving a trail of kisses on her inner thighs. She moans when his lips meet the sensitive skin and he grins between kisses.

She's now a panting mess and every worry she previously held was gone the moment he started touching her. One of her hands grips the sheets while the other still held tightly to his hair.

He continues his slow, languid kisses, enjoying every soft moan and gasp that escapes her lips. This was a good way to distract her, he thinks to himself. Her mind was far too occupied to think about anything else.

He takes his time in leaving his mark, knowing she wouldn't complain about any of the possessive love bites he would leave in her body. He could never get enough of the way she fell apart in his hands, completely at his mercy.

The only coherent thought she seemed to be able to keep in her head is the thought of how damn good he was at this. His mouth and hands worked in perfect harmony against her skin, sending her into a dizzying whirlwind of pleasure.

He could feel the way her thighs trembled under his touch and how her breathing was uneven and ragged. His own breathing grew heavy and she could feel the way the quiet moans vibrated against her skin.

He continues his gentle assault until she is left writhing beneath his touch, her eyes squeezed shut as the first wave of pleasure takes over her body. He places gentle kisses on the inside of her thighs as she slowly comes down from her high.

He moves back up to her side and pulls her against his body, holding her tightly against his chest. He tucks her head under his chin and wraps his arms around her. His fingers trace soothing patterns across her skin and gently pulls the sheets up and over their bodies.

She nestles her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. As she starts to come back down to reality, the worries flood her mind again. Tig feels her tense in his arms, knowing what she was thinking about again.

"I can hear ya thinkin', Darlin'," He murmurs into her hair. His hand continues to move gently up and down her back.

"Can't help it," she says softly, her head still tucked under his chin. It was like a switch flipped and reality came back in full force. "I just...I worry about you. And...I worry about us."

Tig's grip tightens at her words, and his fingers stop their gentle patterns. "What do you mean you worry about us?" He asks, a hint of unease to his voice.

She lifts her head so she can look up at him, her lips slightly parted. "Everything is so chaotic with the club right now. You barely have any time to yourself and when you do, you come home either hurt, exhausted, or both. You barely eat or sleep at home and I'm worried you're going to get yourself killed. And on top of all of that, we barely spend any time together anymore." She says the last line quietly.

Tig's heart aches at her words, a pain in his chest as he stares down at her small form pressed against him. She was right, he knew she was. But she also knew the club came first. "Doll', you knew when we started dating I came in a package deal. The Sons come first, you know that."

"I know...and I'm fine with that, really I am" she sighs looking down tracing circles on his chest trying to find the best way to word it. "I guess I thought there would still be some time set aside for us...for you....I know its not realistic to have a fixed schedule and that you could be needed at any moment...but you deserve a day atleast..." she mumbles eyes down.

Hearing her say he deserves a day made his heart throb in his chest. He gently cups her face in his hand and guides her eyes up to his. "Darlin'...you know I-" he stops in the midst of his rebuttal as he sees the way her face looked. It was a mix of frustration, worry, and....sadness.

"I'm not asking you to set aside time every week, don't get me wrong." She sighs, her voice still a soft whisper. "But you're still human, you need to eat and sleep more than two hours a night. I just want you to...take care of yourself more. Be a little more careful with yourself." She says softly, her eyes pleading.

Looking into her eyes, he feels like he's looking into a wounded animal. She was worried about him, she genuinely didn't want anything to happen to him. He sighs and pulls her flush against his body once more, resting his forehead against hers. "You know I can't make any promises, Darlin'."

Her eyes close as he pulls her body against his, but a slight pang of hurt shoots through her. "I don't care if you make a promise, I just want you to try." She whispers, a desperate, pleading edge to her tone.

He winces at the tone in her voice. Damn it, he hated when she used that tone. He didn't want to worry her, but how could he make promises that he couldn't keep? "I-" he pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words. "I will try, okay? I'll fucking try, Doll'..." he says so softly she almost thinks she imagined it.

He opens his mouth to say more but his phone ringing interrupted him. He picks it up from the side table, they both recognise the number flashing on the screen.

Tig glances down at her to gauge her reaction knowing full well what the number meant. He had to leave now. He knew he did, but God damn he didn't want to.

He answers the phone anyway.He gives a simple "Yeah," to whoever is on the other end of the line. His gaze doesn't leave hers, but a guilty look is plastered across his face. He knows he's about to ruin her night again, it happens far too often now.

She's watching him with a hint of desperation and sadness in her eyes, already knowing the conversation will end the way it normally does. With him leaving.

As the person on the end of the line responds, Tig reluctantly tears his eyes away from her and glances at the clock. "I'll be there in twenty." He says before hanging up.

His heart clenches as he looks back at her, knowing exactly what she's thinking. This is how it always is: him getting a call at night and having to leave, leaving her in bed, alone, after she just poured her heart out to him. "Darlin'...I'm—" He stops mid sentence and sighs. It was pointless to even try to justify it, she knew the club came first.

She says nothing, sitting up off of him pulling the sheets to cover her chest....pausing looking up at him a small frown on her face "Ride safe, yeah?" She whispers with a small forced smile on knowing there was nothing she could say to make him stay.

Tig sighs as she sits up, knowing she's trying to push her feelings aside for now. "Yeah." He says, his eyes never leaving her's. It felt like a knife to the gut seeing her trying to pretend to be okay in this moment. "I'll be back before you know it." He tries to soothe her nerves but he knows it's pointless.

He sits up now too and turns away from her, his bare feet meeting the cool wooden floor. He stands and quickly grabs a pair of jeans from the dresser and pulls them on before grabbing a t-shirt and his socks. He gets dressed as quickly as possible, knowing he didn't want to draw this out any longer.

Once he's fully dressed he turns his attention back to her, still sitting on the bed looking so small and vulnerable. The sight makes his heart ache but he pushes the feeling down and moves back to her. He cups her face in his hands and gently kisses her forehead, feeling her body tense under his touch.

"I'm sorry, Darlin'." He whispers as he continues to hold her face in his hands. He sees the sadness in her eyes, the loneliness, and it hurts him to know he was the cause of it. He gently kisses her forehead again before moving his hands away from her face. She doesn't say a word, just continues to look at him, the hint of a lonely frown evident on her face.

He sighs and turns away, glancing at the clock on the bedside table once more. "I gotta go." He says finally, though it pains him to say the words. He hates leaving her like this, but he had a job to do and the club was waiting for him.

He moves around the foot of the bed and to the bedroom door, not stopping to look back at her knowing he'd lose his will to leave. He pushes the bedroom door open and walks through it, pausing in the small hallway for just a moment. His heart is in his throat and it feels like he's about to choke on it but he says the line he always does and he does it as gently as he can. "Don't wait up, Darlin'."

She waits until the sound of his bike completely faded out, and the silence of the night returned before she allowed herself to let her tears fall. She held them in as he got dressed and left, but now that she was left in the quiet of the house, alone, she couldn't stop them anymore.

She curled up in the bed, pulling the covers tightly around her body to try and seek comfort from the absence of Tig now. The quiet sobs shook her body and her tears soaked the pillow under her head and face.

The situation they were in was an endless cycle; he would leave, she would be alone and sad, he would come home, a short amount of time would be set aside for 'them' and then they would be on a timer until the next time he had to leave. It was the same cycle over, and over, and over again, and if something didn't change soon, she had a feeling it was the beginning of the end for them.

[allaboutnayeli]

Cute aggression with Elisa I FKN BEEEEEEGGGGGGGGG

SHE SOOO FKN CUUUUTE I JUST AGAHAHHXHFHDHDHEHRHRGCHFHDFGGFHFBFNFJHDDHHCBGTTDT

I love her way too much

can't help myself [e.de almeida x reader]

summary: elisa is always so cute you just have to show her that you love that about her in an overly aggressive way.

author notes: this is such a cute request! love you anon for this one. enjoy it y'all!

elisa is many things. a skilled footballer, a chaotic girlfriend, an absolute family person, and a cat mama. she is also the cutest thing you have ever seen and half of the time she doesn't even know it.

there are so many moments where elisa is just absentmindedly pouting about something or cuddling up to you two's black cat, lily. the times where she's too tired to function are the best. the pouting, groans of annoyance when you move away from her, and the "c'mon, stop, babe" when you start laughing at how irritated she looks. it's so adorable of her.

elisa is such a cutie and that makes you internally want to just bite her or squeeze her cheeks so hard she whines and pushes you away. the cute aggression when it comes to your girlfriend is unmatched.

the cute aggression towards elisa is always an all time high when she comes back from away games. from the moment you pick her up to her head hits the pillow she's adorable.

it's around eight am when paris saint germain make their way back to paris from a champions league match against roma with a win. you sit on the sorta uncomfortable seats in the airport near where the team should be coming out. a warm smile curls up your lips as you spot elisa coming out behind sakina. anyone could see how tired she was from a mile away. elisa smiles softly once she spots you. opening up her free arm, the other is pulling her suitcase, to pull you close as she reaches where you are sitting. she lets go out of her suitcase for a moment to wrap her arms fully around you and nuzzle her face into your neck. letting out a small sigh.

you chuckle as she says, "sometimes i wish the champions league didn't exist." the genuine annoyance in her words makes you laugh even more. "that's not true. you love playing in the champions league and traveling was one of your top reasons, so what changed now, miss de almeida?" you pull away from her grasp which makes her groan and frown at you. the sight was so cute you almost screamed, but held in it because public decency and all that jazz. "that was past elisa. current elisa is tired and about to pass out so can we go home already?" the footballer groans again as you pinch her cheek. you had to get that elisa-induced aggression out of your system somehow. "hm. i don't knoww. i wanted to talk to jackie and korbin for a minute or two before going," you say. smiling once you see the small eye roll your girlfriend does.

"babee," elisa pouts, "i'm serious. let's go home." you sigh out a small fine before grabbing onto her suitcase as she goes back to clinging onto you. she waves goodbye to her teammates still lingering around. knowing damn well at the next practice they were going to be teasing her relentlessly, but at the moment all elisa could think about was bed, you, and sleep. that's it, nothing else.

"c'mon, babygirl," you say playfully as you two come out of the airport and to your car. elisa lets out a sound of mock annoyance at the nickname. she hated it, but you always found a way to say it. usually she would give you a light hit on the shoulder, but was too tired to truly care about the petname so you are let off scotch free for now.

it takes a bit of time to get into the car with elisa refusing to let you go. groaning and pulling you closer every time you tried to get into the driver's seat. finally you sigh out of frustration and say, "what if someone who knows you see this, elisa? stop being a baby and get in the car so we can go home like you wanted."

your words make elisa sigh out dramatically before letting you go and going over to the passenger side. crossing her arms across her chest once she snaps on her seatbelt and gets all comfortable. "elisa, it is never that serious," you laugh as you slip into the driver's seat. snapping in your seatbelt before pulling off. the footballer just lets out a small hmph before turning away from you as best as she could and leaning her head against the window. elisa is fast asleep only five minutes into the ride.

her eyebrows are slightly furrowed as her lips are in a small pout. somehow her hair is still perfect as her face sits half against the glass of the window, half against the actual door. elisa's arms are still across her chest as she sleeps.

you nearly crash the car as you look over to see how adorable she's being. the strong urge to just pinch her cheek again almost gets you, but you rather not be under the wrath of an exhausted elisa, so you resist; for now.

when you two reach home, elisa is back on her clingy stuff. as you set her suitcase by the couch she refuses to let you go. almost making you both trip as you try to walk over to the kitchen to grab a juice. "oh my god, elisa.." you whine softly as you try to reach the fridge with all of elisa's weight on you. the woman is still half asleep so she hardly reacts. basically being like dead weight. "i love you i swear, but please let me go. you need to change anyways," you try to pull her arms from around your waist, but she puts that footballer strength to use even while half sleep. "elisa..i'm serious," she groans as she finally pulls away. turning to go towards the bedroom. a small hmph can be heard as elisa slips into the room.

you let out a sigh of relief as you can finally move freely. grabbing some juice for yourself and a water for elisa. you set them down on the counter as you go to look into the cabinets for some popcorn. a small movie marathon was promised by elisa when she would come back and now she's back, it's time for that. even though you knew she would just be sleeping throughout all of the movies you have planned.

just as you put the automatic popcorn bag into the microwave, a small groan fills the otherwise silence of the apartment. you look behind you to see a grumpy looking elisa. her arms are crossed across her chest as she pouts and gives you a small glare.

"we are supposed to be cuddling right now," the footballer mumbles. you just chuckle as you come over to her. the cuteness levels right now were so high, you couldn't help it as you go to pull her close. squeezing her so hard until she tries to pull away. "why are you trying to suffocate me, babee?" she whines as she tries to pull out of your grasp. you don't let her as you squeeze her again.

"you're just too cute right now," you say as you finally let her go. giving her ass a small squeeze before fully pulling away. elisa gives your arm a light slap as you move to go back over to the kitchen. "yeah, yeah, whatever. just hurry up," she pouts. turning around to go slip into you two's bedroom once again.

the sound of the popcorn finally slows as you come over to the microwave. stopping it and taking the popcorn out. you put it into a large bowl before going into the bedroom. ready to cuddle and snack while old nickelodeon movies play.

"already so cozy? without me?" you tease as elisa looks at you from the bed. she is tucked in and looking very comfortable. her eyes are basically closed as she looks at you. "shut up and hurry up," elisa mumbles. you just roll your eyes as you set the bowl of popcorn on the bed. elisa reaches her arm out to try and pull her onto the bed but you move back fast enough. "nuh uh. i have to change first," you chuckle as she lets out a small groan. "c'mon, babe, hurry.."

you roll your eyes at how she keeps rushing you, but still you slip into your pajamas as quick as possible before getting into bed beside her. the moment you're in the bed, elisa pulls you close and nuzzles her face into your neck. "finally.." she says softly as her arm goes to wrap around your waist. trying to pull you closer if that was even possible. you move slightly, which makes her groan out in annoyance, to grab the bowl of popcorn. setting it on top of you two before grabbing the remote that is on the other side of elisa's body.

once all settled, elisa slips back off to sleep. clinging to your body with a strong grip.

you end up falling asleep an hour later, in the middle of the hey arnold movie. the now empty bowl of popcorn is long forgotten. laying on the floor.

it's around one am when you wake back up, suddenly needing to pee. you try to pull out of elisa's grasp, but again that footballer strength is unmatched. "babe.." you say softly, still trying to pull away.

"no.. where are you going?" elisa murmurs, her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes stay closed. "bathroom," elisa just lets out a hmph of annoyance as you reply. still not allowing you to get out of bed. it's an adorable sight truly that makes your cuteness aggression so bad, but you still need to pee. one idea pops into your head that can help both of those problems.

you lean your head down a bit before biting down on elisa's cheek. "babe, what the fuck!" she shouts as loud as a half asleep person can. pushing you away enough that you end up falling off the bed. elisa sits up and leans over to look at you. "damn, elisa. it wasn't even that bad!" you say as you get up. "you bit me!" she reasons.

"and? you were like a koala and i had to use the bathroom, so it's your fault," you argue back. she just sticks the middle finger up at you before going back to laying in bed. "whatever. just hurry up," elisa says as hugs onto your pillow.

still so goddamn adorable.

[mamani-bento]

five more minutes (kento nanami)

(idk which ep this gif is from. it probably doesn't exist. collective hallucination.)

nanami x reader, 1.8k words, sequel to i'm glad you're back, gender not mentioned

'not accepting that it's time to start the day, and pinning them onto the mattress with either your whole body, a leg, or more risque touches.' from this prompt list, established relationship, fluff + comfort + one (1) innuendo

the first few days, you had needed his support just getting into the shower. then, you started being able to walk around on your own, but only indoors and not for too long. if it were up to you, if your body followed the same admittedly delusory rate of recovery that you desperately want it to, you'd be back at the school by now. the mismatch between your expectations and reality is making you caustic, biting, like a barbed wire. you don't realise that you're scowling until nanami gives your hand a mild squeeze and asks, "what hurts?"

i wasn't going to write a sequel to igyb but i saw the prompt and this happened anyway love u nanami who is safe and sound and very much so alive idk what you guys keep talking about stuff and nonsense fr

mamani-bento's masterlist!

"what are you doing?"

you instantly freeze, nanami's sleepy question behind your back stopping you in your tracks.

"oh, am i not allowed to use the washroom now?"

there's more bite in your voice than you intend, too much bitterness for this early in the morning, but you think you might very well lose it if you don't get out of bed. still, you gingerly shift until you can face him to offer a mumbled apology for the undeserved harshness.

he looks mostly unfazed, only sitting up to lean against the headboard with a barely-there frown. the blanket shifts until it's settled at his waist, broad shoulders filling out his black t-shirt and golden hair sleep-mussed. he silently raises an eyebrow at you and you sigh, knowing the game is up.

with a pained groan that you unsuccessfully try to mask, you lift your legs to place them back on the mattress, using as few motions as possible to imitate his position. the exertion leaves you tired, and it takes a few moments to catch your breath, your left side twinging in a now-familiar pain.

nanami doesn't say anything. just watches you in poorly-hidden concern as you grumble unintelligibly in annoyance. it's all very angrily-muttering-bitter-old-man of you, but your churlishness can’t be helped.

the sun is just coming up, and soft orange light pools in through the thin curtains, bathing the room in a glow that you desperately wish you could appreciate.

you warily attempt to adjust your posture, pillows placed weird and making your body twinge uncomfortably. in a smooth motion, nanami gently winds an arm around your shoulder, mindful of the still-healing cut, and slowly props you upright while making the necessary adjustments against the headboard.

you huff out a half-relieved half-annoyed 'thank you' as you settle, but you don't let his arm fully leave your person, interlacing your fingers before he can pull away. his palms are warm in your cold ones, and the interlocked unit is a comforting weight atop your thigh.

you should say something.

it's been two weeks since you came back, and you're so sick and tired of being in bandages and unable to take ten steps without needing a break, and you should tell him this.

the first few days, you had needed his support just getting into the shower. then, you started being able to walk around on your own, but only indoors and not for too long. if it were up to you, if your body followed the same admittedly delusory rate of recovery that you desperately want it to, you'd be back at the school by now. the mismatch between your expectations and reality is making you caustic, biting, like a barbed wire.

you don't realise that you're scowling until nanami gives your hand a mild squeeze and asks, "what hurts?"

"fucking everything. everything hurts! i'm so sick of everything hurting, all the damn time."

your angry outburst ends in a near-whine that leaves you cringing. you want to punch something, but you'll probably just break another bone if you try.

nanami only shuffles closer until his shoulder is lightly pressed against yours, a silent show of understanding and support as he lifts your intertwined hands to place a kiss on your knuckle. he hums as he wraps his other large palm over them, enclosing your hand in a consoling warmth.

you feel his lips against the side of your head, lingering as soft puffs from slow breaths make your hair stir. he's so solid, and he's been so lovely the entire time despite bearing witness to your recent crotchety behaviour.

the room settles into a silent stillness again. the sun's making good time, brightening it even more.

"i hate–" you start. you impatiently stop, interrupting yourself to breathe in deeply and sound less like you're complaining to the man who's been nothing but kind to you.

nanami hums in encouragement, making space for you to rant. you feel the rumble of the sound in your chest, calming you down and making you feel less like snapping at somebody.

"i hate being stuck like this. i hate being in pain every time i try to lift my arms or stand for too long. and i know i need to give it time, but i'm just...really fucking impatient, i guess," you end with a shrug, body deflating into his side at the admission.

nanami's silent for a second. then, voice soft, he says, "go on."

"what?"

"let it all out. god knows it's been building up for a while."

he's looking at you with such understanding, and again, you're hit by a wave of guilt for how you've been acting.

"are you sure? you don't want to go back to sleep?"

he takes his time to reply. he slowly unlatches your hands. then he gently nudges you to lie on your back, helping you slide down the mattress until your head is on the pillow. he mirrors you, his long body shuffling until he's facing your frame and pulling the duvet over you both.

at first, you think he's compromising by making you both go back to sleep, which you're fine with, honestly. you'll admit you could do with another few hours.

he curls a palm over your middle, guiding you to lie on your side in a practiced motion. methodically, he adjusts the pillow for your thigh, makes sure the blanket isn't caught in the bandage in your shoulder, fixes you up until you're comfortable. his palm settles solid against the skin of your hip under your t-shirt, just below where the bandage ends, and he fixes you with a firm look.

"go on," he simply repeats.

and you could die at his consideration, at his care, at the affection he's giving you, all hallmarks of his behaviour but particularly evident in the last two weeks. and then you could die some more at how disgruntled you've been in reaction to his consideration, care, affection.

sunlight is abundant in the room now, throwing the sharp planes of nanami's face into stark relief, lightening the colour of his eyes, making his hair look like messy straw. you reach a single hand out, finger extended to trace the path your eyes are taking. he continues to patiently watch you, wordlessly allows your touch to rove over him until it comes to settle on the tip of his nose, right above where a small smile is playing on his lips. you want to keep him in place, in this place where he’s calmly indulgent, and unable to help yourself, you curve your hand around the side of his neck so the tips of your fingers brush against his undercut. the extra stretch makes your shoulder twinge in protest, but you let the pain sit until you get used to it.

"i haven't been very good company lately, have i?"

it comes out more as a statement than a question, a rhetoric followed by a mirthless laugh that carries all your loathing.

"you have a broken rib."

"yes, but–"

"and a basically shredded shoulder."

"i know–"

"and a very firm order to not exert yourself for three weeks."

"kento, i get it–"

again, he interrupts you. "do you really? does any of what i just said sound easy to deal with?"

you don't reply, huffing in consternation at how much sense he's making. he must see your expression falling because his manner softens further, nudging your body closer to his as tenderly as he can. his palm is warm and solid on the small of your back.

"i'd be concerned if you were in a good mood, darling. i don't expect you to be positive about any of this."

the brightness of the room now shines like a hallowed light on the man in front of you, and you feel seconds away from being blinded, millimetres away from being burnt.

"will you at least let me know when i'm being terrible to you?"

"absolutely not. you have earned every right to be terrible."

"kento."

his smile grows into something tangible, and you wish he wouldn't tease like this. wish he wouldn’t give you rational and sensible reasons that justify your bad mood, would just let you beat yourself up and stew in self-loathing. already, despite your efforts, you feel better. 

"let's hold on for one more week, alright? then we can try walking till the end of the street."

you let out a strangled groan, already dreading the continued incapacitation. but nanami's pulling you closer now, until you're carefully tucked under his chin and your breath is fanning across his neck.

"one more week," you tiredly mumble, lips brushing against his skin. "how am i supposed to stay in bed and not be a complete terror to you for one more week?"

“we’ll figure it out. keep you active so you don’t get bored.”

you lightly nip at his jugular, so conveniently accessible this way. there’s no ulterior motive–your limbs won’t allow it–but you still feel a thrill of delight at nanami’s fingers briefly pressing into your back just a little bit, pads of his digits momentarily divoting your skin.

his amusement is evident as he replies, “not that kind of active.”

your feigned disappointed sigh yields a low chuckle, huffed breath puffing over your hair. “not allowed to touch grass, not allowed to touch you. what am i actually allowed to do?”

“you can help with the case files that gojo dropped off yesterday,” he replies, slowly making to pull away.

instantly, instinctively, you’re tightening your grip on the back of his neck, unwilling to surface. the sudden motion makes you flinch and let out a soft hiss of discomfort.

nanami immediately goes stock-still. the room is silent in a nervous pause. you breathe through the pain, letting it ebb. as your body relaxes again, two simultaneously relieved sighs emerge.

“good?”

you nod in reply, glad that he’s no longer trying to leave the bed and moving closer to you instead. a large palm soothingly rubs your back.

“five more minutes,” you softly say.

“five more minutes,” nanami easily agrees. out of the corner of your eye, you can see that it’s fully bright now. you need to eat and take your medicines, need to get your wounds cleaned and wrapped again, apparently need to do gojo’s paper work despite the fact that you desperately wish you were back in the field. but you’ve got five more minutes before all that, five more minutes to catch up to the newness of this emotional tranquility, least bitter you’ve felt in two weeks. five more minutes, and then one more week.

[awyeahitssam]

“What’s with the lolly?”

“I was eating it when I died,” Harry said slowly. “I’d never had a lolly before. I suppose it just... came with?”

Harry frowned. “Magic? That’s what I could do?”

Voldemort inclined his head. “Yes, child. No muggle is strong enough to leave behind an imprint.” Especially such an odd one. 

“Huh,” Harry murmured thoughtfully. “So my family wasn’t just awful, then. They had a reason for calling me a freak.”

“What?” Voldemort said softly. His voice was cold. Dangerously so. But... if Harry was already dead, he really had nothing to fear, so there was no harm telling him. 

“The Dursleys,” he explains. “My aunt, uncle and cousin. They all hated me - treated me like a servant, more than family - called me a freak. I’m just saying, I suppose it makes sense now.”

The man hums thoughtfully. His eyes are a bright red, intent and gleaming, when they meet Harry’s. “You were a magical child,” he says softly. Then, “Where was it that you lived with this family of yours?”

Never tell strangers where you live was right up there with never tell strangers that we lock you in a cupboard. Harry hesitated, the rules ingrained. “Why?”

“You were magical,” the man repeated. “Every drop of magical blood is special. And they spilled it, didn’t they, child?”

“All kids bleed,” Harry says. Dudley had scraped his knees plenty. 

“Most kids are given bandages,” Voldemort said softly. “But you are no longer able to accept them. So consider this a kindness from your Lord, child. I will kill the filthy muggles who dared harm you.”

...

“I’m busy, Potter. Run along and play now.”

The boy squints at him in confusion. “Play?”

“Yes. Play. Or lounge, stare at the sky, whatever you please - just cease pestering me.”

When Voldemort looked up again the brat was gone. 

He wouldn’t see him again for weeks. 

“You know, when I said stop pestering me, I didn’t mean I didn’t want to ever see you again. I just didn’t wish to be distracted by you.”

Harry shrugged, legs swinging back and forth. “It’s all right, I’m used to being alone.” 

“As am I,” Voldemort said. “Hence my annoyance at your continued presence.”

“So you do want me to leave,” Harry concludes, pushing himself off the couch. He lands on the hardwood soundlessly.

“Is that what I said?”

“Sometimes the answer is in what people don’t say,” the seven-year-old said wisely. 

“Harry,” he snaps, before the boy can vanish again to Merlin-knew-where. “You can stay.”

Harry blinks at him dubiously, but then shrugs and settles back on the sofa. “Alright. Should I be quiet and pretend I don’t exist?”

“No,” Voldemort says definitively. “You will listen to me. You wish to know about magic, do you not?”

Harry visibly perks up. “I’m allowed to learn?”

The more of these seemingly innocuous questions the boy asks, the more Voldemort wants to murder his relatives. One day, he thinks, he will convince the boy to slip. To give him the address. 

“You are expected to,” he says shortly. “I will ask questions at the end.”

Teaching was different than he expected. The boy raised his hand often, and once Voldemort finished his thought and nodded his permission, he asked a question—sometimes several at once. What did a word mean, or why did wizards use Latin for spells, or why did people need wands.

“Your wand is an extension of yourself,” Voldemort lectures. “It is a tool used to channel magic. People can learn to use magic without a wand, but it is never so powerful.”

Harry’s lolly was hanging loosely in his hand. He stared down at it thoughtfully. “I’ll never have a wand,” he says thoughtfully. “I have this, though.” 

He meets Voldemort’s eyes briefly before pointing his lolly at the cushion and mimicking Voldemort’s wand motions perfectly. “Wingardium Leviosa,” he says firmly.

Before Voldemort can tell him that such a thing would hardly work, the cushions shot into the air. Harry watches them with open delight, moving his lolly to and fro like a conductor. The cushions follow his antics smoothly, before slowly sinking back into place on the couch. Harry turns to Voldemort, expectant.

The man is watching him cooly, eyes analytical. “Just what are you, Harry Potter?”

What. Not who.

Harry shrinks, but then puffs himself up and glares back. “Just the same old freak,” he snaps, and then vanishes.

When he comes back a month later his hair is longer.

He’s incorporeal, but he’s growing. Ageing. Able to do magic.

Voldemort is fascinated by the phenomenon.

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

found you

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna) [p.s. i tried to keep her features ambiguous asf. i just suck at writing 1st/2nd person, the only features i mentioned r big titties & like a shorter height but PLS envision whoever u want]

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! oc (this part of the one-shot takes place in high school but if the ppl want more i have ideas for a mid/late twenties time-jump - update: i've decided to make a miniseries of this now but this part/chapter can be read as a standalone)

warnings: 18+ only babes, profanity, mentions of parental abuse (verbal & physical), stalking/possessive themes, mentions of alcohol & drugs (m0lly, w33d), hypothermia (LOL jus read & find out), drug overdose, pet-names (princess, kitten), dub/non-consented sex, choking (if u squint), nipple play, begging, spitting (f receiving), dry humping, virginity loss, sadism, rough sex, creampie (pls don't b silly & cover ur willy irl)

word count/plot: [18.4k!] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

a/n: first time posting something like this in a while. gojo is a huge red-flag, but jus a gentle reminder to y'all to never let no man treat u like this irl pUHLeASE ! ik i wrote this but i hate romanticizing psycho behavior (i hate & love it-its jus oddly fun 2 write)

I never wanted his attention.

In fact, I never wanted anybody’s attention.

Mrs. Finch stood at the front of the classroom. Most of the students were busy-lost in their own conversations as she cleared her throat multiple times before finally losing it when she slammed her hand down on the table before her.

The room went silent.

“There we go.” she said, with a lopsided smile-though the annoyance was clear in her gaze.

“Sorry, Mrs. Finch, didn’t mean to ruffle up your feathers.” Gojo’s smooth voice lilted from the center of the classroom.

The classroom broke out in laughter. It felt almost exaggerated to Ara’s ears, who merely continued to stare straight at Mrs. Finch through half-lidded eyes. Nothing about Gojo Satoru was amusing to her but ever since he moved to our town freshman year of high school, he’s owned the students’ attention ever since. His popularity only grew by leaps and bounds over the years.

Maybe it was his looks, his name, his athletic skill–she didn’t want to know or care. There were enough rich, insolent snobs at this academy so he fit right in.

“Satoru, as much as I love your bird jokes,” Mrs. Finch’s voice dripped with sarcasm, “The time to stop your chirping is now.”

Gojo merely chuckled into his hand.

She held up a piece of paper, “Alright, as your homeroom teacher I am expected to share this with you all. As you are all aware, you are seniors. Next year, most of you will be happily hopping off to whichever college or university you applied to–hopefully somewhere far, far away,” -her eyes lingering on Gojo, who merely smiled brightly in return- “But as your high school careers almost come to an end, there is one more thing I know many students are curious to know about. Your rank.”

“Obviously, since this is the beginning of the school year there is a chance that this rank could change but here is the academic ranking of your graduating class as of today. I’m only going to be reading off twenty students' names on this list because the top twenty students are the only ones who will be specially commemorated on graduation day. As well as the valedictorian and salutatorian–who will also be allowed to say speeches. If you are not on this list and would like to know your rank, please speak to me after.”

She cleared her throat, “Alright, first in rank is–”

Gojo leaned back in his seat, a subtle smirk gracing his lips as he awaited his name.

“Ara Natsuna.”

Suddenly, everyone’s head faced her and she wished she didn’t exist. She stared down at her hands on the desk-countenance neutral-but if anyone was looking closely they would notice that her shoulders were incredibly tense; her elbows were almost digging into the desk from nerves.

A few claps arose, along with a few murmurs before Mrs. Finch continued.

“Second in ranking, Satoru Gojo.”

The classroom erupted in cheer. His best friend, Geto-who was seated right behind him-leaned forward in his seat to playfully tousle Gojo’s platinum hair. But Gojo barely responded, only offering his fellow fans a half-hearted smile while nonchalantly crossing his arms.

As Mrs. Finch continued to list off names, this growing uneasiness nagged at her. She didn’t understand–of course, she was expecting a high rank. Maybe first rank was a bit of a surprise but she knew she’d earned it.

So what is this feeling?

She hadn’t made eye contact with anyone ever since her name was announced, still continuing to diligently stare at her linked hands on the desk as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

But she raised her head to find the source of this sixth sense bugging at her.

Her eyes were met with his crystalline, cerulean blue eyes–staring at her with absolutely no emotion. It was the most serious she had ever seen him. Something about his stare was so intense, she just froze.

If it was possible for eyes to swallow someone up, she was sure she would’ve disintegrated there and then.

Her brows furrowed quizzically before she quickly looked away. She swallowed hard, shaking her head imperceptibly–in attempt to ignore her buzzing nerves.

That was the first time he looked at me.

I wish it was the last.

She closed her locker room door and there he was, leaning against the locker beside her own as if he owned it. She nearly jumped.

He smiled. She wasn’t unfamiliar with his dazzling smile. It was pasted all over the schools’ walls, newspaper and television. She didn’t need to see it all up close but… she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t more handsome in person.

“Hi Ara.”

He was quite bold for using her first name already.

But it was back–that buzzing sensation that whispered along her skin when she’d first locked eyes with him. Now that he was close and peering at her again-with what she couldn’t help but identify as false geniality-she immediately identified what the rapidly growing knot in her stomach was telling her.

It was a sense of foreboding.

Obviously, he was trouble. Anyone with brain cells would know that. He was the kind of trouble that easily drew in girls and only made the guys want to join in on his fun.

But that wasn’t what her instincts were telling her. Her instincts were telling her to stay far, far away from him. That he wasn’t just coming to her for some fun, lighthearted conversation–or whatever he was trying to come across as.

He was here for something else.

And if there was one thing Ara trusted, it was her gut feeling.

Besides, she couldn’t imagine anything useful actually coming out of his glossy lips anyway.

He raised a white eyebrow, his smile only widening as she stared.

Just as he opened his mouth, she bent down and lifted her backpack–hastily throwing it over her shoulder before turning around. She headed towards the school exit, she couldn’t miss her bus.

“What-!” his astonished voice echoed in the empty hallway, “Is it because I called you by your first name?”

She didn’t bother turning around, only sending him a glance when she’d turned into another hall. It seems his friends had caught up to him–or maybe they’d been nearby. Maybe him talking to her was a set-up, she couldn’t know.

His friends didn’t act like it’d been a set up though, they didn’t even look at her. Like everyone else.

Despite his friends being engaged in quite the boisterous conversation, his eyes were locked on her. His smile nowhere to be seen.

I should’ve switched schools then.

She yawned before closing her locker door and nearly going into cardiac arrest when she saw him leaning on the locker next hers again.

His white hair was left ruffled-as usual-and the crisp blue blazer that was the school’s boy uniform suited him a lot more than 99% of the school’s male population.

He smiled, “Good Morning, Natsuna.” he greeted.

She glanced around the hall to see that there were only a few people down the end of the hallway. Most had gone into their homerooms already–although it was technically a little early. There were still five minutes until all the students were required to be in homeroom.

He let out an amused chuckle, “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” he asked, disbelief coating his tone.

She shot him a look before readjusting her backpack strap over shoulder. She was surprised he was still bothering with her.

She turned around and headed towards their homeroom. He followed her.

“Why won’t you talk to me? I haven’t even done anything to you–have I?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Suddenly she stopped before their homeroom door. His tall frame nearly bumped into her.

“What’re you stopping for?” he asked.

She turned around and her eyes widened as she looked up at him. She’d already known he was tall but up close, it was even more obvious. At 5’3, he stood at a considerable height before her–being a foot taller.

He tilted his head, his blazing blue eyes curious as he searched her face.

He raised his hand and right before he could make contact, she quickly jumped back–the door behind her suddenly swinging open and Geto stepped out. She scurried out of his way.

“Satoru, there you are. Get in here.” Geto reached out and grabbed Gojo’s arm, pulling him into homeroom.

Gojo glanced back at her, “Wait–”

“What were you doin’ standing out there by yourself..” Geto’s voice trailed off when the homeroom door shut behind them.

She sighed in relief. There was no way she was going to walk into homeroom with Gojo. She was sure to be barraged with questions or–more likely, get weird looks from the other girls. She didn’t need that attention.

She stepped out of her last class a little later than usual. She had stopped to ask the teacher a question but then had gotten wrapped into a full blown conversation instead. It was one of those elderly teachers that students rarely talked to so she felt bad attempting to cut the conversation short.

But she had to make sure she didn’t miss the bus.

Just as she stepped out of the classroom, Gojo stood outside her class.

How the hel–

“Hi, Natsuna.” he greeted, energetically. His folded arms dropping as she walked right past him.

He followed behind her.

“I found out a lot about you today.”

She glanced around at the handful of students in the hall. A few glanced their way, giving curious looks. A student from the basketball team yelled out Gojo’s name in greeting.

“Yo!” Gojo responded, quickly dapping him up before catching up to her once more.

She continued to religiously ignore him as she walked.

“Don’t you want to hear what I found out?” he pressed before easily walking in stride with her–despite her fast walking.

When she didn’t respond, he continued. “Your birthday is in November—a month before mine. You like the color purple–pastel purple, specifically. Good taste, by the way. I look great in that color–”

She hastily put in her locker code before swinging it open. He was still going on as he leaned against the locker beside hers.

“You’ve lived in this town since forever. You don’t do any extracurriculars. You have one friend, Millie, who’s surprisingly talkative—”

She slammed her locker door shut.

He raised a brow, “Oo, feisty.”

She glanced at him-scowl on her lips until her eyes widened–Fuck, I’m gonna be late for the bus.

She suddenly turned on her heel and ran.

“Wait–”

But she was too far down the hall by the time he called out. Wasn’t like she was going to listen to him anyway.

He sighed before waving his hand and speaking-in a rather cherry voice, “I’ll tell what more I learned tomorrow!”

Is he serious? Can he not take a hint?

She was too annoyed by her tardiness to care much until she ran outside to see the buses leaving one by one. Her heart dropped.

No, no, no.

Her eyes widened as she saw her bus was one of the first in the line up to leave. Her heart dropped to stomach.

No, no, no.

But it was too late. Looks like there was no other choice…

Her hand was shaky as she reached into her pocket to take out her phone. She whispered a quick prayer before holding the phone to her ear. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, Baba..”

It was just as she expected.

“Home, School, Home, School. It’s such a simple fucking routine–why don’t you get it by now? Just get on the damn bus on time!”

He slammed the door shut behind himself. She sobbed as she crawled into a ball on her bed.

“Can’t do anything fucking right!” His yelling audible through the door.

She continued to cry on the bed. Her stomach hurt from where her father had kicked her. Her cheek pounding from his slap. This was why she hated asking for favors. Her Dad never took it well. She was always a nuisance.

Always.

And yet he expected nothing but perfection from her. Getting an A- on an assignment would most likely result in the same.

Can’t do anything fucking right.

His harsh words echoed in her mind. It seemed nothing she did ever made him happy. She’d wanted to tell him that she was ranked first in her grade but the moment she stepped into his car the atmosphere was suffocating. She knew it was gonna be, but she thought… she thought maybe she could dampen the mood by telling him.

But, boy, had she been wrong. The verbal abuse started the second she stepped into the car.

Then the physical abuse when they reached home.

Now he was off back to work–probably going to be back in the evening. Her Mom was still out of the country; visiting her lovely, accolade-ridden family that she tried so hard to impress despite being a housewife.

It wouldn’t have even made a difference had she been here. She took his abuse all the same–turning a blind eye whenever he did the same to her.

Divorce is not an option. Her Mom would constantly say, back in the day when Ara used to beg on her knees for her to leave him.

Her body shook as she sobbed. She grabbed the pillow and screamed into it, until her throat was dry and scratchy. Til the pain made her numb to emotion.

She entered homeroom early, in attempt to avoid the white haired boy that always seemed to find her at her locker somehow. She wasn’t in the mood to have someone talk at her today–or ever, in fact.

But, to her surprise, Geto was in homeroom too. His dark hair up in his typical smooth yet slightly messy knot, with a few strands hovering over his forehead. His broad shoulders always seemed so pronounced in the school uniform. He sat completely relaxed in his seat, phone in hand.

His dark eyes flickered up to her when she entered.

She swallowed, quickly looking away before heading to her seat. She didn’t need to look to know he was watching her.

She sat in her seat, hastily pulling out one of the paperback books that she was supposed to read for an assignment. She’d already finished reading the assigned chapters but she wanted to get ahead.

As she flipped through the book to find where she left off, Geto’s deep voice suddenly rang out, “Satoru is curious about you.”

She froze, her fingers tightening around the page she was about to flip. She’d spoken to Geto before, he’d been in some of her classes so they’d randomly get paired together sometimes. There wasn’t much between them beyond that.

She glanced over at him, “Tell him to leave me alon–”

The door suddenly swung open and Gojo entered, his hands over his knees as he panted.

“Suguru, have you seen–” his piercing blue eyes suddenly landed on her and then at Geto.

He froze when he realized that he’d heard a feminine voice speaking when he’d entered the room. And since Geto was the only other person here…

A frown graced his features, “So you can talk to him but not to me?” he demanded.

Before she felt required to answer his absurd question, people began to pour into the room–including Mrs. Finch.

“Well, well, well, look who’s early.” she grumbled as she eyed Gojo. Ara couldn’t help but feel as though her and Mrs.Finch were the only two people who viewed Gojo the same–a pest.

For once, he didn’t take the bait and instead sat down in his seat with a huff. A pout on his lips as he crossed his arms.

Ara narrowed her eyes at the sight before dutifully turning back to read her book.

Her thoughts wandered as she questioned what his deal was..

It was subtle at first.

Ara walked out of the cafeteria, her tray of food in hand. She never sat in the cafeteria. She didn’t have any friends so what was the point. Well–Millie didn’t have the same lunch time as her this year and even if she did, it was sometimes easier to eat by herself.

Millie’s friends didn’t talk about things she could relate to anyway. Millie was funner to talk to one on one–but that was just her opinion.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice when she’d turned the corner in the hall and bumped into someone.

“Shit.” she muttered, as her tray of food fell straight to the floor.

“Oh fuck.. I’m so sorry.”

She looked up to see Austin. He was in her Anatomy class. They hadn’t spoken too much before but… she would be lying if she said she didn’t find him interesting. He was kinda like her, reserved, but maybe a little more sociable. Puberty had also hit him like a truck.

He’d grown much taller and he seemed to be filling out a bit more. His hair had grown out to his shoulders and it looked good, especially with that low man-bun hairstyle he was sporting nowadays.

She’d never gain the courage to tell him that though.

They both bent down to reach for the tray at the same time. Their hands touched.

“Oh.” he muttered, while they both withdrew their hands.

He glanced at her to see that she looked semi-embarrassed. The moment she caught his eye she gave him a small smile.

“Y-you’re fine.” she reassured him–though she wished she had the courage to tell him that she meant that in more than one way.

He blinked, “You sure? I could buy you lunch if you want? I feel bad.”

She shook her head, “Don’t worry about it.”

She glanced down at the mess on the floor, “I’ll just go get the custodian.”

“Wait, no–I’ll do that. It’s the least I can do after wasting your lunch.” he said.

Just as he turned to head off, he suddenly turned back.

“A-are you sure I can’t buy you anything? Seriously,” he fished out a five dollar bill from his pocket, “Please take this and at least get something from the vending machine.”

She raised her hands slightly and shook them, “Don’t worry about it.”

He outstretched his hand with the bill, “Please, just take it. It’ll make me feel like less of an ass.”

She laughed slightly, “You’re not an ass.”

He waved the five dollar bill in his hand once more and she eyed it wearily–before snatching it.

“Fine.”

There was a tinge of shyness in the attractive smile that spread across his lips, “Thanks, Ara.”

She pocketed the five dollar bill with a shake of her head. He was nicer than she thought. After he joined the Basketball team last year she expected him to adopt the typical jock attitude but it seemed he was still himself.

She watched him jog off to find a custodian.

She turned slightly to brush off any crumbs that may have fallen on her uniform but it seemed she was in the clear.

After giving her uniform one last dust off, she glanced up. A frown on her lips. There it was again. That feeling…

That intense nagging feeling in the back of her mind, as if trying to tell her something in a language that she couldn’t understand. She’d felt it before but… Gosh, it was so uncomfortable. Her stomach flip flopped with anxiety as she glanced around for the source–

Her eyes widened when she looked down the end of the hall to see a familiar tall, white-haired boy staring directly at her. He stood as still as a statue.

The nauseous feeling somehow disappeared the second she locked eyes with him.

She blinked before frowning. Ugh, why’d he have to show up?

She turned and headed towards the library, internally praying that the vending machine in the library still worked.

Austin didn’t come to school the next day.

“A-austin?” she said–the following day when he’d come back to class.

He stopped in the midst of packing his books before slowly looking at her. The bell had just rang moments prior, everyone had quickly exited the classroom but them.

His glance was short-almost hesitant-as he froze.

She eyed the bandage wrapped around his hand before asking, “Are you okay? How’d that happen?”

“Broke my hand during basketball practice.” he mumbled while packing his bag at a rather unwarranted pace.

“Oh–well, um, I hope you get better.”

“Thanks.” he said, curtly, before throwing his backpack over one shoulder and fast-walking out of the classroom.

He never spoke to me again.

Just as she adjusted her backpack straps over her shoulders, a white flower was suddenly placed in the open locker before her.

Her eyes widened before she looked over to see Gojo beside her.

His white hair appeared damp, as if he’d just showered. His indigo blue blazer folded haphazardly over his shoulder while the top few buttons of his dress-shirt were left unbuttoned. His proximity didn’t leave her much choice but to inhale his magnetic cologne.

“White hibiscus flowers, your favorite right?”

She glanced back at the single white flower that now rested atop her books in her locker. It was still attached to its stem. It was her favorite–specifically ones with red in the middle, which was exactly the kind he brought.

She liked the look of the red center against the white because it reminded her how the heart was the center of the soul; how emotions make one’s body impure–so it bleeds through its core to the rest of the flower.

At her dumbfounded expression, he smiled.

“I’ve been learning. Millie’s been telling me all about you.”

Ara’s jaw locked.

His hands slipped into his pockets, “Your favorite classes are physics and art. Your favorite teacher is Mrs. Lindsor—I don’t know how,” his nose scrunched disapprovingly, “You like cats. You’ve never been in a relationship before. You’re parents are kinda strict—“

Suddenly he was shoved into the lockers. Her hands gripping his collar as she stared at him with a stern expression.

Her face twisted with agitation as she spat, “Stop talking to my friend about me.”

His eyes widened as he held his hands up, “She speaks.”

Her expression became more enraged as the corner of his lip curled into an attractive grin. Her hands clenched into fists at his collar.

He tilted his head, “Oh? You want to hit me?”

His tongue deftly ran over his bottom lip, “Go ahead.”

When she didn’t move, he only egged her on further, “C’mon, hit me. Do whatever you want.”

A flicker of confusion flashed along her face. As much as she was tempted to… she didn’t trust him. Not one bit.

Why does he want me to? Her grip on his shirt loosened in hesitance.

Suddenly something malicious flashed within his eccentric eyes and before she knew it, he was cupping her face in his hands–forcing her to keep her eyes on him.

“Do whatever you want so I can do whatever I want.”

His words melted like butter on her skin–but if butter was warm, why did she feel so cold? Why did goosebumps arise on her skin?

Her insides churned as she tore herself away from him.

“Stop doing this bullshit. It’s not cute, a-and leave my friend out of this.”

She hated how he looked at her like that–as if she were the most amusing thing he’d ever laid eyes on, “I wouldn’t have to talk to her if you talked to me, you know.”

She squinted, “Are you okay? Seriously-what are you getting out of this?”

“You.” he said simply, as if that were the most logical answer, “I want you.”

Her eyes narrowed further–this had to be some kind of joke. “You’re not funny.” she murmured.

He bent over slightly as he laughed. His laugh was airy and boyish–the kind of laugh that one could easily be drawn to, if she hadn’t found something heavily off about it.

“I’m not joking, Ara.”

He stood up straight after picking his fallen blazer off of the floor. When she’d shoved him, it had slipped from its haphazard placement over his shoulder.

He looked down at her, his blue eyes incredibly mystifying as he hunched before her to look her eye to eye–his index finger holding the collar of his blazer over his shoulder while his other hand was wedged in his pocket.

“Ara.. I can call you that now, right? Now that we’re talkin’ “

She stumbled backward, “We’re not talking. Just leave me alone.”

He smirked, “You’ll come around.”

The confidence oozing from his tone would’ve infuriated her, if it didn’t make her feel unsettled to the bone.

She didn’t understand. Where was that likable, comedic Gojo that everyone else saw? Why was this version of him the one she had to meet? Even if she told anyone about this–no one, literally no one–would believe her.

It wasn’t like she had any friends to tell anyway. Well–Millie maybe but Millie herself was now talking to him.

She struggled to find her words, “I- I said, leave me alone.”

He leaned back, taking his hand out of his pocket to loosen his tie as he sighed, “Why are you makin’ this so hard for me.”

She ignored him, stepping around him to close her locker door shut but he stuck his arm out–firmly holding the locker door open by its top edge.

“Fine.” he looked down at her, his blue eyes blazing with mischief as she appeared startled.

He was so close to her, it was hard to breathe.

His voice dropped an octave lower as he added, “But I expect something in return.”

His eyes dropped to her neck when he saw her visibly swallow. The playfulness in his demeanor shifted into something more dominating.

He raised a brow as she stepped back.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“There’s nothing for me to give you.”

He smirked, closing her locker door for her, “Lies.”

She’d missed her bus again. It was an accident–truly, a fucking accident. It wasn’t her fault that her art teacher wanted her to stay after to talk to her about future art-related career paths when they merely were supposed to chat about her recent artwork.

She writhed in pain on her bed, clutching her gut. It felt bruised from the amount of times her Father had kicked her.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.

She was always her father’s punching bag. Every, damn, time.

She was so sick and tired of it. So angry. She did everything right, everything. But one mistake–one simple fucking mistake–would get him so incredibly triggered. It gave her whiplash everytime.

She was finally at her breaking point. She was done. She was done wallowing in this pitiful fucking mess of her toxic-ass family. Done watching her Mom let her Dad treat them both like pieces of garbage. Tired of nothing changing. She was done.

She just wanted to do something she wanted. Just this once.

She’d talked to Millie on the bus this morning–the only time they ever seemed to talk nowadays but she had mentioned something going on tonight. It was Friday so, there had to be something.

Ara cringed as she reached over to grab her phone from her nightstand. She texted Millie.

A: hey can i come over?

M: r u kidding

M: hell yes, are u even allowed to tho?

A: im gonna sneak out

M: omg no way

M: im like hella shocked rn but hold on, imma use my bros car to pick u up

A: wait don’t stop in front of my house

A: i’m gonna wait at the end of the block

M: bet

A: thanks, lmk when ur here

M: omg im excited, does this mean your coming out tn?

A: yep

M: STOP im hype

M: ok, im omw

Ara put the phone down and sat up. She stared at her wrecked room in silence. It hadn’t been messy until her father had dragged her by the hair into her room from the car. He liked to dramatically throw her shit across the room in the midst of his rages.

She’d gotten used to cleaning his messes, but not tonight.

She grabbed her wallet, phone and keys–stuffing them all into her sweatpants pocket before chewing at her bottom lip diligently as she thought.

The front and back door wasn’t an option, her father had cameras. She’d been contemplating the garage but the longer she thought about it the more hesitant she grew. What if my Dad hears it open? She couldn’t risk it.

She glanced at her window. It looked like that would be her best bet.

She swallowed hard-forcing her nerves down-as she went to the window and shoved it open. She physically winced at the strength that simple action had taken her.

She gave her room one last look before hopping out of the window.

Milie ran the straightener over her hair, “I still can’t believe your here-like what the actual fuck.”

Ara laughed, she was already drunk out of her mind. She’d drunk a couple White Claws and that seemed to be all it took–it was her first time drinking after all.

Millie’s eyes caught Ara’s laugh in the mirror before them. Mille set the straightener down before running her hands through Ara’s hair–smoothing it out further.

“You should smile more often. Your smile’s really pretty.”

Ara set down her white claw before wobblily standing up, “Yeah, yeah. So who’s place are we going tonight?”

Millie smirked, “Nanami’s. His house parties are the fucking best so you picked the best night to sneak out. Nina and her man are gonna pick us up and then we all are gonna go.”

“Nanami Kento?” Ara questioned, “He likes to party?”

“Shoko probably convinced him cuz his house has a heated outdoor pool.”

Ara shrugged, bending over to pick up her White claw again and take another sip. Millie sat at the vanity now, leaning close to the mirror as she applied her lip gloss.

She smacked her lips together, “So.. are you planning on getting your first kiss tonight?”

Ara tilted her head back and finished her canned drink in one gulp. She set the drink down with a giggle.

“Maybe,” she said, before locking eyes with Millie through the mirror and they both laughed.

Millie swiveled around in her stool, “About time, girl! What’re you gonna do if some guy wants to go further?”

She shrugged, “I’m down. Honestly, I’m down to lose my virginity tonight for all I care, I just wanna have fun.”

Millie laughed, “Look at you today! I’m-like-shocked. Are you sure you're Ara? Or did you get possessed?”

“I didn’t do my Physics homework yet.” she mumbled distractedly to herself.

Mille chuckled, now applying extra powder to her face, “Girl, it’s Friday. You have the whole weekend. But please make sure you do it and send it to me cuz there’s no way I’m gonna do it.”

They stood on the porch of Nanami’s mansion. Voices and music could be heard blasting within the house from outside. Ara’s gaze was stuck on the perfect landscaping done on Nanami’s front yard. Her eyes lingering on the white hibiscus flower bushes that were planted outside his house.

They looked so pretty under the moonlight.

Millie gently touched Ara’s arm, catching her attention.

Mille grinned before squealing, “I’m so excited for you to experience your first party.”

Roland snorted, “No one’s gonna know that it’s you.”

His dark eyes looked her up and down, “Honestly, I still don’t believe it.”

Nina placed her hand on her boyfriend's chest. Her and Roland had been dating for two years now. He’d driven them all here–and as much as she was grateful for the ride, she didn’t appreciate his leering gaze at her body, especially with Nina right in front of him.

Nina remained oblivious, “Listen, Straight A students need to have some fun too. No one stays boring forever.”

Sober Ara might’ve had different words to say but intoxicated Ara merely laughed, “Sure, exactly that.”

Roland continued to glance at her curiously until the door swung open.

Toji stood in the doorway, “Hey, kids. Sorry to keep you waitin’ “

Toji was older than them by a few years–only because he refused to graduate for some reason. Either he was too dumb or just didn’t care. If there was one thing everyone knew he was good at-it was pulling women-it was football. He was captain of the football team for a reason.

He dapped Roland up as he let him and Nina enter. Roland was also on the football team.

“Who’re you?” he suddenly asked as Ara stepped forward.

His narrow green eyes looked her up and down–even if he was expressionless it felt as though he were eating her up with his eyes.

She knew she looked good–even if none of the clothes were hers. Millie had completely transformed her look with just a few simple pieces.

She wore a light blue, lace-y tube top that showcased quite a bit of her bare hips and navel. The fitted top also outlined the shape of her rather full breasts, which she’d typically kept hidden underneath the blazer of her uniform. She knew what attention they would draw on her smaller frame so she never wore her uniform without the blazer.

Then for bottoms she wore a simple tight black mini-skirt that revealed her smooth legs. Thank god Millie had extra razors so she’d shaved at her house. And for shoes, she wore her typical black Converses–unfortunately Millie and her weren’t the same shoe size. (a/n: i swear i didn't do this to make her basic. she ends up having to walk home so i jus didn't want my girl to suffer :,) & yES ik she's not real but idc idc)

Millie took her hand, “It’s Ara Natsuna, dumbass.”

She saw Toji’s brows draw together in confusion before his eyes widened, “You’re shitting me. Quiet girl?”

Before she had the chance to respond, Millie was suddenly pulling her inside.

Millie spoke as she dragged her through the mass of people, “He was totally gonna try chat you up–”

Millie suddenly stopped, “Wait, did you want him to?”

Ara shook her head. Don’t get her wrong, Toji was attractive as hell, but she’d rather not start her party debut with someone that passed around.

Though, that might just be how she felt right now. Who knows where the night will take her?

Suddenly a few of Millie’s friends called out her name and they both were thrown into a mass of greeting people. People were incredibly astonished to see her–continuously making stupid comments asking if she’d decided to leave the books behind. Joke or not, it was incredibly shallow.

They acted like being hot and smart wasn’t possible at the same time. It was annoying–but she was too drunk to care.

Millie suddenly ran off and Ara stumbled slightly as she went after her–but then froze in her steps.

Millie had run to Gojo, who was sitting on a couch's armrest. His long limbs easily held him up as he reached over to return Millie’s side hug.

“Millie Mills.” he greeted in a light, singsong tone.

He wore a simple black tee shirt with matching pants. Despite the simpleness of the outfit, his shirt fit just right on his lean frame–tightening around his muscular waist and shoulders when he raised his hand to pat Mille’s head.

Her throat went dry.

Millie and her had already talked about Gojo. She tried to tell her to not talk to him and Millie seemed to half heartedly agree–using lame excuses like he’s fun to talk to or that he’s hot. She didn’t know how to tell her that Gojo talking to her out of the blue wasn’t a coincidence–even if he possibly did like her as a friend or whatnot now, he was not to be trusted.

Millie said she didn't like like him but the way she was pressing her chest against him displayed otherwise.

Millie had tried to tell her to give him a chance–eagerly telling her on their bus rides that Gojo kept asking about her but Ara refused. She didn’t want to hear one-fucking-second of it. She didn’t care if Gojo never asked about a girl before. She didn’t care if Gojo mostly fucked cheerleaders. She didn’t care if he hadn’t been in a relationship in the past four years since he moved here.

He was weird, annoying and obnoxious—and that was that.

The vibe she got off of him was nowhere near safe either. She honestly didn’t even know how Millie felt comfortable hugging him.

Millie went on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear and he bent his head lower to make it easier for her.

I found out what she whispered in his ear later...

Suddenly his head snapped up and their eyes locked.

Despite being a distance away, the ominous feeling within her gut still arose the moment his intricate crystal-like eyes met hers. She had no choice but to freeze under his gaze when he gave her body a slow perusal.

If Toji had been eating her up with his eyes before, Gojo’s eyes were devouring her–his attentive gaze ravaging each piece of her unveiled body with such greed, she couldn’t take it. She felt like she was standing naked under his gaze. There was something so vile and unhinged about the dark look that had slipped across his face; she suddenly felt like she shouldn’t have come here.

His expression hadn’t even changed much, his jaw simply clenching and his hand on Millie’s head suddenly slid down to the back of her neck.

Millie jumped slightly when Gojo’s hand tightened around her nape.

His eyes never left Ara’s as he spoke, “I thought you were lying–tellin’ me what I wanted to hear.”

Millie glanced at him, a bit nervous at the new terseness of his tone, “W-why would I do that?” she said, with a slightly timid, childish laugh.

“I’m not a liar.” Millie added, playfully, before placing a hand on Gojo’s thigh to steady herself.

That was all Ara needed to see to know that Millie still hadn’t cut off contact with him. Her insides twisted with disgust. She’d known that the other girl hadn’t fully agreed to stop talking to him but–Christ, it just looked so low.

Knowing that he was interested in her ‘friend’ and that her ‘friend’ found him creepy and still getting all close to him? What was even the point?

Ara stepped back-keeping the emotions hidden from her face as she subtly waved at Millie–signaling that she was gonna go elsewhere. She hadn’t talked to Gojo in a week and she didn’t plan on changing that now. Millie gave her a thumbs up.

Gojo’s eyes followed her before she disappeared somewhere into the kitchen.

Suddenly, someone nudged his knee.

Gojo turned his head to see Geto looking at him curiously. Geto sat, fully relaxed, in the exorbitant couch that he was sitting on the armrest of.

“What is it?” Geto asked while withdrawing the joint from his mouth.

“She’s here.” Millie responded, her attempt at including herself in the group of lethally attractive men before her.

“Who’s she?” Nanami asked-dryly-from the loveseat beside the couch that Geto and Gojo occupied. He didn’t look up from his phone.

Before Geto could respond, Gojo was suddenly questioning Millie, “You convinced her to come here?” The seriousness in his tone made the other boys go quiet.

Nanami glanced up from his phone.

Millie shook her head, “No, she wanted to come herself.”

“Thought you said her parents were strict.”

She shrugged, “Dunno. She snuck out.”

Gojo released her neck, a look of contemplation passing over his features as he rubbed his chin, “Somethings up.”

“Isn’t there always.” Millie mused, while playing with his fingers.

He raised the hand Millie was fiddling with to her face, his long fingers easily covering its entirety as he pushed her face back.

“Satoru! My lip gloss.” she exclaimed as he stood up. He gave her a wink before disappearing off into the throng of people.

She sat down on the armrest Gojo had just left from with a huff.

Geto didn’t spare her a glance. Instead, he indirectly addressed Nanami by saying, “He’s mad.”

“Satoru?” Nanami questioned, glancing up from his phone again.

Geto nodded.

“How do you know?” Nanami asked, “He looked normal to me.”’

Geto shrugged–not knowing how to expand on it because he wasn’t sure how he himself knew, but he was more than sure of it.

Toji arrived with three beers in his hands. He popped a cap open with his teeth before throwing himself back on the loveseat beside Nanami.

“Jus saw the sexiest chick I’ve seen in a while.. Her tits were-phew.” Toji shook his head before taking a swig.

“If you're talking about Ara, leave her alone.” Millie bit back.

“Oh? That a challenge?” He smirked at Millie. They’d fucked once–okay, maybe more than once—but, like every girl who tried, she couldn’t tie him down.

“Don’t even try it.” Geto warned.

If this was how parties were like, she never wanted it to end.

Loud music pounded through the pristine, wide-ceiling walls of Nanami’s house. The strong scent of weed, alcohol and a plethora of expensive colognes and perfume in the air. Voices—so much chatter, laughter and familiar faces. Everyone seemed so chill and.. happy.

She handed the joint back to the guy beside her with a loud cough—more coughing followed as she continued to breathe.

“Shit, is this your first time?” he asked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

She turned her head back to see Noel. She’d always seen him around school but they barely interacted—he wasn’t in the same classes as her. Besides, he hung with a completely different crowd. He was on the swim team. And, gosh, he was hot.

She didn’t know how she managed to grab his attention when she’d merely been walking around the outdoor pool. He was sitting in one of the surrounding lounge chairs and asked if she wanted to ‘cyph’.

She’d agreed—despite having no clue what that meant. It didn’t take her long to realize that it was just another term for smoking w33d. (a/n: idk if tumblr censors words or not so imma jus keep spelling it like that. y'all know what i mean anyway~)

They now sat shoulder to shoulder on the lounge chair. He was laughing beside her.

She frowned once her coughing subsided, “Are you laughing at me?”

He shook his head, pieces of his dark brown hair falling over his forehead in the process.

“Nah, I should’ve figured. I never seen you at one of these parties before.”

She wasn’t sure if it was drugs or alcohol in her system but god, the subtle grin on his lips was so hot. He had one of those smiles that made it hard to look away from his lips.

No wonder Millie hooked up with him sophomore year.

Something about that thought made her pry her eyes away.

His hand came up to her back, “You want another hit?”

She glanced back at him, shaking her head, “I need a minute. My throat feels so..” she didn’t know how to describe it.

He laughed once more, running his hand down her back reassuringly.

“I know. My first time smoking was like that too. I was coughing like a bitch.”

He then asked her, “Do you want a drink?”

“Millie said not to drink the stuff here.”

His subtle grin returned, “She’s probably right… is that who you came with? Millie?”

She nodded.

“How do you know her?”

“I met her on the bus.” They’d always sat next to each other since kindergarten.

“That’s cool.” he dropped his hand from her back, and offered her his joint, “You wanna hold onto this for me while I go get us some drinks?”

She took it from his hand with a nod.

As he stood up he noticed the look of disappointment on her face. Though, he didn’t know the reasoning behind it. She was still thinking about Millie—her one and only friend, who never took her word seriously.

“Aw, don’t look like that,” he bent down to give her a light kiss on the cheek.

He ruffled the top of her hair, “I’ll be right back.”

She offered him a small smile before watching him walk off.

The front door slammed shut—loud enough to be heard over the music. Everyone in the mansion paused for a second as people began to glance around and murmur.

Nanami jumped up from the loveseat, “The hell was that?”

Geto and Toji stood up as well.

Gojo suddenly appeared before them. His white hair more disheveled than usual as he smoothed down his black shirt. There was a hint of a bruise forming on his cheekbone.

Geto stepped towards him, “What happened?” he demanded.

“Oh, I just kicked Noel out.” his tone oddly light.

He shrugged before looking at Nanami, “I caught him tryna steal somethin’ in your Mommy’s room.”

“Noel?” Nanami questioned. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Nanami was captain of the swim team. He’d spent a considerable amount of time with Noel, who was on his team.

Something in Gojo’s eyes shifted as he stared at Nanami—the lightheartedness in his tone moments prior gone, “Are you doubting me?”

Toji’s eyes widened before he took another swig of beer.

Nanami’s brows furrowed until Gojo suddenly threw his head back in laughter. 

He placed a hand on Nanami’s shoulder, giving it a good squeeze before leaning close. Geto’s eyes lingered on the red marks along Gojo’s knuckles.

“Don’t worry, Nanamiiin, I took care of it,” he tilted his head, “You can scold him all you want whenever you see him at practice.”

He released Nanami’s shoulder with a bright smirk on his lips.

Nanami eyed him, “Just don’t slam my door.”

Gojo held his hands up-as if he were instructed to do so by the police-before walking backwards haphazardly.

He wriggled his fingers playfully, “No promises.”

Ara watched the girls play in the pool with a bored expression. They looked like they were having so much fun.

What’s taking him so long?

She looked down at the joint in her hand. She’d taken a couple hits–even if it made her cough quite a bit, but she couldn’t help but wonder where Noel had gone. He should’ve been here by now.

She picked up his joint and lighter with a frown before walking around the pool to head back inside the house. Her drunk self too unaware of her surroundings to notice the many lingering eyes on her as she passed.

She entered the mansion, heading to the kitchen to see if Noel was there.

Her eyes scanned the spacious kitchen in awe. It had to be the biggest kitchen she’d ever seen. Whoever designed it’s interior managed to merge a modern yet home-y feel perfectly. Its red, cream and dark brown color scheme also gave a sort of regal appeal.

She stumbled over to the nearest canvas hung on the wall. It was huge. It showcased a beautiful view of vast hills and a sunset colored sky. Her fingers gently ran over the painting, only for her eyes to widen when she realized it was actually hand-painted, not printed. Her eyes widening further when she saw an elegant black signature at the painting's bottom right corner.

Who knows how much this thing costs.

“Natsuna? No way.”

She turned her head to see Jaemin. He wore a black wife beater, showing off the small tattoos that marked his tan collarbones and toned arms. They never spoke before but she’d be lying if she said his wolf-cut didn’t suit him.

She raised a brow, “You know my name?”

He laughed, “Of course. We’ve been going to the same school since forever.”

She turned around fully, letting her back lean against the wall as she absentmindedly played with a strand of her hair.

“I guess.. I look hot enough for you to speak to me now.” she stated, dryly-the words slipping off her tongue without a second thought. Alcohol was truly something else.

He chuckled as he drew closer, “Pft, you were always hot. I liked your little quiet, mysterious girl look.”

A laugh escaped her lips as she repeated, “Quiet, mysterious girl look?”

She placed her hand on his chest when he stood directly in front of her. He bent his head low to touch her forehead with his. Whatever his cologne was-it was entirely too addicting.

He raised his hand with a red solo cup to her cheek. His knuckles skimming the side of her face as he spoke, “You always look like you wanna be left alone or else I woulda bothered you a long time ago.”

She smirked wryly. “Sure.”

He returned her smirk with one of his own, “Let me prove it–”

Suddenly his phone buzzed, and he froze. He held her gaze a second longer before glancing down between them, at the phone in his hand.

He shook his head subtly, “Gotta get more drinks.”

He patted her hip, “Stay right here.”

She nodded.

He gave her a little smirk before walking off.

“Damn Gojo, don’t you got your lil lackeys around for this?” Jaemin grumbled to himself.

He didn’t mind Gojo at all—in fact, he actually kinda liked the guy-but it wasn’t like they were tight or anything. The only reason why he decided to ‘listen’ was because Gojo never asked him for a favor before. He figured it was a once in a blue moon typa thing. Hell, could’ve even been a drunk text. He didn’t care, he just wanted to see Nanami’s family’s wine cellar.

He walked downstairs, glancing around at the movie theater room before him.

“Fuck, what damn part of the basement am I at now.”

He walked further into the room, past the large screen, towards the drinks bar. He leaned on the counter to glance around, only to spot empty champagne flutes instead of bottles.

He frowned before spotting the open double door beside the mini bar.

He pushed himself off the counter and walked into the wide wine cellar. He whistled.

He walked up to one of the bottles and easily plucked one out.

“Holy shit, 18 year old Scotch?” he gaped, “Shit probably tastes like ass.”

He carefully placed it back.

“Too bad Gojo wants beer.” he muttered, though he wasn’t really complaining.

But where the hell is the be—Oh.

He spotted the mini circular, blue, window that was stuck into a door in the wall. How could he forget? Nanami’s infamous walk-in freezer.

He pulled open the door and walked inside.

Goosebumps immediately rose on his skin the second he stepped within. It was neatly arranged and brightly lit. He walked further inside and spotted the untouched stack of canned beer on the shelf.

“Bless.” he muttered before reaching out to grab a couple.

Just as he juggled a few cans in his hands, the freezer door slammed shut.

His head snapped around, eyes widening before he dropped all the cans in his hands and ran to the door. He tried the handle before slamming his hands onto the door.

“YO! Hello?! Open this shit up!” he hollered, while glancing through the mini window. He saw no one.

At first he’d thought it was a stupid prank from one of his boys who might’ve followed him into the basement but… there was no one.

“HELLO?!!” he yelled once more, looking through the window with more intensity.

He didn’t understand how the door could’ve closed if someone didn’t pull it shut—he assumed it may have been an auto-lock timer on the door or something.

He broke out in a cold sweat when he realized no one could hear him. Not over the loud ass music.

His hand went to pocket to check for his phone. Maybe he could call—

“Fuck!” he hollered as he harshly patted his empty pockets.

He’d set his phone down on one of the shelves in the wine cellar when he’d grabbed that aged Scotch.

His breathing slowed when realization hit him like a truck. No phone. No one to hear him. No one in the basement.

If he didn’t get help soon, he was gonna freeze.

And it didn’t help that he was wearing a wife beater.

Of course I had to wear a fucking wife beater to-fucking-day.

He clenched his teeth, running his hands quickly over his arms. The cold was starting to settle in, alongside a large dose of panic.

His eyes dilated in fear before he slammed his hands against the freezer doors once more.

“SOMEONE!!! HELP!! GET ME OUT— HELP!!”

In the midst of his panic, a shot of hope suddenly zipped up his spine.

Gojo. That’s right—Gojo!

Gojo had been the one to text him ‘Yo yo, get more beer from the basement will ya¿ tyyy ;)’ so there was a chance Gojo would notice that he was gone. That he didn’t come back with drinks.

Gojo would help him—Gojo would remember him.. right?

Jaemin’s teeth began to chatter.

“Fuck!” he hugged himself once more before throwing his whole body against the freezer door. It didn’t budge.

“HELP!! SOMEONE HELP ME OUTTA HERE!!!”

He grabbed the phone from the shelf.

A smirk graced his lips, “Too easy.”

He was counting on the weak internet connection in Nanami’s wine cellar to-at least-delay Jaemin from contacting others. Or his phone to shut down from the freezer’s low temperature by the time he realized he could call someone. Jaemin wasn’t exactly the brightest guy.

But this. This was so much better.

He chuckled to himself as he walked through the dimly lit theater. Tossing the phone back and forth within his hands as he easily made his way back to the main floor from Nanami’s multi-level basement.

Just as he rejoined the boisterous party, he spotted a large fish tank installed within the wall.

He wandered over, bending over to peer at the various koi fish inside. Several of the multi-colored fish bounded over–their eager mouths opening and closing as they bumped into the glass, expecting food.

“Hey guys, miss me?” he mused.

He tapped the corner of the fish tank with his knuckle three times.

The fish tank slowly retracted from the wall. The fish all swam to the top. Their eager mouths bobbing through the water.

He smirked as he dropped the phone within the fish tank’s clear blue waters.

“Keep this safe for me, will ya?”

Ara stood in the kitchen, growing more irritated by the second.

Where is Jaemin? Or Noel?

She crossed her arms. Did I really get ditched by two guys in the same night?

Despite that possibility, for some reason her gut feeling told her that that wasn’t it.

She sighed, glancing down at her hand. She still had Noel’s joint and lighter. She decided to take another hit.

She coughed—having inhaled a little too fast. The woozy feeling that followed made her obnoxious coughing worth it.

She’d never felt so relaxed before. It was almost too relaxed. Relaxed enough that it almost felt wrong.

Everything was so enhanced it was absolutely riveting. The music. The colors. The voices. Maybe it was a good thing she’d never tried w33d until now—she saw exactly why people could get addicted. Even if the smell wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Just as she raised the joint to her lips again, a new crowd of people entered the kitchen. Rambunctious as ever.

She spotted Arman. She knew he was a close friend of Noel’s. They both were on the swim team.

She impulsively stepped up to him, “Hey-“

Before she could get another word in she was interrupted.

Arman’s eyes widened, “Holy shit—Natsuna?”

She immediately reddened. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead she smiled slightly.

“That’s me.”

He glanced at the joint in her hand, “Wait, you smoke too? Damn, girl. Double agent, for real.”

She was too high to care about his little comments. Quite frankly she’d been hearing it so much tonight it was getting boring.

“I don’t smoke. Today was my first time.”

He raised a brow, “Really?”

He eyed her joint, “Then where’d you get that from?”

“Noel. Do you know where he is?”

Arman’s brows furrowed. He seemed completely lost in thought, as if it was taking him a lot of brain cells to think.

“I don’t know, I think he left.” he finally slurred out.

“He left?” she questioned, surprised.

“Yeah, some dude told me he got kicked out but I don’t know. He didn’t respond to my texts.”

“Kicked out? What did he do?”

He didn’t answer, instead he reached into his cargo pants and shuffled out his phone from his pocket.

He handed her his phone—showing her the screen of the several, horribly misspelled texts that he’d sent Noel. It seemed Noel had left him on delivered.

She sighed, handing the phone back to him.

“Thanks.”

Suddenly a moment of clarity seemed to pass over Arman’s eyes.

He clasped her arm, “Wait, was Noel your ride here?”

She blinked, too drunk to recall, “I.. I don’t know.”

“Shit,” he let go of her arm, “Let me know if you need a ride home.”

She laughed, her unfiltered thoughts slipping off her tongue, “There’s no way I’m sitting in the same car as you.”

“What?” a hint of a dashing smile revealed itself, “Why not?”

“Because do you see yourself? You're drunk as shit.”

He threw his head back, laughing a little too loosely. She couldn’t help but laugh while watching him.

He set his eyes back on her, “And you think you’re not?”

Her brows furrowed, “I think.. I’m sober enough.”

“If you’re sober then we’re all sober.”

She rolled her eyes, “Ha ha.”

Arman threw his arm around her shoulder, “You’re staying with me.”

Arman had introduced her to a few of his friends. It took her a millisecond to forget their names and faces.

His hand was in hers as they walked through the swarm of people. Her legs hurt from how much they’d walked around.

It’d been fun though, exploring the mansion with him and his friends. She almost hoped that she would remember it.

The next thing she knew she was being tugged and suddenly she was on someone’s lap.

She glanced over to see Arman sitting on a loveseat. His deeper, tan skin glowed handsomely underneath the colorful lights. It only emphasized his dashing, perfect-toothed smile. She couldn’t help but compare his smile to a Disney Prince.

She’d rarely seen him around at school. He was a junior but he was undoubtedly attractive. His jet black hair was slightly outgrown in that rugged way, with a few strands hovering over his forehead.

She attempted to move his hair off of his forehead only for it to fall right back in place.

She let out a laugh.

“You’re really pretty.” he blurted.

She glanced at him. Into his dark eyes, that were surrounded by-jealousy inducing-lengthy lashes.

She placed her hands on his shoulders.

Her voice wavered, suddenly feeling shy, “Yeah?”

He nodded, his hands sliding around her waist—drawing her closer. Their faces millimeters apart.

“You.. don’t like Noel right?” he asked, sounding almost nervous.

She laughed a bit, “I just met him today.”

Their noses nudged into each other and he smirked, “Then.. he shouldn’t mind, right?”

She smiled a bit, “I don’t think he’ll mind..”

His smirk widened as their lips barely brushed against each others, “He won’t.”

She bit her lower lip, her tone playful, “He won’t?”

“He won’t.” he responded, gruffly before crashing his lips into hers.

Her first kiss.

She was too drunk-high-crossed to know what she was doing. She pressed her lips into his—merely trying to mimic his movements. His lips tasted of alcohol.

His hands were touching her all over. Sliding up the curve of her waist, grabbing her hips and even fondling one of her boobs. His thumb rubbing against one of her nipples through her top.

She moaned against his lips.

His hand slid to her thigh, moving her leg over his hard-on through his jeans. A jolt of nerves suddenly shot up her spine.

She broke the kiss. She was out of breath and her face felt hot.

Suddenly, an ice-cold voice sounded from somewhere near them, “You guys should get a room.”

They both glanced over to see Gojo standing in front of them, drink in hand.

His expression was stone-cold. His bright blue eyes latching onto hers and for some reason, she knew something was wrong. Very wrong.

Suddenly a wildly handsome, playful smile spread across his lips. To others the sight must’ve been nothing short of appealing but it felt nothing but menacing to her.

She swallowed, her throat dry.

“Gojo!” Arman greeted, friendly.

They fist bumped.

“You jealous?” Arman teased.

His blazing blue eyes slid over to Arman, his smile widening. She didn’t miss the way his fingers tightened around his glass.

“More than you know.” he mused, airily. “As much as I’d love to watch you two go at it out here, Nanami would freak. Better take it to his Mom’s room. Maybe you’ll get lucky and find some toys in there.”

Arman snorted humorously, “You’re fucked.”

Suddenly Gojo grasped her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“Not as fucked as she is.”

That amused smile still pasted on his lips. But his eyes—she could feel the darkness swimming within them despite how blazingly blue they were. They were frigid with something so prominent she wondered how no one else saw it.

She immediately felt her body tense under his touch. She shoved his hand off of her.

His smile twisted into a wicked grin. She didn’t miss the hard edge to his curled lips.

She tugged at Arman’s hand, “Lets go.”

She wanted to get away from him. Far, far away from him.

Arman stood up, patting Gojo’s shoulder as he chuckled. Everything seemed to be funny to Arman. She couldn’t help but notice that the boys were also close in height.

“Shhh, bro.” he joked along with him. Not realizing that they were talking about completely different things.

Gojo merely winked before pressing his drink into Arman’s chest.

“One for the road?” he offered.

“Hell yeah.” Arman took the drink out of his hand and tilted his head back—downing it all in one go.

Gojo whistled as Arman handed the empty glass back to him.

Gojo lightly punched his arm, “I knew I liked you. Go have fun.”

Arman grinned, “You know I will.”

They both shared a chuckle before Arman faced her. His arms slipped around her waist.

He placed a couple light kisses on her neck, but she was stiller than stone. Her eyes were latched onto Gojo’s face—whose smile was slowly slipping away by the second.

She quickly turned away from him and faced Arman. A soft, hesitant smile on her lips.

He returned her smile with one of his own, “You wanna go upstairs?”

“S-sure.”

He pecked her cheek once more before slipping his hand through hers. He led them through the swarm of people once more.

She hated that she felt Gojo’s eyes on her back. The feeling made her shiver.

She refused to glance back.

They got lost trying to find the upstairs like twice. Only to realize they’d walked past it multiple times because the stairs were not well lit.

A few people stood at the bottom of the stairwell. Talking and chatting while her and Arman laughed quietly as they walked past them up the steps.

The group eyed them as they walked past.

Her and Arman had passed that group multiple times when they’d gotten lost so she could only imagine how odd they looked to them. Watching them go in circles around the house again and again.

She was a complete ball of giggles as they climbed up the spiral glass staircase.

He flashed her a subtle smile, before poking her.

“Shhh, keep it down, missy.” he teased her.

She almost broke out in another fit of giggles until he suddenly stopped.

He released her hand to hold onto the railing. His eyes were wide.

Her brows furrowed as she peeked up at him. She stood on the same step as him.

“Are you okay?” she asked once she noticed him look somewhat off.

He was sweating bullets.

The next thing she knew he turned his face aside and he was retching all over the steps, liquid pouring out.

Her hands went to her mouth as he stumbled down a couple steps, flimsily holding onto the railing for some balance.

He looked up at her, she stood a few steps atop him.

His eyes were bloodshot, face blotchy, his hair slick with sweat. His shirt was stained with the dark liquid of his vomit. All he’d vomited out was liquor.

He raised his foot, as if attempting to climb up one more step only to release the railing and go staggering backwards. The people at the end of steps yelled and moved out of the way as he crash landed into the floor.

A few people hadn’t moved out in time and managed to get hit by his rather tall frame, but now he lay sprawled on the floor. His red eyes wide open, arms splayed out, completely still.

His head moved slightly, as if trying to turn his face aside—only for white foam to start pouring out from his lips. His body began to convulse.

“Arman!” she screamed, running down the steps.

She dropped to her knees, by his side. She stared at him, worry consuming her as she held her hands out—unsure what to do.

She needed to find Millie. Millie might be sober enough to help her figure out this situation.

She stood up shakily. Her knees wobbly with terror as she looked down at Arman’s convulsing body. People’s shouts and murmurs all white noise to her.

More and more people seemed to gather around him.

She swiftly pushed her way through the crowd only to bump into an incredibly hard chest.

Her body went cold.

She looked up to see Gojo’s eyes already on her. She swore something in his eyes crackled, like blue flames.

His fingers grazed her forearm before grasping her. His large hand easily encapsulated the entirety of her elbow, “Go on. Find another plaything. I can do worse.”

The underlying threat veiled by his darkly charming smirk made goosebumps break across her skin. Her throat went dry in terror.

Her eyes widened as it clicked, “You… it was you..”

Noel. Jaemin. Arman. He’d done something to them.

He tilted his head, strands of his white hair becoming more disheveled in the process.

He raised a white brow as he waited for her to complete her response. His dangerous smile only widening.

The confidence sweeping off of him unsettled her to bone—enough to make her choke on her words.

“What did you do?” she whispered in shock.

“Nothing I regret.”

She stepped back, shoving his hand off of her.

She cupped her elbow-where his hand had been moments ago. Her skin still buzzed from the aftermath of their contact.

“What did you do to them?” she asked, her voice shaky.

His eyes bounced with amusement as she stared at him in absolute horror. The feeling of fear coursing within her only amplified by the drugs and alcohol in her body.

“What did you do to Arman?” she demanded.

His hand slipped out of his pocket, revealing a little zip lock baggie of pills. Some of the pills were crushed, leaving a powdery residue on the sides of the bag.

She eyed the bag. He caught the unsureness in her eyes.

“You know what this is?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Molly.”

Her eyes widened—especially when she remembered Arman had downed the drink Gojo gave him without a second's hesitance.

Who knows how much he put in there.

“Y-you’re sick.”

He chuckled—chuckled.

The faint sound of sirens pierced through the music. It seemed someone had called the ambulance.

“This is nothing.”

I wish he was lying.

“He’s seizing on the floor.” she sputtered.

“And?”

Her heartbeat stopped—her eyes instinctively meeting his once more. The smirk on his lips had dulled some, but his eyes. There was almost an ethereal glow to them—but instead of finding it beautiful, she found it deeply disturbing.

“You aren’t his to touch.”

She was speechless. The uneasy feeling in her gut pulsed through her—urging her-screaming at her to get away from him. As far away as she could.

She staggered backwards, his sharp eyes and fading smile never leaving her as she disappeared into the crowd.

I should’ve never gone to that party.

Ara walked with her phone in her hand. The sky was dark, but the brightly lit mansions along the street kept the streets rather well lit.

Each mansion was more spacious and grandly landscaped than the next—almost as if in competition. Some had fountains and others had marble driveways. It was mind-boggling.

She glanced over her shoulder, looking back at Nanami’s house. The ambulance was parked outside, alongside several police cars.

She’d gone searching for Millie first, the second she’d gotten away from Gojo. But she couldn’t find the other girl anywhere.

She stopped her search the second she heard cops pounding on the mansion doors. She’d escaped through the back door.

She watched the house observantly from over her shoulder. The music and voices could still be heard from down the street.

She saw a paramedic and a few cops dragging a stretcher out to the ambulance.

Her heart lurched as she remembered just the look of distraught that had passed along Arman’s face a second before he stumbled down the stairs. 

An image of his helpless body, lying on the ground at an awkward angle, with foam bubbling out of his mouth.

She flinched. She hadn’t felt that scared in a long time.

And Gojo. 

She was still too drunk to fully process what he’d done. Too inebriated to fully acknowledge it.

She shook her head, raking a hand through her hair as she glanced down at her phone.

An unfamiliar number had texted and called—multiple times.

163-7263-1555: ara its me

163-7263-1555 (2) missed calls

163-7263-1555: pick up

163-7263-1555: silent treatment againnn :///

163-7263-1555: shouldn’t i be the one mad right now

She was more than sure it was Gojo. She wasn’t sure how he’d gotten her number, maybe Millie had given it to him.

She’d rather die before texting him.

She switched from the messenger app to Google maps. She was following the walking directions to her home address. Even if it was 39 minutes away, she didn’t care. She wanted to go home.

She didn’t want to ever party again.

I should’ve never gone home that night.

She stood in the middle of her room. It was still just as messy as her father had left it.

It was like walking back from one nightmare to another.

She sighed, walking over to make sure her bedroom door was still locked. She knew if her dad had wanted to come check on her could’ve, he had a key.

He preferred to kick it down sometimes despite that.

She raked a hand through her hair before deciding to clean one section of the mess. Maybe it would ease her nerves—she was almost sure sleep wasn’t going to come easy to her tonight.

She bent down, picking up the fallen papers beside her desk. Her legs ached from her long walk. Luckily it hadn’t been too cold outside.

Suddenly a slight sound came from her window.

Her head spun and she eyed it warily.

What was that?

Nothing was different—at first glance anyway. She swallowed, unsure what to make of it.

She glanced over when she spotted her phone on the bed light up. It casted an ominous white glow to a corner of her dim room, along the ceiling and wall.

She hadn’t kept any lights on. Using the moonlight pouring from the window as her only source of light.

Her stomach swam with uneasiness. She was too uncertain to move.

Her whole body tensed when she heard faint shuffling noises by her window. Her eyes widened when she saw a hand grasp her window ledge then, before she knew it, a figure appeared.

He was squatting, his legs wide open over the narrow window ledge. The same ledge she used moments ago, to climb back into her room.(a/n: y’all kno that one official art pic of gojo squatting, legs wide & his thumb under his blindfold, yeA that one ;) 

A smirk lit the edge of his lip when he spotted her.

He raised his hand and knocked on the window, as if prompting her.

She didn’t move—merely rooted in spot-in shock.

No fucking way.

When he realized she wasn’t going to open the window his shoulders sagged. His expression darkened as she heard him mutter through the glass-

“Do I have to do everything myself?”

He used the hand that wasn’t pressed flat against the window to grab onto the slim rail. After a bit of shuffling he pushed the window up.

Her heartbeat skyrocketed and she immediately stood up.

He’s going to come inside.

She glanced towards her bedroom door but then stopped. She glanced down at herself.

She hadn’t changed out of her outfit from the party. Her dad was surely going to kill her if he saw her in this outfit. Her dad was sure to kill her for even being up at this hour.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Araa.” his voice was light, almost teasing.

She spun around, eyes wide with panic when she saw Gojo standing within her room. He looked so tall, his head too close to the ceiling.

Her room wasn’t exactly small but the mess made it look so. And his tall, slender frame made it look even smaller.

He stood right underneath the moonlight emitting from the window, it gave the ends of his frosty white hair a glossy hue.

He looked radiant.

Every detail of his pretty blue eyes defined in the dark.

Maybe I should scream..

A croak left her lips.

Her drunk mind raged with indecision. She knew she should scream, wake her father… but she was terrified. Terrified of picking the wrong demon to deal with.

Her father was predictable. He’d hit Gojo then hurt her twice as bad once he kicked Gojo out. She winced at the thought–but Gojo-Gojo was unpredictable. There was no guarantee what he would do…

Maybe I can get him to leave.. She was terrified of rousing her dad. He’d already beat her once today–if he beat her again she wasn’t sure she could handle it. And if she had to explain where she’d been… he’d kill her. She was sure of it.

Gojo tilted his head, “Aren’t you goin’ to talk to me?”

Her body shook slightly, “What-are you doing here.” She meant to sound firm but her voice came out raspy instead.

He took a step towards her while teasingly mocking her tone, “Why-the hell don’t you answer your phone.”

She took several steps back, fighting to keep her voice calm, “Y-you need to leave–”

He continued to slowly walk towards her, his eyes skimming over the mess in her room curiously, “If you picked up my call I could’ve taken you home, y’know. You didn’t have to walk.”

She held out her hand, “Stop.”

She stopped him a second before he could stand directly in front of her. Despite him being a few feet away from her, his tall frame easily blocked her sight from most of the room. His head was bent as he looked down at her.

She scrambled backwards a few steps, nearly tripping over the mess in her room multiple times just to regain more distance between them.

“Don’t come close to me,” she warned, her voice shaky, “Get out, Gojo. I’m serious. Get. Out.”

His eyes twinkled, “But I just got here.” he whined.

Her hand shook as she kept it held up in the air. “Just go.” she whispered, her tone harsh.

The glint of amusement within his eyes was all too demeaning. He tilted his head.

“What’re you gonna do, princess.” 

Her mouth went dry, she struggled to find her words. Her heart pounded in her ears. 

“I’ll scream.”

A dangerously handsome smile split across his lips. He shook his head.

“My dads home.” she warned.

His eyes latched onto hers, “Then why didn’t you scream when I came in.”

She felt something constrict in her throat.

She didn’t know how to tell him that despite him entering her house against her will-her Dad was guaranteed to twist the story and blame her. He might beat Gojo but he’d beat her worse. Because it would be her fault that Gojo got into the house. It would be her fault for not locking her window. It would be her fault for even knowing who Gojo was–

Because everything was always. her. fault.

She swallowed–feeling absolutely sick.

“You want me here.”

Her eyes immediately flitted up to his, “No.”

“Admit it.”

“There’s nothing to admit,” she spat.

His eyes blazed as he taunted, “Then scream.”

Her body tensed with indecision–panic. Her throat constricted once more as she tried to think through the fear. She had to pick the lesser of two evils.

Her mind instantly became plagued with terror at the thought of waking her Dad. Just imagining his potential anger made her want to sob. But Gojo–he wasn’t listening.

“Please-” her voice cracked before she clenched her jaw, “Just get out.”

Suddenly he was crossing the distance between them, easily stepping over the mess.

Her eyes widened, instinctively backing up until her back hit her bedroom door.

The second he stood directly in front of her adrenaline took over and she slapped him. Her hand shook slightly from the aftereffects.

“I said. get. the fuck. out.” she bit out through rushed breaths.

She was absolutely terrified of looking up at Gojo–but she did it anyway. His head was still turned aside, facing the direction she’d slapped him. His smooth cheek blossomed with red from her slap.

His crystalline eyes were frozen at first-as if in shock-before something shifted. Her breath caught at the sight.

The next thing she knew she was being tossed onto the bed.

His hand was at her neck, holding her down in a chokehold as he stood between her spread legs. His other hand flat against the blanket beside her head. 

“I’ve been good. so. fucking. good.” His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke roughly into her temple. 

His fingers momentarily tightened around her throat.

“I left you alone,” He dug his nose into her cheekbone, pressing her face aside into the bed. “You think that was easy for me, hmm?” 

His fingers loosened on her throat, his thumb gently rubbing over her racing pulsepoint.

“All I wanted was somethin’ in return, but you know what I got—” he hissed. “I got you showing up to a party, looking like the sluttiest bitch I’ve ever seen.”

His fingers tightened around her neck once more as he growled against her cheek, “I wanted to slut you out right then and there.”

She shivered, her hands went to his wrist at her throat—weakly pushing at him. Her nerves alight with terror.

“Get off–“ she whispered, shifting under him.

“You know what your ‘friend’ told me when she hugged me. She said ‘look what I brought you’.”

Her eyes widened. Millie? Millie said that?

His hand left her throat, suddenly cupping her face—forcing her to look directly at him.

He spoke raggedly, “She knows you’re mine—everyone knows you’re mine. Except you-you want to tease me—“

His lips crashed onto hers, enveloping her lips in a kiss so hard that her jaw ached. Her skin simmered wherever they touched.

The pressure of his lips dug her further into the bed. She gasped when he tugged at her lower lip with his teeth. He immediately took advantage of her open lips—shoving his tongue through the narrow expanse of her mouth.

He groaned.

She grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back.

He budged just enough for the kiss to break–his blue eyes illuminating in the dark. He slowly straightened, licking his lips.

She quickly propped herself up on her elbows. Her chest heaving in and out as she attempted to catch her breath. She placed a hand over her lips, her hand shook.

He stood in between her legs, which hung over the bed’s edge. His face was flushed, and not because of her slap.

“What the hell–” she rasped, before cutting herself off when he grabbed his shirt from the back and easily slipped it off.

Her throat went dry.

Well, him being the best basketball player definitely showed. It genuinely.. wasn’t fair.

His skin was incredibly smooth–nearly glowing in the darkness of her barely lit room. His shoulders bulged; his arms tautly corded with muscle. His already protruding abs tightened before her eyes. He was entirely too compact with muscle—it was clear he’d done some work in the gym.

He looked so strong-so lean-she was almost… terrified.

In fact, she was scared out of her mind.

He ran hand through his tousled white hair before bending over her once-again. He pressed his hands to the bed, around either side of her.

His jaw was locked as he looked down at her. His eyes slowly looking her up and down–his gaze absolutely predatory.

His forehead nearly touched hers as he lowered himself but she immediately fell back into the bed–avoiding his touch.

She scrambled under him–moving without any thought as she attempted to slip away only to yelp outloud when he grabbed her by the waist and shoved her back down against the bed.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear.

His countenance was unreadable–except for the dark look of heat that swam within the endless blue waters that were his eyes. The longer she looked at him she knew what was going to happen—she knew she was going to drown.

“You’re mine now.”

No. no. no.

Suddenly his hand was at her tube top, shoving it down. Her tits spilled over, revealing their luscious size. Her nipples were already hard from the slight breeze that escaped from her window.

His eyes reveled in the sight before he grabbed one and squeezed. She gasped at his grip.

“Mmm,” he palmed her hard nipple, “You been hiding these from me.”

She grabbed at his wrist, failing miserably to tear his firm hand off her chest.

She writhed under him, “Gojo, no—“

Suddenly he grabbed her wrists, easily pinning her hands above her head with one of his own. Her tits only seeming to protrude more at this angle.

His eyes widened, “Fuck.” he muttered, “You never took off our uniform’s jacket for a reason, huh?”

She didn’t get the chance to respond because he was touching her in an instant.

He took his time with each of her tits. He ran his palm against the smooth, untouched area of her underboob. He squeezed a handful, letting her tits fill the entirety of his large hand until it spilled through the gaps of his fingers.

He pinched her nipple and her body bucked.

“So fucking hot.” he gritted out.

“Gojo, please, stop, please—“ she whispered, begging.

She’d never felt this vulnerable in her life–she had to make him stop.

She twisted underneath him, purposely pushing her wrists against his hold only to gasp when his mouth latched onto her nipple. He lapped her perky nipple up, sucking diligently while roughly groping the other.

He broke away from her to look up at her through her tits, his lips glossy with saliva.

“How can I.” he answered, raggedly-before latching his mouth onto her unattended tit.

A choked moan left her lips-not from pleasure. Or so she thought-she couldn’t deny the feeling her nipples being attended to elicited. It was a feeling she’d never experienced before.

There was a heat she was starting to feel within her body—the kind of heat that was starting to burn within her, making her crave something she didn’t even know she wanted.

The feeling only added to her fear. The pulsing fear running underneath her skin threatened to overwhelm her.

“Please, please,” she whined, “My father is downstairs—please—“

His tongue swiped at her erect nipple once more. The tip of his tongue licking a tantalizing circle around her nipple before withdrawing his lips. A subtle smirk grew on his lips before he spit between the center of her tits. The feeling of the fluid against her skin making her squirm.

His fingers smeared his saliva along both of her tits. Her tits were soft and pillowy in his hands, using it as an excuse to squeeze them once more–he had to get them fully wet somehow, didn’t he?

He leaned back, standing upright between her legs. He didn’t let go of her wrists.

His blue eyes ran down her body. He wanted to groan. Her tits looked so good like that–glistening from his spit.

“Daddy’s downstairs, hm?” he mused. “Maybe he should know who his daughter belongs to now, hmm? He’s going to meet me one day anyway.”

“No..” she whispered.

He bent over her once-again, his teeth nipping at her lower lip. She sharply turned her head away–her body twisting underneath him.

“Get off—” she was cut-off when his hand suddenly pressed into her lower stomach, pushing her down further into bed. Her twisting and turning forced to an abrupt halt at the movement.

A low-cry left her lips.

“Why don’t you scream my name as loud as you can, yeah? I want you to.”

His hand was at her skirt, ripping it off with one swift yank of his arm.

He greedily drank in the sight of her in a baby pink lacey thong. Millie had given it to her tonight, as a ‘first night out’ gift.

If she’d known he would see it, she would’ve never worn it.

He slid his hand up her thigh, forcing her leg to spread before him. His teeth skimmed over his bottom lip at the sight. The entirety of her glistening cunt was visible to him since her thong had partly shifted aside.

He groaned through his teeth.

“Fuck, princess.”

He quickly released her wrists to hold up both of her legs, sliding his hands under her knees—spreading her completely wide open for him.

Before she could think of utilizing her free hands, she tensed. His pant covered groin was suddenly pressed against her warmth. His hard-on evident against her sensitive, untouched skin.

Her body buckled at the sensation.

A low chuckle left his lips before he began to grind his clothed cock against her wet cunt. She gasped, the feeling of something moving against her warmth foreign to her. But her body betrayed her mind—her juices spilled out her core, coating her thong and wetting his pants.

“Such a pretty pussy.” he rasped as he began to pick up speed, his hips jutting against her sensitive cunt. He was so hard.

She couldn’t move, her legs were spread wide. Held open by him against her will. Her knees were nearly at her shoulders as he grinded his cock against her. The bed squeaking noisily.

There was a feeling she couldn’t describe starting to brew within her. That heat–it spread along her skin and burned her insides. It seemed to originate from where he was rubbing against her. She couldn’t take it.

“Gojo-stop, Gojo-” she cried out, begging him to stop but he cut her off.

“Yes,” he growled out, “Just like that—want you to scream it next.”

His cock grinded harshly against her now, making her yelp out and her toes curl. Her thong was soaking, a wet spot had formed on his pants.

“So fucking wet,” he stared down at her cunt, continuing to roughly grind his cock against her. The friction felt so good against his cock.

“All mine.”

She writhed. A strangled cry leaving her lips as she attempted to separate her cunt from him by pressing her hips into the bed. The feeling was just too much–

He merely ground his cock further against her–pressing his hips against hers to further push her down into the bed. He used the added pressure to jut the length of his cock faster against her cunt.

She cried out, “P-Please—! Stop, Gojo—nnghh!”

He groaned–forcing himself to stop so he didn’t cum. He didn’t want to cum just yet.

She shivered, a subtle sigh of relief leaving her lips as she felt that hypocritical heat buzzing within her skin die down. She had no words for what that feeling was. A zip of fear coursed through her when she nervously glanced up at Gojo between her spread legs.

He was out of breath, his abs tightening with each inhale. Strands of his white hair curled over his forehead, slick with sweat. The slight mark of her earlier slap still on his cheek.

His gaze was possessive as he muttered, “m’gonna make you mine.”

He let go of one of her legs to unbuckle himself. He was too impatient to step out of his pants, merely unzipping himself and shoving his boxers down to let his thick, veiny cock jump out.

It was so long it made a slight sound when it hit his navel at first. His cock was big—big enough for her to be aware that it was big despite not having seen other cocks before. It was swollen at the tip, pink and leaking a liquid-y white substance.

The liquid leaked down his cock’s veiny sides. The veins protruding against his cock’s pale, pink skin. His cock was so erect, it was almost taunting her.

Her heart jumped to her throat–she was absolutely terrified.

She attempted to close her legs, drawing her knees together, “N-no…”

He easily drew the one leg he held apart and used his other hand to hook his index finger around her thong. He moved it further aside before placing his cockhead right at her entrance.

The tip of his cock pulsed as he felt her juices leak against him–despite not having entered her yet. His hissed–mind blanking with pleasure but before he could act on it, her legs flung out.

She turned to her side, moving to escape—until his hand found her throat, easily pinning her back down to the bed as he shoved his cock right into her core.

A pain-filled cry left her lips, her body buckling wildly underneath him. He’d only managed to seat his tip within her, but it hurt—it hurt so bad.

He bent over her and groaned.

A shiver raked her body at the sound. She went still, eyes squeezing shut, “No-no-nono-”

He peered down at her, his blue eyes dark with lust as he saw her strained expression. He slowly withdrew his cockhead and pushed it back in.

Her body jolted, eyes snapping open, “No—Gojo, stop-please, please—it hurts—“

She grabbed onto his hand at her throat. Her nails scratched at arm–trying-shoving-pushing at him, but they both knew it was futile. She sobbed.

Her cunt was incredibly wet, wet enough for her to feel aware of how warm the juices were making her insides. Despite all of this, she was still a virgin. She’d never had someone inside her before. Her cunt didn’t have any room for someone as big as him—or anyone ever.

He lowered himself over her, careful not to press his cock further into her as he swiped his tongue along her cheek, licking up her salty tear.

“You cryin’ princess?”

The tip of his cock pulsed inside of her.

His fingers around her neck tightened, “Do y’know how fuckin’ good you feel? How tight?”

He nipped at her jaw, before sucking at her neck—leaving dark dark hickeys behind. Darker than the marks he’d left on her tits.

“You think you deserve to run free after the way you were rubbin’ up on those random bitch boys, hm? You let them feel you up-let ‘em talk to you—”

His hips bucked into her, forcing another inch in. She nearly screamed.

“Only I get to do that.”

Her body was arched in pain, the skin above her tits felt warm and blotchy as she outstretched her neck. Her collarbones rising and falling against her skin as she breathed unevenly.

“No-no-no-“ she whimpered, her cunt hurt bad. Having more of him within her felt wrong—despite what the signals in her body were telling her.

Her cunt squeezed around him-heartily willing to accept him despite the pain. His girth was huge, taking up too much space. There was no way-this couldn’t be happening—

He groaned into her neck, his hand slipping down to play with her tits once more.

He squeezed her tit greedily before rubbing her areola till her nipple hardened against his palm. 

“You were such a bad girl today-y’know-you should be grateful..”

He chuckled, huskily, against her skin, “Should be grateful I’m not tearing this pussy open right now.”

She made a low, weak moaning sound. She could only imagine the pain—there was no way. No way she could take all of him. She would break.

Her cunt squeezed around him, hard—the complete opposite of her mind’s reaction.

“Hah,” he breathed out, against her neck.

His hands beside her head fisted the sheets, gripping it hard as his thighs flexed. He fought the animalistic urge to pound his hips into her at the godless pace he wanted to fuck her at.

He had to resist–her pussy was so tight that his cock nearly felt wedged in place, despite the slick of her wetness coating the rest of his balls.

He raised his head over hers, his cerulean blue eyes raking over her face. Her lips were slightly parted-breathless-as the crease in her brow deepened. Her body shook slightly as she tried to twist her face away–revealing that she was in pain.

His lips brushed along her jawline as a rush of lust overcame him at her expression. His balls swelled.

“Your pussy’s beggin’ for me, princess.”

He withdrew his hips slightly, letting his cock slide out before shoving it back in at the depth he was at before. Her body lurched. Her hands instinctively grasped his shoulders to hold onto something as she arched in pain.

Despite the cry she’d let out–she’d still heard the lewd, wet sound that filled the air.

“Hear that,” his lips were at the cusp of her ear, “That’s how wet you are.”

His hand cupped her tit again before squeezing it-harshly. She wanted to yelp but squeezed her eyes shut instead, biting down on her lower lip to quiet herself. If her Dad awoke to seeing her like this…

“You wanted this, didn't you?” Gojo’s ragged voice cut through her thoughts, “Isn’t that what you told Millie?”

His cock snapped in and out again. At the same depth as before. Barely a fourth in.

She gasped through her teeth. Her body trembled as she tried not to be too loud. He hadn’t gone deeper but god-the action was so unfamiliar, her insides felt like a mess.

“You told her you wanted to lose your virginity tonight.”

Her eyes snapped open in horror.

She had told her she was open to that but that was in confidence—and it wasn’t like that was her sole goal for the night.

Suddenly he leaned back, letting himself stand completely upright between her legs. His hands slipped up her thighs, spreading her legs further open—far and wide.

He stared down at her through half-lidded, hungry eyes.

“I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

Her eyes widened before she attempted to lift her hips away from him, but his hands suddenly wound themselves around her calves. His hands slipped under the bend of her knees before shoving her legs apart, forcing her hips back down into the bed.

She felt his tip poke her entrance.

She gasped—fear consuming her as she twisted helplessly. His hold was too strong for her to move. She attempted to pry his fingers off of her legs.

“Gojo-please, please-no, no-I can’t—“

Her little mewls shouldn’t have made his cock stiffer. He leaned over her, spreading her legs further open as his hands pushed her knees up. She felt the tip of his cock poke at her wetness.

His lips brushed against hers as she jolted. She was so sensitive, he loved it.

“Don’t be like that, kitten,” his voice a low murmur against her lips, “I told you I wanted you.. you should’ve came to me first.”

His hips shot forward, burrowing the full length of his cock inside of her all at once.

He caught her scream with his lips, kissing her deep and slow as she trembled underneath him.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. The pain was so blinding she couldn’t think. She felt so full–she felt like a new space had just been forced apart within her.

She writhed underneath him, unable to think until she pried her lips away from his. Her teeth clenched as she turned her head aside, trying so hard not to scream as his cock throbbed inside of her—forcing her pussy to accommodate.

She let out a choked breath, her cunt inadvertently squeezing around him.

“Fuck,” He groaned, the sound muffled as he pressed his face into her hair. “Takin’ me so well, princess.”

He slightly pressed his hips further into her, reveling in the feeling of how the walls of her cunt didn’t let him go, “Feel so fuckin’ good.”

She winced, moaning in pain as she squeezed her eyes shut. Her fingers clasping and unclasping his shoulders.

His blue eyes scanned her face, a look of adoration and pure lust mixing within his gaze as he ran his hand down her temple to move her hair out of her face.

“Your virginity was always mine.” he stated, huskily–with all the confidence in the world.

Her cunt squeezed around him and his hips jutted into her. Just as she cried out he pressed a desperate kiss to her lips. The feeling of his cock completely stuffing her and his lips on hers simultaneously jumbled her body and nerves like no other. She whimpered.

He broke the kiss before leaning back. His gaze darkened as he took in the view before him.

His hands on her thighs spread her legs some more, causing a soft whimper to leave her lips. Her full, perky tits were shiny with sweat. And her legs—they looked so fucking sexy, completely outspread for him like that. He could feel every tremble of her thighs go straight to his cock.

And her cunt—her cunt looked so good, completely stuffed to brim by him. Her warm pussy juices leaked over the edge of his cock. He didn’t miss the line of blood slipping down her cunt to ass.

She looked so ready to be used.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He fucked her hard. He didn’t care how loud the bed was. His dick slammed in and out of her relentlessly—lewd sounds of her wetness filling the room as she cried out with each rough fuck. If she thought the pain was bad before, it was nothing compared to now.

He was just so damn big. She swore she could feel each ridge and vein of his dick against her pussy walls—his cock forced her pussy to fit.

His countenance was focused despite being lost in complete bliss. Her pussy was his. Only his.

He didn’t slow down—continuously ramming his dick into her. The tip of cock hitting her walls each time, making her body jump up and quiver. Her tits bounced satisfyingly with each body breaking fuck.

“Ohh—god, fuck—stop, p-please—“ she was absolutely dumbstruck.

“You can take it.” He spread her legs wider, making her back arch in pain.

He leaned forward, picking up his pace somehow, “I’ll be the first and last dick you have—you hear me? This cunt’s mine.”

She breathed haggardly, her brain lost in a fog of pain as that heat she felt earlier slowly crept back up. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Nngh—!” was all that left her mouth when he continued to fuck her out. He kept spreading her legs open further–his grip on her legs firm as he let his cock hit her at an even deeper angle.

“Hurts!” she cried out, wincing, “Gojo—please—“

He didn’t stop. His cock slamming in and out of her roughly. Her cunt felt so damn good—so tight.

He licked a bead of sweat that shone along her cheekbone, “I know, princess.”

She was a mess. Her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as she let him do whatever he pleased. It hurt so bad she couldn’t think–but there was a small part of her that was reveling in the feeling he was arousing. She couldn’t explain it.

“Gojo, please, stop–” she whined, helplessly, tears slipping down the corner of her eyes once more.

His hand went to her navel, gently pressing into her lower stomach. He growled when he felt the slight bump of his tip hitting his hand. Fuck, her pussy felt too good.

He looked down at her. Her tits swung in hypnotizing circles. Her hair was completely unruly over the sheets and her face shone with tears.

His voice was rough as he muttered, “Such a pretty crier–S’not fair.”

Her cunt tightened at his words and he groaned through clenched teeth. She felt his dick throb inside her and couldn’t help but shiver at the unfamiliar feeling. She felt like wasn’t on this planet. This feeling burning within her skin, the lewd noises filling the room. The odd sensation of gradually building up subtly under the pain.

“You like that, hmm? You like when I compliment you while breaking you open?”

She shook her head, “N-no, please-nnghh, it hurts. Hurts.”

“You can take it, princess.”

He leaned forward, enrapturing her lips in forceful kiss as he pressed his hips into her. Letting the length of his cock fully submerge into her warm wetness. Her body arched underneath him, her tits pressing into his firm chest as he kept her down.

She felt his cock twitch and she gasped, breaking the kiss, “G-gojo—!”

He buried his face into her neck, groaning as he shoved his cock further into her. She winced.

Then suddenly she felt his cock pulsate within her. She felt something warm and thick fill her up—a lot of it. She swore she felt it drip down her ass.

He came… inside me. She went limp in shock.

He slumped over her, catching his breath. His weight nearly crushing her until his dick spasmed within her, shooting out the last loads of cum within her cunt.

He came a lot. He knew he had—it wasn’t usually like this but fuck, he had to see it.

He leaned off of her slowly. He slipped his hands around her legs once more, spreading her open to see his dick still lodged deep within her.

She was just so warm down there… Fuck, he almost didn’t want to pull out.

He noticed streaks of his cum had slipped out, joining the trail of blood and pussy juice that trailed down to her ass. His cock jerked in her pussy at the sight.

He slowly pulled himself out, his cock leaving her pussy with a satisfying ‘pop’ when he finally withdrew himself completely. A string of cum was still attached to her pussy from his tip when he pulled out.

A second later, more cum poured out of her cunt. And more. Streaks of blood were mixed in here and there but Fuck—how much did he cum?

His cum leaked out of her cunt and slipped down her ass onto the sheets. The sight was so erotic he didn’t notice that his cock was fully erect again. His balls throbbing once-more.

He ran a hand over his dick, giving it a few pumps before squeezing the tip to watch one last bead of cum pour out. He swiped at the cum with his fingers, collecting it.

He brought his fingers to her lips. Her eyes were closed but then opened half-way at his touch. Her whole body ached from the aftermath of their sex, she was completely worn out.

“Open your mouth.” he murmured.

She blinked, before opening her mouth compliantly.

He placed his finger in her mouth, “Suck.”

She did. Her little tongue swiped at the substance coating his fingers and squinted at the taste. She didn’t know what to make of it.

He smirked, that typical darkly handsome smirk of his– “Good girl.”

She lay in bed, curled up into a ball under the sheets. She still hadn’t gotten up to shower yet-despite desperately feeling the need to shower after getting railed by Gojo Satoru.

She still couldn’t believe that had just happened.

Her whole body ached, each physical movement causing some sort of strain on her body. Her throat felt dry and her legs still felt sticky despite having pissed already. She was still in a state of shock.

She hadn’t gotten the nerve-or will-to move because Gojo was still here.

He lay on the bed next to her. She couldn’t see him because her back was to him. She needed him to leave.

She felt the bed shift under his weight and suddenly his presence felt closer. His voice arose from somewhere near her shoulder,

“Are you sleeping?”

She jolted slightly, at his closeness—before scooting further away from him on the bed.

“Hm.. you mad at me then?”

Her brows furrowed. Why’d he say it like I shouldn’t be?

She needed him to leave but she refused to talk to him. She’d experienced abuse before this…but this was different. He’d taken her virginity.

She flinched when she felt him press a delicate kiss to her shoulder.

“C’monnn, princess,” he urged—whining slightly, “Talk to me.”

She didn’t want to. When the silence ensued she thought she heard a low sigh.

“You’re not allowed to give me the silent treatment anymore.” he muttered, discontentedly.

Her eyes snapped open at that—unsure what to make of his words. She wasn’t sure if that was a threat or just more of him whining. He was so unpredictable, she had no clue how to safely navigate this situation.

She didn’t trust his current easygoing-ness one bit. She didn’t know what he would do to her if she said something wrong—something he didn’t like. She wanted to be defiant but she was… terrified. She’d never been overpowered like that—completely bent to someone else’s will.

She still felt the imprint of his large hands around her legs, gripping her thighs firmly in place-to keep her spread open for him no matter how much she struggled. He barely budged when she’d twisted and turned-trying to escape. He dominated her easily every time. His strength scared her.

She closed her eyes, willing her heart rate to calm down. She needed to think through the fear but she wasn’t ever any good at acting.

She hesitantly poked her head out from the blanket, turning slightly to face him.

His blue eyes sparkled at the sight of her.

“Do you know what you just did to me?” her voice wavered, resisting the urge to snap at him, “Why would I want to talk to you.”

He was propped up on one elbow, shirtless, as he lay beside her. His white hair was completely ruffled, with strands poking out in different directions. A subtle pout appeared on his lips as he contemplated her question. His white brows furrowing.

She wished he’d put his shirt on.

He sighed, “Me and you were gonna happen regardless so..” he shrugged.

She blinked, staring at him in complete disbelief. There was so many things wrong with that that she didn’t even know where to start.

His fingertips skimmed her cheekbones, tucking her hair behind her ear. She resisted the urge to flinch.

She watched him in complete stunned silence.

He was gazing at her, almost adoringly. She could tell from his line of sight that he could see the hickeys decorating her neck. Now that he’d moved her hair out of her face, they were more visible.

His crystalline eyes flitted to hers, catching her staring. A brief look of surprise flashed over his eyes before a smug smile spread across his lips.

“I’m pretty, right?”

She blinked, speaking impulsively, “You’re insane.”

“Fix me then.”

Her eyes widened before flinching when his hand slipped over her stomach, lightly pressing her down so that she lay flat on her back instead of her side.

She froze. Her body alert with fear as he leaned towards her. He placed his head on her shoulder, letting himself lie comfortably over her.

He threw his long leg over her tiny frame. She was still partly naked under the blanket—but lucky for her, he wasn’t under the sheets.

“Don’t chicks love that shit?” he continued before sighing, “I wish you wanted to fix me.”

She glanced down at him, at his fluffy white head on her shoulder—his hair tickling her chin. He was so big compared to her that despite him being the one trying to ‘cuddle’ on her, his large stature still gave the appearance that he was spooning her.

She shifted slightly under his weight, wondering how he was comfortable. She supposed he didn’t have much to worry about—considering he was laying atop of her and seemed to live life doing whatever the hell he wanted.

Fix him? she wanted to laugh. The only thing that would fix him is jail.

She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to tremble slightly. How am I going to get out of this?

a/n: hi guys-first of all-woAh u made it. ik this was hella long, more of a short story than a one-shot but i hope y'all enjoyeddd. i realized like half-way thru editing that i never explained that some of the bolded, italicized text is spoken/narrated from our oc (ara) from the future. anyway, lmk what y'all think & if a part II is something that would interest u. eitherway, have a good day!! UPDATE: lol so here's the next chapter (pls read @ ur own risk bc it only gets worse from here... dun duN DUN)

[avelera]

So I've been making my way through Sailor Moon: Crystal and I'm in S2 (Black Moon arc) and I have a hot take on why Chibiusa was so unpopular back in the day because--I'm sorry to say because I came into this arc sympathetic towards her-- I kinda get the hate now more than I expected to.

That said, I'm less interested in disliking a fictional pink-haired child character than I am in understanding why the writing, which I think intended for us to like her, might have missed the mark.

Where Chibiusa's introduction went wrong:

Chibiusa is introduced as disliking Usagi, our protagonist, instantly. Thing is, we just came off a whole arc of meeting Usagi and learning to love her character as she grows and matures and goes on to save the day with her loved ones in S1.

Coming off of that and immediately meeting a "non villain" like Chibiusa (it's meant to be ambiguous) who hates Usagi's guts puts us in a similar place to Usagi in starting with a bad first impression of Chibiusa.

This bad first impression is likely intentional, I think we're supposed to mirror Usagi's journey towards learning to like Chibiusa over time.

However, I'm not sure it worked as intended. At least for me, by the time Chibiusa becomes Black Lady, Sailor Moon loves Chibiusa and wants to save and redeem her, but to me that seemed like Sailor Moon being a saint because I could understand a version where everyone is sort of sick of Chibiusa's shit by then (what with her leading to Pluto's apparent death at that point in order to save the universe from Chibiusa's fuck up in stealing the Silver Crystal and bringing it back in time in the first place, among numerous other annoyances and outright crimes towards people who love her).

So why is Chibiusa so unpalatable, from a writing mechanics perspective?

The thing is, I think we see a lot of guilt and regret from Chibiusa for her actions (since she from her perspective traumatically but definitely inadvertently led to the collapse of her mother's kingdom by stealing the Silver Crystal in a desperate bid to finally grow up, gain powers, etc after literal centuries trapped as a powerless little girl in what is actually truly a fridge-horror packed existence).

HOWEVER, guilt and regret are passive, they're not actually actions in their own right.

So we see Chibiusa have a lot of guilt and regret for the bad things she's done, which had horrible unintended consequences, and those are laudable reactions to what she's done.

But Chibiusa never takes any praiseworthy or good guy action up to the point of turning into Black Lady.

Chibiusa feels regret, sure, and fear and shame, but she never does anything good with those emotions. She just feels them in between action beats so we know deep down she's not a bad person.

In contrast, all of Chibiusa's actions make the situation worse, pretty much every time.

She threatens Usagi with a gun when they first meet, and constantly taunts her even while seeking her help.

Chibiusa steals the Silver Crystal despite being repeatedly warned that it's a dangerous item to tamper with.

She steals a key from Sailor Pluto, truly screwing Pluto over even though Pluto broke the rules just to extend a hand in friendship to Chibiusa.

Chibiusa also runs off numerous times, requiring Usagi, Mamoru and the others to stop what they're doing to track her down and help her.

One time, running off like that leads her to getting kidnapped by Wiseman, so while the kidnapping isn't her fault, this action directly leads to the situation where Sailor Pluto has to break her final taboo and die in order to stop the universe itself from being destroyed.

Then, as Black Lady (an admittedly altered form of Chibiusa that is outside her control) she does some pretty icky stuff like kissing her future dad on the lips.

On the one hand, it is a form altered by Wiseman so it's kind of not her fault, but, on the other, Black Lady's actions are sort of presented as what Chibiusa wishes she could do, what she would do if she had the power, and what she does as Black Lady is some pretty messed up stuff.

I was sort of understanding of Chibiusa just having the childish instinct to want her dad to herself, platonically, and using evil magic powers to get him, but then the incest overtones took "using her power to have her dad all to herself" from "Bad, but sort of understandable in a childish way" to full on "Ick."

TL;DR Chibiusa only shows good guy qualities while being passive, ie through demonstrating regret and fear and the trauma that led her to making the mistakes she makes in between action beats of the story.

However, whenever Chibiusa takes action as a character throughout the arc, she only seems to make the situation worse for everyone, including people (like Pluto and Mamoru) who have stuck their neck out for her and risked themselves to be her friend and look out for her. This is the sort of stuff that tends to make people dislike a person and/or a fictional character.

Some Additional Writerly Analysis:

As a writer, I find Chibiusa being unlikable particularly interesting, because I do think the show wants us to come 'round to Chibiusa by the end, at the same pace as Usagi, but even when I was sympathetic to her I found her rather hard to like so, to me at least, it seems like the story missed the mark in some places on achieving this and I was curious to analyze how and why this is.

Just being a klutz or making mistakes doesn't warrant the vitriol Chibiusa received. After all, Usagi's whole thing is that no one suspects she could be the Moon Princess at first because she's so imperfect and she messes up all the time. So just being ineffective doesn't seem like enough to warrant more hatred towards Chibiusa than Usagi ever got.

Likewise, being a passive character tends to make audiences annoyed, but the Sailor Moon Manga/Crystal tends to actually be pretty good at not making its female characters passive. Chibiusa is active but, as stated above, her actions tend to lead to the situation getting worse for everyone, while only in passive moments when she frets and cries and reflects on her past traumas do we see her "good" side.

So Chibiusa kinda gets the worst of both worlds, she screws over our favorite characters when she's active - audiences tend to prefer active characters, but not if they're actively doing things we don't like - and passive while showing qualities we might like - audiences tend to hate passive characters so we only see her being a good person when she's sitting around crying and not doing anything to really make up for her mistakes in a material way.

Yes, overall she's trying to fix her original mistake and takes action to do so, like by going back in time in the first place to get Sailor Moon to help save the day, but then when interacting with Sailor Moon Chibiusa's constantly antagonistic towards Usagi, who we presumably like if we're still watching the show, which seems to run counter to Chibiusa's own stated goals.

Being imperfect at enacting her goals, like antagonizing the person she wants help from, is sort of understandable, from the perspective that Chibiusa is a traumatized kid with a lot going on so she's not always acting rationally...

...Or is she just a traumatized kid? Because then we learn Chibiusa's supposed to be 900 years old at this point? The text is a bit self-contradictory on how much maturity we should expect from Chibiusa. Should we expect the maturity of a 900 year old being, or the immaturity of a child, or some mix where she's a 900 year old being trapped with the mind and body of a child in a truly nightmarish existence?

Then again, speaking of maturity, once Chibiusa does finally, physically grow out of being a child, she then uses her newfound adulthood to romantically kiss her own father (and, arguably, sexually assault him because it's not like he can consent there, nor would he if he could) which again is an example of her being passive when she regrets, but active when she makes more mistakes and does more unlikable things.

And to lovers of Chibiusa's character, I get it! She's had it really, really rough, her life is on paper actually kind of a nightmare. Her actions are all understandable.

I'm just trying to analyze why her actions and by extension her character become so unlikable that even as a grown-ass adult coming into the show pretty sympathetic towards Chibiusa because I remember all the hate she got, I was sort of taken aback by how unlikable a lot of her actions actually were.

Overall, I think the narrative was trying to create an antagonist that wasn't a villain, someone who makes the story harder for the protagonists but who overall we want to be saved not stopped. I just think that the narrative might have gone a bit too far in setting up Chibiusa as an antagonist to Usagi, and didn't do enough to show Chibiusa having effective heroic moments, only effective antagonist moments, such that it became very hard to pull her back from antagonist to protagonist at least at the point where she becomes Black Lady and we're supposed to want to see her redeemed.

[call-me-chips]

TW. Suicide

So I decided to just blurt out my thoughts a day or two ago cuz I was sad, and I figured might as well post it cuz I, once again, am sad :(

It's shit, but oh well

Poem (can this be considered a poem?? idk) below the cut

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"I want to die."

I think as I stare through the ceiling. My eyes are hollow and heavy, and although I can't see for myself, I'm sure all light has drained completely from them. I am tired and want to sleep, but I know the moment I close my eyes, my thoughts will take over again, dragging me down into a deep, dark tunnel, the light and colour slowly becoming null and void.

"I want to die."

I think as I lay in by bed, alone and comforted only by wind and dust. I can feel a gaping hole in my chest where my heart once might have been, but when I look down, I'm still intact. My pieces are all still attached to me in exactly the same way they have been since the moment I could begin to remember.

"I want to die."

I think, taking a deep breath to truly sink into my feelings. Everything hurts. From my throat to my legs, my arms to my feet, my head to my heart, it all aches. It's a silent ache though. It's a different kind of hurt, though one I'm well used to. Like an old friend, it keeps coming back. No matter how I may try to resist, there is no stopping the ache from infecting my bones and seeping into my very core.

"I want to die."

I think as I scavenge through the depths of my mind. I pluck out memories of every time I ever angered someone. Every irritation, every annoyance, every delay I caused, and I lay them out in front of me. It's too many. There's too much. Why have I done all these things? Now I see why friends leave faster than they come.

"I want to die."

I think, pulling out my phone to mindlessly drag my thumb across the screen. Pictures upon pictures of perfect lives fly by me. Relationships are being formed, families are being made, homes are being built. I am happy for these strangers, but the sweetness that happiness once gave is quickly drowned by the bitter aftertaste of knowing that I am too exhausted to do anything in my own life.

"I want to die."

But do I? Is that really what my head is telling me? Is that really what my heart knows is right? I search deep in my thoughts, but there's no answer. Maybe I don't want to die. Realistically, if I were standing on a skyscraper's roof, chill winds playing with my hair and freezing my lungs as I hung over the edge, I wouldn't jump. I wouldn't fall. I wouldn't even try.

I'm scared. Scared of what awaits me after death. When I die, will I meet my ancestors? Maybe family members who left too soon will greet me with open arms and tears in their eyes. Or maybe I will be consumed by a black void, aimlessly and thoughtlessly floating for the rest of eternity. Maybe there will be nothing at all. Perhaps I will simply cease to exist, my memory fading from the minds of those I loved like dust in the wind.

I'm scared of what people will think. How much I will inconvenience others by my passing. If the ones I loved took their own life, I know I would be heartbroken, wishing I could have done more while pathetically sobbing, broken on my bathroom floor. It would break me. Do I really want to cause that same feeling to plague someone else?

"I don't want to die,"

"I just wish I never existed."

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Might delete later idk