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streetlight11 · 4 years ago

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Till I Met You Again

Summary: Everyone is born with a life already planned out for them. Including their soulmates. Except, every person walking this earth has been given a specific soulmate marking that was similar to a tattoo to match their soulmate’s. The ink is invisible when one is born. To activate the soulmate marking, one has to be at least in a 20 feet radius to their designated soulmate. But of course, they wouldn’t know it until they start to notice the ink slowly appearing on their skin.

Theme: soulmate au, university au, enemies to lovers

Genre: angst, fluff

Warning: mild cursing

WC: 10k

Pairing: Soulmate!Yoongi x Fem!Reader

a/n: Hello! I kinda got too carried away in writing this one the other day, hence the word count for this is... woah. Hehe. But anyways, here's a soulmate au for you Min Yoongi lovers <3

Every person who was born into this earth has their life journey already written out for them in which it unfortunately remains a secret from them. And these living souls have been entitled to a soulmate that would potentially cross their path in the near future. Everyone is made for someone and the tattoo on their skin otherwise known as a ‘soulmate marking’ determines it for them.

The soulmate marking is nothing far from a tattoo as it imprints on your skin for eternity.

However, these markings will already be on you the minute you were born. Except, the ink will be invisible to the human eye.

But it’s definitely there. The only way to activate the marking is when one happens to be of 20 foot radius with their designated soulmate. This will cause the ink to start slowly appearing on one’s skin. Even so, these markings will start only when one has reached the age of 14. Only then will the ink start to be visible to one’s eye.

Unfortunately, until now when you’re already past 20 years of age, not a single tinge of ink was displayed on your skin. You’ve checked everywhere on your body. From your fingertips to your toes.

Nothing.

You weren’t really one who purely believed in this whole soulmate thing simply because you felt that there’s no such thing as a fixed soulmate. You should be free to choose who you want as your partner purely through interactions and chemistry you shared with the other, not by some marking on your skin. Your parents had a matching mark on their right wrists which was a simple rose in a glass jar.

No doubt you admired their love story and how they met, but you couldn’t see it for yourself. You really don’t want to fully depend on this supposed marking. Even when you went off to college, you’ve made it a point to try and go on dates no matter what their soulmate markings would be.

But it all turned out with the same ending. Either the guy dumps you for not having the same mark or they ghost you after the first date, saying you’re too good for them. All these never led to a heartbreak on your end because you were never in love to begin with.

You were simply trying your luck, trying to see if you’d find a single soul who was just as sceptical as you on this whole soulmate thing.

And so far, you’ve met none.

It was the start of university life for you as you’ve managed to enrol yourself for a Computer Science major in Hangang University. You took the same course during college, having interest in web design and computer technologies. You could only hope that the study load this time would give you a mental break every once in a while despite knowing the content is definitely heavier than college content.

But you still told yourself to persevere and never leave your knowledge hanging while you’re still young. With this mentality, you brought yourself to campus today for day one of university classes.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door to the specific lecture room for the first lesson.

Immediately, you were greeted by a room that had the majority of the students’ gender being males. But it wasn’t a surprise to you because CS majors tend to lean more towards males instead of females. This doesn’t bother you since you were here solely to study and perhaps make friends along the way.

You found an empty seat in the top last few rows. With careful steps, you climbed the stairs to make your way to the spot you had your eyes locked on. After you’ve settled down, you noted how the room was fairly quiet.

Probably because it was the first day of classes and nobody really knows each other yet. That was all pushed to the back of your mind when you heard chatting coming from the front door and you saw 2 friends walk in. It was pretty obvious they knew each other considering how they were laughing and talking freely to one another.

As you kept your curious gaze on them discreetly, you could only realise how good looking they were.

The taller one sported beautiful dark brown locks that were long enough to cover his eyes, his smile so charming you were sure anyone who crossed his path would fall for his smile in less than a second. And then there was the other one who sported a more edgy look with his shorter dark purple, undercut hair that was parted near the centre to show his forehead, a right eyebrow piercing to compliment his face.

You quickly diverted your gaze to your laptop screen, not wanting them to think you’re a creep. You were busy searching for the e-books for this lesson in your online school portal when you heard a gentle voice calling to you from your right.

“Hey, are these seats taken?”

You looked up to see the one with the eyebrow piercing staring at you with the softest smile on his face.

In response to his question, you simply mimicked his facial expression and shook your head at him. He thanked you quietly before the 2 of them settled down beside you down the row. They resumed their conversation for the next 3 minutes before the lecturer walked in to start the class.

Two hours later, you don’t even know how you managed to absorb the things your lecturer said but you did. You were typing out the notes he shared on the projector screen when you heard his voice through the speakers.

“I will let you go for your lunch break. Be back by 1pm, here. You can leave your bags behind since I will be locking the room once everyone leaves.”

With that, your classmates replied with a series of yes before they got up one by one ready to head for lunch. You were just typing out the last of your notes when the boy beside you spoke up. At first you thought he was talking to his friend. You completely missed the way he was turned to you.

Until he gently taps onto your forearm to tell you that his question was directed to you. With a turn of your head, you locked eyes with him for the second time that day. “H-Huh?” You stuttered, earning a stifled chuckle from him.

“I was saying, do you wanna join me and my friends for lunch? We’re already sharing classes, might as well get to know each other to prepare for future projects or assignments.” He kindly repeated himself for you, making you whisper a soft ‘oh’ under your breath.

It wasn’t like you to approach someone first when it comes to striking a conversation with a complete stranger. So when he did it for you, it surprised you that he even thought of letting you tag along with them to lunch. For this alone, you decided to accept his offer knowing he does have a point for that last statement.

With that being said, the three of you left the lecture room after bringing your wallets with you. You quietly followed beside the brown haired one as they immediately opened a topic for their conversation.

You were just checking your phone for the texts sent from your mom in your family group chat when a voice spoke up, addressing you directly.

“What’s your name?” You glance up to catch the one who asked the question was the brown haired one, as the purple haired one was already looking at you but it wasn’t intimidating in any way. So you found it easy to reply to them.

“Y/N.” You said as they all nodded only for the boy beside you to speak up. “Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Taehyung. This is Jungkook.”

And so you know.

After almost 10 minutes of walking, you finally arrived at the cafeteria located on the other side of campus from where you originally were. The cafeteria was filled with hungry students and occupied tables. This wasn’t something new but at times like these, you’d rather bring your own food and sit somewhere that’s less crowded and bustling.

Just when you were about to excuse yourself and get a take out instead, Taehyung’s voice sounded from beside you, “Hyung said he found a table for us. They’re at the side near the drink stall.” He addressed it to the Jungkook in particular.

Hyung? Found a table? Did their other friends go to this same campus too?

You thought to yourself as Taehyung soon led the three of you around the cafeteria with you following behind them like a lost puppy.

You were busy looking at the available food stalls around when you were stopped by the voices that called out to the 2 boys’ names. Curious eyes wandered over their figures to see just who their other friends were and you were met with a table filled with relatively handsome guys.

There were 3 guys seated at that table, happily welcoming Taehyung and Jungkook. Just when you thought they had forgotten you, Jungkook turns around to show you to his friends.

“If you guys don’t mind, we made a new friend this morning and we invited her to join us for lunch. Her name is Y/N.” Jungkook announced as the three boys smiled at you warmly.

“Hey Y/N. I’m Namjoon, this is Seokjin and Hoseok. It’s nice to meet you.” Namjoon said as he stretched his hand out for you to shake in which you obliged. You definitely didn’t miss the intricate design of a floral arrow lining his inner forearm. That must’ve been his soulmate marking. You soon found yourself seated next to Hoseok and Jungkook after buying your meal.

You were chewing your noodles when Taehyung spoke up to catch everyone at that table’s attention, “Where are they? Shouldn’t their class be over already?”

“Apparently they just ended 5 minutes ago. Minie told me they’re on their way now.” Seokjin replied.

Who were the ‘they’ Taehyung was referring to?

Were there more of their friends?

Oh great.

You refocused on your food, taking a bite out of the chicken meat as you listened to their ‘first day of university’ story. You found out that Namjoon was a Psychology major, Hoseok was a Dance major and Seokjin was a Culinary major.

You were currently staring at the pile of vegetables that Taehyung so kindly transfers into your bowl, after he asked around on who wants the boiled carrots and broccoli to which you said yes.

Taehyung was passing you every last bit of vegetable to your bowl when a sweet voice spoke up from the end of the table nearest to Namjoon and Seokjin.

“Finally! I thought you’d never make it for lunch.” Namjoon laughed as you heard a much raspier voice speak up from the same spot.

“I wouldn’t miss lunch for the world.” You heard the others laugh when Taehyung finally finished clearing his plate off the vegetables before turning to the newcomers to say his hellos.

“Oh, by the way, we have a new addition to our circle. She’s in Taehyung and Jungkook’s class so they tagged her along for lunch.” Seokjin announced as he reached his arm behind Taehyung to place a soft hand on the top of your right shoulder. You finally looked up from your bowl to see who the newcomers were.

The first guy you locked eyes with had cute puffy cheeks, sporting a pretty dark blue hair colour as his bangs framed his face nicely.

“Oh hello. I’m Jimin.”

You smiled shyly at him before your eyes naturally travelled to the other individual standing right beside Jimin and that’s when you frowned.

Unsurprisingly, the male did too.

His hair was an ash grey colour that parted at the side to show his forehead instead of letting it cover his eyebrows like Hoseok’s did. He had a few piercings on each ear. If his physique was unrecognizable to you, at least his face was. You knew exactly who he was without having to ask him for confirmation.

“Yoongi?” His name rolled off your tongue effortlessly in a whisper, stirring reactions from the rest of them.

“Wait, you know each other?” Jimin asked in confusion as his eyes travelled back and forth between you and Yoongi. That’s when you heard the other scoff before locking his eyes with you.

“Never thought I’d see you again after all these years.” His expression was dry and almost unwelcoming unlike the smiles his other friends gave you upon your first meeting. “Never wished for this day to come either but here we are…” You said sarcastically.

The tension was so thick, you were sure you would have to cut it with a knife instead of a scissors.

You broke the gaze by standing up, claiming you’ve lost your appetite.

“I’ll see you guys in class.” You said, directing your words to your classmates before you snatched your phone and wallet off the table top along with your tray of food to return. With a quick glance to Yoongi, you ignored his burning glare as you shoved past him by the shoulders causing him to stumble back a little.

The table fell quiet as Seokjin was the first to break the awkward silence, “Well, that was unexpected.” Yoongi scoffed as he left the table to go buy his food, not bothering to wait for Jimin as his mind was clouded with the thought of you being in his circle of friends.

The history of you two goes way back when you were in both pre and high school. Your first ever dispute with him was in preschool, all because you were both fighting over the crayon box. And then gradually, more fights would happen over silly little things. It came to a point where your teacher would have to separate you from each other.

Your disputes continued after you found out that he just so happened to join the same high school as you, let alone the same class. It only made things worse. You two would bicker and fight almost everyday like a married couple.

Your friends teased you often with him for the amount of fights you got into with him. They’ve even grown accustomed to the harsh comments you had thrown to each other on a daily basis.

Not a day goes by without either him stepping on your tail or you having a payback for all the pranks he did on you to get you worked up. And yet, just when you thought you were free from seeing the devil himself again, life has its way with you and it bothers you to the core at this very instant.

Your lecturer arrived back at the lecture room 15 minutes before 1pm and it seemed like everyone else was still having lunch. All except you. “You’re here early? Have you had your lunch?” He asked as he proceeded to unlock the room while you lingered behind him, standing up after you saw him approaching from afar.

“Yeah, I did.” You smiled, stepping back into the room after he pushed the door open. You climbed the stairs again to where your belongings were, taking out your air pods to bury yourself in music.

Shutting out the world around as you rested your head in your arms on the table. You didn’t notice the people strolling into the lecture room, too busy drowning yourself in your own little bubble. All of it soon came crumbling when you felt a soft tap on your shoulder.

That’s when you look up to see the 2 of them back in their seats.

You glanced ahead to see that the lecturer had already flashed the new slides onto the projector screen which indicates the start of class again. So you took out your air pods and kept them in its case before tossing it into your bag.

Class resumed and your messy thoughts were shoved to the back of your mind, far away from your main focus right now which was your class.

After a dreadful 4 hours of lessons, your lecturer finally calls it a day. He reminded all of you to be punctual for class tomorrow, saying that he has some group discussions for the topic he would be teaching. Once everyone was dismissed, you kept your stuff back into your bag quietly.

You could tell the two boys were waiting for you since they hadn't moved a muscle from beside you despite already standing up and were just leaning against the table while they chatted. The minute you stood up, they pushed themselves off the table and only then did they start walking down the steps.

The three of you made it to ground level thanks to the operating lift, making your way to the parking lot that was right beside the campus entrance.

You were just talking to Jungkook about your hobbies when you noticed a group of 5 guys gathered at the steps of the campus grounds through your peripheral vision. You could only guess it was their friends due to the voice that calls out to those walking with you. They led you towards the bunch as you glanced over to everyone but him.

“Hey Y/N, how did you come here this morning?” Namjoon asked, his voice nothing but sincere.

“Public transport.” You said simply with a smile directed towards him, only for Seokjin to speak up, “Do you need a ride home? I can drive you?”

With that being said, you kindly shook your head with a smile, not wanting to offend him in any way for turning his offer down. “It’s fine, I can manage on my own. Thanks for the offer though. Maybe next time.” You said as you bid the rest of them goodbye, not bothering to look at the very person you’ve held your grudge on for years.

They watched as you turned in your heels and left, deadpanning your way to the front gates. Jimin sighed lightly before turning to Yoongi and asked for answers on why you and him weren’t on good terms.

But the latter only brushed Jimin off, saying he would explain some other time.

The rest of them soon dispersed to their own vehicles to head home after a long and tiring first day of university.

As more days began to pass, you were sometimes dragged by either one of your 2 classmates to hang out with their friends and girlfriends. If you weren’t mistaken, half of them already found their soulmates and were currently in a relationship with them. While the remaining half were still finding for theirs because it was either their soulmate markings had appeared on their skin but very faintly, or there was none at all.

But the amount of times you’ve recalled hanging out with them during the past three months were countable with your fingers. You avoided having lunch with them often ever since you found out Yoongi was in their circle. You didn’t want to seem petty but it seems like he too hated having you around.

Which means that the feelings were mutual on both ends.

It was a pretty warm day so right after you arrived back at your apartment, you headed straight for the showers. Slipping into the shower stream the minute your clothes were discarded.

The cold stream coating your shoulder down with it’s nice, cooling temperature to ease out the warmth in your body.

After you finished your shower, you took your towel from the rack and proceeded to wipe yourself dry. Stepping out of the cubicle, you walked over to the sink counter where your large mirror was glued onto the wall. As you were ruffling your hair with the towel to rid the excess water, you noticed something on your left rib through the reflection.

Is that…?

You glanced down at your skin to see a very faint outline of something on your skin. You blinked twice, not believing this.

When did it start showing?

Your mind was going feral at the thought of seeing your soulmate marking finally make its appearance onto your skin. Who was the cause of this? Why did it only appear now after all these years? If that’s the case then it means that your soulmate is someone from school.

“What am I thinking? This is all a load of crap. I can date whoever I want no matter what marking they have.” You said to no one in particular as you changed into your home attire.

A few days later, you were just in class alone in the morning. Taehyung and Jungkook had yet to arrive when a sudden voice from beside you made you jump. A soft curse emitted from your throat as you clutched to your chest from the minor heart attack. You turned to find one of your classmates whom you recalled his name to be Hanbin, towering over you to your left.

“Hey, I’m Hanbin.” He smiled at you, feeling your stomach get warm upon seeing him up close for the first time.

“Hey… I’m Y/N.”

“I don’t mean to be creepy or weird, but I’ve kind of noticed you going for lunch alone these days instead of with your friends?” He asked as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. You somehow knew where this was going.

“Right… Well, that is true I suppose.” You chuckled awkwardly, looking away from him briefly before turning your attention back to him.

“I see. Well, if you’re looking for company, you can go for lunch with me?” He said it more like a statement instead of a question and that in itself made you smile. You had just accepted his kind offer when you heard familiar voices approaching to where you were seated.

Hanbin’s eyes glanced past your shoulder only to flicker back to you, setting a reminder before he left.

“Lunch with me later, yeah?”

You gave him a soft nod as a smile crept onto your lips. At the same time, you felt the soft nudge to your right elbow. You already knew who’s the culprit. “Wasn’t that Hanbin? What did he say to you?” Taehyung asked as he took a seat beside you.

“He asked me to go for lunch with him.”

“So you agreed?”

“Mhm.”

“You wanna go for lunch with him but not us?” Taehyung asked with a pout, only for Jungkook to lean over and ask what was going on. You could only roll your eyes at them, not actually annoyed or anything. Just a reflex whenever someone tried to get your sympathy over something stupid.

“Give me a break. I’m not sharing a table with ‘you know who’. Wouldn’t wanna accidentally break the table with our arguments.” You flashed him a sarcastic smile that made him click his tongue at you in disbelief.

It has been two months since you first went to lunch with Hanbin and you have been doing that ever since. You noticed that his demeanour was starting to change too around you, maybe there was a mutual feeling settling in between the two of you after all.

It was a Saturday afternoon and you already made plans with Hanbin a week prior. He wanted to bring you out on a date to the amusement park and then maybe grab some supper before heading home. He picked you up at your apartment that evening in his jeep, looking quite handsome if you say so yourself.

The two of you spent the evening together, adrenaline rushing through you thanks to the rides you took. After enjoying yourselves at the amusement park, you were both tired from having fun so he offered to stop by and grab supper with you before sending you home.

You ended up getting fast food at the diner downtown. You were happy. You were grateful that he was nothing but sweet to you. But for some reason, deep down there was that voice in you that was screaming, “He’s not the one” and you hated it. You didn’t want to rely on the marking to determine your happiness.

What if you belonged to someone who has a different marking than you?

That’s possible right?

So when he finally parked right outside your apartment complex, he turned off the engine leaving his key in the ignition. The car fell silent for a moment before you decided to be brave and spoke up.

“Do you… wanna come up for a bit? We can talk for a while longer?”

With that, Hanbin frowned as he wondered if he should. He didn’t want to ruin a first date and he most definitely did not want you to have a bad impression on him.

“Are… Are you sure?” He asked quietly, to which you nodded.

When you didn’t get a proper response, you simply let out a soft giggle followed by, “come on” before you opened his jeep door to board off the vehicle. You left him no choice but to follow after you. Once you’ve made it to your apartment, you unlocked your front door and stepped inside allowing him to enter.

It took him a while as his eyes travelled all over your cosy apartment, admiring the minimalist interior. You told him to take a seat while you went to get him a drink.

A few minutes passed and you were both just talking freely on your couch when you noticed how his eyes always flickered down to your lips constantly as you spoke. This made you stifle a giggle and he caught on. He apologized for it but you brushed it off.

Just then, the room felt quiet all of a sudden as it was your turn to glance down to his lips.

Hanbin softly smiled as he began to lean closer.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you could feel his warmth radiating off his body from how close he was to you.

Right when you felt your head get dizzy from the close proximity, you unconsciously whispered against his lips something that you would never normally do.

“Kiss me.”

With that being said, he pressed his plump lips on yours.

Immediately intoxicating you with how sweet he tasted. The kiss slowly got heated as he carefully guided your body back to lay on the couch while he hovered over you. His hands slid past the hem of your shirt, resting on your waist as he caressed your skin.

You slide your hands up his chest, wrapping them around his neck. He slowly pushed your shirt up using his wrists. Right when he’d just pulled away for a breather, his eyes travelled down to your bare torso beneath him.

His gaze seemed stuck on whatever he was looking at. When you realized he stopped and was staring at something on your body, you knew exactly what he saw.

“Is that…?” His voice was soft, almost sounding as though he was upset.

“Yeap…”

With this confession, he slowly pulled away from you, tugging your shirt back down and bringing you to a sitting position.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t…” He began but you were quick to hush him.

“It’s okay… Besides, I should be the one saying sorry. I already saw your marking the other day when you wore a tank top to class. I just thought you’d be okay with dating someone who doesn’t share the same mark as you. I guess I was being selfish…” You said.

Hanbin remained quiet as he listened to your reasoning. Suddenly feeling bad for stopping whatever you two were sharing, so abruptly like that. With that, he reached out to hold your hand, telling him that he was still sorry for reacting that way and for hurting your feelings by doing so.

But he told you he didn’t regret taking you out on a date today, that he genuinely had a good time with you and that he would love to still be friends with you if you allowed him.

You smiled at him before turning your attention to the flower pot sitting on your coffee table only for him to continue, “I just hope that you’ll find someone who will love you for who you are, doesn’t matter the mark.” For that, you smiled again. Thanking him for being sweet and thoughtful.

After he left, you couldn’t help but sigh. This was already the umpteenth time this happened to you.

But you couldn’t stay mad at Hanbin for turning you down simply because he didn’t reject you the way your other ex dates did. That was the reason why you let him go without holding a grudge.

The next few weeks, you’ve gone to lunch on an alternate basis between Hanbin and the guys. And every time you went with the guys, you could only prepare yourself for the constant bickering with the one and only, Min Yoongi and today was no different.

You were sitting next to Namjoon at the end of the table with the only space left empty being beside you. And it was as though luck wasn’t on your side, the only human left to arrive for lunch was none other than Yoongi himself.

You were just sipping your green tea when you heard his voice approaching towards your side of the table.

“Sorry hyung, that’s the only seat left.” Jungkook smiled sympathetically to the elder as you made it a point to not spare a glance over to him. You could hear his grunt of disapproval but nonetheless plopped his bag down on the chair before disappearing to buy his food.

When he did come back, you had just gotten a whole chunk of chocolate fudge cake shoved into your mouth by Taehyung who was seated opposite you.

You were unable to pull the dangling piece of cake into your mouth so you tilted your head back. But instead of the cake entering your mouth, it ended up falling into your hands when you felt your head crash into something behind you.

And the hiss just told you who it was.

“Watch it before I spill hot soup on you.” Yoongi said as he placed the bowl of steaming noodle soup on the table top beside your tray.

“Don’t worry because I’ll make sure it spills on you too.” You challenged him back, earning a glare from him.

You heard a few sighs coming from some of the guys but you couldn’t care less. You busied yourself by scrolling through your social media in hopes that the time would just pass by quicker so that you can be away from him after lunch ends.

A few days later, you had just finished your shower when you noticed your mark slowly growing more and more opaque. To which you could finally see the design of it.

It was a dream catcher.

A pretty one at that. You softly traced your finger over the outline of the detail, keeping your eye on the reflection. Just then, a soft sigh left your lips.

This means that your designated soulmate has supposedly crossed your path more than once. But seeing how the ink is getting darker with each passing day, could only mean that if not often, this person is near you at least more than 3 times a week.

A week went by and Jungkook had invited you to his birthday slash pool party that weekend. He invited only the guys and some of their girlfriends. You’ve met the girlfriends a few times and they’ve all been pretty sweet to you so far. All of them are so down to earth. You told Jungkook you’ll be there, earning a happy soft clap from him when you said so.

On the day of the party, you had just finished your shower when you noticed the water droplets underneath you weren’t clear. You looked harder only to realize those weren’t water.

It was blood.

“Great… Thanks mother nature…” You huffed as you went to get your feminine item from your cupboard. After successfully changing into the attire you chose for the day, you tied your hair into a messy ponytail before leaving your bathroom.

You wore simple denim shorts and a loose shirt tucked into your jeans.

When you actually made it to Jungkook’s house, you were surprised to know that he was living in a one story house with a built-in pool ready when he moved in.

Apparently his parents were pretty wealthy people so they bought this house for him, saying it would give him the opportunity to take responsibility in keeping the house clean and tidy rather than his mother having to do it for him all the time.

You called Jungkook’s phone only for him to pick up on the second ring. You told him you were at his front gate so he hung up the call and rushed over to you.

Once you were inside his beautiful compound, he brought you towards the back through his side garden. Distinct voices gradually get louder the nearer you get to them. The minute you turned round the corner, you instantly saw more than half of them in the pool including the ladies.

Seokjin and Taehyung were over at the barbeque grill, cooking the meat for everyone. There was a table filled with all kinds of snacks and sweet drinks. It was a full on pool party.

Just then, a familiar voice rings in your ear already knowing it belonged to Hoseok.

“Y/N! You made it! Come join us!”

You stopped at one of the chairs only to put your sling bag down and apologized to him, “Sorry to burn the mood, but I can’t. Monthly calls.” You could hear some whines and sad pouts forming on some of their faces right after.

“Aww man, that’s a total bummer.” Jimin said, making you shrug.

However, you noticed a figure leaning against the wall on the other side of the pool just blankly staring at you. That’s when you glanced over to see Yoongi. You held your stare for a moment before you turned away. Missing the way he was still staring at you even when you were making your way to Seokjin and Taehyung.

A few minutes later, you were just talking to Jiyeon who was taking a break from being in the pool. You sat facing each other but from where you were seated, your back was facing the grilling pit.

Jiyeon was just talking to you about baking when you noticed someone swimming to the side that was aligned with where you were sitting.

Only to realize it was Yoongi.

He placed his hands on the edge of the pool and soon pushed himself upwards. You watched as water flowed down his body effortlessly. Cursing yourself for even staring at his shirtless form. He pushed his wet hair out of his face, resulting in him having sort of a slick back hairstyle.

He was too busy talking to Hoseok and Jungkook who were still in the pool, his head completely turned away from you.

Right when you were about to look away, your eyes caught sight of the imprinted ink on his left rib. You didn’t think much of it as you turned away from him. But then something in your brain ticked you off like a time bomb. So you carefully turned back to him just a few feet away from you.

That’s when you saw it.

The dream catcher on his left rib is so prominent and bold against his milky skin. Not to mention his toned abs. A soft gasp left your lips as he walked past you without sparing a single glance at you.

But you didn’t mind it. You were glad he didn’t see how shocked you were because if it did, he would have said something about it.

So instead, you just got up and left, entering Jungkook’s home through the glass doors frantically. You rushed in and went straight to the said destination. Once inside, you took a moment to steady your breathing as you brought your gaze up to the long mirror that laid upon you on the wall landscape.

You carefully pulled your shirt up to expose the ink on your own skin. You could only stare at it through the reflection before looking down at your own torso and gently tracing your finger over the outer rim of the dream catcher’s hoop.

You didn’t know how long you were gone for. It wasn’t until a voice broke your train of thoughts.

“Was it really necessary to rush into someone’s house like-”

However, his speech got stuck in his throat when his eyes flickered over to the reflection in the mirror. No it wasn’t your face he was staring at. It wasn’t the soap bottles lining Jungkook’s sink.

It was your mark on your left rib.

You swiftly pulled your shirt down to hide it from him from seeing any more details of it. With quick hasty steps, you turned to leave the bathroom and had barely taken a step out into the hallway when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to face him.

“Show me.” He said firmly.

“Show you what?”

“Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I- I don’t know what you mean-”

Without warning, Yoongi used his free hand to lift your shirt up to stop right below your bra line as his hands naturally cupped your sides to keep your shirt there. He finally caught a clear look of the inked design on you, seeing how familiar it looked to him.

You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes flicked wider for just a millisecond before it went back to its original state.

For some reason, your lung felt restricted and your heart dropped upon seeing the same mark on his skin at the same exact spot as yourself. You wanted to run away. All you wanted to do now was to be as far away from him as you can.

So you slapped his hands away, making him lose his grip on you before you turned around to leave.

He grabbed your wrist again but this time, you mustered whatever strength you had left to yank your arm from him. Tears stinging your eyes as it threatens to fall, yet you don’t fully understand why.

“Don’t! J-Just… leave me alone… please.” Your voice falls into a whisper as you rush to the backyard, ignoring their worried calls as you simply told them you weren’t feeling well because of your monthly calls. When Yoongi did come back to the backyard, he was questioned as to what happened back in the house and why you looked like you were about to cry.

Yoongi couldn’t help but stare at your descending back just in time before you turned the corner and disappeared fully from sight. Only for him to lie to them despite knowing exactly why you left.

“She wasn’t feeling well.”

The week went by and you have been avoiding coming relatively close to the rest other than the 2 who were obviously unavoidable. But it’s not like you had anything against them. You just wanted to avoid Yoongi at all costs for now. It was a Friday and you had just finished your classes for the day when the two boys exchanged glances to each another before Jungkook spoke up.

“Hey, do you wanna grab something to eat with us after this?” You knew he was being nice. You knew he wasn’t to blame for Yoongi having the same exact soulmate mark as you. So for that, you chose not to lash out at him.

“It’s fine. I’ll pass.” You smiled half heartedly and they could tell. But thankfully, they chose not to question further.

The three of you were walking towards the main entrance as usual when you saw the rest of the group seeming to wait for you three. You glanced up to Jungkook beside you who gestured a small wave to the others, only for you to accidentally look over.

And the first thing you saw was Yoongi already looking at you.

Great.

Before you could get to close, you bid your goodbyes to your friends as you separated from them to head towards the gates. Nobody has yet to know why you were acting this way other than Yoongi himself. You were just halfway through the parking lot when a firm grip on your wrist made you turn after being tugged back gently.

You nearly crashed into the figure whom you weren’t surprised when you saw it was him.

“Stop acting like a child.” He said, his tone held something much more than just firmness. He sounded like he’s… hurt almost.

“So what? This marking thing is a load of bullshit. Why does it determine who we should be with? That’s unfair! I’ve seen couples who have different marks and yet they’re still happy together?!” You said, clearly letting your emotions take over your mind.

“If you think it’s bullshit then why are you ignoring me like I’ve just killed your pet?!” He asked, his voice now a tad louder than it was before.

“Because all the guys I’ve tried dating care too much about these marks! Every single one of them ditched me when they found out I didn’t have the same mark! And what are the odds that the one person who has the same exact mark as me, happens to be the one person that has been nothing but a daily source of fight with me?” You paused as his grip on you loosened, his glare suddenly softened.

“Of course I couldn’t believe it… I didn’t want to believe that of all people, it’s you… That’s why I ignore you.” Your voice grew soft as you saw the way his eyes flickered back and forth on your own brown pupils.

“So you’re saying you hate me? Is that it?” His question was simple but it held a thousand meanings and you knew it.

“I don’t even know anymore, Yoongi…” You whispered as you slowly pulled your hand out of his grip and quickly left before he could say anything else. Yoongi stood there trying to process everything. Still not entirely sure of what just happened. Just then, a gentle hand on his shoulder made him return back to reality.

“Hey man, you okay?” Namjoon’s calm voice spoke from beside Yoongi as the latter could only nod.

“We heard your conversation… Well, we didn’t intend to anyways… But, is it true? That you both have the same mark?” Namjoon continued.

He could hear the soft, quiet curse leaving Yoongi’s lips during his exhale before he spoke up, “Yeah… That was actually the reason why she abruptly left during Jungkook’s pool party.” Yoongi explained and it all began to fall into place for Namjoon. The younger could only nod as he finally put the pieces together.

“Mmm, and so I’m guessing she’s too overwhelmed with the fact that you have the mark out of a billion people to walk this planet?” Namjoon said.

“Bingo.” Yoongi sighed as the two began to walk back to their friends who were still gathered at the entrance despite hearing the commotion earlier. If space is what you need, then space is what he shall give. But of course, you can’t run from him forever.

It has been two weeks since your outburst with Yoongi and you have been keeping your distance from him again. The guys also didn’t try to tag you along knowing fully well that you needed space from Yoongi. For that, you silently thanked them. It was a Saturday night and you had made it a point to go for a quick grocery run to stock up your refrigerator with edible food.

After getting all the items you needed, you went to the queue. The lady at the counter scanned every item on the conveyor belt and went ahead to put it in the plastic bag before telling you the total cost.

You were about to reach into your jeans pocket when you noticed them being flat.

You felt around the pockets of your jeans and it was in fact empty. With that being said, you mentally cursed yourself for not bringing your wallet with you. Not only that, this store was the only one nearest to your apartment and it was closing in 10 minutes.

You wouldn’t make it back in time if you went home now to retrieve your wallet.

So you apologized to the lady who looked equally done with her job as you left the store empty handed. You were just walking down the partially empty street when you felt something drop onto your cheek. You stopped walking to feel what it was. Before you could touch your cheek, another drop hits the top of your head. And then another. And another.

“Fuck my life…”

You whispered to yourself as the sky suddenly began to downpour on you. Watching as some people ran across the road for shelter, some whips out their umbrella to shield them from the rain, some simply stayed indoors to avoid being caught in the rain.

However, you were too tired to even care about seeking shelter. Feeling as if today was the worst day of your life.

You continued to stroll down the street completely soaked under the rain.

You wrapped your arms around yourself in attempts to keep yourself warm but it clearly did no shit for you. Absent minded to notice your surroundings, you didn’t hear the calls for your name until the vehicle came to a gradual slow speed beside you on the street.

“Y/N!”

It was Yoongi.

“Leave me alone…”

“Y/N, why in the world are you walking in the heavy rain? You might fall sick, you dummy.”

“Who c-cares?” Your lips were starting to quiver from the cold.

“I do.”

You could’ve sworn your heart just skipped a beat at that response.

“Look, let me take you to my place and get you dry clothes while waiting for the rain to stop. I’ll send you home after.” He said.

“I d-don’t need your… h-help, Yoongi.”

He let out a soft groan in annoyance with your stubbornness, only to drive a little further down before bringing the car to a complete stop. You were about to carry on walking but your feet just came to a halt when you saw him running out of his car and coming to you.

“Come on and stop whining like a little kid.” Yoongi said as he grabbed your wrist and began jogging back to his car, pulling you into the passenger side before going back to the driver seat.

Once safely inside, he drove off into the night and made a left turn at the junction while your apartment building was to the right and probably about a 20 minutes walk. The car ride was quiet as neither of you said anything. You simply let him do what he said he would. When he finally brought the car to a park, he turned off the engine and soon climbed out of the vehicle.

You followed suit as he had already come over to your side to hold the door for you. After he’d locked the car, he led you to his apartment complex as you followed behind him. You took in the interior of his apartment complex, it looked slightly older than yours but still well maintained.

Apparently, he lived on the 14th floor unlike you who lived on the 5th floor.

He soon pulls out his house key and proceeds to unlock his front door. He opens the door for you, letting you step inside first. Once he had closed the door behind him, he told you to wait there as he excused himself to go get you a clean towel and new dry clothes for you to change into.

You took in the minimalist setting of his apartment, quite similar to yours except your walls are white and his is grey.

Yoongi came back with a handful, telling you where the bathroom was.

You followed his directions and soon closed the bathroom door once you’ve stepped inside. In the meantime, Yoongi had gone to change out of his own wet clothes into a clean pair of his sweatpants and a hoodie. He was boiling hot water to make hot chocolate for the two of you when you cleared your throat behind him.

He turned around at the sound, only for him to scheme through your outfit in which he had so specifically chosen for you. He had lent you one of his sleeping shorts and an oversized black hoodie that looked a little too big on you.

But for some reason, you looked good in them.

He almost had to pinch himself for staring too long before he finally spoke up, “Uhh, my dryer’s in the laundry room. Second door to the left.”

You nodded as you disappeared back down the hall, only for him to mentally curse himself for losing his composure. After 2 minutes or so, you came back having managed to turn the dryer on.

He handed you the cup of hot chocolate, not forgetting to thank him for it.

There was a short moment of peaceful silence before he gestured over to his living room. The both of you went over to the couch as you sat on either ends of the furniture. He turned his tv on and was busying himself with searching through Netflix when you mustered up the courage to ask him what was on your mind for the past half an hour.

“Why did you help me?”

Yoongi turned to you briefly, unsure if he should answer the question truthfully.

“As much as we fight, I’m not entirely heartless.”

Your eyes bore into him as you soon found yourself looking down at your hands when he turned to look at you. If it wasn’t for the tv, you knew for a fact that he could’ve heard the thumping of your heart. Silence fell over you two again but he broke it as soon as it started.

“Why were you walking in the rain?”

“I was on a grocery run.”

“But I don’t recall seeing you carry any bags of groceries?”

“That’s because I couldn’t pay for it without my wallet…”

He raised his eyebrows at you in disbelief, finding it ridiculous that you only realized it when you were checking out of the store.

“Shut up. This kind of stuff happens okay…” You scoffed, earning a quiet chuckle coming from him followed by an, “Okay, okay.” The room fell silent again and you were just playing with the strings of your hoodie.

Silently wishing for time to pass quicker but it seems like the rain only got heavier.

“Look, I think we should just forget about the whole marking thing and just… start over?” He said, causing you to look at him but he seemed like he was diligently avoiding your gaze.

“Start… over?” You dragged your words to show that you wanted a slightly more detailed explanation.

“What I mean is… let’s stop ignoring each other and stop fighting over the smallest little issues like we did when we were young. Back then we were still young and immature. But we’re not anymore, are we?” He ended with a question, making you huff.

You know he has a point but your ego is still higher than ever.

“Are you only saying this because I’m your soulmate?”

“No. I really am tired of fighting with you.”

“Why now? Why only want to call truce after you’ve seen my mark? Doesn’t that say a lot?” You were stubborn and he knows it. And yet, he still answers you to clear all your doubts.

Surprisingly patient with you.

“I know it might look like what you think, but it’s really not. I don’t care about the marking much like you. But after thinking about it, I feel like it’s actually childish to hold a grudge on each other for the things we’ve done years ago, don’t you think?” He explained, hoping it’ll get past that rock solid head of yours.

Your heart knows he’s right but your mind forces you to say otherwise.

With that, you huffed as you got up and excused yourself to go check on your clothes. Before you could make it past the first door on the left, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you back.

He pressed you against the wall with his other hand beside your head to trap you.

Your free hand hovered in between both yours and his chest as he was less than 4 inches away. Your faces were so close you could feel his breath hitting your lips. You would’ve slapped him if he did this years ago.

But now?

“Why are you so stubborn?”

He asked, his voice low as you kept your heated gaze on his eyes even though you saw the way his eyes flickered back and forth between your eyes and lips.

Rising heat from both anger and his body temperature radiated off him, engulfing you like a cocoon. You could’ve sworn you saw his pupils dilate a few times now that he was this close to you. It was quiet in the hallway as he frowned, still waiting for an answer from you. But instead, you gently pressed your hand on his warm chest that was in between your bodies.

This was enough to make him flinch slightly. His crammed face relaxed for a moment when he looked down at your hand on his chest before looking back at you.

Even more confusion struck him.

Your heart was racing rapidly in your chest, and you were so sure he could hear it. You couldn’t bear to look at him any longer so you looked down at your hand as you slid it up towards the necklace he was wearing. Playing with the pendant in between your fingers.

You didn’t realise this but his grip on your wrist was long gone and was now slowly snaking that arm around your waist.

Yoongi leaned in very subtly to let his lips brush against yours just to see your reaction. He closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of having you this close for the first time. You did the same as your other hand rested on his left bicep. Before you knew it, he closed whatever remaining gaps in between only to kiss you.

Your heart exploded in your chest as he used the hand beside your head to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch while you reciprocated the kiss. Yoongi’s grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you against him.

He felt both your hands now just holding onto his biceps for support, his lips tugging upwards against your mouth.

You could feel his muscles flexing under your fingertips as he pulled away from your mouth and was now trailing soft kisses down your neck. A soft sigh left your lips, feeling him give some love to the part that joins your neck and shoulder blade together.

“Yoongi…” Your voice came out as a mere whisper.

Just when you wanted to say something, your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his hands slip past your shirt only to rest them on your sides when your mark was.

His touch was gentle but it definitely did something to your poor heart.

“Answer me truthfully… Are you okay with… this?” Yoongi asked, gesturing between you and him. “With us? Because you can say no if you’re really against this. I would never force you.”

You stared at him for a while, rethinking your answer. You’ve been so firm about not caring who has the same soulmate mark as you because you thought it was all bullshit. But now, standing in front of him and knowing that he has the mark, not only that but he seemed like he really genuinely likes you is making it twice harder for you to say no.

But your silence was too long for him as he counted to 3 in his mind. When you didn’t respond, he slowly nodded. Pulling himself away to leave a space between you.

“It’s okay, I understand… I think your clothes are dry. Go change, I’ll wait outside.” His voice was quiet as if he’s too upset, he can’t even look you in the eye. You felt bad. You never wanted him to feel this way. So when he turned in his heels to walk away, you yearned for him to come back.

Yoongi was halfway down his living room when he felt a smaller hand slide into his right one. His step came to a halt as he kept his back to you.

He was about to ask if there's something wrong but all he got was a soft apology.

“I’m sorry…”

You watched as he remained still, his back still facing you. Doing nothing to turn and look at you. Yoongi wasn’t sure what he wanted to do at the moment so he kept quiet.

Just then, you used your other hand to cup his that you were already holding. He would be lying if he said he didn’t like this. But he definitely wasn’t prepared for what you were about to do next. You weren’t sure if you trust your voice so instead, you took a few steps closer before wrapping your arms around his waist.

Pressing your cheek against his back. You stayed like that for a few seconds, basking in the sweet vanilla scent of his.

You could feel him tense up when you first hugged him but he soon relaxed in your arms.

You didn’t dare to do anything else, all until you felt him softly caress your arms only to lock his fingers with yours over top of your hands. You only nuzzled your face deeper into his back, afraid to look at him.

But when you feel him slowly move around in your arms, that’s when you let him face you.

The minute he sees your face, he immediately cups your cheeks and wasted no time in kissing you ever so sweetly. The butterflies in your stomach erupted as you snaked your arms around his shoulders, feeling him pull you closer to him by your waist.

He held you securely against him all the while never leaving your lips. You were the first to pull away, keeping the distance small between you and him.

Your eyes were still closed so you depended on your senses.

That wasn’t until you felt him cup your face again, caressing your cheek with his thumbs. The room fell silent as he brushed his soft lips against yours and whispered to you quietly, “Can we start over?”

You opted for just a nod, unsure if you could trust your voice. You opened your eyes to see him staring at you so softly with his doe round eyes.

Yoongi smiled, whispering an ‘okay’ before he kissed you again. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you melted against his lips. He took his time with you, making sure you were comfortable and that you really wanted this. He never wanted to hurt you in any way. He kept asking for your permission before he did anything and you appreciated it.

You woke up the next morning to a warm feeling engulfing you from behind. You stirred in your sleep, trying to see what it was. But the squeeze around your waist made you look down to see the familiar arm draped over your waist, tucking his hands underneath you. The silver bracelet around his right wrist could never be mistaken for someone else.

Just when you were about to snuggle deeper into the warmth of his body, you felt him kiss the back of your head. Your heart pounded in your chest, stomach flipped in your belly.

“Mmm, good morning.” He whispered, his morning voice low and raspy.

You sighed in content as you turned around to face him, only to find that he still had his eyes closed but there was a smile that crept on his lips.

With that, you smiled as you planted a soft kiss on his lips. You could feel him smirk against your lips, earning a soft giggle from you. His arm that was supporting your head, bent at the elbows as he began to play with your soft hair.

The next day, you came to school feeling a little down in the weather. Maybe it was a late reaction to when you got drenched in the rain. You were sniffling in your seat when Taehyung and Jungkook immediately caught the sight of your red nose.

“Hey, are you sick? Your nose is red.” Jungkook said, his voice laced with full concern. You simply shook him off saying it was just light flu.

The other two weren’t buying it, they said they would go get medicine for you after class and you all but rejected them. The last thing you’d wanna do was to burden them.

So after your morning class has ended and you have been dismissed for lunch, the three of you made it to the cafeteria only to find the rest of the guys already seated. But you and Yoongi still haven’t told them about your resolve yet. So they thought you two were still ignoring each other.

“Hey guys! Y/N? Are you okay? You look kind of pale…” Namjoon asked, making you smile.

“It’s just a little flu, that’s all.” You said, completely missing the way Yoongi was staring at you with pure concern.

“Do you wanna go home and rest?” Hoseok asked in which you shook your head, before a squeaky sneeze left your lips not forgetting to cover your mouth while you did. “Sorry…” You whispered an apology, earning a few laughs from them. Just then, Yoongi got up without a word, leaving the table.

You watched as he disappeared down the aisle towards the drink stall. You wondered what he was doing but nevertheless shrugged, going to the empty seats beside him and Jimin.

You took a seat beside Yoongi’s empty chair, not really having the appetite to eat.

You were just rejecting Jimin’s offer to feed you some of his food when Yoongi came back with a glass of hot tea, a bottle of water and a strip of two panadol flu tablets. The rest of them watched quietly as he sat down beside you and handed you the drinks.

“Here, take this.” He said softly, pulling your hand up to push the two tablets out of the strip onto your open palms.

“Oh? Since when are you guys on good terms?” Taehyung asked in utter confusion.

“We’re not. We’re just acting.” Yoongi replied sarcastically before twisting the bottle cap open for you. He waited for you to throw your head back and let the tablets fall into your mouth before gulping down the water.

After you were done, you thanked him quietly. You didn’t miss the little smirk on his face.

“Okay…” Seokjin said as he gently slammed his hands onto the table top, making some of you flinch.

“What’s going on? Last week you were both ignoring each other and now you’re taking care of her like she means the world to you?” He asked as you turned to Yoongi for help.

“Don’t you know the saying ‘People change’?” Yoongi said.

“Of course, but it’s almost too drastic. Just over the weekend too.” Seokjin said in disbelief.

“Well, I guess it happens.” Yoongi shrugged as Jungkook directed his question to you.

“So I’m guessing you too?”

“No. I still hate him.” You lied.

“Is that so? Then why are you holding his pinkie?” Hoseok smirked, pointing to your intertwined pinkie on the table. With that, you quickly removed your hands from Yoongi.

“Hey... Why did you let go? I was about to play with your fingers.”

Yoongi said with a small pout, making you blush. Just then, Yoongi reached back over to lace his fingers with yours, resting your hands on his lap only to steal a quick kiss to your cheek.

This stirred a few dramatic gasps from your other friends. “Did you guys see that?! That was- omg!” Seokjin’s voice was too loud, making Jimin cover his mouth with his hands.

“Oh hush your pie hole dust. Just let me be happy for once.” Yoongi smirked as you felt him caress the back of your hand. He’s definitely going to be a handful but you’re more than happy to entertain his crap.

~~~

#bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts x reader #min yoongi #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi scenario #suga scenarios #yoongi fluff #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts suga scenarios #bts suga imagines #suga fluff

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

Text

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary:

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.}

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it.

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch. If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away. Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p. You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

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nikethestatue · 4 years ago

Text

La Dolce Vita

Summary: Elain Archeron and Azriel - in love, in lust, in Italy

Modern AU *slight TOG crossover. If you read my stuff, you know it’s LONG

Warnings: bad language and THIS IS NSFW (not kidding, this is a story, not just sex, but there is a LOT of explicit material here. You can still read the story, but if you are sensitive or underage, skip the naughty bits)

Comments are always appreciated/wanted/needed. Anon or not, just do it! Obviously, reblogs are appreciated.

Part I (Flowers)

La Vie En Rose

De l'homme auquel j'appartiens (Of the man to whom I belong) Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle l'a tout bas (He speaks to me softly) Je vois la vie en rose (And I see life in pink) Il me dit des mots d'amour (He speaks words of love to me) Des mots de tous les jours (They are every day words) Et ça m' fait quelque chose (And they do something to me) Il est entré dans mon coeur (He has entered into my heart) Une part de bonheur (A bit of happiness) Dont je connais la cause (That I know the cause of) C'est lui pour moi (It's only him for me) Moi pour lui dans la vie (And me for him, for life)

Now

Riding in a Ferrari, being enveloped in its supple, buttery leather, gulping in the cypress and cedar-scented air of Tuscany was everything that Elain Archeron had ever wanted. She never knew that this is what she wanted, because riding in very fast, very expensive, sleek Italian cars wasn’t on her ‘fantasy radar’, but now that she was in one, she suddenly came to the realization that this was perhaps one of the best experiences of her life.

The whole thing, so far, has been the best experience of her life.

Well…maybe not the best-best.

Her happiness was deeply intertwined with and caused by the man in the driver seat of the said Ferrari—Azriel. Azriel Archeron, as he loved calling himself. Even if this wasn’t his last name, he preferred using it over his family name, for a variety of personal reasons. There was nothing better, more sublime, more beautiful and more loving than Azriel. The perfect male specimen, if she could say so herself. No one would argue with her assessment either.

Elain

They were introduced by her sister’s then-boyfriend Cass, who was giving her a lift one afternoon, and then suggested that they stop by Azriel’s car atelier, because he needed to pick something up.

Elain’s heard of the mysterious Azriel from her sisters, both of whom had claimed that he was the most handsome man that either one of them had ever seen. Elain chuckled at the exuberant praise, doubting its truthfulness. There was no such thing as the ‘most handsome’ man. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder.

She wasn’t sure what a car atelier was, and when Cassian pulled up to a modern-looking building, she said that she’d stay in the car and wait.

“Come on, petal, don’t be shy,” Cassian urged her, holding the car door open for her in a way that indicated that she’d have to get out and follow him.

They entered the foyer, a vast space with racing stripes painted on the polished cement floor, and a sea of model cars dropping from the ceiling. Behind a wall of glass, Elain spied a row of gorgeous cars, none of which were familiar to her. Some unique European models, fit for James Bond’s consumption. There were also neat antique cars, probably from the 50s. She immediately had visions of Grace Kelly and Cary Grant riding in one of these along the Riviera coast.

“What’s this place?” she inquired, looking around at the mid-century modern building that resembled a spaceship.

“This is Az’s baby,” Cass explained vaguely. “Conceived, conceptualized, restored, outfitted—all by the brilliant mind of one Azriel Bagarat.”

“Are you bragging?”

A deep, sensual voice, that could only be called ‘midnight’ sounded behind them, and Cassian’s handsome, tanned face broke in a mischievous smile. “Only about you, brother!”

When Elain turned around, her breath was knocked out from her lungs.

She didn’t know that it was possible, to be actually stunned by someone’s beauty, but there she stood, gaping, feeling the world slow and move in a different manner for a few moments.

Standing at a towering 6”4 or so, the man was at least as tall as Cassian, and Cassian was the tallest man Elain’d ever met. She was just as muscular, but not as bulky. Clad in all black, from expensive, well-tailored Diesel jeans, to a soft t-shirt that stretched over his sharply cut torso, emphasizing the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, and the narrow waist, true to her sisters’ word, this Azriel was simply exquisite.

Cassian draped his heavy arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward, just a bit, and said,

“Petal, say hello! This is my brother, Azriel. Az, this is my soon-to-be-sister-in-law, the one and only Elain Archeron.”

At the words ‘sister-in-law’ Elain whipped her head to Cassian, who grinned maniacally at her, nodding and answering her silent question.

“When? What are you talking about?” she exclaimed, Azriel momentarily forgotten. “What do you mean? You’ve only been seeing each other for like three months?!?”

“Baby girl, I don’t need three years to decide…Nes is Nes and she is the one for me.”

He shrugged with his usual ease, acting like they were discussing the weather or a good burger that he just ate.

“If Nes hears even a whiff of this, I will know it’s you, petal, and well, I am not sure what I will do,” he decided upon reflection, but then pleaded, “please, don’t tell her. This one,” he nodded towards Azriel, who was standing still, green eyes peeled to Elain, “I can trust. He hardly ever talks,”

“That’s because you talk for all of us,” noted Azriel with a smirk.

Elain chuckled, and turned back to face him.

He extended his hand to her, with an odd, tentative movement, and when she looked down, she saw old, mottled scars that covered his palm and part of his wrist and forearm. A vintage Patek Phillipe on his wrist.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, and he gave her a surprised look, unsure of what she was referring to.

“It’s always a pleasure to meet another Archeron sister,” he said with a soft smile, which made Elain lose her ability to speak for a good few moments, because she was finally able to take in that face that defied description. The sharp cheekbones and the mesmerizing amber and emerald eyes, almond-shaped and slanted hinted at a varied heritage, and unfairly, the man also possessed a perfect nose, and a full, sensuous mouth. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, with skin of burnished bronze, which was so in contrast to his bright eyes and raven-black hair, cut in a fashionable undercut. The physique, as she already noted, quickly skimming over the body, matched the face.

“Yes, me too,” she said stupidly.

Graceful, like a courtier, he offered her his arm and said,

“Would you like me to show you around?”

She didn’t want to be impolite, though she suddenly felt sweaty and nervous, and completely out of her league. But she threaded her hand through his arm and lightly squeezed the firm, alarmingly thick bicep.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking him for, so she added, “yes, I’d love to see it.”

“Why haven’t we met?” he inquired, those green eyes watching her with such intensity that she felt almost undressed, bared under the gaze. It wasn’t unpleasant, because it wasn’t lascivious, and he didn’t strike her as someone who’d be disrespectful to women.

“I’ve been busy for the past half a year,” she explained.

“Doing what?”

They walked down the wide passage, past all the cars, which Azriel pointed out with a wave of his scarred hand, and dropped names like Pagani, BMW I8, Bugatti Divo, Bugatti Centodieci, Lamborghini Veneto, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita and so forth. Elain might not have known a ton about cars, but she was not so unaware not to know that a Bugatti and a Lambo were expensive cars.

Cassian fell behind, gawking at the display.

“I was opening my own business,” Elain said, her head thrown back, looking at an entire toy racetrack mounted to the ceiling, with cars zooming by, and somehow, not falling on patrons’ heads.

“What sort of business?”

“Flowers,” she said absently, once they reached another space—a two story-restaurant, bar, and a patio outside as well.

“Flowers?”

“Oh, a flower shop,” she explained at last. Then muttered, awed, “this is really incredible!”

“A car enthusiast?” he smirked.

She didn’t know how it happened, but somehow, her hand migrated from the crook of his arm to his hand, and now, they walked along the walls lined with Ferrari posters, memorabilia and expensive everything. Walking and holding hands.

“I wouldn’t call myself one,” she admitted, “but I find cars aesthetically pleasing…Never got to ride in anything fancier than a Mercedes or a Lexus,”

“Well, we should remedy that at once!” he decided easily and then said, “pick you up on Friday at seven?”

That sobered her up a bit and she turned to face him. They stopped at the long, chrome-lined bar, and he said, “An espresso?”

“Um,”

But before she could respond, he was behind the counter, playing with a very fancy coffee machine that required a PhD to operate with all the levers and hooks and buttons, and in a few minutes, he poured her a tiny cup of coffee, thick with natural foam, and heady with its enticing scent.

He chugged his own in one go and she followed him, gulping her espresso in two sips. It was better than anything she’d ever drunk in her life.

“Like a date?” she finally asked, truly confused by the offer.

“Would you like it to be a date?” he leaned on the bar, biceps flexing, his arms covered in tattoo sleeves that reached all the way to his fingers. They were quite beautiful, the tattoos, the placement and the design, and Elain recognized the style, since Cassian and Rhysand wore the same kinds of tattoos, if not so extensive.

“Did you draw these?” she asked bluntly, touching her finger to a thick snaking black line, which was shaded with cobalt.

He looked down, at her hand and his arm and nodded, following her finger with his eyes.

“I did. For the three of us. When we made Navy Seals,”

“You are a Seal, too?” she exclaimed.

He smiled and nodded, “Well, we all grew up in foster care—not all, Cass and I,”

“I heard,”

“Until Rhys’s parents adopted us. But we weren’t the…best of boys,” he chortled, “so to get our heads straight, we were sent to the Navy after school. We figured we’d only stay a bit, but we stayed for a while.”

“So, you are retired?”

“We are vets,”

“How old are you?” she blurted. Then blushed and said, “I am sorry. I am usually not so impolite,”

He laughed, “I figured. But that’s alright. I’ll tell you on Friday, though. If you don’t mind?”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” she murmured, her eyes dropping to her espresso cup, “but,”

“How about this—I take you on a drive in one of these fancy cars—and then you can brag to everyone that you’d driven in a,”

He paused and rubbed his chin,

“Any preference?”

“For what?”

“What car you’d like to go in?”

“I don’t know,”

“Throw something at me,” he urged, eyes glinting with feral delight.

Elain, blush deepening, finally said, “Do you have a Ferrari? I’ve always wanted to drive in a Ferrari.”

“Ahhh, a Ferrarista at heart!” he nodded with approval, folding his arms on his chest, “stick with the classic and the best. And yes, gorgeous, I do have a Ferrari or two.”

Gorgeous.

Azriel

The girl who’d arrived with Cassian, was not Nesta, but there was something vaguely familiar about her. The girl who’d arrived with Cassian was the most gorgeous creature that Azriel had ever seen. Gorgeous and completely unaware.

Women like her, if they were smart and cunning and ambitious, used their beauty for all things good and terrible. But this exquisite creature that Cassian was so blatantly hugging and teasing wasn’t one of those women. Azriel was all too familiar with the types—the maneaters, who hounded him like sharks. He was wealthy, and good-looking, and a decent person, if not exactly a saint. He hobnobbed with celebrities who came to order his cars, which he designed and outfitted based on their specifications and desires.

He was finnicky when it came to taste though. No matter how much rappers asked him to clad their Maybach in gold or some vapid Gucci print, no matter how many heiresses pouted and asked for a bubblegum or Barbie-pink Ferraris, he did not betray the essence and soul of the vehicle. Modify, define, sharpen, stylize—he did it all with precision and skill which was unparalleled. But Azriel Bagarat was known for rejecting even the juiciest of offers, if the request did not coincide with his aesthetic or the history of the car.

He was at his shop—that’s what he called it, though atelier sounded infinitely better and more expensive—that afternoon, knowing that Cassian was going to drop by and select a car for his grandiose proposal to Nesta. There was some concern that Cassian would not fit his 6”5 form into an Aston Martin or a Bentley, so they needed to make sure that the car was appropriate for the occasion and the occupant. Cass insisted on a British vehicle, feeling that Nesta would like something classic and timeless. So be it.

What Azriel did not expect to see that Tuesday afternoon was a girl--because he hesitated to call her a ‘woman’, since she looked so lovely and perfect and innocent--who took his breath away.

His breath had been taken away only once before, by Rhys’s cousin, who strolled like a ray of sunshine into their broken lives.

However, Morrigan chose Cassian. And then Cassian promptly impregnated her, causing a great discontent and strife between everyone. Morrigan, or rather Morgana d’Adda, though she anglicized her name, even if Morrigan d’Adda sounded funny, was just about disavowed by her family for tumbling, and being so stupid and blind as to get knocked up by a hulking nobody mulatto, as her father Keir called Cassian. Rather, sneered, at Cassian.

Even if Azriel didn’t impregnate anybody, he somehow got looped into the family bullshit and once he and Cassian turned 18, they were both shipped off to the navy. To the dismay of the entire Darling clan, Rhys followed them, tossing away his guaranteed admittance to Brown. An Ivy League school for rich stupid heirs. Only Rhys wasn’t stupid. Neither was Cassian a hulking nobody mulatto. And Azriel wasn’t just the ‘fucking weird kid, who might be a serial killer’. They served and they passed the insane Navy Seal training, and they proved themselves.

Nowadays, Cassian now ran security for the Darling conglomerate, while Rhys took over the reins when his father was killed in a car accident. Azriel found his own path, though the association with the Darling name certainly helped his exposure and in building relationships and meeting all the right people. And meeting all the women. The three brothers had gone through their share of wild times, but in the past 3 years, things began to calm down for them.

It began with Rhys meeting Feyre Archeron at an art gallery, where she was exhibiting some of her pieces. Azriel had tugged along with Rhys to see the exhibit, because Rhys was looking for some art for his new office, and he trusted Azriel’s taste and knowledge, and wanted a second pair of eyes.

Rhys followed Feyre like a dog throughout the evening—Azriel was there to witness the pathetic display—and then they ended up at a bar, doing shots and feeding Feyre virgin Cosmos, since she wasn’t even 21 yet. They went to some dance club, Azriel playing the third-wheel and ‘chaperone’, though by the end of the night, Rhys and Feyre disappeared together and weren’t heard from for the next three days.

… “What if he killed her?” proposed Cassian for 100th time, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his long black hair. “Or what if she killed him?”

“I thought that I was the serial killer among the three of us,” drawled Azriel, sprawled on a sofa, watching a game. He wasn’t as concerned, having seen Rhys dripping with intense lust at the sight of the brown-haired teen. It was unusual, since at that time Rhys was almost 25, and Feyre only 19, and the three of them typically tried to avoid teenagers like the plague. But Rhysand Darling seemed genuinely enthralled.

“No, you are the guy with the sex dungeon,” corrected Cassian.

Azriel rolled his eyes, “serial killer with a sex dungeon, huh? Sounds like an interesting story. Alas, much as I’d like to, I don’t have a sex dungeon.”

“Aren’t you building one? In that new garage of yours?” Cassian shrugged.

“Only cars. No sex toys,” sighed Azriel, looking like that might have been an omission on his part.

“Gents, I think I am in love!” the door burst open and a wild-eyed Rhys appeared, his normally pristine hair in disarray, his cheeks flushed, wearing only a white t-shirt and jeans.

“Where the fuck were you for three days?” growled Cassian, showing considerable relief at the sight of his brother.

“Falling in love,” crooned Rhys, falling into a chair, a stupid, dazed look on his face.

“You look like Audrey Hepburn in ‘Sabrina’,” noted Azriel.

“I feel like Audrey Hepburn!” exclaimed Rhys. “She is perfect. Feyre is perfect.”

What the fuck? Mouthed Cassian in confusion.

“Feyre Darling,” whispered Rhys with delight, eyes closed, tasting the sound of the name on his tongue. “Feyre Archeron Darling. Or Feyre Darling Archeron?”

“You alright there, buddy?” Cassian frowned. “A little early to be talking last names?”

“She’ll be my wife,” announced Rhysand with his usually unwavering confidence.

And that was that.

Now, the ‘society wedding of the year’ was coming up in three months. Rhysand Darling and Feyre Archeron, the toast of the town, the power couple, the young and beautiful billionaires.

Now, Azriel stood in front of the most stunning female he’d ever seen and for once, he felt like Rhys. His brain turned into a soupy mess, and he found himself tongue-tied and concentrating was suddenly difficult. He wanted to be a gracious host and a confident, formidable man, who had a reputation to uphold—though he wasn’t sure if Elain was aware of his reputation—but inside, he was a mess. All his insecurities, doubts and self-hate rose to the surface at once, and he hesitated to extend his hand in greeting to her. His mangled, horrible, revolting hand, which was sullied beyond its extensive scars. A hand that killed, and touched way too women, some of whom he probably shouldn’t have been touching at all.

“Beautiful,” she murmured softly, that gorgeous blush spreading over her rose-petal cheeks.

He was so taken aback by the comment, he was nearly flabbergasted when she didn’t pull away, didn’t frown or grimace in disgust, didn’t display any of the usual signs of revulsion that most women did when they saw his hands. Perhaps it was the Patek Phillipe, he tried to convince himself, but deep down he knew—she called his scars ‘beautiful’.

And then she took his arm, her hand strong, surprisingly calloused, if light, and small.

And from that moment on, Azriel became obsessed with that touch.

His body heated and as he led her to the bar, and showed her around his pride and joy, watching for the subtle reactions, for the gleam of wonder and appreciation in her eyes, he couldn’t release…wouldn’t release her hand from his. She asked questions, took in all the memorabilia and gawked at the cars, and then the guest area, and finally, when he sat her down at the bar and made her a coffee, he stepped closer. Trying not to scare her, or seem obnoxious, he couldn’t help invading her personal space, and stood next to her, pretending to take interest in his drink, while hoping that her arm would brush against his own. Skin to skin.

She didn’t pull away. Didn’t shy away.

He didn’t expect himself to ask her on what amounted to a date, because he wasn’t even sure how dates worked. His usual ammo consisted of a brief introduction, an even quicker seduction and then a hook up. That’s how he liked it. He preferred no-strings-attached approach to his involvement with women, and it’s been working rather well for him. He never had to sleep with anyone in the same bed, he never had to make anyone breakfast, there was no room for idle chitchat, and usually no second or third dates. It was so easy.

This fucking girl, with her caramel-brown eyes, her golden-amber curls, her soft lips and that damn blush on her cheeks—she was driving him veritably insane with her unique mix of immaculate beauty and a friendly, almost naïve, strangely innocent disposition. And he wanted to go on a date with her. Without an ulterior motive, because at it stood right now, he didn’t care to even get her in bed. That would come later. He was absolutely determined to have this happen later. But…later.

Cassian

“Alrighty, I think I am going with the Bentley,” Cassian sidled to the bar, and interrupted.

If Azriel was annoyed, he didn’t show it.

Cassian spied them at last, making his way through the cavernous entrails of the garage, with all its gleaming cars, the beautiful patrons who were discussing options with no-less beautiful sales people, and even on-premises tattoo shop, which specialized in Azriel’s sketches and catered to those who didn’t have money to actually outfit their Bugatti to their heart’s desire, but could at least claim that they got a Bagarat tattoo inked on their skin.

Elain and Azriel were standing side by side, somehow melding together nicely, her pretty dress and high-heeled sandals and piles of loose hair in drastic contrast with Azriel’s all-black ensemble, his massive height and the span of his shoulders. But she did not balk from him. Cassian also noticed that she didn’t react to the scars, which Azriel was very self-conscious about, and seemed genuinely interested in the garage.

It was inevitable that the two would eventually meet, especially with the wedding coming up and all the wedding related brouhaha. However, Cassian wanted to have the dibs on gloating down the line, and reminding the two of them, forever, about how it was he who introduced them. Yes, Azriel fucked a lot of models and rich girls, for whom he, strangely, was a riff on a ‘bit of rough’, while being hardly ‘rough’ at all. Azriel was elegant and possessed excellent taste in everything, and he probably had the best manners out of the lot of them. But the tattoos, the cars, the aura of brooding mystery about him, and his generally quiet ways were like honey to the throngs of women who lusted after him.

About Azriel, Cassian had no doubts.

Cassian knew Azriel probably better than anyone alive, and even that wasn’t saying much, but he was very aware of Azriel’s ‘secret type’ of woman. Basically, it was Elain. Everything about Elain Azriel would like—of that Cassian was certain. Elain was the elusive ‘ideal woman’ of whom Azriel dreamt, but never actually pursued. Slightly unconventional, soft, kind, generous—lovely, would be a good word—Elain was everything that Azriel never had with any other women.

Cassian could already see the hunger and flicker of completely besotted adoration in Azriel’s normally cold eyes.

He was less certain about Elain, having never seen her with a boyfriend. When he had asked Nesta about Elain’s situation, Nesta shrugged and said that Elain was beautiful, but naïve, dreamy and rarely dated.

“A Bentley it is then,” Azriel turned around, though his elbow still touched Elain’s arm. “You’ll fit, big boy?”

Elain giggled.

“I am not Rowan,” Cassian muttered. “I am human sized.”

“Only just.”

“You are the same height,” Cassian reminded him coolly.

“I am a little more human-shaped too.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and said, “Come on, petal. While I love to stand here and listen to his insults, we gotta go.”

Elain’s face dropped into a sad frown only for a second, but she recovered immediately. Cassian noticed it, nevertheless. His petal of a girl didn’t want to leave his brother’s side.

“Bye Azriel,” she said, taking his hand in hers again, of her own volition, and squeezing it lightly. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said. His fingers wrapped over her palm, and he said, “I’ll walk you two out.”

So, his brooding brother didn’t want to release the newfound petal of a girl.

How interesting.

Once they were in Cassian’s Jeep, Elain looked out the window, a dreamy look on her face.

“Oh-oh,” Cassian chuckled, as he navigated the narrow NYC streets.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he winked.

“What look?” she frowned.

“The ‘oh gods, Azriel is so handsome!’ look. Oh, he is so gorgeous look. Oh, he is so sexy look.”

“He is handsome,” she agreed blandly, knowing that arguing would be silly.

“I hope that you gave him your number,” he said. “Because if you didn’t, I will.”

“It’s none of your business,” she crossed her arms on her chest, and Cass howled loudly.

“You are welcome, by the way,”

“You are ridiculous,” she muttered. “I don’t know how Nesta tolerates you!”

“Oh, Nes tolerates me and then some,” and winked again.

Now

“My love, slow down a bit,” Elain requested, as the road zigzagged among rows of cypresses.

“I thought that you wanted to make it to Florence before traffic hit?” Azriel squeezed her fingers and brought her hand to his lips.

“Seeing that we are already running late, we might as well enjoy the drive,” she shrugged.

A honey-coloured strand of her hair fell out from under the gauzy wrap that she wore around her head a-la Grace Kelley.

“Good.”

“Good what?” she turned her face to him and knocked him out all over again. By the Mother she was superb in every way, and she was his. He couldn’t believe his absurd luck. Things like these didn’t happen to him. Elain was not meant to be his. Yet, here she was, his lovely gentle girl, who loved him with incomprehensible passion and devotion. His.

The hefty, borderline outlandish ring on her finger was proof of that.

He’d worked hard on that ring, designing it himself, wanting to incorporate everything that he loved about her and about the two of them into the design. The result was this stunner that glittered madly in the Italian sun, sitting on her manicured finger, the skin of her arm kissed by a golden tan.

His beautiful girl loved flowers, and she loved him, so her ring, in its platinum setting was a remarkable rose, reflecting Elain’s green thumb and life’s work. He selected the diamond himself, and the amethysts that comprised the petals, even the tiny onyx inserts, to signify him and the black ink of his tattoos. The ring was both extravagant—especially in carats—but intimate as well, a flower that spoke of his eternal love for this woman.

“I am going to take you somewhere, which I think you’d like,” he teased.

“Where?”

“How does lots of flowers sound?”

She smiled.

Azriel

For gods’ sake, he was nervous. Azriel was not prone to nervousness or panic or discomfort, but this date, or whatever it was, filled him with dread.

He shouldn’t have asked her.

He was stupid and blinded by her beauty, by her deliciously voluptuous body, by the long, slender legs, by her shy, sweet smile. Those blushes. For the love of everything, those fine, adorable, sexy blushes.

She was part of the family network—both of his brothers were now in love with her sisters. It was cliché and unrealistic and unbelievable that she and he would end up in the same boat. Besides, he wasn’t so lucky as to have someone like her accept him. So, he was making a huge fucking mistake. If this was all going to go sour—which inevitably it would, of that he had no doubt—he’d mess up the delicate balance that existed between the Darling, Bagarat and Cavalhe brothers and the Archeron sisters. She’d reject him and then it would be awkward. Awkward for the upcoming wedding, in which he and Elain were supposed to couple up and be together in the wedding party. Rhys said, ‘fuck it’ and asked both him and Cassian to be best men, while Feyre had both of her sisters as maids-on-honour. There was no escaping it. Therefore, it would be awkward for the wedding, and then for Christmas and all the summer BBQs and pool parties and…well, he might just have to find excuses to never attend anything, ever.

But here he was, standing in front of an old-fashioned, cute corner storefront in the Village. Flower displays spilled on the sidewalk, and the windows, along with the marble edifice reminded him of Paris. This was exactly how he’d picture Elain’ store—slightly whimsical, elegant, classic, but modern. Au Nom de la Rose – The Name of the Rose—perfectly appropriate for Elain’s store name.

She wasn’t waiting for him outside, and he circled the block three times before, by some miracle, finding a parking space and leaving the silver Ferrari, and then made his way back to the store, arriving 4 minutes late, which was completely unacceptable. The store was technically closed at this hour, but he knocked and heard Elain’s voice telling him to come in. Some internal pressure inside of him released at the sound of her voice.

He entered and whistled,

“That’s a lot of flowers!”

Yep, definitely a glamourized 50’s Paris vibe.

“Azriel, I am so sorry, I am not ready,” Elain came from behind the counter, looking a bit frazzled.

“It’s alright I will wait,” he assured her, but she shook her head and said,

“No…I just received a huge order. An emergency order for an anniversary party. Azriel, it’s my biggest order ever!”

“That’s excellent!” he found himself feeling genuinely happy for her, if not for her concerned expression. “What’s up?”

“I…I,” she stumbled. “Feyre or Nesta would usually come and help out if I need them, but Feyre is in LA, and Nesta…” she swallowed, “Nesta is indisposed.”

Nes is on her period and is feeling like crap, read Cassian’s text from earlier today. I am going fishing. Care to join? Or are you busy romancing a certain Archeron sister?

Nesta was indisposed indeed, though Azriel didn’t feel like he needed to know the details.

“It’s a 25th Anniversary, and I have to make 25 bouquets and 15 centerpieces. The couple’s original florist fell through and they contacted me, in a panic, and I agreed,” she babbled, tugging on her long braid nervously. “And it’s for tomorrow,”

“Alright then,” he shrugged, “what’s the problem then? I am here.”

She looked up at him, her gaze both hopeful and confused.

“You? What are you going to do? I am sorry, Azriel, I am so sorry, we’d have to postpone,”

“We’d have to postpone our drive, but I am here. Use me.”

“Use you?”

“Use my body,” he chuckled, and she giggled an amused laugh.

“I appreciate the offer,” and when he thought that she’d continue rejecting his offer of help, she did the right thing and was a smart girl, nodding at last, and said, “will you truly help?”

“I am not a flower expert,”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” she grinned.

He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and said, “Teach me, Archeron. I am an apt pupil.”

He was. Elain showed him model bouquets and thankfully, he wasn’t dumb or clumsy enough to screw them up, once he began copying the originals.

Night fell, and they ordered pizza and he went to get a bottle of wine from the store across the street.

Sitting on the floor of the store, surrounded by piles of flowers, vases, ribbons and twine, they ate pizza, laughing throughout the evening. She stretched her long, bare legs in front of her, crossing them at the ankles, and he couldn’t get enough—the pretty toes, the pale golden skin and the sexy pink nail polish. He didn’t want to seem like a creep, but he snuck more than a few glances at her feet when she wasn’t looking.

It was well past midnight when they were finally done.

He stretched on the floor and tucked his arm behind his head.

She kneeled above him, at his side, and said, “Azriel, thank you. I can’t, honestly, thank you enough. You saved me. Maybe my business too!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he retorted gently, “but this was fun…and educational.”

“How can I repay you?” she asked.

“Well, well,” he drummed his fingers on the floor, pretending to think. “So many possibilities,”

At that, she flushed, and he licked his lips, loving the sight of that pink on her cheeks.

“Let’s make a bargain,” he proposed at last.

“A bargain?” her brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“For my exceptional assistance during your time of trouble and despair, you will agree to an outing with me, of my choosing. To do whatever I want.”

Elain stared at him, biting her plump lower lip.

“Are we going to do something bad?” she finally asked uncertainly.

He grinned and without thinking, cupped her cheek.

She didn’t recoil.

He drew his thumb over her soft skin and she leaned into his palm just a little bit. Gods it felt good. So good. So good to have her so near, so receptive, so unafraid. But he dropped his hand.

“You think I will take you to knock off a couple of 7-11s?”

“Well, if I am entering this death bargain with you, then who the hell knows?” she shrugged.

He laughed, “Death bargain? A little dramatic, are we?”

She was still sitting there, biting her lip, and all he wanted to do was drag his tongue over it. Kiss her large, brown eyes. Fist his hand around the thick mass of her hair, tilt her head and kiss her until she was breathless.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He never acted like this!

He never thought like this.

He was a rational, controlled, some said, cold man.

Not to say that he wasn’t able to find a woman immediately attractive, or want to fuck her, but this was different. This was unknown.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Fine?” he repeated, smiling.

“Don’t make me do anything bad,” she warned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” he promised. “I wouldn’t lead you astray. But,” he sat up, draping his forearms over his knees, “where do you live? Let me take you home,”

“I can take an Uber,”

He gave her an incredulous look and she nodded without further arguments.

“Where do you live?” he asked, once they were outside, somehow internally thrilled that perhaps, she’d invite him inside. He wouldn’t expect anything, obviously, but it would be nice see where she lived, what her private space looked like. So far, he couldn’t pinpoint her style with any accuracy, an interesting mixture of vintage and modern, of flowers and thorns.

“Just two blocks down,” she said, as she locked up the shop.

He gave her his arm, and it seemed like she almost expected it, because she immediately thrust her hand into the loop and he smiled softly.

The little white shorts and the flowery top did things to him, and he was glad to walk side by side, so to prevent himself from staring at her long legs and her neat, lush ass. He was already a mess over her legs, over her bending and squatting in front of him for the past four-five hours.

It was dark and quiet on the street, and they walked in a comfortable silence, each thinking of something of their own.

And then,

Elain sprawled face down on the pavement.

She cried out, landing on her knees on the asphalt, just barely having the time to brace herself on her hand, and ripping the skin of her palm.

Azriel was instantly on his knees in front of her.

Tears glistened in her eyes. Possibly from pain, because as she flipped on her butt, they saw that her knees were torn and bleeding, as was her palm, or maybe from shock, as well as embarrassment.

“Shhh,” he cooed gently to her, “are you okay?”

She shook her head. A lonely tear spilled from her eyes.

“Tissues?” he asked quickly, surveying the damage. Bruises were already blossoming on her scuffed kneecaps, all around the wounds.

She wordlessly handed him her bag, allowing him to rummage through it and he found a packet of old tissues, which he gingerly pressed to her bleeding knees.

“My ankle hurts,” she muttered, reaching down to inspect it.

“Let me,” he took her legs and looked over her ankle. She glared questioningly at him, still in some sort of stupor, not understanding what had occurred, and why she was now sitting on the ground, bleeding.

“You broke your heel,” he nodded to her foot and she glanced down, finally realizing that her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. The impact was so strong, it actually fully detached from the sole of the shoe.

“I am sorry,” she mumbled.

“You should be,” he chuckled, “you gave me quite a scare. I thought you were shot; you went down so quickly!”

She pushed at his arm, half laughing, and have crying.

“Stop making me laugh!” she ordered, sniffling and giggling. “Auuu, it hurts...”

He was lightly pressing on her ankle, and then said, “it’s just twisted. You’ll need ice, but it should be okay…”

“Ok, Doctor Azriel,” she even rolled her eyes slightly and he laughed, flicking her nose.

“I am trained on how to treat combat wounds and catastrophic field injuries, I’ll have you know,” he said and then gave her his hand. “On your feet, soldier! Let me see if you can stand.”

Moaning and groaning, she managed to stand up, but putting any weight on her foot caused a yelp to escape her lips.

“Alright, come on now,” he stepped and opened his arms, “jump in.”

“Jump in where?”

“Jump into my arms, of course.”

“What are you planning to do? Swing me around?”

“I could swing you around, but I was planning on carrying you home, and then making you an ice pack and disinfecting all your cuts.”

Without waiting for her to decide, he scooped her off the ground and she gasped, and he wasn’t sure what the little huff meant.

“But it’s like two blocks!” she protested feebly, and unconvincingly, “I am heavy.”

“Ooohhh,” he groaned dramatically, hefting her to his chest, as they started off. “Sooo, so heavy!”

“I am the fattest of my sisters,” she argued, and even in the darkness he saw that she was blushing realizing how silly her comment was.

“Well, considering that Nesta is like 90 lbs. and Feyre 110 lbs., that’s not saying much,” he assured her.

She was soft and warm in his arms, and when, without prompting, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he felt utterly at peace. Because the pieces of them fit. She fit him.

Blood still dripping, and her arms thrown over his neck, Azriel walked steadily, cradling her to his chest, until they finally reached a pre-War building, and she said, “There is no elevator.”

“Don’t tell me you are on the 6th floor!” he laughed, looking up.

“The third.”

“Guess I will have to haul the fattest of the Archeron sisters to the 3rd floor!” he sighed, and she smacked his arm, protesting,

“You can’t say that!”

He was laughing and she began to laugh as well.

“You said it first,” he reminded her.

Her apartment was small, but she’d arranged the furniture in such a way that everything seemed more spacious, and orderly, without unnecessary frills. Mostly grays, turquoise, cobalt and creamy-white. For some reason, he thought that there would be much more pink and general fluff. This though, this he liked.

He sat her down on the sofa and went to the bathroom to find bandages and plasters and other items. She called out from her spot, telling him where to find things and he finally emerged and began working on all her wounds.

“Haven’t lost a soldier yet,” he told her with a chuckle. He kneeled in front of her, and his touch was firm, but surprisingly gentle, as he thoroughly washed every scuff and tear, and then disinfected and decided what needed bandages and what didn’t.

Elain remained mostly silent throughout the procedure, watching him from under her lashes.

“You are nice,” she said suddenly.

He looked at her and smirked.

“Not with anyone.”

“Everyone just says how handsome you are,” she lay her head on the back cushion, watching him. He gave her a painkiller, and it was making her drowsy. It was also late. She rarely stayed up this late. “But you are also very nice,” she added.

Elain

She woke up that morning, and was struck by the unfamiliar environment. And pain.

Her knees ached and screamed and hurt, as did her palm.

Light poured through the windows; the curtains still open.

She found herself on her sofa, haphazardly covered by a throw, and with her legs resting on Azriel’s lap.

Fuck.

He was here. With her.

He never left after last night’s debacle.

She was a clumsy cow, as always, but the incident was unusually embarrassing, even for her. She always spilled or dropped stuff on herself, tripped, stumbled, and fell on her ass at inopportune times, but last night…By the Mother!

The man was gosh darn saint. Not only did she screw up their evening plans, made him work and make bouquets with her, which, probably wasn’t the most exciting thing for him to spend the evening on, but she also almost ate the pavement, and then he carried her for half a mile! And cared for her when they came here. And spent, what must have been a horribly uncomfortable night in a half-seated position, with her, no doubt, pushing at him with her feet.

Yep, she was never going to see him again.

Good going, Elain. Fine job you did of this ‘relationship’. Now, for the rest of her life, she’d be forced to see him at family gatherings, probably with some stunning model of a wife, and he’d always remember her as the girl who tore her heel on the pavement.

She wanted to cry.

Not that she ever, even for a second, believed that this would go anywhere. Her and Azriel. That wasn’t possible. Things like these didn’t happen to her. She was strange and solitary and even if others claimed that she was pretty, going so far as to call her ‘beautiful’, she never felt like that. When Nesta got mad at her, she’d call her a ‘petty idiot’ and Elain felt like that more frequently than she cared to admit. And Azriel…he was cut from a different cloth. He was…

She looked at his face, still perfect, but ever so slightly relaxed and softened in sleep, his eyelids heavy and enviably long, thick lashes fanned over his golden-brown cheeks. He was funny, with a quick, dry sense of humour, intelligent and interesting, and when they talked last night, she couldn’t get enough! He told her fascinating stories from his time in the Navy, about his dream, which resulted in the creation of his beloved garage. It took him three years to open the place—conceptualize what he wanted, how to deliver it, the items to showcase. The result was not just the ‘garage’, but also the popular bar, and recently, a restaurant as well.

Scarred fingers touched her hand and he opened his eyes.

“Good morning,” he whispered, squinting at her. “How are you? How’s the pain?”

“Azriel,” she murmured, not even knowing how to thank him, but she attempted, “I want to,”

“Pancakes?” he asked eagerly.

She glanced at him with incomprehension.

“May I make you, or us, pancakes?” he proposed. “I’ve been sort of thinking about this all night. How I’d like to make you pancakes,”

“I want to thank,”

He lifted his finger and shook his head,

“No, no. My Italian mother would tell you that you should never thank anyone for providing medical help,”

“Why?”

“According to my psychotically superstitious Italian side of the family, the remedy or healing won’t take, if you offer thanks. Imagine, I was forbidden from ever saying ‘thank you’ to a doctor,”

She chuckled.

“So, you are Italian?”

“Mom’s side is half Neapolitan and half from Lazio—near Rome.”

He sat up and rolled his neck.

“Can I at least say that I am sorry that you had to be so uncomfortable and sleep on the couch?” she asked.

“It’s alright. Not the best night I’ve ever had, but not the worst one either. The company was nice too,” and he patted her legs.

A tiny flare of hope lit in her belly.

But she didn’t allow herself to have it take root.

Maybe not until he gathered her legs together on his lap and drew his fingers up and down her calf.

“But really, how is the pain?” he asked at last, watching her with his intense, warm eyes. The eyes didn’t warm frequently, it seemed, but when they looked at her—

He was different somehow.

Kind. Approachable.

“It’s fine,” she waved her hand, not wanting to burden him any longer with her dumb injuries.

Those long, scarred fingers glided over her skin, and a small smirk touched his lips, “May I kiss it better?”

She blinked at him.

“I hear that I am very good at making pain go away,” he added proudly, and then, his lips descended on her scuffed and bruised knees. She kissed each one, tenderly, and then took her hand and brought it to his lips, and pressed his mouth to the inside of her palm. Her breath hitched and she stared at him, wide-eyed, as he watched her, unblinking, gaging every minute reaction. He kissed her hand, inside and then out, and then kissed the other, even though it wasn’t injured, and then returned to her knees and kissed them again.

At last, “Better?” he asked.

She only mooed incoherently.

…Azriel, by the stove, flipping pancakes was the sexiest thing Elain had ever seen in her life.

Clad in dark slacks, in his white shirt from last night, with sleeves rolled up and the tattoo sleeves on full display, he stood in her kitchen, barefoot and flipped pancakes like a pro.

“You cook too?” she asked incredulously.

He laughed.

“Too? In addition to what?”

“I don’t know,” she was still perched on the sofa, like an invalid, but after she washed her face and brushed her hair, he ordered her to sit and not make unnecessary moves. “Everything?”

“My repertoire is limited, when it comes to the kitchen, but what I know how to make, I make well. Cassian is a better cook.”

“Cass?” she smiled.

“Nesta is lucky to have him,” Azriel added, somewhat wistfully.

Elain looked at him and nodded. “I think so too.”

“He is a good man. Maybe the best man I’ve ever known. Where my own family failed, he stepped in, though he is a year younger than me. But he taught me…how to be. Accepted me. Unconditionally. Taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to fight.”

“And you?”

“I? I helped him with his reading,” Azriel rubbed his chin, his stance a little tense.

She didn’t say anything, waiting to see if he felt like sharing more.

“It was neglected,” he said at last. “His reading and writing. So, we sat together, late at night, at our foster parents’ house and read.”

He then asked, “coffee?”

The moment of reminiscing was over, and Elain did not press.

She nodded to one of the cupboards and he pulled out a tub of coffee and grimaced.

“This is what you drink?”

“Hey, it’s good coffee! I buy it at Trader Joe’s!” she laughed defensively.

“Baby, we are drinking Italian coffee in this house,” he decided, and there was no arguing with that logic.

That’s how Elain became Azriel’s ‘baby’.

In their house, they always drank Italian coffee.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Thanks Nu,” Azriel greeted a lanky, very thin, very tall girl, who handed him two packages and then winked at him and disappeared wordlessly.

“My assistant, Nuala,” he explained, showing Elain two packages of Lavazza coffee. “This will do for now.”

Elain hobbled to the small butcher block island that she’d restored from a console that she found at a flea market. “You text someone and they just appear?”

He grinned and shrugged innocently.

“I know a guy.”

“Of course you do. Are you in the mafia?”

“First of all, rude,” he placed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her and then poured her coffee, “second of all, I just know a guy.”

“Who knows where to buy Lavazza on a Saturday morning?” she wondered, tucking into the pancakes.

“I have a network of spies,” he winked at her.

She sipped on the coffee, perhaps not as good a cup as he’d made her at his garage, but glorious nevertheless. “Are you in the CIA?”

“Not in the mafia or the CIA. Just a lowly car guy.”

“Uh-uh.”

They toasted with their coffee cups and Azriel said, “not bad for a first date. Blood and flowers. Very romantic.”

It was that morning, that sunny Saturday morning, over a plate of pancakes and some Italian coffee that Elain Archeron fell in love.

She fell in love completely.

Utterly.

Irreversibly.

And forever.

Now

Azriel turned off to some side road and how he knew where to go, Elain had no idea, but she just enjoyed the scents and warmth of the day.

“You know,” she laughed. “We are literally under the Tuscan sun right now!”

“All your dreams are coming true,” he ran a loving hand over her bare arm and she tore her gaze from the scenery around her.

“My dreams came true when I met you,” she confessed. “That was the day.”

“So easily impressed!” he teased, but she saw that her words touched something in him. His face softened with happiness.

“Az, slow down,” she whispered, an almost painful pull to kiss him spreading over her. “I want to kiss you.”

He looked at her, eyes hidden behind his Aviator shades, but slowed down and she leaned towards him and planted her mouth on his cheek.

“Lips,” she murmured with audible desperation.

“Baby, I don’t want to bust up this nice Ferrari,” he laughed. “And you, who is riding in it.”

Pouting, she ordered, “Then pull over so I can kiss you!”

He laughed louder, throwing his head back, his gorgeous tanned neck annoyingly desirable.

She wanted to bite his vein, lick the salty skin of his neck, and then sink her teeth into his shoulder. Elain was a biter. And a scratcher. Good thing that Azriel was a benevolent lover, who didn’t care if she left his body marked with her love, and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he encouraged it.

His heavy brown hand lay on her knee, under the hem of her summer dress and he said,

“Why don’t I do something nice for you… then you can kiss me…”

“But I want to kiss you now,” she frowned playfully.

His hand slid a little higher, up her bare thigh, and he pressed his scarred palm into her thin, tender skin, rubbing slowly, indulgently. This was just as much for her as it was for him.

She threw her head into the back of the seat, eyes closed.

Until she yelped softly, when his wicked hand slipped higher and higher, pushing her dress up as well.

“Azriel Bagarat,” she murmured, “what am I going to do with you? And your love for public nudity and lovemaking…”

He shrugged oh so innocently and said, “firstly, it’s Archeron to you, and,”

“Not just yet,” she wiggled her ring-clad hand in front of him, “not until we got the paper and all, to make us official,”

They rolled their eyes at the same time and then laughed.

“And secondly, who can blame me?” he leaned and kissed her shoulder. “You are very hot. And I sort of want to fuck you all the time.”

His long, very experienced fingers made their way even higher, until he drew them along the cotton of her underwear, lightly pressing into the cleft, teasing ever so lightly. She shifted against the fingertips, her thighs falling apart in silent encouragement.

Elain was a giving and a receptive lover, innately knowing what he wanted and accommodating both of their needs thoughtfully, and easily.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmured.

“To kiss you,” she insisted stubbornly.

He huffed his amusement, and then pushed his finger deeper, firmer against the cotton, whispering,

“How about this?”

“This is nice, I suppose,”

“Only nice?” he withdrew his finger in warning and she grabbed his wrist, and thrust it back in place.

“Maybe a little better than ‘nice’, huh?” he teased.

“A little,” she agreed, gasping when he cupped her fully, swiping his heel of his palm against the length of her folds, feeling the dampness against his skin. Bold, as he always was, he moved the strip of cotton to the side, and hiked up her dress ever higher, exposing her to his exploration.

He snuck a glance at her perfectly peachy, pink pussy, bare and succulent, like a ripe fruit dripping with its sweet juices.

He groaned and then hissed, “I am stopping, right now. I want you coming on my tongue in the next four minutes,”

“So confident, ombre?”

She took to calling him ombre or ‘shadow’, when, early in their relationship, he kept materializing in front of her out of nowhere, stepping out of the shadows. He laughed, but didn’t mind the endearment. What’s more, it became a private thing between the two of them—he’d call her ‘rose’ and she’d call him ‘ombre’. It wasn’t nauseatingly sugary sweet and could be used in public without making people gag. Unlike, for example, the Darlings, who, for whatever reason called each other ‘my darkness’. Or Cassian, who sometimes went with ‘schmoopie’, braving Nesta’s wrath.

Azriel laughed, while incessantly dragging his finger back and forth over the wet slit, without doing much else, and making her gasp and squirm.

“That I can make you come on my tongue in 4 minutes? Fuck yeah! Want me to prove it?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she shook her head, “you don’t get to just do whatever the hell you want, when you want it. If I don’t get my kiss, you don’t get to,”

“What? Lick your pussy? I feel like the punishment is unreasonable,” he protested.

She gave him a sultry look, a look that only he was privy to, and then murmured, spreading her legs a little wider for him,

“Maybe I want to lick something of yours?” she proposed, her voice husky, pouring like honey over his ear.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” he choked out, finally parting the soft cushions of her folds and dragging his knuckles over the wet spread of her. The intoxicating scent of her arousal, mixed with the Italian sunshine and the smell of grass, flowers and cypresses was so heady, he almost swerved, stopping only quick enough to grip the steering wheel tightly in his left hand.

Gods, if he was going to make it to their next destination, he would be impressed with himself. But it was close.

Azriel

Elain loved getting fingered. That was the first thing he learned about her sexually—kissing and fingering.

In the privacy of their world, he fingered her constantly.

It was almost an obligation on his part by now, to have her wake up, tucked into his side, while gently, but thoroughly pumping her soft, indescribably tight center. No matter how many times he’d been inside of her, she remained tight, as tight as the first time. That was a blessing, but a curse as well, for all he could typically think about throughout the day, was sinking into that glorious tightness.

When she was finally semi-awake, she rolled on her back and spread her legs in front of him, so he could finger her in earnest. Two fingers first, nice and deep inside of her, as he knelt in front of her and watched her come undone before him. And then, there was always a moment when her eyes flew open, and her back arched, and he slipped the third one in. The plush, warm walls of her sex stretched and pulled to accommodate him, but he went slow and deep, only grazing the sensitive spot in her, making her moan low and begging, the pressure of his hand steady and firm.

She cried and cried into the pillow, head thrown back in utter extasy, her hair a tangled halo about her. She wasn’t permitted to move her hips, his only order in that early-morning game of theirs, therefore she was wholly dependent on him for her pleasure. If she ever did begin a sensual undulation of her hips around his hand, he’d allow her to continue for a few moments, aware that she was lost in her own pleasure, before cruelly yanking his hand out of her.

“Was my girl allowed to do that?” he’d ask simply, and amidst her disappointed panting, her pleading for more, her sweet, innocent “sorry. I am sorry,” she’d beg him to fill her again.

Then she’d lay still, eyes wide and pleading, her little opening vibrating at the loss, before he placed her feet on his shoulders and thrust in her anew. This time, his scarred, rough, brown, inked fingers disappeared in her completely. She buckled and let out a wild moan that reverberated from the very depth of her, because all four fingers were inside, and his thumb finally, finally began a gorgeously slow torment around her clit. She just lay there, tense and unmoving, watching him, the slurping, obscene sounds of his hand inside of her filling the sleepy morning air around them.

Elain came quietly. She moaned and twisted and gasped as he rubbed her clit, but when the waves finally descended upon her, when he felt the tight, silky flesh grip and pump all four of his fingers, which were now pressing up into her perfect spot, the exhale was soft and intimate. Only for him.

Now

“Don’t wreck the car,” Elain muttered, eyes barely open.

“Will this be the second one?” Azriel asked, while Elain wrapped her hand around his wrist and forcefully jammed his hand inside of her.

Four.

Four orgasms daily. That was his promise.

He’d provide her with at least four daily orgasms. So far, he typically exceeded expectations. It wasn’t particularly difficult, because he often played with her at odd times—when they were watching TV, he’d slip a finger onto her clitty and rub her slowly and leisurely, until she melted from the stimulation. She enjoyed it when he bent her over counters or sinks, and sunk his fingers deep and hard into her perpetually ready hole.

Elain, to his complete delight and fascination, was always just a bit aroused. Always, always just a bit wet, just a little damp for him. He’d make an unscheduled stop at her shop and if it was empty, he’d step behind the counter with her, and soon, she’d be splayed over the counter, his hand between her legs. Yes, they’ve been almost caught plenty of times, but Azriel had the ability to disappear into shadows as soon as he sensed someone coming. Sometimes, when someone would walk in the store, Azriel even pretended that he was a customer, buying flowers, watching her patiently, while she got his bouquet ready for him. Never mind that his hand might have been soaked with her slick, or that he smirked, watching her press her thighs together, while she wrapped the flowers, as she avoided eye contact with him, and handed him the bouquet which he’d inevitably bring home for her.

When he was around her, she jokingly complained that she was of constant need for him, and it was his very enviable and pleasant task to soothe the ache inside of her.

Azriel

Their friends, family, found their relationship perplexing. But Elain kept her sisters firmly at an arm’s length when it came to the discussion of their sex life. No matter how they tried to pry, she gently, but firmly rebuffed them. Nesta complained and said that they were too obsessed with each other. That Elain was too in love and that Azriel was too dependent on Elain’s love for this to be normal. Elain only shrugged and didn’t argue.

“It’s not normal!” seethed Nesta, watching Elain and Azriel wrapped around each other on the dance floor, Elain’s body shimmying and swaying around her, arms raised in the air, her hips swooshing to the beat, bumping into his pelvis.

“You think they are gonna do it right on the dancefloor?” Cassian contemplated quietly, not sure if this was outside the realm of possibilities.

“He would!” she spat and gulped down her Aperol spritz aggressively. “I am surprised he is not bending her over…more surprised she isn’t agreeing!”

“They never argue,” Cassian nodded.

“They never—never—argue. It’s not normal!”

The way Cassian saw it, as long as the two were happy, he had no right to judge.

Nesta was a hot pepper. Feyre, an apple—solid, tasty, dependable. Elain—whipped cream—a delicious topping over anything, but especially Azriel.

Nevertheless, the word got around.

One day, Azriel, Rowan and Cassian were sitting in Elain’s flower shop, toiling diligently over a huge order of flowers.

They wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not to each other, or their women, but they quite enjoyed hiding in that flower shop and arranging flowers. They claimed that they were doing it for Elain’s sake, to help her out, so she didn’t have to hire additional help just yet, but,

Well, they liked it.

At first, Elain wasn’t sure if Cassian was cut out for the task, because the very first try was a little rough.

“Cass, these are not your enemies that you are about to smite,” Elain instructed gently, prying his fingers from the stems of irises, which he was clutching like he was about to throw a lance.

“Pfff, you look like you are about to choke a chicken,” Nesta teased. And promptly realised her mistake, biting her lip.

Cassian cocked his brow and murmured seductively,

“What chicken am I choking, sweetheart? My own,”

“Oh no,” Elain stepped in between them, hands on her hips. “No. No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Lainey, don’t allow Cass to choke his chicken in front of us,” begged Azriel, working quickly and deftly, and soliciting an envious look from Cassian, whose flowers were in complete disarray, compared to Azriel’s neat piles and methodical assembly line.

“Yes, no one is choking chickens, penises or each other in here,” ordered Elain sternly, while Nesta and Azriel were laughing silently.

“Hehe,” smirked Cassian, “Elain said ‘penis’!”

“Take your dirty talk and deeds,”

Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Cassian began rocking to his own singing, imitating the gravel of Brian Johnson’s voice rather successfully, headbanging over his babybreath, bluebells and irises.

Chicken choking forgotten for a moment.

As Cassian fussed over a vase, working on each stem and arranging them just so, wearing a little white apron no less, he asked casually, “So, brother, four?”

Azriel was in his own headspace, and he didn’t even hear Cassian, as he was busy with his own flower arrangement.

There was, expectedly, a competition going on—who’d complete the most arrangements in an hour. Rowan, a veritable giant, and Cassian’s best friend, also wore an apron, but a long one, like a butcher, and was significantly ahead of the pack. That bothered Azriel more than he cared to admit. So, he was re-strategizing his strategy.

“Four what?” Rowan inquired, not taking his eyes off the flowers, working like a machine.

“Ask Az here,” Cassian suggested. He was catching up to Azriel with an alarming speed.

Azriel had never lost, so far. He wasn’t going to lose today.

“Stop speaking in riddles. What are you talking about?”

“Word on the street is that our Az here provides the flower girl with a minimum of four orgasms on the daily,”

Azriel started and finally tore his eyes from the flowers.

Both Rowan and Cassian were watching him, smirking.

“I guess it’s true then,”

“Fuck off.”

“If that’s true,” Rowan drawled, “good for you, man. Though you are putting us to shame with this ridiculous offer of yours. How do you keep up?”

“Easily,” Azriel shrugged. “But it’s freaking me out that you two are talking about my sex life so casually.”

“But fucking four? Daily?” repeated Cassian, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Elain, man,” Rowan rubbed the back of his head, mussing his silver hair, “who would’ve thought?”

Cassian nodded, “No offense, brother, but Elain doesn’t strike anyone as particularly adventurous in the bedroom,”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Azriel said simply.

“Very beautiful,” offered Rowan pacifically, “but…you know…Kind of like Elide, I guess. You wouldn’t know it, looking at her,”

Cassian was nodding. “Yeah, she looks like she eats macaroons and reads Jane Austen,”

“Macarons,” said Azriel.

“What?”

“It’s macaron. Not macaroon.”

“What the hell is the difference?”

“One is a French biscuit, made with almond flour and filled with a creamy filling. The other, is a coconut concoction that one usually eats at Passover.”

Rowan was chuckling. Cassian was shaking his head, grunting, “you would know. So, does she? Eat maca--,”

“No, she doesn’t even like macarons. And she doesn’t read Jane Austen. She reads espionage novels. She likes Daniel Silva. Any more stupid questions?”

Elide. Of course. He should’ve guessed.

Elain and Elide met through Rowan and it was friendship at first sight.

Azriel couldn’t argue—the two women were similar in many ways. Both were on a quiet side, polite, well-mannered. Elain—a ray of sunshine, tall, slender and curvaceous, smiling and affable, with piles of golden-brown locks and warm brown eyes. Elide—the opposite—small, pale, with perfectly straight, silky black hair and dark, midnight eyes. Both—crafty in the ways of the world, charming, when needed, capable of getting into everyone’s good graces, and therefore, getting what they wanted.

“No, no more stupid questions,” said Cassian. “Just don’t know how you two grumps attracted such lively girls,”

“Lorcan and I aren’t ‘grumps’. We just talk when we need to and don’t have the need for instant gratification or to be the center of attention. Something I can’t say about you,”

“It’s not about me,” Cassian protested, but Azriel stopped him, by raising his finger,

“Now, if you are not going to shut the fuck up about my woman and me, I will spread a rumour amongst your women, that it’s not four, but six. Daily. Let’s see how you measure up then.”

Silence fell.

Azriel won.

His 36th win.

Now

“Yes, the second,” Elain nodded with a satisfied smile.

Azriel

Naturally, today, he woke her up properly, as he always did.

They stayed in an adorable little villa, near Montepulciano. It was everything a Tuscan villa was supposed to be…

including the dust that settled in its 800-year-old walls. And Elain coughed and coughed and coughed, surprisingly not coughing up a lung.

“We can’t stay here,” Azriel said, frowning.

“Where are going to go? We are in the middle of Tuscany and it’s 10 pm,” she reminded him.

Ever resourceful, he dragged the mattress off the antique bed and plopped it down on the floor of their small balcony.

“We sleep here. Under the night Tuscan sky.”

It was a lovely, if chilly night, and Elain would’ve enjoyed it if she didn’t fall asleep almost immediately and slept through the night.

She was still asleep, when the birds began their morning song and Azriel positioned her on her hands and knees, and carefully removed her nightgown, baring her to the dry, cool morning air.

“Someone will see us,” she murmured sleepily.

She tucked her hands under her cheek, and followed the direction of Azriel’s hand on her hip, rising her butt high up, and arching her back for him.

Azriel loved having sex out in the open. Especially if she was completely naked. He wasn’t overt about it, but the thrill of being found out, the titillating desire to be watched was always present. She knew it. She indulged his fantasies.

“I don’t think anyone would mind watching you,” he whispered hotly in her ear and lightly bit the apple of her cheek. “But it’s also like 4:15 in the morning. So maybe they are still sleeping.”

He settled behind her and she felt his hands on her back, smoothing over the sharp cut of her tight waist and then the soft curve of her hips.

“Spread your legs for me, my love, I want to play with you a little bit,” he guided her, and she followed his direction, squatting inelegantly on her knees, thighs wide apart for him. He cupped her fully in his palm and then pinched her clit, hard, twisting it and rubbing it between his two fingers, until she bit her forearm, trying to stifle her cries of instant pleasure. He pinched again, then again, rubbing tightly, while he bit her buttock playfully, but hard enough to leave a pink mark.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, when he nibbled on her flesh again, tugging on the swollen clit with relentless dedication. She managed to twist enough to kiss his knee and whispered, eyes still closed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my beautiful girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her wet, stretched opening, dragging his tongue around and around the rim, “and you are so nice and wet for me in the morning. My good girl, what do you want?”

“Only you,” she vowed. “Only you, my Az.”

“Let’s fill your pretty little hole then,” he licked on it again, and then slid one strong, long finger inside. As he began to pump her slowly, he proposed, “When I fill you with my cock later on,”

“Uh oh,” she moaned dreamily, smiling a loving smile, enjoying his finger to the fullest.

“I think I’d like to add a finger or two as well. What do you think?”

“I’d like that, I think,” she complied easily.

Elain was not a particularly imaginative lover, but Azriel was the opposite—he had too much imagination when it came to everything. Especially Elain, and what he liked to do with her sexually. What was absolutely fantastic, and he thanked all the gods for this phenomenon, was that Elain was willing to try anything. She was an absolutely willing and eager lover, who learned from him and learned of her body with readiness and joy. He dominated her completely, but that was the nature of their relationship, and they easily fell into their roles, from the very beginning. She was submissive, loved praise, and loved being guided and told what to do. More than anything else, she loved pleasing him. There was never any pull and push, no competition, no power struggles. Elain was made for him, created and carved from something that was innately his, whether it was his body or his mind, and they lived and loved harmoniously. He complimented her perfectly: her temperament, her needs, her wants. He treated her with admiration, gentleness, adoration and respect, and while his own expectations were high, she met them all with ease. She took control when she needed to. Received what she wanted from him, however she needed to. And he gave and gave.

Some, or many, called them soulmates.

Perhaps that’s what they were. Or maybe, they were even more than that.

Azriel stretched his legs on either side of her curved body and then added another finger inside of her sopping, slippery opening, reaching deep into her and pumping her firmly.

“Auuuu, babe, it’s good…” she squealed, “it’s so good.”

Unable to wait any longer, he pulled her buttocks apart with his available hand and swept his tongue over the tiny opening, causing her to seize with surprise and pleasure. Instinctively, she moved her hips against his tongue, pushing her backside into his lips. He licked the little hole in earnest, dragging his tongue back and forth between both of her openings, making her tremble and shudder every time his tongue reached one or the other.

As he sat to the task of licking and sucking her tight hole, he thrust a third finger into her dripping passage, feeling her shift against his face to accommodate the stretch. It was a lot, and she whimpered and moaned from the pressure, but he knew that she could take four, though he wasn’t in a hurry, and worked her diligently and steadily, his tongue laving the other hole just as eagerly.

She was shaking between his legs, her toes curling beneath her, rapid pants escaping into the morning mists, her hair draping the tiled floor in front of her, even spilling through the balcony rails.

Somewhere they heard sheep bleating and Elain laughed softly, before arching her back even further, not caring how splayed she looked. There wasn’t a part of her that he hasn’t seen, hasn’t touched or licked or kissed, not an inch of her that wasn’t caressed by his rough hands, not an orifice that he hasn’t penetrated with his magnificent cock. He’d burrowed inside of her so deeply, so wholly, he possessed all of her and she knew what it’s like to truly be part of another person, to be loved with egregious passion.

He fed another finger inside of her and she cried out, trembling and grunting, as she grabbed and squeezed his foot with mighty strength.

He tore his lips away from her bottom and grinned,

“Love, when you are in labour with our baby, I am fully prepared for the fact that you will break my fingers, maybe even my hand.”

“I am sorry,” she laughed, and kissed his foot, dragging her tongue over his toes.

There wasn’t a part of him that she did not love, did not worship with everything she had. No part of his body remained un-kissed, un-touched, un-caressed. A lazy Sunday, especially if the weather was crap and they had no plans to go out, was her favourite time—she could spend the day loving her Azriel. On those days, she pleasured him. And if she spent hours with his cock buried in her throat, or his balls between her lips, or her tongue in his ass, she was only too happy.

The tips of his fingers crawled into that hidden spot inside of her, curling just so, so he could massage and rub her into a frenzy. He stilled for a moment, to allow her to adjust to the fullness and the stretch, as she bit his foot, trying to stifle her screams. She leaked slowly over his hand, as most of it was situated in her clutching, hungry tightness.

“Very good, my baby,” he praised, kissing her buttocks and then giving her anus a few approving licks, “taking all four inside of you,”

“Oh my god, oh,” she groaned, “it’s so tight…Az, my love, I am so full,”

“I know, love,” he coaxed evenly, his hand beginning a steady, firm barrage of deep, pounding thrusts, “but it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeess,” she only managed, voice thin, pleading. She could barely hold herself up, so he wrapped his arm around her hips, keeping her ass up. She grabbed the balcony wrought-iron spindles, squeezing them tightly, forehead pressed into the mattress, as he pumped her harshly, keeping her on the verge of constant climax, but pulling back just so, for her to moan and beg him in a never ending litany.

“Baby, you want to come?” he teased, still busy with her butthole, which softened under his furious sucking and if they had more time and privacy, Elain would be ready to take him anally soon enough.

“Yes,” she grunted, “yes,”

“Ask nicely, and maybe,”

“Ugh, you are such a horrible tease,” she complained, biting his foot in spite, and he laughed, before slapping her firm, soft buttock.

“Biting a person who is making you come so nicely?” he slapped her again, and she yelped with pleasure, wiggling her ass, silently asking for more.

The walls of her passage clenched desperately over his fingers, and she made a choking, frantic sound in her chest, now beyond pleading or even moaning. He sucked, and slapped, and bit, and thrust, pumping her open, the sounds of the wet and the skin inside of her completely obscene, and music to both of their ears.

Azriel noticed a man, either a delivery guy or a grounds keeper, watching them wide eyed and shocked from a distance. Probably not something he expected to see at 4:40 in the morning. Not that he made a move to leave.

Azriel opted not to alarm Elain, who was coming violently on his hand, her body trembling and jerking, her beautiful, quiet orgasm sweeping everything in its path. His girl deserved a proper wake up, deserved and needed her climaxes, and deserved to be watched, because she was so beautiful. Her teeth and tongue clamped tightly on his foot, his toes, as she bit and licked, completely undone, turned inside out by his expert hand.

He still worked her hand in her, his thrusts shallow and not as strong, when she collapsed on the mattress at last, eyes closed, panting.

He smiled and finally slipped on the mattress alongside her, though he kept a finger between her folds, rubbing soothingly. She’d bite his head off if he removed his hand from her this quickly.

“Good morning my love,” he whispered at last, kissing her cheek.

“Mmmm, good morning,” she sighed with satiated pleasure.

“Some guy caught an eyeful,” he whispered, but she only snuggled to his chest.

“I don’t care…As long as you were watching me, that’s all that matters.”

“I wouldn’t mind sliding into your little bum right now,” he confessed, stroking her hip and her curvy backside.

“Do you want to take me?” she offered sweetly, eyes fluttering open.

He kissed her head and smiled, “So tempting, but not here and not now. Let’s jump in the shower and then be on our way. We’ve got a decent amount of driving to do today.”

She nodded.

“Did I tell you that I love you?” she stroked his cheek, the sharp, angular cut of it, the dark bronze skin.

“You did, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“I love you, Azriel.”

“I love you, Elain.”

Elain

Their day was long.

They had their cappuccino and cornetti at some café on the road.

Their trip had a purpose—they were actually driving to Maranello, to the Ferrari headquarters where Azriel had 3 days of business meetings.

When Az told her that he was thinking of going to Italy, it was no brainer to say ‘yes’.

It was the first time she was going to leave her business, her shop, for an extended period of time, but Feyre promised to oversee the operations, while Cerridwen, whom Elain recently hired as a full-time employee and who was Nuala’s sister, was going to be responsible for the day-to-day.

The last time Elain’s been to Italy was when she was barely 10 years old. A few years before everything’s went to shit. Back then, her father completed a very lucrative business deal and there was a lot of disposable cash, so the family decided to take a grand trip to Italy.

Little Feyre who was only seven screeched and begged to go to Disneyland, while Nesta and their mother voted for Italy. No one asked Elain, assuming that she’d go wherever she was told.

The trip was extensive, almost four weeks, and they hit all the glamorous Southern parts—the Amalfi coast, with their headquarters in a rented villa near Positano. Then they went to Portofino, and their father rented a yacht for a few days, the trip culminating in Capri. It was a whirlwind on sun and the sea, of lemons, eating grilled squid, at which Feyre stared in horror, though she liked the taste, amazing fruit, endless pastries and gelato. Even their mother yanking a few pastries away from Elain, hissing that she ‘grow fat and not find a husband’ didn’t mar the experience. Elain, always the plumper of the sisters, was used to the warning by then.

This time around, Elain could eat as much pastry as she wanted.

They landed in Rome, spent four days there, since she insisted on going to the Vatican Museum twice, hear Mass at St. Peter’s, and she didn’t know if she annoyed Azriel with her endless excitement and tales of art, artists, and biblical stories, but she couldn’t help herself.

She was an Art History major in NYU, receiving a full scholarship to attend. She loved it. Didn’t like college all that much as a whole, but loves studying. When everyone was partying, drinking, fucking and skipping classes, she went to the Met and to MOMA and learned and enjoyed herself. She loved history of religion, of other cultures and though not at all religious herself, none of them were, her knowledge on the subject was thorough.

Azriel, it seemed, liked her passion, her excitement, and listened attentively when she went on long explanation of what this or that Saint did and what grizzly death they’d suffered. And what was the significance of the painting or sculpture of the said Saint. Obviously, he was very artistically inclined as well, though his preference lay in design and industrial art, but he enjoyed listening and discussing. They spent hours and hours meandering the halls of the museum, and of the cathedral, and both spent a good half an hour in front of the Pieta, staring in silence and quiet contemplation at the sculpture, holding hands.

It was when they were sitting at a café, sipping some bitter Campari cocktails and watched the sprawling vistas of Rome that Azriel confided to her. Told her of his childhood. She knew some of the details, but he never talked about his childhood, and she opted not to pressure him. It was clear enough that it was horrific in many ways, and bringing up all those memories didn’t make sense to Elain.

Told her how his father, who was rich and vicious, won custody of him from his mother, not because he wanted his son, but out of spite, to torment the mother. And then it was years of solitude and loneliness and emotional and physical abuse. Azriel’s only reprieve was drawing, making designs, sometimes with chalk on the pavement, sometimes on scraps of paper. His stepmother threw everything out as soon as he made it. He languished in his father’s world for 8 years, until a catastrophic event took place—his stepbrothers doused him, his hands, in gasoline and lit him up. They didn’t call the paramedics either, and simply stood there, watching, as he burned. Finally, the neighbors heard his screams and police and ambulance came at last.

Because he was young, he recovered most of the sensations and feeling in his hands, but the skin was permanently scarred and his father refused skin grafts.

He’d met Cassian at the hospital, who came there having been beaten so badly by his foster father, that he had a concussion, broken ribs and a punctured eye socket.

Mrs. Darling, Rhys’s mother, who was one of the biggest benefactors of the children’s hospital where they were recovering, heard their stories and thankfully, her wealth opened every door. Her influence and wealth were no match for Azriel’s father. Hence when she decided that she wanted to adopt the two boys, little could be done to dissuade her. Azriel and Cassian still spent some time in foster care, while the documents were being processed and all the formalities legalized, but at the end, they ended up with the Darlings, as their adopted sons.

Elain wanted to cry for him, for his destroyed childhood, for his tormented youth, for his injuries, for the lack of love in his life. For his sake, though, she didn’t.

Sensing that he needed her support, she didn’t release his hand for the remainder of the day.

And she told him how much she loved him and how happy he made her.

They left Montepulciano, and then drove for a few hours and stopped at Orvieto, and explored its unnecessary enormous Duomo, which was situated on the hill, amidst the Umbrian lushness. The tiny town did offer spectacular views and great wine, which they enjoyed with lunch.

Now

Azriel worked his fingers into the supple warmth of her damp pussy and looked down, before ordering, “wider, Lainey”.

She spread her legs wider, her knit dress folded haphazardly over the belly.

“Wider,” he said and she placed one foot on the seat, exposing herself completely to him.

It was never wide enough for him, for he liked to see everything, liked to spread and open and pull her wide apart for his eyes, for his exploration.

He pressed his thumb to her plump pink clit and began to rub.

She whined impatiently and he smiled,

“We are almost there…”

“I need you,” she moaned, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“I need you too, my beauty,” he nodded, “but I think once we get there, you’ll forget all about me.”

She tsked and announced, “I don’t know if anything will impress me as much as your cock in my mouth,”

He started at the blunt words, her amused grin and then burst out laughing.

“Naughty.”

In a few minutes, he rounded a small green hill and Elain’s breath caught in her throat.

“Oh, gods…Az…”

He was smiling.

He’d never been here before, but he’d done his research, finally finding the right spot.

A tiny hidden valley, nestled between a few rolling Tuscan hills, with a small turquoise lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun. In the distance, a mandatory Tuscan villa.

And poppies. Fields of poppies, stretching as far as the eye can see. A blanket of ruby-red poppies, gently swaying in the pine-scented air.

This place was a damn Walmart painting come true, and Azriel loved it for its kitsch, its predictability.

“It’s gorgeous!” she gasped. Then chuckled, adding, “Like one of those mass-produced paintings,”

At that, Azriel roared with laughter, killed the engine and they got out of the car.

“My thoughts exactly!” he nodded vigorously.

She ran into the poppies, brushing her palm over the petals, “But it’s worth it! No painting can ever do this justice! Az…it’s so beautiful!” she twirled in the field of red, her white dress a stark contrast to the vibrancy of the colours around her—the cobalt of the cloudless sky, the emerald green of the hills, the blood-red of the poppies.

He folded his arms and said, “I am glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it!”

She inspected all the wildflowers that bloomed among the poppies, picking a few purple ones and a daisy and tucking them behind her ear. Another daisy she brought to him and tucked it into his hair.

“There is a blanket in the trunk,” he jerked his head towards the car, and unbuttoned his shirt almost to the navel, “if you want to picnic,”

“I want to picnic!” she squealed and ran to the car to get what she needed.

Soon there was a blanket on the grass and a few bottles of wine in a basket.

He slid down, stretching on the blanket, toeing off his shoes, rolling his shoulders. This was nice. He also relished her happiness, how her high ponytail bounced about as she ran through the field barefoot, and then began twirling, arms outstretched and singing loudly,

The hills are alive with the sound of

Griswold, he helped out.

“Are you coming here?” he called out, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“No,” she yelled, “I am picking flowers!”

“They’ll wilt,” he muttered reasonably, but she didn’t hear him.

Azriel dozed off, surprising himself. But the pleasant heat, the sunshine, the breeze, the birds—all lulled him into sleep. He stirred only when he sensed Elain near, and when he opened his eyes, he was treated by a lovely surprise. He propped himself on his elbows and watched his beautiful girl walk towards him completely naked, with a heap of flowers in the crook of her arm. What she did with her dress he didn’t know and didn’t care. But he drunk in the slim, curvy silhouette of her body, the long, slender legs and the toned thighs. Her smooth, pink sex glistened just a bit with her usual arousal, and full breasts bounced with every step. Her hair flowed behind her, unbound.

“I got hot,” she announced.

He grinned.

“I can see that. I like it when you get hot like this.”

She stood over him, her delicious slit taunting him and he made to touch it, but she dumped all the flowers on him instead and said, “get up”.

“Why?!” he frowned. “I am so comfortable.”

“I can make you a little more comfortable,” she promised, “but for that, you have to get up.”

With a groan, he got on his feet, only to have her slide on her knees in front of him. She looked up and murmured, “by the time you are done with me, I only want to have gelato to soothe my throat.”

He swallowed audibly, watching her unbutton his trousers and then his shirt. She removed the pants completely, but left the white shirt on, before placing a few soft, loving kisses on the thick slabs of muscles on his stomach. The well-defined outline of his Adonis Belt she traced with her tongue, inevitably making her way from his hip towards the final destination.

“And I want my knees bruised,” she added with a wicked smirk.

He flicked her nose and shook his head, “such filthy words coming from this pretty little mouth.”

She licked her lips with impatience, hungrily watching him fist his member and give it a few rough, preliminary strokes.

“Gods, your cock is gorgeous,” she gasped with admiration, watching him work himself with practiced determination.

“You like my cock?” he drew the thick, smooth head of it over her full lips and she whimpered with anticipation, nodding, kissing it affectionately, with slow, open mouth kisses, as he continued to pump it lazily.

She admitted, “more than anything. Az, Az,” she begged impatiently, as he smeared a trickle of liquid that dribbled from the tip over her lips, “please,”

“Please what?”

She rested her hands on his thighs, kneeling close enough so that her breasts brushed against them, “I want it in my mouth. Please.”

He lightly smacked the thick girth of his shaft over her half-opened mouth, making her shake with anticipation, smiling down at her. Her eyes burned with raw, overwhelming desire.

“But I like it when you ask me, baby. Tell me more,”

“That your cock is gorgeous and ridiculously huge?” she chuckled, relishing in his rubbing the tip insistently over her lips, as she licked the little slit.

“Keep going,” he encouraged.

“That I love you and can’t wait to suck it?”

“Alright, babe,” she nodded at last, “I guess you’ll just have to suck my huge dick,” and with that, he slid between her lips.

She smiled around him and pulled on it deeper, dragging her tongue over and under the thick shaft. It was always just a little too big for her, so she gasped, as he filled her mouth more and more, sliding in steadily. She eased her throat as much as she could, accepting the thrust and feeling the smooth head dip down, brushing the back of her throat. He was watching her intently, every bob and swallow of her throat, making sure that she was comfortable enough to hold him in. “Big?” he murmured. Her eyes teared up, but she managed a small nod. Her hands squeezed his thighs nervously, tightly, stroking the backs of them, while he began to pull out slowly, before sliding back in.

Nothing was more exciting than Elain’s ability to mould her throat around his shaft, while those big brown eyes blinked at him, seeking approval. He put his hand over her head, stroking it, then caressing her face, her hollowed cheeks, while giving her mouth a few exploratory thrusts.

She readied herself and pulled back, releasing the cock with an audible pop, and then licking the underside, from the balls to the tip.

“Just like that, my love,” he nodded, watching her tuck her face in the crease of his hip and slide her tongue up and down the sides of his cock. “Is that good?”

“It’s the best,” she vowed, “I love licking!” she added enthusiastically, proceeding to do just that.

He always remembered that she was very innocent and whatever she knew, no matter how sensual, erotic or even perverse, it all came from him. He taught her—gently, firmly and thoroughly the art of the bedroom and whatever they did, he was completely assured that she enjoyed and wanted every moment of it. Thankfully, she was so innocent that she didn’t know how to pretend or fake anything, especially when it came to sex, and didn’t know how to play games. She was eager and loving and excitable because what they did together, with each other, pleased her, and for no other reason. Azriel cherished this level of honesty more than anything.

Therefore, when she said that she loved licking, she showed him just how much she enjoyed it, licking up and down voraciously, over the sides, watching him unblinking. He cupped the pouch of his balls in one hand and carefully eased it into her mouth.

“You are so good to me,” he groaned, as she wrapped her lips around the ball and began to suck eagerly, not caring if she was loud, smacking her lips, tongue working non-stop, caressing the flesh. She hummed appreciatively around the balls, sending a pleasant shiver down his thighs, her mouth completely filled with him. “That’s good, my girl,” he stroked her head, “just like that. Keep going,” his head fell back with satisfaction, and she swallowed hard around his balls, almost moaning at the sight of his neck, the expression of pleasure written on his face.

“Can I tell you a story?” he muttered huskily, looking back down at her, his eyes dark and his face tense. Elain nodded. He gripped his cock and then slid it back in her mouth, almost to the hilt, making her choke and gag at once, watching her eyes widen.

She was drooling, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the pressure of her member in her throat, or from the visual display of his stunning body above her. The thick pectorals, adorned with black and blue ink twitched as he began to pump in and out of her mouth, hard and steady. He held the back of her head, but the clutch of his hand was light and casual, only keeping her in place, as his narrow hips flexed with each deep push. A delicious bead of sweat ran down the cobbled network of his abdominal muscles, slowly making its way to the deep V etched into his hips, towards the thick cock that he was currently ramming into her mouth.

She drooled. She licked and laved and lapped. She didn’t care how messy or ridiculous she looked, because her man loved her and loved her on her knees in front of him.

“I couldn’t stop watching you talk,” he grumbled, “the first time I saw you. Your plump lips…Oh fuck, baby, you feel so, so good,” he rode her smoothly, with deep, expert strokes, “you wore that rose-tinted lipstick…and all I could think of afterward was those lips wrapped around my dick.”

She smiled over his member, lightly shaking her head, as much as her current position would allow.

“I am sorry, honey,” he smiled at her, “this pervy mind couldn’t think of anything else but getting my dick down your throat.”

And demonstrating just that, and the resolution of his dream, he pushed further.

“Alright?” he asked, carefully holding her jaw. She blinked her approval. He was unable to take his eyes off her, her lush lips wrapped tightly around the dark mass of him, her beautiful eyes tearing from pressure. He wiped the tears with his thumbs and then gave a brief nod, “give me those flowers, baby.”

Obviously, she couldn’t glance down, so she blindly grabbed a handful of flowers and handed them to him, her expression amused, a little surprised.

“What’s more romantic,” he murmured, stroking her hollowed cheeks and then pulling out a little, before pushing back in, “than putting pretty flowers into my Lainey’s hair,” and he plucked a small poppy from the heap, and pushed in into her hair, “while she deepthroats me?”

He was heavy and thick in her mouth, salty, delicious and familiar, and as he began thrusting firmly, the thick head hitting the back of her throat, Elain settled in for a ride. She wasn’t kidding when she asked for her throat to be raw by the end of it—she liked being sore somewhere in her body from him, at all times. Between her legs, inside her rectum, in her throat—it didn’t matter, though it was nice if it was everywhere, but she loved being marked by him in some way.

The hum and rumble in Azriel’s throat, that of masculine satisfaction and some kind of primal dominance made her so wet, she leaked down her thighs. But he didn’t tell her to touch herself, so she didn’t. He just fucked her throat steadily, the audible sound of her choking and sputtering around his cock and the satisfied snarls emanating from him, the only sounds around them. His hips rocked hard, pumping deep, as he garbled endearments and praise to her, “is that so good, honey? You feel amazing…”

She squeezed his thighs in affirmation. As he worked on her, he kept putting flowers in her hair, admiring her sucking and his work, “so gorgeous, baby. My beautiful girl…Good cock?”

“Mmmm,” she only managed, saliva bathing her chin and chest, her eyes rolling back with pleasure and exhaustion.

“Can you handle a little more?” he begged, “I don’t want to come yet, my love,” another flower in her hair. “I love you on your knees with my cock in her mouth.”

He set a brutal rhythm, muttered, “choke, baby…” and she did, gagging and panting over his member, the lack of oxygen making her pliant and obliging, her mouth existing for his pleasure. When they played a little rougher, he could request to squeeze her throat a little with his hand, while he choked her with his cock, but today, he was feeling romantic, as was she.

Her hair dripped with flowers of all kinds, as he fashioned her into some kind of Summer Lady. Or maybe a Dusk Lady, since the sun began its descent and shadows spread over the pretty little valley.

“Fuck me, you are so beautiful,” he grunted, looking down at her. “My flower girl, with my cock in her mouth. Bob a little, love, show me how much you like it,” he encouraged and she immediately began to bob her head up and down on him, drool sliding down his shaft, her eyes pleading for his approval, which he gave generously.

He gently, kindly stroked her face, her throat, feeling his cock deep inside it, moving in her, rubbing at the indentation with his thumb. Then, he cupped her face between his large hands and murmured, “open up”, thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks, as tears slid down when he started to thrust intently, battering her throat. “My girl is sucking so well,” he was relentless now, pounding and pounding, an Elain thought that she might just pass out from the sensation, feeling lightheaded. Azriel had inhuman stamina when he was between her legs, but that also translated to when he was in her mouth, which meant he could ravage her completely. “I’ll feed you all the gelato myself, if you can suck a little more,” he promised with a smirk, pulling out completely. “Breathe,” he ordered, and she gulped in some air, before he thrust back inside, “are you tired?”

She shook her head ‘no’. She was never tired for him. She moaned, though his cock pushed down all sound with brutal, excited enthusiasm, as he cupped his balls tightly in his hand, readying to finally come. “Fuck, baby, you suck so well,” he squeezed her shoulder, stooping over her, the muscled of his abdomen twitching and tensing, his balls tight against her chin. Grabbing her shoulder with one hand, he cupped her under the jaw and kept her head still, as he exploded in her mouth. He poured down her throat with a pleased, blissful moan, throwing his head back, pumping harshly and erratically, filling her mouth over and over. She sucked and drank, swallowing quickly, gluttonously. Azriel always tasted heavenly, but perhaps it was something about being in Italy and all the fruit and wine that they’ve been consuming, but she couldn’t get enough of him now. He shot rope after rope down her throat and she lapped it all with pleasure. He dropped on his knees, exhausted, his cock still in her mouth, and she stroked and caressed his body soothingly, swallowing the last of him.

“Gods, Elain,” was all he managed, as he finally withdrew in an endlessly long pull from her lips.

She gasped, and licked her lips, before placing a loving, playful kiss on the pink, wet head of the shaft.

“Did you have fun, my love?” she cooed tenderly, as Azriel slumped on the blanket, head her on her lap.

“Baby, why do you spoil me like this?” he moaned, reaching for her bare plump breast and cupping lightly.

“Probably because I love you more than it’s prudent,” she smiled, her voice hoarse. “More than anything. Love you like I didn’t know I could love anybody. Also,”

“Yes?”

His chest constricted from her simple admissions, from the pure earnestness of her words, from the love that was shining in her brown eyes. He was undeserving of this woman, of her overwhelming love for him, of everything that she gave him so selflessly. But he listened and listened, because everything she told him was like a balm on all the wounds of his soul, and music to his heart.

Her lips were gorgeously, obscenely swollen, and he dragged his thumb over their plumpness. She added, “you are very hot.”

“Ahhh,” he chuckled. “So you are using me for my body?”

“I’d be stupid not to use you for your body. You got one hell of a body, my mysterious, shadowy Azriel.”

“Well, flower girl, you go ahead and use my body as much as you want, for anything you desire. It’s yours.”

He kissed her hand. Then, reached up and kissed her pretty pink nipple.

“As is my heart,” he added softly. “Anything you want. It’s all yours.”

She lay next to him, both of them sprawled in the blanket of flowers. She picked a poppy and stuck it behind his ear.

“Pretty boy Azriel.”

He propped his cheek and turned to face her. She was still covered in flowers, from all his handiwork.

“We are good together, aren’t we?” she murmured, laying her hand on his neck.

“We are. We are very good together, Lainey.”

She bit her swollen lip and then said, voice quiet, a little uncertain,

“Maybe you want to marry me?” she proposed.

He stilled, waiting for more.

She squeezed the back of his neck a little tighter and continued, no stopping her now, “I know we were thinking later, maybe next y-,”

“Yes,” he nodded, “yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Elain, I want to marry you now.”

She gasped, tears of joy moistening her eyes, “In Florence?” she begged.

“Yes. In Florence,” he cupped her face in his. “Let’s go get married!”

181 notes · View notes

phykios · 3 years ago

Text

honesty and promise me, part 10 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

“If you don’t talk to me, I’m not going to leave you my keys.”

Annabeth looks at Piper from behind the loom, glaring through the threads. “Then you won’t come back to ten bolts of fabric.”

In fairness, it was sort of an empty threat. Piper has all the good stuff: the surger, the embroidery machine, the industrial sewing machines, plus a million sources for fabric that aren’t Annabeth’s stress weaving. Annabeth only has her own shitty sewing machine at home that she’d gotten for Christmas when she was fourteen.

Also, Piper wouldn’t actually lock her out. She needs those fabrics.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Annabeth says. “If you stay, I promise to tell you all the gritty details.” She’s joking, but the second she says it, she’s hit with a strange wave of desperation.

She wants to tell Piper all the gritty details. How she had giggled and smoozed and looked so pretty on Luke’s arm, tattoos and undercut and everything else so carefully concealed. She never wanted to tell Thalia the gritty details. The dirty ones, sure, particularly when the dirty things didn’t involve Thalia’s beloved younger cousin. But she had spent two years, two hard painful years, hiding vast swaths of herself from Thalia.

She thought of the night of the gala, of Thalia telling her family she knew Luke from college. NYU. They’d been actors together.

Annabeth hadn’t been the only one hiding things.

It had stung, in all sorts of ways.

Piper stares, narrowing her eyes. “How dare you tempt me into giving up my creative retreat for gossip.”

Annabeth shrugs. “It’s one or the other.”

The glare at each other, stubborn as all hell.

Piper throws up her hands. “Fine. Just make my fabric and call Leo if you’re having another crisis.”

The truth is, she will tell Piper. Eventually. She knows she will. It will probably be in eight months, when she gets back, when hopefully the shame of her false life and the devastation of losing Percy has lessened, but she will tell her. But eight months is a long time. “I do have other friends, you know.”

“Then call Luke. Or Thalia.”

It takes absolutely everything Annabeth has not to wince at the names.

She would never have told Thalia. Not really. Even things like this, even if it hadn’t involved her. Thalia wasn’t… good at relationship stuff. Not like Piper. And she never knew all of Annabeth’s romantic history--not like Piper did, anyway.

And it wasn’t just romantic relationships.

Annabeth might have been able to share her pain, and share her pain with Thalia, but it had, in many ways, only been a surface level thing. Thalia saw her pain after Annabeth’s mom had rescinded her approval of her life, but she'd taken Annabeth’s silence as the end of the matter, and responded to it by acting out, and arguably drinking too much.

But they never talked about her mother. They never talked about Thalia’s, either, and if there was something Annabeth learned from Hazel’s gala beyond how unfairly handsome Percy was going to look in thirty years, it was that there was a lot going on there.

It is a little hurtful on reflection. Making her feel less close to Thalia, but also less guilty about what she never said. And less willing to accept her reactions.

Her emotions have been all over the place the last few weeks.

Piper notices, because of course Piper notices, but she is an angel, and has known her for a long time, so she doesn’t badger her too much. She also doesn’t mention that Annabeth’s measurements all seem to be off. Not even to say something about beauty at every size or her well publicized efforts for diverse bodies in fashion.

But it was still nice to spend time with her. It felt like the old days, staying up too late making the next thing in fashion, and then passing out together, surrounded by bobbins and bagels, Gossip Girl playing on TV.

It did make Piper’s impending departure that much harder, though.

Two weeks into November, she meets Piper and Leo for dinner, and then sees Piper off to JFK for her eight-month creativity retreat in Oklahoma. “You know, like how you decided you couldn’t have a doorman for creative reasons,” she’d said with a raised eyebrow when Annabeth had questioned the move. Piper likes to treat the last two years of Annabeth’s life like some sort of creative exercise. Her dad had done that too, once, when she bothered to answer his call.

Not that she’s not doing anything other than helping Piper pick stitches, and sewing hemlines Piper is too important to deal with herself. She wishes that earlier estimation had been true.

Since the gala she’s been living on Uber Eats at Piper’s, unless she gets bullied home, in which case it's the same but less varied selection with more meat, so the night out with Piper and Leo the night before Piper’s flight feels like a radical departure from the norm. Even though they just go to dinner.

Which does not stop her from feeling hungover the next morning.

“You had half a glass of wine last night,” Leo points out from the door of her bathroom.

“I remember,” she agrees when it lets up for a moment.

“If you get me sick,” he says, “I’m sending you the doctor's bill.”

“Fair,” she chokes out.

Leo doesn’t hug her goodbye, but he does tell her he hopes she gets better before heading back to Boston.

Annabeth, hugging porcelain, wishes she could go with him.

She was very seriously considering it a few days later. Magnus would take pity on her and Alex was always fun to hang out with. Plus, they’d probably think she was too pathetic to be called on her shit. She only did not make plans to go up to Boston because on Wednesday Luke texted her: Already a shit week, brunch this weekend? And she knew if she ran off to Boston, she wouldn’t leave Magnus and Alex’s guest room until they forced the issue.

But it would be nice to talk to someone in New York City who doesn’t hate her guts, she thought.

So, on Sunday morning, she throws up the wonton soup she’d ordered in for dinner the night before, gurgles some mouthwash, uses the expensive concealer to hide the dark circles, and over does the mascara in hopes that she mostly looks awake.

“You look terrible,” are the first words Luke says to her.

“You have no idea how to talk to women,” she says, slumping down across from him.

“I do,” Luke says, “I just know not to bother with you.” But he frowns at her, taking her in. She’s broken out a Chanel jacket, but she isn’t sure when she last washed these jeans. A real winning combo, her.

“But really,” Luke says, “you look miserable. Is it about what happened on Halloween?”

She shrugs. It isn’t not that. Percy’s words still circle through her head, his sad, defeated face as he bemoaned the, how did he put it? All the rich girls who fucked him to make a point. Made all the worse because she believes them. Probably not the same points as those princesses, but… probably not as different as she would like.

She wonders if Europe is full of very wealthy aristocratic women who are all secretly and shamefully still in love with Percy Jackson. And Frank Zhang.

It makes her feel hollow and nauseous all at once.

But she’s been feeling nauseous for weeks now, so at least it's not a new feeling. If it keeps up, she’s going to have to go to the doctor soon.

She hates going to the doctor. It feels like cheating when she just goes and pays and knows other people can’t. She had once lied to Thalia about getting money for a side gig, and then given her two hundred bucks for a trip to the clinic. Now that Annabeth has spent many hours in his cousin’s apartment, and has heard Nico talk about his yearly income on top of the money his dad gives him, she’s not sure how it came down to her.

“Not really,” Annabeth says, “I mean, I still feel just as terrible, but that’s mostly the problem. I feel sick.”

“It's been three weeks.” Luke looks genuinely concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I’m exhausted and nauseous all the time,” she says, groaning at the thought. She was okay right at this moment, but she knew it could come back at the drop of a hat.

Luke frowned at her. “That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I mean…” He looked at her, his eyes gazing lower, to her body. Luke had never really come on to her in any kind of real way. But she’s not sure he’s ever looked at her with less lust than he does right at that moment.

It is calculating. She’s gained some weight, she knows. But if Luke points it out, she’s going to kick him in the nuts with her steel toed boots. Or maybe make him explain himself and his relationship with Thalia.

“Annabeth,” Luke says, his voice lower, a frown on his face, “please don’t freak out.”

She can feel her heart pick up, just a bit. “That’s a terrible place to start.”

“Have you been feeling… emotionally volatile lately? Having a lot of mood swings?”

She frowns. She’d maybe been crying a little more than normal at sentimental hulu ads, but she always has a soft touch for that kind of thing, and she’s going through some stuff. “I don’t think you should ask a woman that.”

“You are really not going to like my next question, then.” He leans close and says, “Are your… breasts tender?”

“You’re right, I don’t like that question,” Annabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest. Even though they are. “I don’t know why you thought that, and how you knew.”

Luke looks at her with such pity, she feels like she’s suddenly eighteen years old again, and crying on his couch at the end of freshman year about the greatest heartbreak of her life. (It had moved to second place. Lucky it. The boy in that bar had only been theoretical, mostly.)

Luke reaches out, grasping one of her hands, and for a second, Annabeth is sure he is going to tell her that she’s dying.

“Have you considered you might be pregnant?”

She yanks her hand away. “I can’t be pregnant,” she says. “I haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“Have you had your period since then?” Luke asks.

“Not that it's any of your business,” she says, “but I haven’t had one in years.” They do talk about sex sometimes, but periods had long been off the Luke table.

Luke grimaces. “Well, you’ve been sexually active recently…”

“It’s been more than a month!”

“When did you start getting morning sickness?” Luke asks “You were throwing up at Halloween.”

“That wasn’t in the morning,” she snaps, “and I feel fine now.”

“You know morning sickness doesn’t just happen in the morning,” Luke says. “And with the rest of your symptoms, well--”

She shakes her head, glaring at Luke. His judgement would have been better than his patient mansplaining. “You think I don’t use birth control?”

Luke shrugs a little. “I mean… you’re… not great at things like daily medication. That’s what happened last time. And if a condom broke or you didn’t use one…”

Last time. Oh, last time. Last time had been the worst four hours of her life, in between realizing that she hadn’t been remembering her birth control pills every day, that her period was a few days late, and that she’d definitely been having unprotected sex with that boy in Luke’s cohort who was probably too old for her. Last time had been her having a panic attack on Luke’s Cambridge apartment couch while a very reluctant Leo was sent to buy a pregnancy test or twelve, and Piper reassuring her via speaker phone that it would be ok, while Luke rubbed her back and reminded her to breathe.

“I do remember what happened last time,” she says. “That’s why I got an IUD. Which, if you don’t know, from all your girlfriends' pregnancy scares, has the same failure rate as permanent sterilization, less than one percent. So…” So it would be okay. She couldn’t be pregnant. That’s why it had been okay for Percy and Annabeth to start fucking without a condom.

“When was the last time you got a new one?”

“August.” She says, thinking back. She was almost sure. “I remember because it was before the Eta thing--Leo called me to tell me about the ceremony while I was at the gyno.”

“So you were distracted and being a bad patient when they were trying to put it in?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

But she won’t give Luke, of all people, the satisfaction. “They are professionals. They should know what they’re doing, even if I was on the phone.”

Luke gives her his most disappointed dad face. It is worse than Annabeth’s own father. “You’re the one who always tells me I need to not make people’s jobs harder by being a bad client,” he quietly reminds her.

She fucking hates him.

But despite herself, she pulls out her phone, and begins googling misplaced IUDs and pregnancy.

They haven’t even ordered yet, but Luke is already standing up, probably based on the look on her face as she manages to fight through the dyslexia and figure out what it says. “Come on,” he says, helping her out of her chair, even though she’s not an invalid. She just might be pregnant.

She pushes that thought away as she follows Luke into a cab and then up to his apartment. He makes her some tea and hands her a banana while he goes to get her a pregnancy test, because Luke’s not quite shameless enough to have one at home. She waits for him in a living room straight out of American Psycho and reads up on IUD pregnancy complications online. Which she probably should not have done.

By the time Luke gets back, she is crying again. He’s gotten her 3 tests, which is very considerate of him, as she’s going to need them.

Walking into the bathroom, she’s shaking hard enough that she needs to brace herself on the wall. He lets her use the nice one off his bedroom, though it's not like she needs the jacuzzi tub.

When she’s done peeing, she sets a timer on her phone and sits on Luke’s bed. He tries to speak to her several times. She doesn’t respond.

It isn’t the longest ten minutes of her life, because the truth is, she knows.

She already knows.

When the alarm goes off, she shrugs off Luke’s arm and silently walks back into the bathroom.

Luke got a digital readout, because what else was he going to do. And so she looks at the little screen and just barely processes the word pregnant.

She doesn’t need to take the other tests. She doesn’t need confirmation or to be convinced.

She reaches down and pressed on her lower abdomen, lifting her shirt. She had noticed a slight change. But she’d also changed a lot of her daily routine lately, had eaten a lot more ice cream. Right now, she can’t see any kind of bump, not really, but she can see a shift. Something flat gone fuller.

Annabeth is pregnant.

Annabeth is pregnant with Percy’s baby.

Percy’s baby.

She bursts into tears all over again.

An eternity later, there is a knock on the door.

“Annabeth,” Luke calls, “can I come in?”

She manages to choke out a yes.

Luke finds her sitting on the edge of the tub. He looked at the test still sitting on the counter.

“Let me make a call,” he says, sitting next to her, resting a hand on her arm. “I know a doctor. He can get you a pill or maybe even see you if you need it. Probably today or tomorrow. We can get this all taken care of and then I’ll buy you ice cream and we can watch Legally Blonde, and you can complain about how it doesn’t accurately reflect the admissions process.”

Normally Annabeth would pre-complain, and point out that given Elle’s GPA, LSAT, and extracurricular activities, she would have been a shoe in for her program, and the movie was dismissive of her prior academic achievement. But she’s too busy parsing what Luke is saying.

He squeezes her hand in support. “It's going to be okay,” he says, sweetly.

“No.” She says. But not because it won’t be okay. “No, I’m not going to have an abortion.”

“It's okay,” Luke promises. “I would never judge you. And no one else would ever have to know. This isn’t something you have to do.”

“I know that,” Annabeth says. “I don’t have to do anything.” She detangles her hand from Luke’s and rests it on her stomach, where her uterus waits under her skin. “I want to do this.”

Luke looks at her hand. “Poseidon Olympianides’ son?” he asks. “That’s the father?”

She nods.

Blowing out a breath through his teeth, he sighs. “Well, you’ll be able to get some good child support out of him at least. That family is loaded.”

“Don’t say that,” she nearly screams, and Luke actually jerks back a little. “He doesn’t have any money. He’s his dad’s bastard kid,” she says, feeling a little bad about revealing his family history, but knowing that the word would spark something in Luke. “I don’t know if I’m even going to tell him.”

It feels like something cheap and shallow, trapping a man with a lie, then a baby.

She’s still crying and tentatively, Luke reaches out and wraps his arms around her, pulls her to him.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her up. “You still need ice cream and a movie.”

Annabeth cries. And she doesn’t fight him, but it feels so strange. Half way through her Caramel Sutra and the Legally Blonde proshot, she realizes what’s different.

For the first time since Percy walked out of her apartment without a good-bye kiss, Annabeth Chase is happy.

She’s pregnant with Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s going to have Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s not sure if she’s ever heard anything as wonderful in her entire life.

And if she’s going to be worthy of it, worthy of her baby, then she’s going to have to get her shit together.

#my fic #ballet au #pjo #pjo fic #percabeth #percabeth fic #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #goooooooooooooooooooood morning all!

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vs-redemption · 4 years ago

Text

From Cindy: This bad boy got away from me and ended up being 3,674 words. I’m really happy with it though and I hope you think so too. It was written for a writing collaboration on Discord ( @konoblog-simps )

Gray - Soulmate AU (Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader)

Read a similar soulmate AU for Levi here

You hated winter.

You supposed people found something magical about the view of fluffy white flakes catching the light as they drifted down from the sky and created a thick white blanket across the ground and trees. However, the fairy tale description was only true when observed from the other side of a window where the protection of four walls and a fireplace could block out the harsh reality.

“Don’t forget the shopping on your way back.” Your grandmother’s raspy voice cuts through the morning silence as you go through the tedious process of bundling up against the frigid weather you knew you’d be facing as soon as you stepped outside. The elderly woman was sitting in her favorite spot on the sofa, lap covered by one of the many blankets she’d made over the years. You grandfather shuffled into the room as if on cue with two piping hot mugs of tea. He hands one to his wife before settling happily into the place next to her.

“I never do.” Your words come out harsher than you’d intended, but your grandparents pay you no mind. They were either used to your attitude or too wrapped up in their own happily ever after. You finish off your ridiculously bulky outfit by shoving a knit cap over your head and then heading out into the cold.

You hated your job

You knew you should be grateful that you had the luxury of owning an apothecary. It was the type of establishment that would never want for business. There was also a certain pride in being able to provide people with medicines to relieve them of their aches and pains, allergies, and illnesses. The difficulty was in being surrounded by the memories of your parents and the perfect life they’d lived, as well as the constant reminder that you’d been robbed of the chance to experience that type of fantasy.

Trudging through the deep wet snow had made you a few minutes late, and there were already a few customers waiting outside the tiny shop you’d inherited by the time you arrived. You apologize politely as you unlock the door and let them inside, shedding the layers of your winter clothes as quickly as you can so that you can get to work. It was always a little busier in the winter months, but finding the right remedy for each person was something you’d gotten good at over time. Most customers came and went without much trouble, but assisting the regulars who’d known you since childhood was always a bit awkward. You did your best not to notice the pity and judgement on their faces as you prepared their orders with the same forced pleasantness as you did for everyone else.

You hated shopping

Having a job that earned enough wages to properly provide for yourself and your family was a blessing most people in your city could not enjoy. Your parents had always made sure to remind you of that fact whenever they came home with baskets full of fresh fruits and vegetables, cheese, bread, and sometimes even meat. As an adult, you still appreciated the fact that you did not have to know hunger, but it was always such a hassle to deal with the crowded market after getting off work.

When your parents had been alive, they had loved going out to run these types of errands together. It had always surprised you how they would choose to spend more time together even after living and working with each other every single day. They never seemed to get tired of each other, and you could remember vividly the way they’d smiled at each other with pure happiness and love in their gaze. It was hard to forget when you saw the same blissful look on every couple you happened to encounter as you went about your day. It made you feel so incredibly alone sometimes, but you did your best to bury those emotions deep down out of fear that they would consume you completely.

“How much is the bread today?” You ask the baker once you make it to the counter through the throngs of people. He tells you the price and begins to wrap up your order when you agree to it.

“You’re lucky,” he tells you conversationally. “This is the last loaf of the day.”

“Tch!” A frustrated sound comes from behind you and you turn around instinctively to make sure nothing was wrong. Standing next to you was a grouchy looking man with silky black hair, styled in an undercut. The long, soft looking strands on the top of his head came down to frame his face, drawing attention to the most important feature; his eyes. You notice right away they are both the identical shade of gray, which told you a lot about him already.

“Were you waiting in line?” You ask curiously even though meeting his sharp gaze directly was a bit intimidating. He regards you critically for a moment before sighing and looking away, probably forming his own judgments based on the incorrect story told by your own eyes.

“It’s fine,” his tone of voice is flat and a little dismissive. “I should’ve gotten here earlier.” He turns to walk away but something makes you call out to stop him.

“Wait,” you give him the friendliest smile you can muster before looking to the baker. “Please, wrap this up for him instead. I insist.” The baker shrugs, not really bothered by the change as long as he got his payment. The scowl on the man’s face gave way to surprise, and you thought the softer look suited him much better. You could see that he was preparing to reject your kindness, so you mutter a quick goodbye before turning away and blending in with the crowd.

You hated your eyes

In the world you lived in, everything revolved around a person’s eyes. They were more than just a mere window into the soul, they were also a glimpse into the future. As a child, you could recall the excitement of your friends as they studied the mismatched colors of each other’s irises, speculating wildly about which shade truly belonged to them and which was borrowed from a stranger that they were destined to meet sometime in the future. Their enthusiasm had been contagious in the beginning, and you’d enjoyed listening to people discuss their predictions about the background, appearance, and personality of their future partner.

“Did you get everything on the list?” Your grandfather asks as he takes the basket of food from you once you finally return home. The walk back from the market had been miserable. Your feet were cold and wet from sloshing through the snow, but the rest of you was warm and sweaty from the exertion of hauling the purchases all the way back while wearing so many thick layers.

“They were out of bread,” You inform him while shrugging out of your coat. A look of displeasure passed over his face but vanished just as quickly when your grandmother called to him from the kitchen. You were relieved that she was volunteering to make dinner this time, because the exhaustion from your day was starting to catch up with you.

You head into the bathroom, ready to warm up with a hot shower and put on a fresh pair of clothes while the meal was prepared. As you wait for the water from the tap to heat up, you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Usually you avoided looking at your face for too long, but every now and then you decided to stare back at yourself for a moment. You frown as you meet the gaze of the two identical eyes that you’d be born with. They looked mockingly back at you from the glass, their dull gray hue like a running joke that you’d never found remotely funny.

Washing away the grime of the day helped clear your head of negative thoughts, and soon your mind drifted back to the man you’d helped at the market. The memory of his eyes reminded you that you had made the right decision. He was the one who had someone important waiting for him back at home, possibly even children that needed to be fed and taken care of. You and your grandparents would be just fine as you always had, even if there was a spark of jealousy in you that the man got to have the type of wholesome future that you could never enjoy.

You hated soulmates

The idea of having the comfort of knowing there was someone out there born specifically to fill your life with joy, support, and love was an overwhelming one. It was hard for you to really imagine what it must be like for people to be filled with that nervous anticipation every time they got the opportunity to meet someone new. You’d had secondhand experiences as you watched friends and acquaintances around you find their destinies in one another, but while those meetings spelled out the beginning of something wonderful for them, it only served to make you feel the bleakness of your situation more profoundly.

It was extremely rare for someone to be born without a soulmate, and although your parents tried to have a positive outlook, you had still felt the stigma associated with your condition every single day of your life. It had been impossible to escape the stares and gasps of astonishment from both adults and children alike during you school-age years. Most of them had never seen a child your age with two of the same colored eyes, so it was inevitable that you’d garnered quite a bit of unwanted attention. The people you met were merely curious at first, but as you got older the intrigue turned to pity.

As hard as it was to deal with the people around you who knew the truth, meeting strangers was almost worse. Those who still walked around with duel colored eyes held little interest in someone who had seemingly already found their partner, and everyone else was too preoccupied with their own established lives to pay attention to you at all. In the world you lived in, everything revolved around a person’s eyes. Unfortunately, your eyes had landed you into one of the loneliest roles imaginable.

You hated your luck

It should not have surprised you as much as it did when the man from the market walked into your apothecary a few days later, but considering the fact he’d been popping up in your thoughts sporadically ever since the first meeting, it certainly caught you off guard to see his face again. By the way his familiar gray eyes widened upon seeing you standing behind counter, you guessed he hadn’t been expecting to see you again either.

“Hello again,” you smile awkwardly to try and clear the air. You weren’t sure if it would be weird to mention the bread incident or not.

“Hello,” the man nods, his facial features relaxing into a neutral expression. You were glad he didn’t seem to be as agitated as he’d been in the market. “I’m looking for something that might help my mother. She’s recently fallen ill and nothing I do seems to be helping.”

“What are her symptoms?” The question falls naturally from your lips. As the man describes his mother’s condition, you find yourself taking in his appearance in more detail. His black hair looked as soft as you remembered, but now you were noticing other things like the shape of his nose and sharp angle of his jawline. The clothes he wore were on the nicer side, and it made you wonder what he did for a living. His stature was a bit on the shorter side, and although his build was lean, you got the impression that he was healthy and strong.

“Well, it seems like she may have caught a flu,” you explain once the man finishes speaking. You turn to grab a few items from the shelf behind you and place them on the counter. “These should work to control the symptoms and reduce her fever until her body is able to fight off the infection.”

“Thank you,” he sounds genuine as he pulls out some money to pay for the medicine. You accept the payment, taking note of his long, elegant hands and fingers.

“Not at all,” you assure him with an easy smile. “I hope your mother recovers quickly.”

The man nods in gratitude while scooping up the goods he’d purchased in his hands. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before looking back up to catch your gray eyes with his own.

“My name’s Levi, by the way.” The confidence in his voice did not match the anxious set of his features. “We didn’t get to have a proper introduction the other day.”

“O-oh,” there was no way to conceal the shock you felt in that moment. It was out of the ordinary for anyone to give you their name, especially a man who had obviously had his encounter with fate already. You manage to stutter out your own name, wondering if you were having some sort of intensely realistic dream as you watch the man’s lips twitch into the smallest, briefest of smiles.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he repeats your name to himself thoughtfully. “Have a nice day.” With all his business with you completed, he nods his head and exits your shop, leaving you to try and tame the wild racing of your thoughts and heart.

You hated false hope

It was embarrassing how often you had to remind yourself over the next few days that a person simply introducing themselves to you should not be taken as anything more than polite kindness. You had seemingly lost all control of your mind and feelings though, since scarcely a moment went by now without thoughts of Levi sending butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. It didn’t seem fair that you knew so little about him, but you understood that you’d have to be content with the memory of his ghost of a smile and the echo of the way your name had sounded as it escaped his lips. Part of you hoped you’d never see the man again so that you could get over your delusions as quickly and easily as possible, but another part of you longed to bump into him again.

“What are you doing in here?” Your grandmother walked into the bathroom to find you leaning over the sink, eyes wide open and focused so intensely on your reflection in the mirror that you hadn’t even heard her approach.

“Huh?” you whirl around to face her, finally blinking once you realized how tired your eyes were from the thorough examination you’d just given them. “What did it feel like after you met Grandpa?”

Your stomach sank immediately at the pitying look that grew on the old woman’s face. She reaches out to rub your arm sympathetically with a sad smile. “I’m so sorry sweetie,” is all she tells you before changing the subject completely. “Excuse me now, I need to use the restroom.”

“Right, sorry.” You offer a dry laugh as you move out of her way, reality rushing back like a harsh slap to the face. You’d known all along that you’d never really have a soulmate, but it was hard not to have grasped on to the small shred of a possibility. It hadn’t slipped your attention that Levi also had gray eyes, but plenty of people had the same or similar shade. Besides, the likeliness of soulmates having the same exact eye color was even rarer than someone being born without a soulmate at all. You vowed to keep these cold hard truths at the forefront of your mind from now on, and resigned yourself completely to the fate you’d been dealt.

You loved Levi

It had been a whole week since you’d given up the last loaf of bread that had sent your life into a strange whirlwind of new, unexplored emotions. The days between then and the present had been interesting indeed, but now you were determined to go back to life as normal. The weather wasn’t so terrible today, but you still bundled up to prepare yourself for the cold morning walk to the Apothecary. You arrived at the shop with plenty of time to remove the layers of winter clothes and do a quick inventory of items you’d soon need to restock.

It was around lunchtime when you really started to relax back into your routine. The steady flow of customers had helped to keep your mind occupied, and once things slowed down around midday, you picked up a rag and began to wipe down the counters and windows absentmindedly. The sound of the bell above the door alerted you to someone’s arrival and you quickly tossed down the rag and turned to greet them. Once again, you find yourself startled to be standing in the presence of the man from the market.

“Levi,” you mutter his name before shaking out of your daze. “Excuse me,” you look down and apologize in embarrassment. “Um, can I help you with something? Is your mother feeling better?”

“She’s much better, yes. Thank you.” Levi clears his throat awkwardly and you can’t help but think his posture is stiffer than you remember. You wonder again what he did for a living because he seemed to be a bit overdressed for a simple trip to the apothecary. He looked incredibly handsome in any case, and it was doing nothing to help quiet your wandering imagination.

“I’m glad to hear that,” you weren’t sure what else to say. You walk over to the small faucet behind the counter to wash your hands since you’d just been cleaning. The silence between you both grew more and more uncomfortable until Levi’s face suddenly contorts with frustration. You open your mouth to apologize for whatever you’d done but he cuts you off by coming forward suddenly and placing both hands on the counter.

“Your eyes,” he forces out the words before averting his own gaze. Any hope of keeping yourself grounded in reality seemed to go up in smoke as your heart rate kicked into overdrive.

“Yes?” you say breathlessly and the fact that you weren’t kicking him out for being incredibly inappropriate was enough to spur him on with whatever point he was trying to get to.

“How long?” he swallows thickly and takes a deep breath, “How long since they’ve changed?”

“They’ve always been this way,” it should’ve been harder to admit, but the way Levi was acting was distracting you from the shame you’d normally be feeling. A soft sound, like an intrigued sigh, escapes his lips and he covers his mouth with those beautiful long fingers you’d been trying not to think about. All you can do is stare at him as he comes to terms with the information you’d just revealed. You wondered why he’d even want to know and what he would do now that the truth was out in the open. Finally, after an unbearable stretch of time, Levi lowers his hand back onto the counter, revealing a faint but amused looking smile.

“Well,” his confidence began to return. “They look much better on you than they do on me.”

“What?” Every cell in your body seemed to be buzzing with anticipation. You wanted to believe that this was all leading up to something good, but a nagging fear in the back of your mind warned you against giving in to the false hope that you’d vowed to ignore.

“I was born with these eyes as well,” Levi confesses calmly while gesturing to his face. “Both of them.”

It was your turn to cover your mouth, wondering desperately if it was all right yet to dare to dream that there was meaning behind what was happening after all.

“I have no idea if this is all a coincidence or not,” Levi shrugs as his mouth pulls into a frown. “To be honest, I gave up on the idea of soulmates a long time ago, but I cannot ignore the fact that you’ve consumed my thoughts from the moment I saw you in the market.”

Tears unwittingly begin to blur your vision as all the tension inside you finally reaches a tipping point.

“I…” You aren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Levi’s hand appears in front of your face, offering a handkerchief. You accept it gratefully and wipe the wetness from your eyes and cheeks. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you either.”

Levi folds his arms over his chest as if contemplating the matter seriously, but the pause only lasts a few seconds this time. Before you have time to worry about what he’ll say, he’s offering you his hand.

“Would you like to be my soulmate then?” he asks, a hint of teasing in his voice despite the nervous energy surrounding you both. You don’t hesitate to place your hand into his. You weren’t sure if your matching eyes was a sign that you were meant to be together, but it wouldn’t be fair to either of you to throw away the shot of having the kind of life you’d watched other people enjoy your entire lives. If you were able to bring each other happiness, you could care less if it was what fate had planned.

“Yes,” Your voice shook with the overwhelming emotions coursing through you, “I think I’d like that.”

“As would I,” Levi replies as a real smile takes over his face at last. The hope you see in the depths of his beautiful gray eyes makes you appreciate the matching color of your own for the very first time, and the idea of a happy future finally seems within your grasp.

#Levi Ackerman x Reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #Levi Ackerman #snk #aot #soulmate au #Cindy's Writing

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imthepunchlord · 3 years ago

Note

Do you have any thoughts on how the guardian role is handled lore wise? Would you change much about being the guardian?

Oh yes I do and there's so much that I would change up.

The more we see of the Guardians, the dumber they are and the more pointless they are. To a point it's a wonder if they were worth the inclusion as they don't amount to much and are just useless. I'm putting this undercut as I just go off.

- Lore wise, they set it up that adults are naturally more powerful, so why did Fu pick two kids to fight his battles for him? Why not adults? Why did he leave them on their own instead of offering them some means to have an edge over HM?

- Of the Ladybug and Cat, we have yet to see anything unique that the Cat brings to these fights that the other 15 miraculi that Fu has with him couldn't do. You need a distraction that's going to mess up the akuma? Monkey and Fox. You need a protector/aggressor? Bee, Turtle, or Dragon. Ladybug is a must as its the only cleanser so far and has ML to boot, but Cat doesn't need to be out there, and as soon as HM had quite publicly stated that he wants LB and Cat, Fu should've reclaimed the Cat immediately to secure its safety and that HM won't get both. Another or two could go out to replace it.

- Why was picking Adrien a good idea? If Fu had just arrived in Paris, ok, but Backwarder reveals he's been living in Paris for a while. And with that, he's seen Adrien's face everywhere.s Adrien is potentially the most well known kid in Pari. Technically, for Fu's want of secrecy, why pick the most iconic face in Paris to get a miraculous? That sets up one of your heroes to always have attention on him. Fu picking Adrien doesn't make any logical sense.

- Why is Fu ok with endangering one kid but not the other? Why does Marinette get a test set up that risks her life and Fu's if it hadn't gone well and Adrien just helps an old man up, a common decency that most would do. It's like two extreme differences that don't work well in comparison as Marinette gets the risky test and Adrien it looks like he got his miraculous on a silver platter as he got the far easier one that takes the least effort to be a decent human being.

- Fu being a terrible mentor and hero picker in general and the whole shebang with Syren. If Adrien is not meeting his standards or if he doesn't trust Adrien at all, why is Adrien being allowed to continue as a hero? Or if he really wants Adrien to stay, why isn't he doing anything about Adrien? Why isn't he telling Plagg to encourage Adrien to step up and get serious? If he can take on the role of being Adrien's Chinese teacher, why not do that to try and guide Adrien to improvement so he can also be trusted with Guardian secrets too and truly help Marinette out. He's got two options when he doesn't trust Adrien or finds that he's meeting his standards: he takes the miraculous back or he addresses this issue himself.

- I also call big BS about him not doing anything at all when he comes upon Adrien detransformed on the roof with Plagg. Cause he's risking himself going out to find Chat Noir only to find him detransformed. That realistically should raise some brows and concern him. Adrien at least should've gotten a lecture or warning.

- Also the reveal that kwamis aren't allowed to know about their own power. that to me is off putting. It really stresses that kwamis are beneath them, these very ancient and powerful beings that have probably seen a lot. And canon validates it by making them children (which to me is the writers being lazy so they don't have to do complex characters).

- The whole thing with Fu's backstory. Dumbest backstory I've ever heard and it just paints Guardians in a really bad light, and by extension, real life monks. Monks didn't go to people's homes to take children. If they did take kids with them, those kids had nowhere else to go and offered them a place to stay until old enough to be on their own. And that test, omg, wtf. Ok, I can get the idea of a test of temptation, but there are other ways to perform it without starving a kid. Especially leaving said kid alone unsupervised with 19 powerful miraculi two of which have wish granting abilities. How would the Guardians even know if Fu used a miraculous as they left him alone with mriaculi. If Fu wanted to, he could've made a wish to never be picked.

- Fu didn't even do shit when he finally had a chance to face off against HM. He just sat in his damb ball and allowed himself to get knocked around. At least try and roll over him! Be a ping-pong ball! DO SOMETHING. Like, why did you even pick Turtle??? Turtle wasn't able to do anything against Butterfly! I thought it could as Fu had been ready to go in Origins, plus the 5 are based off Wu Xing, by set up, Fox and Turtle should have some sort of an edge over the Butterfly. But I guess that means there could be other options aside form LB and we can't have that, Marinette's miraculous needs to be the only thing to take on the Butterfly to really stress on the fact that it comes down to only her.

- The memory wipe thing that's an apparently must when you retire from being the Guardian. Honestly I think that should've been saved as a last resort if you're ever captured and could be forced to leak info, not when you retire. Doing so removes a valid source of advisement that a new Guardian can rely on. History is there to learn from it and this tradition removes a source of history to learn from, either from having guidance or seeing what the old did and how you want to change things. This also makes me concerned as I see Adrien taking advantage of an amnesiac Marinette.

- I went off about the NY Special revealing there's more Orders here.

- And lastly, Su-Han, the other Guardian to see aside from Fu. And with him, it solidifies how stupid they all are. When the Butterfly is being misused in Paris, why is someone aggressive and judgmental coming to Paris? Why is this guy even working with kids when he doesn't like kids? And the reveal that Guardians don't use miraculi at all. That just makes that test all the dumber with testers being unsupervised. And for Guardians not meant to use miraculi, how come Marinette gets a nice perk as LB that she can pull a miraculous out of her yo-yo? They're probably playing that she's "the first" to do so but realistically, I'm pressing x to doubt. In the long history of miraculi and when Guardians were around, you expect me to believe that Guardians never used miraculi themselves? What if there was no one to turn to, do they just the disaster happen? ...Well, based on how terrible canon is setting them up, I wouldn't be surprised.

SO.

There is a lot I would change up about the Guardians and for this, I'll adjust canon.

- Adrien gets the ring another way, maybe a gift from his mom or aunt or grandparents. Realistically, there's no logical reason for Fu to pick Adrien. He just has too much attention on him and Chat being an unexpected miraculous user can make him wary, adding to him only trusting Marinette.

- I'd have Fu be more present in Marinette's life, a customer who comes in a lot. This way he can offer advise when needed but not take away from Tikki. And this has him more closely keeping an eye on things.

- I'd change up Fu's backstory. He got separated from his family in a flood, the previous Turtle saved him, tried to help him find his family and with no luck, took him to the Temple, but only the section where other orphans are where they work to help take care of it, oblivious to the miraculous near them. After a year, Fu is one of the few selected to be entrusted with miraculous knowledge. He's surprised but not all that for it as he'd rather go find his family still. Idk how Temple falls but its not that. That was just dumb and avoidable.

- I wouldn't have Adrien meet Fu at all. In truth, it actually could've been cut out entirely as Adrien meeting Fu didn't amount to anything. He doesn't help with Guardian duties, doesn't help pick heroes, hasn't stepped up at all in his role as a partner. And he's not as torn up about Fu's loss as Marinette is. Adrien meeting Fu was pointless in the grand scheme of things. Nothing was progressed or changed from Adrien meeting Fu.

- I'd have HM ONLY getting an edge on Fu because Mayura was there to help him, catching Fu off guard. I want to see the Turtle truly in action, to see what else it can do cause sitting there to be smacked around was just unimpressive. And if Asstruck even did as much research as he could, he'd know that in Chinese mythology, the Turtle is a boss. It's the keeper of history and symbol of immortality, and it's up there with Tiger as an animal that can go toe to toe with the Dragon. And of the Four Symbols (associated with 4 seasons), the Black Turtle is also known as the Black Warrior. There should've been a lot more to Turtle than just sitting in your shell and allowing yourself to be knocked around.

- Su-Han I'd drastically change up. I'd keep in him being critical and stern, but he approaches things smartly and patiently. Before he dives into aggression and accusations, he wants to know what's going on. Why does this 14 yo have the Miracle Box? How was the Butterfly obtained and misused? And what the hell is going on??? How are these people so small and how did they get into this thin glass box?? Computer? What's a computer??? Essentially, have fun with the fact that Su-Han is essentially a time traveler and one great bonding experience to have with Marinette while also offering some good comedy is him learning about the modern time and her acting as his guide. Su-Han can give her guidance that Fu hadn't been able to give, and Marinette can offer her own in a way that Su-Han will need. Which by extension could remove Marinette having a near mental breaking point and revealing herself to Alya, and could avoid some of that drama of what's coming.

- Speaking of which, Adrien. I'd use Su-Han to finally address the issues with Adrien as a hero and partner. Su-Han prioritized Marinette as she has the Miracle Box, but Adrien is someone he'd take the miraculous away from. Adrien would get a very clear warning and call out for his actions and role.

#ask Punchie #long post #Adrien salt #Fu salt #Guardian salt

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i-am-distressed · 4 years ago

Text

RIDE ALONG: Part 1

Prologue-Part 2

Warnings: none

You thanked the officer that held the door open for you, nodding to one you recognized as ‘Nanami’ as you made your way to your destination, Captain Yaga’s office. When you committed the misdemeanor, you were 3 days away from starting your first day as a rookie for the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. When you punched your ex, a few of the higher ups deemed your actions as ‘inappropriate’ and ‘out of line’, and they put your admission into the unit on ‘pause’ while they figured out what to do with you, but they weren’t the ones who decided what would happen to you.

It was the man who would hopefully be your new boss, Masamichi Yaga. The Chief, who apparently trained Yaga first hand, decided whatever he decides will be best, so this is your one shot to get this right. The other new recruits were starting today, so they put you on a ‘3 day probation to think about what you did’. You walked up the flight of stairs, letting your eyes wander as you did. The station was in nice condition. It had been remodeled a few years ago, so it was really sleek and new looking. It had an open concept layout, and most every room had plenty of windows in it, keeping the station open and light. It was much different from the 30+ year old academy you had spent that past 5 months training in, where every time you stepped into daylight your eyes spent a good 5 minutes adjusting to seeing an adequate amount of light. Already, this was a promising change, you just needed to not screw this up any worse than you already did.

You got to the top of the stairs and proceeded down the hallway the dispatcher you ran into had directed you to, Miwa? She was nice, much better than the other 2 girls who were sitting at their desks throwing balled up pieces of paper into a far off trash can. Walking down the hallway you found the second floor was much more closed off and professional than the first. It had more closed doors and private offices, not surprising since you saw a few doors with ‘Sergeant’ and ‘Lieutenant’ on them. You got to the end and stopped when you found the door that had ‘Captain Masamichi Yaga’.

You stopped taking a deep breath before you squared your shoulders and knocked. Just before you did, you heard the captain talking to someone, you didn’t recognize the voice, but it was clear it belonged to a man. “Come in.” You turned the knob before stepping in the door. “Go ahead and close the door, please have a seat.” Yaga motioned over to the second chair he had sitting in front of his desk, diagonal to the chair the unknown man was sitting in. You nodded as you closed the door, making your way to sit in the chair, keeping a professional posture and a steadfast expression.

“I don’t believe either of you have met before, no?” You looked over at the man. He had pinkish hair with a dark undercut, his eyes were dark red and sharp, even with how lazy his gaze seemed, it was intense. You could feel his eyes wandering you, not in a creepy perverted way, but in a scrutinizing judging way. And to be honest, you couldn’t tell which one would tick you off more. Beyond having hair that was definitely too long to be within regulation, he was also covered in tattoos. Maybe he was a C.I? “Never seen her in my life, can I go?”

Your eyebrow raised as you turned back to look at the captain, who had an almost visible tick mark appearing on his forehead. “No.” Sighing the man leaned back in the chair, crossing his notably muscular arms over his chest. You couldn’t tell since he was sitting down, but you guessed he was in the 6’0 range, probably taller. He was very fit, that much was for sure. And he definitely was no professional, that much was also for sure. Whereas you came in wearing a very nicely fitting pair of slacks and a silk button up, he came in wearing a tight white t-shirt and dark wash jeans, he was wearing what looked like a black flannel over his shirt, it being left open and the sleeves rolled up. It definitely didn’t meet the uniform standards, but it didn’t exactly look bad either.

Yaga cleared his throat and you directed your attention back to him. “I’m sure you’re aware of the possible consequences of your actions, yes? Your record shows good grades, good conduct, and overall a spotless record. Nevertheless, what you did could get you in serious trouble a few years down the line, you’re lucky he didn’t decide to press any charges. I should tell you to go find another career, since it’s clear you don’t process emotions well.” You looked down at that, your arms had crossed over your chest and you held your tongue, he had a point.

“But, My wife happened to be there, and when I confided in her on what to do about the situation, she told me if I treasure my marriage I should show you some mercy. Our daughter was cheated on, so I can’t say I hate what you did. In light of that, a punishment is still in order,” He paused to lean on his elbows, gaze serious, and honestly intimidating as he stayed quiet for a moment.

"For the next 3 months, You, Y/n L/n will be doing a sort of probationary trial with this man sitting in front of me." The man's head shot up, his crimson eyes wide open as his face contorted into a scowl. "Yeah, no, she won't be. I don't take passengers." Yaga sat up, his glasses casting a menacing gleam, "If you'd like to keep your job, Corporal, you will be." The ‘corporal’ in question ‘tsk’d’ before sinking back into the leather chair, leg crossing lazily over the other as his hand gripped his bicep. He was muscular alright…

”Ms. L/n, this is Corporal Ryomen Sukuna, he’s just recently been taken off of suspension and is in a probationary period of his own. If at the end of these 3 months the two of you are deemed fit for duty, you will proceed on with your careers with no problem.” You looked over at the man, his red eyes finding your e/c ones as he raised an eyebrow, your own narrowing slightly at him before you smartly returned your gaze towards Yaga. “Do I make myself clear?” You both responded with ‘yes sir’ and he dismissed you.

You both stood from the chairs, him grabbing the badge that was slid over the desk while you made your way to the door. “Your first day is tomorrow, don’t be late,” Yaga turned to Sukuna, “I hope you understand, it doesn’t matter how good of a cop you are, this is your last chance, mess this up and you're done. Please cooperate.” Your eyebrows raised at that before you felt yourself cringe, great, the ‘probation officer’ they assigned you was some kind of delinquent? You opened the door and stepped out, Sukuna passing by you without a word, going his own way as you sighed, shutting the door and making your way back out of the station.

On your way to the front desk to sign out, you heard your name being called. “HEY! Y/N!” You stopped and turned, finding two of the new recruits who had graduated with you, Yuji Itadori and Megumi Fushiguro. They were nice, and good at what they did, so you were happy when you heard they’d be going to the same unit as you. You watched as Fushiguro smacked Itadori upside the head, “We’re inside, idiot.”

Your lip tugged up at that, watching as Itadori rubbed his head with a pout before turning to you, giving you one of his smiles. “Anyway, what did the Captain say? Are you gonna be able to continue with us?” You nodded as a small smile made its way to your face, “With conditions, yes.” Fushiguro nodded as Itadori gave you a thumbs up and ‘nice!’, “You’re lucky you didn’t get cut, the higher ups can be really cut throat when they want to be, i’d watch my back.” You nodded at Fushiguro, remembering the stories your dad had told you about people being let go for trivial things, although back then it was mostly family politics.

Fushiguro was from the Zen’in family, who was known for being exemplary cops, and had a strong presence in the station. From what you knew, there were at least 5 of them in this unit alone. “I will, they’re letting me join, but for 3 months i’ll be doing a probationary trial with one of the corporals.” Fushiguro nodded at that, Itadori’s eyes lighting up, “Which one did you get? We get assigned our T.O’s (training officers) tomorrow.” You felt your eye twitch as you thought back to the disrespectful and presumably problematic individual you had just met.

“Ryomen Sukuna. From what I know he just got back from suspension, so this is a punishment for him too.” Your eyes narrowed in confusion when Itadori’s widened in shock, “wAIT!? Does he have hair like mine?” You nodded, “Tattoos??” You nodded again, “Really bad attitude and terrible social skills-” “I think she gets it, what’s your point Itadori?” You almost laughed at how tired Fushiguro looked, despite being friends all throughout high school, and going to the academy together.

“Dude...her probation officer is my cousin Ryomen.” You watched as Fushiguro’s eyes now widened, his lips fighting a smile as he turned around, grabbing the collar of Itadori’s uniform as he dragged him off with a wave, “Good luck then, you’re gonna need it!” Your mouth opened to reply before you decided against it, just shaking your head and finally making your way to the front desk. ‘Ryomen Sukuna...I’ll ask dad about him later, I swear i’ve heard it before..’

**20 minutes ago in Yaga’s office before you arrived**

“Corporal, please have a seat.” Sukuna walked in, sitting down on the chair and bringing his elbows up on the arm rests, hands clasping together in front of his mouth. Sukuna had been on a 2 month suspension after yet another misdemeanor. The only reason he hasn’t been fired is because he’s truly good at what he does, and the department really doesn’t want to let him go but…”You’re aware of how we handle discipline in this department. So tell me how it is you’ve been dealt 7 out of the 8 disciplinary actions and you still have yet to change?”

The department had a sort of system for disciplining it’s cops. 1. A verbal warning (which Sukuna had ignored), 2. A written warning (Sukuna had thrown away), 3. Performance Improvement Plan (He had on multiple occasions ditched his supervising adviser), 4. Temporary Pay cut (He practically lived at the station, it didn’t phase him much), 5. Loss of privileges (see #4), 6. Suspension (recently completed), 7. Demotion (...up until 2 months ago it was Sergeant Ryomen Sukuna…) and 8. Termination. He could handle everything else but...termination meant he was done, and he was anything but.

“I told you captain, it’s not me who needs to change, the departments way too stuck up.” Yaga took a breath before he sighed, leaning back in his swivel chair, “I know the higher ups don’t always act accordingly, but they’re still your higher ups, and I can only defend your job beyond so many offenses.” Sukuna glared at the ground as his arms crossed against his broad chest. *Knock knock* “Come in”

TAGLIST: @alohablue 💙

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #jjk au #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen au #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #y/n

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potatotrash0 · 3 years ago

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Hey idk if youve done this alreadh but im curious about your body headcanons for the sdr2 cast!! An anon sent some in for characters previously (the one where they said things like angie has vitiligo and stuff-i love them and they really stuck with me haha) and i wanna know your headcanons!! :D

Hmhmm this one I might be listing off the spot lmao. I feel like my hcs are mostly just. Common hcs but hey I never said I wasn’t basic skdjksjdks

cw for. Everyone. Yeah kdjfksjdks

Hajime…..I like to think he’s slightly buff? Maybe that’s not the right word. Toned? Idk, I hc that he jumps around hobbies a lot because he wants to find something he’s good at, so that includes sports. I like the idea that a few stick with him, like swimming and basketball. I imagine he also has light scrapes and scars on his legs from falling, both with skateboarding and general Clumsy Shit.

Also this one switches a lot but with Trans Hajime, I can see him with top surgery scars.

Oh ah, I like freckled Hajime!! It’s cute. This one goes with the sports hc, but I like the idea that he’s kinda tanned. Entirely unrelated but I also like the idea that he has calluses from playing guitar.

Chiakiii!! She’s soft bc I said so. Specifically her thighs, arms and stomach + some stretch marks. And moles all over. Projecting big time onto a cute fictional girl, call that self care <333 /j

uhh other than that, I imagine she has bags under her eyes from staying up late gaming. Also tan Chiaki my love. Shh I know she probably doesn’t go outside for days on end. In my defense I tan easily and I imagine she does too. Again with the projection. Shhhh

Oh oh!!!! I forgot to mention but!!!! Chiaki gets a ton of moles. I saw the boob mole and went !!!!!! fellow mole haver!!!!!! and went nuts. This is the one weird niche entirely irrelevant thing that can get me to like a character, just. Being able to point at them and jump up and down with joy over them also having moles. Idk why it’s just therapeutic <33

Nagito’s bony. Skinny mf. Could probably cut cheese with his elbows. Maybe grate it on his collarbones. Cuddling with him would be a fight to see if you can find a position that doesn’t end with something poking you in the gut. I mean this affectionately, he’s bony as shit but he’s my bony fucker <3

Pale asf, sunburns if he’s in the sun for more than two minutes. His eye bags could hold the entirety of his life’s trauma. Sharpest features ever. Sometimes I hc that he looks greasy, and other times I hc that he looks ethereally pretty in a ghostly way. Either way he always looks like he’s had the soul sucked out of him by a Dementor.

You can probably definitely see the veins in his hands. They’re. Very There. Also I’ve brought this up before but he definitely has big ass hands. L a r g e hands, all the better to head pat you with. This was originally so much more pining but I decided no I’ve exposed myself enough on this blog skfjksjdkd

Oh last minute thing, I think he’d be tall as fuck. Specifically 6’0 or taller. Also he probably (definitely) has at least a few scars from his childhood, particularly that plane crash. And I like to think he has glasses when he’s older. I’m so sorry that his section is so long I have so many thoughts about him ;;;;;

Okay uhh Imposter? Mmm. Idk actually. I do think they’d have callused fingers but soft hands. Probably from having to adapt to using a ton of different talents for their Imposter Agenda. Also stretch marks probably, all over their body.

Teruteru uhhhhh. God. Can you tell I don’t think about some characters ;;;;; Idk I don’t have much that differs from canon. I like him. Oh but he probably has cook hands? Chef hands, whatever you wanna call them. Probably faint scars from cuts and burns from when he was still learning how to cook from his mama.

Mahiru……hmm well freckles obviously dkjfksjd. I think she’s tanned as well since I feel like she likes sunlit shots. Idk I don’t have much. I like to think she’s got a stockier body type though.

Also not necessarily her body but I like her with an undercut!

Peko’s buff <3 it’s canon <333 /j

N ee way yeah. Buff Peko my love. Also she probably has a few scars from handling her sword when she was younger and less experienced. I also feel like she would have contacts she wears when she trains bc fuck exercising with glasses

I don’t really have anything for Hiyoko until she gets her growth spurt. Afterwards, I imagine she’s tall and kinda thin? Mainly bc of fast metabolism probably, though when she’s older maybe she’d be a little less spindly.

I don’t know if her hair would be bleached or not, but if it were, I like the idea of her letting her actual hair color grow in. If not, I think Ibuki might help her try a few sections of dyed hair? Idk I just like the thought

Ibuki is a fellow bony bitch. I mean this lovingly. She’s skin and bone. Skeleton rocker lady

Probably tan, I imagine she spends a lot of time in the sun. She strikes me as a summer person. Oh, I also saw some art of Black Ibuki with vitiligo and loved that!! Also calluses from shredding guitar, obviously

Hmmm I like the idea that she rollerskates? So possibly some bruises or scars on her arms or legs from falling on concrete when she was still learning. Oh oh I imagine she has a ton of piercings!!! On her ears, nose, lips, brows, tongue, belly button…….maybe she has a split tongue too idk. Also she totally gets a ton of tattoos when she’s outta Hope’s Peak, prove me wrong.

Mikan uhhh. I like tall Mikan. She deserves the height. 5’8 to 6’0 Mikan good 👍

Hmm she probably has scars all over, particularly on her arms and legs. Uh. Idk I imagine she’s curvy probably. What do I say for her I don’t have anything skjdksjdks

I’m not even gonna lie I don’t have a damn thing for Nekomaru. Or. Wait nevermind here’s a concept: buff Nekomaru but like. If you’ve seen those wrestlers who have fat on them that hides some fucking crazy strength? Yeah that’s him. Also hairy asf.

Gundham……tall vampire vibes. I’d say he’s a stick but also I feel like he’s the slim type of muscular. Idk how to describe it. Shigaraki type muscle? Male gymnast. No nevermind those guys have visible muscle. Shigaraki type it is

Hmmm I think this is canon but probably a few scratches from his pets. His arms and legs mainly but I’m sure the Devas have scratched up his neck at some point or another. Just a little though. Also piercing fiend Gundham my beloved. I also like him having a couple tattoos when he’s older. Ibuki probably helped him heheh

I’m torn between Fuyuhiko being skinny as shit and Fuyuhiko being tiny and buff. I like both………hhh

His hair is probably bleached. Peko probably helps him re-dye it when his roots start growing in. I also like him having glasses

Uhhh tooth gap Fuyu’s cute. I used to have a super small one before I got my braces, I imagine it’s the same for him. Him, Ibuki, and Gundham are probably Tattoo Buds.

Kazuichi…..I want so bad to say he’s a weakling just to make fun of him but he’s a mechanic that probably works with heavy machine parts a lot and he probably has some sick biceps. But he probably also smells like hair dye, oil, metal, and Monster Energy. Win lose situation I guess.

I like to think he has a couple piercings? Not as many as Ibuki, but maybe he’s got like. Second or third place in the class. Also he totally filed his teeth to be sharp like that

Akane!! Buff lady, could probably deadlift me or something. She’s definitely got some scars from running around, especially when she was first learning parkour. Ummm oh, I like to think she has a chipped tooth or smth like that from falling roughly as a kid.

Soniaa <33 in my heart she will always be tall and have at least some muscle. Novoselic is a war country if I remember correctly, she’s definitely got some military training in her.

Idk why but her with heterochromia just popped into my head. That pretty greenish blue gray that she has + maybe brown or hazel? I think that’d be cool. And hip dips.

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wooyunhwa · 4 years ago

Text

kingdom of welcome addiction | three

view pinned post for masterlist / links to the rest of the parts!

Genre: smut

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: graphic violence, blood drinking, overstimulation, orgasm denial, crying kink, corruption kink, praise kink? idk, alcohol drinking, virgin mc

Synopsis: When you accidentally summon a bloodthirsty demon boy to your bedroom, you form an unexpected contract with him.

A/N: I’m a little too whipped for this san tbh,,, Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always!

“Go talk to him!”

“Yuri, he’s way out of my—”

“C’mon, you look hot! You haven’t been out with us in like, over a month. Have some fun for once.”

“The worst he could do is reject you,” Chaeyeon piped in at your side.

Easy for them to say. Your friends were practically models, of course they would think getting a guy's number was easy.

But either way, you couldn’t take your eyes off him all night. Tall, perfectly proportioned, entirely graceful. His jet-black undercut hair was styled up neatly in such a way that one side fell gracefully over his eyes. Admittedly, he was no San, but he was gorgeous. There was no way you’d be able to get his number, but your friends were right about one thing. You could really use some fun.

You knocked back the rest of your drink, and it stung the back of your throat just enough to give you the confidence you needed to approach him.

Your friends watched, mouths agape as you somehow managed to score his number—he typed it into your phone with graceful fingers, caching in into your contacts under the name Seonghwa. A fittingly pretty name for such a gorgeous man. When you walked back to the table, your friends' eyes were wide in both jealousy and shock, and you felt incredibly powerful for just a moment.

“The way you’re looking at me, it seems like you didn’t think I’d actually get it,” you joked, leaning against the table to stir the ice in your empty glass mindlessly.

“Well, uh... we kind of didn’t. Not that you’re not pretty or anything, but that guy is out of all our leagues. Like pretty much everyone in this bar’s league, actually.”

“No guarantee he’ll actually call me. It could be a fake number,” you shrugged.

You kind of couldn’t believe you were able to get his number either, but it did give you a much needed confidence boost. You didn’t need your demon boy anymore, you could actually get a human. A gorgeous one at that. Of course, this human boy probably wouldn’t clean your bathroom for you. Or look so goddamn hot doing it.

You glanced around the bar confidently, making eye contact with Seonghwa and giving him a flirtatious wink.

You weren’t usually big into going to bars, even with your friends. Rather, you preferred a chill night in watching movies or playing Cards Against Humanity. But your friends had been nagging you for nearly a month to go out with them, their constant invites finally coming to a head when you accepted out of the blue. You’d been so focused on your secret nightly rendezvous with the hot demon boy in your bedroom that you’d rejected them over and over, blaming a “mountain of school work” and “midterm stress”. While both of those things were true, you had basically discarded your social life to lust over a pretty demon boy. You knew now that he was a bad idea, and you needed to move on.

For the last week, you’d been agonizing over him. You hadn’t re-summoned him since you saw him last—the night he choked you until you passed out with his dick inside you. There were two big reasons for this.

First, you were a bit embarrassed for passing out on him, although you knew that was nowhere near your fault. Your first time with a guy, and you pass out? Of course, his demonic hands were around your throat literally asphyxiating you, but you still felt slightly ashamed at the idea of him seeing you like that, and even taking the time to re-clothe you afterwards. You didn’t know if you could even look him in the eyes after that.

Secondly, and this was admittedly the biggest reason: you knew that you were no longer desirable to him. Your appeal to him was undoubtedly your virgin tears, blood, aura, whatever. You were a virgin, your very presence was like crack to him. But you’d fucked him. Well, started anyway, but it definitely counted. You weren’t a virgin anymore, not by his instinctual demon standards at least—not in the way he needed you to be. And what were you without your virginity other than some insignificant human soul in an endless sea of human souls? He didn’t need you anymore.

But there was also the issue of the fact that he wasn’t human, and never would be. If all you did was contract him into sex, wouldn’t that just make him your demon prostitute who cleans your house sometimes? You didn’t have a contract last time, but it wouldn’t matter now anyway. There was no way he’d risk going contract-less again, especially if you weren’t a virgin anymore.

So you decided to move on. He was bad for you in every way, a bad habit you needed to break. An addiction you needed to give up on.

But it was certainly easier said than done.

He haunted you, in your dreams, and even while you were awake. His post-it on your wall, taunting you, although you didn’t have the heart to rip it off. It wouldn’t matter if you did, anyway, you’d memorized his summoning phrase by heart. It was practically burned into you like a brand—a constant reminder of his hold on you. Even the inhuman taste of his lips lingered on yours for far longer than they should have.

You shook your thoughts of San from your head the best you could, refocusing on just having a good time tonight. You almost forgot the outside world existed with how much you’d been isolated with San in your apartment. It felt nice.

You finished your night with a few more drinks, waving bye to your friends as they hopped in their ride-share. The bar wasn’t far from your apartment, and you lived in a relatively safe neighborhood, so you weren’t exactly worried about walking home by yourself at night.

You had been drinking, but you didn’t necessarily feel drunk, perhaps just a little wobbly as you made your way through the neighborhood. A sign reading “road construction” blocked your path, and you noticed the sidewalk was completely cut off for the next few blocks. Walking all the way around would have taken forever, so you chose to cut through an alleyway to access the back entrance of your building. It was one you were familiar with—you’d taken it several times when you wanted to cut down your trip, but never at night. You walked through, keeping close to the wall lining the side because it offered the most visibility. It was quite dim, only the dull flickering of a rusty street light overhead giving any sense of light.

Then you saw it.

To your left, you caught a glimpse of crimson red shining almost like neon in the dim, flickering light of the alley, and then a glimpse of a fang sparkling bright white. You stumbled back, hitting the brick wall behind you.

“Where ya goin’?” he taunted, taking another step forward. You couldn’t make out the features, but they were distinctly demonic. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in, except you somehow skipped right past those and straight to “freeze”. You were entirely frozen in place, your limbs scrambling to decide the best path of action. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out here all alone.”

You darted to the right just as he closed in, immediately tripping over your own feet into the closest object, a dumpster. You turned on your heels to see his fangs bared fully, pearly and bright in the dark alley.

You opened your mouth to scream, but the sound was suddenly dampened. A hand clamped over your mouth with a suffocating force. Before you could realize what was happening, you were shoved to your knees, skin scraping against the cold pavement.

“Don’t move,” a voice hissed in your ear. San. You’d know that deep voice anywhere. You tried to choke out a few useless words, but your voice was helplessly muffled beneath the hand viced against your mouth. “Be quiet. I’m saving your life.”

He shoved you by the shoulders behind a stack of large wooden crates next to the dumpster. You kept your head down, but you could make out their silhouettes in the dim light, although San’s figure blocked your eye line from getting a good view of the aggressor.

"Low life," San growled, his words spitting out venomously. "What, you have nothing better to do than hunt humans? Pathetic."

You heard the harsh, gritty tone of the figure speak, still veiled in the shadows. "San?" The figure laughed jovially. Something about it was incredibly unsettling. "What are you, some sort of human patrol? Or do you just want her for yourself?"

"She's mine," he hissed. You couldn't see his face, but you could picture it twisting in anger from how maliciously he spat out his words.

"Yours, huh? I know you like ‘em pure, but not enough to take another demon's prey."

Was he implying you were still a virgin? But that wasn't—

"Leave," San snarled. "Before you make me do something we'll both regret."

The figure took a step forward, unveiling himself in the light, though you could still barely make it out from behind the crates and with San’s figure blocking your view.

“Fuck off. I was here first,” the demon spat.

“I said… she’s mine.”

San lunged forward, but the demon dodged easily, throwing his fist forward to land a blow on San’s cheek. San shook his head furiously before moving to throw his own punch.

The demon ducked to evade, but San anticipated it. His figure whipped around to the back of the demon, his body moving like a flash, almost as if he had phased out of reality. He swung his leg up with a fierce kick, sending the aggressor flying back into the alley wall, cracking the bricks in a cartoonish circle around him. You had no idea he could fight like that.

The demon faltered to his feet, shaking his limbs out casually like it was nothing. These demons were no joke—you wouldn’t have stood a chance running from him if San hadn’t been there. You’d be dead.

The demon's mouth curled up into a snarl, baring his fangs ferociously as he lunged in San’s direction. San evaded easily, flashing around to his opponent’s side.

“You’re clearly not very bright,” San taunted, delivering another kick to his core. The demon fell back again, lurching forward over his stomach with a pained gasp. He staggered against the wall, lifting his gaze to San closing in.

San had him entirely cornered. His hand viced around the other demon’s throat, holding him in the air with a surprising display of strength. The demon’s feet scrambled hopelessly to find the concrete, dangling inches above the ground. Is that the kind of strength he was capable of? Holding up an entire body in the air as effortlessly as he would toasting a champagne glass?

San shot a glance over his shoulder, black eyes glistening villainously under the dim lights. "Close your eyes, lamb. You're not gonna want to see this one. Trust me."

Your eyes squeezed together just in time for you to hear a sickening crack of bones snapping. Then complete, deafening silence for a moment.

You cracked one eye open as you heard his footsteps approaching you slowly. Your vision adjusted to see him knelt in front of you, seemingly surveying you for injury.

"What the fuck was that?" you choked out. “Why was he—”

"He’s a rogue demon," he explained, shooting a deathly glare at the decapitated corpse. The sight was grisly, but somehow, the fact that the body wasn’t entirely human gave you some degree of solace. "Patrolling for souls. You’re an easy target. They can smell your pretty scent from a mile away."

You took another glance at the fresh corpse, stomach churning at the gruesome sight. His head was ripped cleanly off. Did San just do that with his bare hands?

San gripped on to your forearm, squeezing hard. You noticed his hand shaking, just slightly. "C'mon. We need to go. Where there's one rogue, there's bound to be more. You smell like a walking piece of meat right now to them. If there's more, they know you're here." He tugged you to your feet. “Lead me to your apartment, okay darling? It’s close, hmm? Until then, you need to stay quiet. You talking—well, let’s just say it makes you easier to detect.”

You walked hesitantly but briskly the rest of the way to your apartment, legs shaking beneath you with every step. San kept a protective arm wrapped tightly around the small of your waist the whole way, but you couldn’t help but feel shaky.

The minute you got home, all the questions you wanted to ask him flooded your brain. He guided you by the shoulders to the bedroom first, shutting the door behind you as if you had something to hide, despite being alone in the apartment.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you wouldn’t give him the chance.

“How did you find me?” you barked. “I haven’t summoned you in over a week. How did you know where I was?”

“I know,” he grumbled under his breath. Was he keeping track of the days like you were? You didn’t think he cared. “I’ve been, uh... I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” he responded, shifting his eyes to the side for a minute. Breaking eye contact wasn’t like him.

“You’ve been doing what? Like spying on me? I didn’t know demons could watch over humans like that. I thought you just came when you were called.”

“We can’t. We’re not like angels.”

“Angels? Ugh, never mind, not the point. So how did you—”

“I have some connections. It doesn’t really matter. The point is, I saved you back there. And you need to be more careful.”

You sighed. “What, so you care now?”

San nodded hesitantly. “I—I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I care a bit more than I should. About you.” His eyes drew up to yours, reeling you in like a magnetic pull. Except his gaze was less fierce than usual, just intense. Serious.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I try to stay objective. About humans. It’s my job. Write contacts, steal souls. I’m not supposed to feel anything. And I’m certainly not supposed to alter fate to save one.”

Alter fate? Were you supposed to die tonight?

You paused. You were suddenly incredibly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, despite the implications of what he was saying. You were falling head first for him, but you couldn’t afford to have your heart broken. You were trying to move on.

“Can you get me some water? My head is killing me,” you asked quickly, hoping you could change the subject when he came back.

He nodded, hoisting himself up from the edge of the bed, and came back with the glass, setting it on the night table gingerly. He was being uncomfortably gentle, and you weren’t exactly sure what to do with him.

“I have a question,” you started hesitantly, using the lull in the conversation to move it elsewhere. “The demon. In the alley. He said I was pure. What did he mean? Because we—”

He gritted his teeth. “I’m not sure either. We certainly did do that, but I can smell it too, unmistakably. I’d know that scent anywhere. It’s driving me insane.”

“So I’m...”

“Still a virgin,” he finished. His tongue drew over his lip between the slight part of his teeth in thought. “I can only guess it’s because I’m not human. My body is, but only technically.” His eyes trained on you again, this time glimmering with a hint of desire. “Speaking of. Your smell is entirely distracting to me right now.”

He wasn’t the only one distracted. You hadn’t entirely forgotten what he looked like, of course, but you were still surprised every time you saw him. He looked hellishly attractive, glistening lightly with sweat, shirt clinging to his muscles tightly. You weren’t being subtle as you glanced at him up and down, practically drooling. You saw a familiar smirk twitch up on his lips, flashing and a brief display of fangs. “What’s that look for, lamb? Hmm? You look cute when you’re drooling over me.”

You shook your head, embarrassed. “Don’t you need to be going anyway?”

He leaned forward slightly, just enough to be able to reach you with his hand, brushing it along the cut of your jaw. “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you here tonight. Alone. If the rogues caught on to your scent, they’d be able to track you here.”

“But won’t you get in trouble without a contract?”

“Who says we can’t make one now?” he asked, fixing his gaze directly with yours. He was right. You hadn’t really thought of that.

“Alright, let’s say I asked you to guard me tonight. What do I give you in return?”

“Your body.” You paused, breath hitching in your throat as he dragged his fingernail along the skin of your neck again. “You’re free to decline but… I’m hoping you’d want to finish what we started as much as I do.” You glanced at your phone on the nightstand for a moment in thought, breaking eye contact, but he tipped your chin up to meet yours immediately. “What are you thinking about, darling, hm? That boy who gave you his number?”

“How did you—”

“I told you. I’ve been watching,” he explained with a charming smile.

“Asshole. That’s creepy,” you grumbled through your teeth. It was creepy, but another part of you couldn’t help but be flattered.

“So, what do you say?” he asked eagerly, leaning in until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

You couldn’t deny, his body had been on your mind pretty much constantly since you’d seen him last. You craved the feeling of him inside of you again, the warm closeness of his skin pressed against yours, his hands exploring every inch of you. Most of all, you craved the hungry, insatiable way he looked at you, that made you feel desired in a way you’d never felt before.

“You’re not gonna choke me out again?” you teased, but you already knew your answer, pretty much either way.

“No promises.” He winked charmingly, brushing his lips against yours. A tingle rocketed through your spine, the single fleeting taste of his lips the only incentive you needed for your next words.

“It’s a deal,” you confirmed, leaning into the feeling of his lips against yours. He pulled away with a teasing smirk.

“Such a needy little human. Don’t get too eager, now. I like to have a little fun with my prey first.” He winked, flashing his fangs. You imagined them sinking into your skin, the sensation of his tongue dragging along your wound. You couldn’t believe how addicted you were to being a glorified blood donor for a sadistic house-demon.

You whined a bit as he pulled away, breaking all contact with you.

“San—”

He clicked his tongue against his teeth mockingly. “Needy little thing. Don’t worry, we’ll have our fun tonight. On my terms, of course.”

He teased you mercilessly as you went about your night, brushing himself up against you in the kitchen, lingering his lips just over your skin as he spoke to you and pulling away right when you tried to make a move. The restraint he was exercising just to get a rise out of you was impressive, and you pretty much fell right in his trap. You were squirming at the mere idea of his touch, knees nearly buckling under you every time he brushed against you. You were going mad.

You were washing dishes in the kitchen after eating a quick midnight snack with him. Your drinking in the bar earlier had you hungry for whatever was around, and due to the quickly growing pain of arousal, you wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon.

You felt his hands around your waist first, pulling your back into him from behind, his lips littering feather-light kisses on the back of your neck. Your hair stood on end, goosebumps pilling up on your arms as he kissed so very lightly. He nipped lightly a few times at the surface of your skin, fangs grazing sharply against the nape of your neck, then moving down to your shoulders, pulling down the collar of your shirt to get better access.

You felt him growing hard against you from behind, his rock hard bulge pressing into your ass. You wiggled against it, and he delivered a harsh bite to the skin of your shoulder blades, not daring to break skin yet.

“Don’t tease me, lamb,” he purred against your skin, administering a harsh slap to the side of your ass. You hissed at the sting, but you couldn’t help but tease him again to see his next move. You pushed your hips back with a stronger force now, rocking your ass up against the form of his dick through his pants. A low growl rolled through his throat. “Testing me, hmm? Someone’s getting brave.”

You felt his teeth sink into the flesh of the back of your neck, and you whimpered at the sudden pain. He lapped at it slowly, softly, seemingly savoring every taste. You whined as he drew his tongue across your skin. “So… how do I punish you? I told you we were on my terms,” he sang sweetly in your skin, almost menacingly.

His hand traveled from your waist to the waistband of your small pajama shorts, pushing his fingers down to tease you through the fabric of your panties. You couldn’t help but let out small pants and moans as he finally gave attention to the dripping wet neediness between your legs, but you still needed more. He circled his index finger around your clit excruciatingly slowly. The sensation of his tongue on your skin and his touch through your underwear was almost more painful than none at all. You squirmed and writhed under the touch you’d been craving all night, letting out breathy moans as all your arousal from the night compounded.

He flipped you around suddenly, your back making contact with the cold counter. He lifted your shirt off, and you fumbled with the hem of his shirt, grasping desperately as you tried to remove it from his head. He smirked against your lips as he picked you up by the hips, hoisting you up like you weighed nothing. You clawed at him desperately to keep your balance as he led you to the bedroom, tossing you back on your bed like a toy. He stripped himself fully, his dick springing out from his pants excitedly.

His eyes trained on your body hungrily as he crawled over you. “We’re playing by my rules today. Be a good girl, okay?”

You nodded, eagerly accepting whatever terms he had in order to feel him against you. You weren’t quite expecting his next words, though.

“You don’t cum unless I tell you to. And trust me, darling. You don’t want to know what happens if you disobey.” His lips twitched into a sadistic smile, marveling at your body as he kissed down torturously slow. He ripped your shorts, then your underwear, teasing his tongue and lips over your thighs for a while as you squirmed. Then, finally, giving you what you desired most. His tongue against your clit, warm and wet, washing you over with immediate pleasure like you’d never felt before.

The sensation of his tongue against you was almost more than you could handle, and you were practically writhing and thrashing at the sensitivity. Heat rose in your core, flooding through your whole body. Your every nerve felt like it was on fire. He worked his tongue devilishly, leaving no part of your pussy untouched, dancing it along your clit like it was his only reason for existing. His tongue practically worshipped you, and you ate up the soft moans and growls that escaped him. His eyes were darker, but not fully consumed with black yet, as he glanced up from between your legs for only a moment, before going back in hungrily.

It was getting harder, nearly impossible actually, to keep your body from rocking itself into orgasm. It built inside you, a knot twisting at the base of your stomach, ready to burst at any moment. “San, please can I—”

“Cute. Begging. It won’t get you anywhere, darling,” he sang mockingly, his hot breaths washing over you.

“Please—” Tears spilled over in your eyes, pouring down your cheeks as the sensations intensified seemingly exponentially. “Please please please,” you pleaded, not caring how desperate you sounded. You couldn’t take it.

“There are those pretty, pretty tears,” he cooed. “Keep crying for me baby, then maybe I’ll consider letting you cum.”

Not that you had a choice, but you obeyed. The tears came and came as you thrashed under him, holding yourself back so much that you ached. You’d never been so restrained, for a moment you even wondered if this is what San felt like every day when holding back his urges.

He came up from between your legs for a moment to lick the salty tears from your face, dragging a fingernail under your chin. You squirmed needily under him, and although you knew begging wouldn’t get you anywhere, you felt you had no choice.

“San—”

“Yes, lamb?” He met your eyes, and you could barely keep them open with the overwhelming sensations.

“Please, I need you to… please. I can’t take it anymore.”

His wet tongue slid over your cheek, lingering his fangs over for a moment, then came up to meet your gaze. “Fine. I’ve had my fun for now, I suppose. But keep crying for me, mmkay? You’re cute when you’re helpless.”

He made his way back down, torturing his lips over every inch of your shoulders, breasts, stomach, hips, until finally settling between your legs again. The first brush of his tongue was nearly enough to send you over the edge, but you held out for a few moments, letting him get your completely riled up again.

His fingers found their way inside you, only pumping a few times before you were completely putty in his hands. You shook as the orgasm rocked through you violently. San gripped your hips tightly as you thrashed, keeping you steady. You’d never cum so hard in your life, even when picturing San while you worked your vibrator. Somehow, he was ten times better. A million times, even.

“Good girl,” he praised, stroking your stomach for a few moments before going back in with his tongue. You couldn’t control your hips from bucking violently as he lapped at your folds, completely drenched from your orgasm. You cried out—the sensitivity was almost too much to bear. “Now be a good girl for me and cum again.”

“Ah—sensitive—” you whined, thrashing against his hands holding you down. You felt him smirk against you, indicating he knew exactly what he was doing. It took him barely even a few minutes to work you into your second orgasm, whimpering and shaking as you came down. Tears leaked from your eyes, some left over from your original bout, some fresh from the overstimulation. He came back up to lick them off your cheeks with a satisfied grin.

“Good little lamb,” he purred. You loved his praise, even if it had a condescending sting to it, it felt so amazing dripping like honey in your ears.

You were surprised how well he was keeping himself together, unlike your previous sexual encounter with him, where he’d completely lost control to his demon instincts. His eyes were darker than usual, a deep, sinister blood red, but not black. Nowhere near. That was a part of him you wished you didn’t have to see again.

You writhed under his touch as he swiped a finger between your folds, testing your wetness. “I’ll try to be gentle for this one,” he growled. “No promises.”

“Fuck me, please,” you breathed against his lips, bringing your hand down to guide the tip of his dick right between your legs.

He thrust in slowly at first, taking his time adjusting to every small movement. He shook as you watched his eyes flicker to black for a moment, then back to red, again to black, then red, as if he was fighting with himself. He pushed all the way in this time, bottoming out inside of you. You cried out, experiencing such complete fullness for the first time. He wasn’t enormous, in fact you’d say his cock was just the perfect size, but he was much bigger than any toy you’d ever used.

“Fuck, those pretty little noises are gonna drive me crazy,” he growled lustfully, thrusting out and then in again fully. You threw your head back in pleasure, taking in every sensation of him stretching you out, his dick hitting exactly the right curves inside you, places you didn’t even realize he could reach.

He fisted his hands in the sheets beside your head as he thrust in and out, alternating slow and fast in a way that made your head spin completely. He kept eye contact with you the entire time, the same hungry and magnetic gaze he always had, except there was something beneath the surface this time. Something softer, almost loving. You didn’t have a mind for romance now, though.

Your mind could only process the feeling of him inside you. His fingernails dug into the sheets with so much force you swore they were going to rip to shreds in his grip. He latched his teeth onto your neck forcefully, drawing blood. At the same time, you felt him lurch inside of you, shaking and growling as he spilled out inside you. Warm cum dripped around his dick as he slid out slowly, and there was another warm sensation you could make out—blood spilling from your neck.

“San—San—towel, now,” you demanded anxiously, the two dripping fluids making you feel a bit uneasy. He took care of the cum first, wiping it off the blanket, then lapped his tongue on your wound a few times before sticking a bandage on it. Where did he get that, anyway?

“You’re a mess,” he commented teasingly, a cheeky flash of fangs dancing up on his lips.

“Yeah, thanks to you,” you grumbled, running your palm over the bandages securing your bite marks. “I can’t believe you didn’t… y’know.”

“Lose it?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Trust me darling, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Your taste is especially intoxicating. Your pussy tastes even better than your blood, somehow.”

You laughed at the unexpected compliment. It felt weird for such a hot guy to be talking to you about the taste of your pussy at 2am. A demon, no less. You almost felt embarrassed in his gaze, despite just fucking so intensely. You were suddenly incredibly self-conscious about your naked body as he watched you. You wrapped yourself in your hands, shrinking down slightly as you concealed your body from his gaze.

“Hey, stop that,” he said firmly. “Why are you hiding? Your body is incredible. I’d say you look like an angel, but we kinda hate those where I’m from.” He smiled gently. “But you do look divine.”

Heat rose through your cheeks, staining them red. He’d always complimented your smell, your taste—he’d never praised your body before. You motioned towards the closet, and he tossed you a shirt reluctantly. You threw it quickly over your head, still feeling bashful despite his nice comment.

You fell asleep shortly after getting cleaned up, tucked neatly into your bed by your sweet house-demon.

Demons, you learned, didn’t need sleep, despite their human need for practically everything else—food, massages, sex. You had forgotten for a moment why he was even there in the first place, the sex having completely over-ridden the events of the day beforehand. You forgot all about being potentially in danger, your mind only filled with thoughts of San.

He sat by your side all night, or so you knew from what he told you the next morning. He said you were cute when you sleep. His lamb. The idea of him watching over you protectively all night made your heart ache, in a way both good and bad. You weren’t sure if you could say it for sure yet, but you were falling in love with him.

But it could never work between you. It was too good to be true. It had to be.

#san smut #choi san smut #yunho smut #ateez smut #choi san #wooyoung smut #hongjoong smut #ateez fic #mingi smut #yeosang smut

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lupismaris · 4 years ago

Note

For the requests silver flint Hamilton adopting a cat?

(aahh i loved this thank you!!! it got a bit long so I’ve put most of it under a readmore but I hope you like it!)

Silverflintham in my general modern au.

******

“What’s this?” Silver asked, digging through the grocery bags that now littered the kitchen counter.

Flint was busy sorting through the day’s mail, tortoise shell reading glasses perched on his nose, brow furrowed as he read over a dinner invitation for himself and Thomas.

“What’s what?” he asked, tossing aside the invite and shuffling through bills.

Silver rolled his eyes and slid the stack of high end tins of cat food across the counter until it was in Flint’s line of sight. He knew that if he went down to the first floor he’d find a large bag of high end kibble to match, likely resting by the patio door.

Flint looked up, saw the cans, and snatched them off the counter. “Nothing. Just- for the shelter-“ he muttered as his ears started to burn.

“The shelter you send a check to once a month and whenever they ask?” Silver clarified, perching himself on the edge of the bar as Flint tucked the cans of food in the back of a cupboard. “That shelter?”

Flint scowled at him. “Yes for that shelter, they put out fliers asking for supplies alright? Figured I’d drop some off on my way to work tomorrow,” he snapped. There was very little bite to it, it was rare that Flint ever truly got annoyed with him.

“And it’s not for the slowly growing cat colony you totally aren’t feeding out in the alley each night?” Silver asked in a sweet voice.

He’d known about the stray cats in the neighborhood almost from the beginning of his relationship with Flint, how he’d keep a bag of food at the bar in case any of them came to the kitchen door, how according to Gates he’d managed to trap a few and get them to a rescue. He hadn’t found out about Flint’s unofficial colony of strays, however, until he had moved in. At present Silver guessed it was only a handful, four or five adult cats who were either content being feral or just waiting for the right home.

Flint liked to think he was subtle, that he wasn’t so obviously sneaking out each night before bed to leave food and water in the alley, to make sure the little cat boxes another neighbor had built were in tact. Silver let him believe it, though he couldn’t be sure whether or not Thomas knew about his husband’s unbearably endearing hobby.

Silver laughed softly at the flustered and indignant look on Flint’s face, the flush in his cheeks making his freckles turn ruddy. He reached for his hand. Flint took it without hesitation.

“It’s kitten season,” he said softly, not meeting Silver’s eye, “and that always means a few more strays on the streets. The little ones need different food, more calories so they put on the proper weight. That’s all.”

Of course Flint would be thinking about the kittens. Of course. God Silver had fallen in love with a truly ridiculous, wonderful man.

“I’m only teasing. You’re awful sweet,” he said, pulling Flint in for a kiss. It was enough to soothe Flint’s bristly demeanor, though he was still a bit flustered when he pulled away with a muttered ‘am not.’

Silver hooked his arms around Flint’s middle and tucked his face into his neck, purring slightly when Flint leaned into him and went back to sorting the mail. “You are. Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone. Your husband might though.”

Flint huffed a laughed and kissed Silver’s curls. “Oh without a doubt. Speaking of, he home yet?”

Home, that was still taking some getting used to.

“No but he did say he’d be a bit late today, last minute student meetings or something.” Silver said against Flint’s throat, pausing to mouth a bit at the hinge of his jaw. He could feel the vibration of Flint’s soft rumble of content and he nipped the soft skin below his ear.

“Well dinner won’t take long, I can fridge the duck for now, wait till it’s closer to supper time.” Flint’s voice held a note of mischief to it. “I’m sure we can think of something to entertain us in the mean time.”

Silver smiled against Flint’s throat, lifting his head to kiss him. “Oh I have a few ideas.”

Flint chuckled into the kiss, pulling back despite Silver’s whine of protest. “I’m sure you do. Help me finish the chores, pup, and you can tell me just what kind of ideas you have hm?”

As if Silver could say no to Flint, in his reading glasses and half buttoned shirt, his hair pulled back in a messy bun so the well trimmed undercut was visible.

They got the groceries put away, the ingredients for dinner prepped and stowed in the fridge, the duck legs braising in the oven, and when Silver thought he’d finally be able to get Flint at least to the sofa to make out like twenty year olds, Flint instead asked him to follow him down to the garden.

He took Silver out to see where he left the food for the cats, no longer keeping up the old pretenses that he was keeping it secret. Three of the cats were lingering in the alley when they stepped out of the back gate, a big black bruiser of a cat with a clipped ear and a few scars on his muzzle. He didn’t like silver one bit but he went right up to Flint as if greeting an old and cherished friend. The other two were younger, long haired domestics Silver would’ve guessed.

“Those two are brothers I think,” Flint told him, as the one with a white belly and rusty brown spots came over to inspect Silver, the other with tabby markings watching warily. “They’re new, oddly friendly, which means they likely had a home first.”

“Poor things,” Silver murmured, letting the two cats inspect his hands. He noted that they didn’t have their ears tagged. “Are they much younger than the others?”

“Probably only a year or so old, I’d guess. I was waiting for them to get a bit bigger before trying to take them to a rescue, so they can get fixed and all their shots and stuff. I could trap them rather easily I think but the closest shelter is overwhelmed right now.”

Silver nodded, setting out a bowl of food for them to share. “This explains all those random scratches you keep coming home with,” he said flatly, relishing the way it made Flint laugh.

Half an hour passed and Bruiser, as Silver now called him, trotted off to do whatever it was stray cats did. The brothers were happily playing with each other, tumbling and rough housing down the alley.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t just…” Silver mulled over his words as he and Flint went back inside, pulling the garden gate closed behind him. He was too focused on Flint, and his own thoughts, to double check if the latch had caught properly.

“Brought them inside?” Flint offered.

“Yeah. I’ve only just met them and I find myself considering how to convince Thomas we should adopt them. Well, I dunno if Bruiser wants to be adopted but the others-“

Flint shrugged, leading the way up the back stairs to the deck that extended from the back of the kitchen, leaving the glass door cracked a little to let in the cooler evening air. “Between you and me, Bruiser is about a week away from being adopted by the little old lady on the next block. I was seeing him less and less and got worried but it turns out shes got a whole set up for him. I’m sure it won’t be long before she gets him inside and he refuses to leave. The others though… I dunno I guess I’ve always had strays and never an actual cat. We had them back in Padstow, and in Camden, in Manhattan, and even when I was stationed abroad. There were always strays.”

Silver considered him, following Flint into the kitchen and again perching himself on the bar. “You knew how to take care of strays but the concept of being their forever home scared you.”

It took a moment for Flint to reply. Silver watched him roll up his sleeves, tattoos vibrant in the golden hour light that filled the kitchen. He watched as he washed his hands, pulled out the prepared ingredients for the duck sauvage and rabe he was making, and set to work.

“I never felt stable enough to have a pet,” Flint said as he coated the pan in butter. “Not even when Thomas and I were first over in Manhattan, once he’d recovered from the accident, it just- there were too many risks, too many variables. We already had so much on our plate, between his recovery and the bar that any pet we did have wouldn’t get the attention it needed.”

He set the seasoned duck breasts in the pan and let them cook, stepping away to pour them each a glass of negroni from the pitcher he’d made the night before. “I refused to adopt an animal only to risk neglecting it. So, once we moved here I found the local ferals and the people with their own colonies and did what I could.”

Silver nodded, taking the drink and the soft kiss that came with it. “And now? Since you both seemed so settled here?”

Flint smiled fondly at him. “I was too busy making sure I could bring you home for good to think about pets.”

For an asshole, Flint really was an unbelievably sappy romantic.

Silver felt himself blushing, knew he must have been from the way Flint’s smile sharpened a little before stealing another kiss. “I suppose thats fair.”

They looked up at the sound of the front door and sure enough Thomas’ voice echoed down the hall. “I hope you two aren’t fucking without me again.”

“Do blow jobs count?” Silver called back as Flint flicked his ear, the sound of Thomas’ laughter preceding him.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells divine,” Thomas said, joining them in the kitchen. He looked tired, his carefully styled hair a bit ruffled from the wind and his fingers toying with it, his shoulders heavy with a full day of lectures so that he leaned more heavily on his ornate walking stick than he had that morning. Silver watched as he pulled Flint in for a kiss, noting the way his body began to relax and shed the stress.

“It’ll be ready in forty minutes, if you both can stop distracting me,” Flint teased, kissing his husband’s cheek before turning back to the stove. “How was your day?”

Thomas groaned, moving around Flint to greet Sliver with a kiss hello. “Don’t ask me that till I’ve had time to process it. Exam season approaches with it’s usual misery.” Silver managed to steal a few more progressively dirty kisses before Thomas pulled away with a hum. “Hello pet.”

“Evening Professor,” Silver replied sweetly, feeling a thrill at the way Thomas’ blue eyes darkened at the title. “Need some help freshening up before dinner?”

Thomas laughed, though he looked like he might be considering it, and took a sip of Silver’s drink. “No, no, best save that for after dinner. I’m just going to go wash up down the hall.”

Begrudgingly Silver let him go, moving to sit in one of the bar chairs so he could watch Flint cook more comfortably. For short time the kitchen was quiet, save for the sounds of food cooking and Flint occasionally muttering to himself.

Then, suddenly, they heard Thomas’ voice in the hall.

“Oh- oh my goodness hello precious! Oh hello just look at you-“

Flint looked up from the stove top with a frown that Silver returned. They listened a moment long as Thomas cooed and made soft little noises, the kind someone made when talking to a cat, for example.

There was a moment of silent realization as they stared at each other. The glass door to the deck was still open.

“Did you make sure the gate was closed?” Flint asked, already moving to clean his hands.

“In theory?” Silver replied, scrambling off his stool and out into the hall.

Thomas sat against the wall with the white and brown stray in his arms, the cat purring loudly and rubbing himself all over Thomas’ shirt. His brother was sniffing curiously at Thomas’ shoes, though upon seeing Silver, he trotted over to him with his long fluffy tail held high. Silver crouched down as best he could without his prosthetic, holding out his hand to the cat who greeted him happily.

“You didn’t tell me we were adopting kittens!” Thomas said in bewildered delight when Flint finally joined them, the poor man staring at his two partners in equal disbelief.

“Uhm.”

“They were curled up in the parlor! They woke up when I came in a suppose and they followed me over to the bathroom- where did you get them? They’re such angels oh my goodness-”

“It’s a bit of a story, actually.” Silver held back his laughter as the more skittish brother crawled into his lap, Flint’s face growing more and more overwhelmed, and more and more flushed as he watched.

“They’re uhm. Strays.” Flint finally managed to say. “From the neighborhood. I must’ve left the gate open, and the- the deck door was- they must've slipped in while I was cooking-”

“Oh you saint of a man,” Thomas said, getting carefully to his feet with an armful of cat. “Were you feeding them? Of course you were, thats a ridiculous question isn’t it. Have they had their shots? Oh we need to find a vet, schedule a visit. And they need baths, and a groomer too I imagine. Do we have enough food-” his voiced trailed off as he went back to the kitchen to search the cabinets.

Silver looked up at Flint with a fond smile.

“Guess I brought a few extra strays with me, huh?” he asked, holding out a hand so Flint could help him up.

It got him a weak laugh, Flint helping him carefully to his feet and greeting the cat in his arms. “Looks like it. Though I don’t think any of you are strays anymore, what with a home like this and all.”

Silver tried not to think too hard about the way his heart ached at Flint’s words, leaning in for a kiss instead. “Go finish dinner, I’ll help Thomas get these two washed up.”

The cat in his arms lifted his striped shaggy head and nuzzled into Flint’s beard a moment, as if to reassure him and Silver watched as any possible argument Flint might muster vanished in an instant.

“Good thing I bought that extra cat food, huh?”

#my fics #silverflinthamilton #@zacklover24 #jamie's fic prompt fills #john silver #james flint #thomas hamilton #this got really long because i got caught up in the idea of flint caring for strays and brooklyn has SO MANY STRAYS!!!! so like!!!!#thank you for this i loved writing it so much

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fanfics-with-coffee · 4 years ago

Text

Dabi and Bakugou rarely got along but when they do, it's to double team you. You had been riling them up every time you entered the bar but never let them get any satisfaction, until you agreed on Dabi's dumb challenge. Drink the Blowjob shot the way it's suppose to be had, from between their legs and using no hands.

(This is a re-post from my AO3 work)

Genre: Smut, just smut, Bar!au Characters: Bakugou x reader x Dabi

The neon sign glared down at the people on the street, illuminating everyone in a bright red light. You basked in the light, surrounded by your giggling friends as you made your ways through the crowd of people. This wasn’t your first time in the light and you knew it wouldn’t be your last either. Best bar in the whole district, the whole city even if you asked any lady leaving the place. But you did agree, if you were going to have a drink anywhere then Valor would be it. If you could be so bold then you’d even call yourself a bit of a celebrity at the place. Everyone there knew who you were and knew how you took your drinks. So you often brought your friends along so both brag and give the place some extra income.

After some shuffling of bodies and holding your friends hands you made it to the front of the people, right up to the entrance. You smiled at the bouncer and he smiled right back, showing off his sharp teeth. He was suited up like usual, the suit pants and white button up fitting well around his crossed arms and muscular chest. His bright red hair was spiked as usual and his face was now highlighted red from the neon sign.

“Good evening, ladies! What can I do for ya?” Kirishima asked as if he didn’t know what you wanted, looking behind you to see the awed looks of your friends as they obviously checked out the cutie in front of you. You placed a hand on your hip, pulling the coat you were wearing a little closer to you to keep the cold out.

“Oh you know, just wanted to show my friends this really nice bar i’ve been visiting.” You said with a coy tone, looking around you as if you didn’t know the layout. You made eye contact with the blondie guarding the other door, the black streak in his hair reflecting the red light. He winked at you with a grin before looking over your friends, clearly curious. But he quickly needed to go back to his queue and checking ID’s so the line wouldn’t be held up for too long. Kirishima followed your eyes while nodding, humming in fake curiosity.

“Is that so… Well why don’t you ladies head in then and order something then? Show them why you like it so much, eh?” The redhead looked past you and at your friends, giving them a charming grin and wink before looking at you again. He took a step to the side, making way so your whole group could enter. You gave him a pat on the arm and mouthed a ‘Thank you’ while you walked past him. He just nodded and watched the rest of your friends also walk past him. As you enter the bar you’re met by the warmth first of all. The bodies filling the place was heating up the whole room but you didn’t mind, it was actually very welcoming compared to the cold outside. The second thing that hit you was the music playing through the speakers. While it was soft the music was obviously from the weeks top lists, the beat of the songs being felt through the air. You started peeling your jacket off of you, eyes scanning over the environment. The whole place was dimly lit, the only bright lights shining being the ones under the bar and behind the shelves filled with alcohol. There were the occasional lamp used to set the mood in the place but they were never at full power. The interior was mostly black with details in gold and the dark wood surfaces. Fancy.

You walked confidently to the wardrobe section, smiling at Momo as she took your coat and handed you a number plate that you placed in your handbag. Your friends did the same but you stopped paying too much mind to them, they could handle themselves and you knew the place took care of their customers so you had nothing to worry about. You had something more important in mind. Eyes locking onto the bar you quickly found a spot you could sit down at, miraculously.

You searched the space between the bar and quickly found one out of the two people you were looking for. The tall young man was pouring a beer from the tap while having eye contact with a girl leaning on the counter, smiling at him. He looked mildly amused, raising an eyebrow as she kept talking. He responded to her, his bright red eyes illuminated by the bar lights but you don’t know what he said. You didn’t particularly care either, most of the girls kept repeating the same conversation subjects. He dragged a hand through his blonde hair but it didn’t do much to deter the spikes from forming again while he handed the girl the glass with a smile. You noticed he had shaved the undercut shorter since last time, it looked much neater and clean cut tonight. He was as always dressed in the bartender outfit, the bright red button up and black vest. You could see from your seat that the top buttons of his shirt was unbuttoned, obviously revealing parts of his collarbone and chest. He had yet to notice you but that was about to change.

While you were staring at one of your favorite subjects the other had found you before you had the time to find him.

“Back again, huh, dollface?” The hoarse voice welcomed you back to the bar and you already knew who it was. You smiled and turned your face to notice you were mere inches from the owner of the voice. He was giving you lazy grin, the movement of his mouth extenuating the port wine stain birthmarks around his mouth and going down his neck, the thick tattooed on stitches between his normal skin and the birthmarks still in view. You two stayed like that for a moment, daring each other to move away first. His warm breath hit your lips when he huffed and leaned back, shifting his weight from one leg to another. Placing his hands on the counter he made you feel trapped in his presence. You looked at the tattoos covering his arms, full on sleeves creeping up under his rolled up shirt. Finally you met his eyes again, those bright blue eyes staring down at you. You could see the fading scars on the birthmarks under his eyes, a probably long story you had only heard bits and pieces of. Apparently he had gotten in some trouble and the guys had threatened to cut his eyes out and almost did too. He always jokes about how lucky he is to still have sight or he would never have been able say he’s seen an angel. And if you were the angel then it was no doubt he'd be the devil. With the multiple piercings you've seen glimpses of in the light and the jet black hair playfully sticking up everywhere, you wouldn't be surprised if he revealed himself as an incubi.

“Indeed. I mean, I know I can’t be gone for too long without your ego getting too big, Dabi” You smirked back at his lazy grin, watching his hands move to make you a mojito. He chuckled and looked down to measure the content of your glass, nodding in joking agreement.

“You’re not wrong, the girls around here are easy when you look as good as me, you know? Gets boring after a while. But you… You’re fun Y/N.” He points a black straw at you before putting it in your drink and placing it in front of you. You keep the eye contact going as you pick up your glass and take a sip from it, the refreshing sweetness filling your mouth. The tension was palpable and it had been like this every time you hang out here for a long while now. Everytime you were there you’d tease him and play hard to get, only giving him enough to hold onto the hope that maybe one day you'll be another notch in his belt. Never accepting his dumb bets yet never saying no. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Oi, if you two are finished eye fucking each other then maybe emo boy here can get back to work?” The tension was broken by the voice of dear blondie who had left the conversation with the girl and come to join you and Dabi. Bakugou didn’t look pleased as he glared at the taller man and defensively placed a hand on the counter to the right of you, making Dabi lift his own hand from the spot and releasing you from his almost hypnotic hold.

“It’s called goth, hot shot. And I was working, can't you see I provided angel here with a drink?" he motioned to the drink in your hand which you helpfully raised to show the truth of his statement, smiling sweetly towards Bakugou the whole time just to annoy him. He looked at the drink for a short moment before giving it a look of disgust and making eye contact with you again, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"You should keep yourself to your simple fucking shots, you can at least make those right. Leave the actual drinks to the actual…" Bakugou looked Dabi up and down before staring him in the face. "Bartenders. We don't need to pretend we know what we're doing unlike you extra." The two had started to attract a small crowd, some girls because they thought the two men were attractive and some because they actually wanted to know what was going on. You just sat there calmly, this wasn't their first dispute in front of a crowd nor your first time having a front row seat. Dabi didn't move a visible muscle and instead just stood there with a deadpan glare, watching as Bakugou prepared another mojito. All you could see was his chest rising and falling in an even pace.

When Bakugou finished the drink, with some flare of course, he placed it in front of you. It was neater than your first one, a lime slice delicately placed on the rim of the glass together with a mint leaf as garnish. During the time it took to make the drink Dabi had already sighed and poured himself a shot, downing it when your glass had hit the table. He knew he wasn't supposed to drink on the job but he also knew there wasn't anyone that was gonna stop him. Bakugou ignored him and instead took to watching you, impatiently waiting for you to try his obviously superior drink. And so you did, taking an equally big sip as you took from the first one, you knew how picky he was.

"Well… While I appreciate the thought and concern you have, Bakugou, and it's true that your drink was served better… They taste the same. And I'm pretty sure I'll get just as drunk from either." you place your final verdict, eliciting a laugh from Dabi and a look of something akin to horror from Bakugou. Dabi slung his arm over Bakugou's shoulders, leaning heavily on him as a smug grin crept onto his face.

"What was that now again, hot stuff? Didn't need to pretend huh? Sure, sure… Well if I'm better at shots then I am at drinks then I must be a master at them, so how about we have one?" The tattooed man asked, standing up again and pulling up his shirt sleeves again. As he started on those, pulling out three shot glasses for each and every one of you presumably, you looked towards your favorite blonde who had crossed his arms and was bitterly staring at your two drinks.

"Do you want me to pay for both, or do I get one for free?" You smiled at him, sipping on the drink made by him just to appease him a little. While you didn't have as obvious of a sexual tension with him there had been countless moments where you were sure he'd been so riled up he would've taken you on the bar itself you allowed it. The hot headed man might be smooth in front of the ladies coming and going, it's part of the job, but you liked to get just a little too close. A little too on the edge for him to truly be in his element. And it frustrated him to no end. Yet now he just shook his head in vague defeat.

"No, obviously not, why the fuck would you pay for both? And since we made a crowd take both, just don't you fucking dare tell Iida we're drinking shots while working." he gave you a serious glare while you just laughed and nodded, obviously promising to not rat them out.

In the next moment you had three glasses put before you and Dabi once again joined the conversation. You examined the shots and realize what was going through the blue eyed man's head. The whipped cream at the top was the biggest clue but the shit eating grin he was wearing didn't help his case either. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms, watching Dabi closely, waiting for his excuse this time.

"Well since you're getting drinks on the house then maybe you owe us a little something. You always decline my challenge with a smug fucking smirk on your pretty face but now I find that you have few excuses, princess. C'mon, for poor Bakugou whose ego you crushed." Dabi patted Bakugou's chest while staring at you, ignoring Bakugou's futile protests. You watched them, glanced at the shots and then looked back up to them.

The light shone from behind them, illuminating them and reflecting off the glasses you were drinking from. Both their shirts had unbuttoned buttons and you had a clear view of parts of their chest, further enticing you to accept Dabi's challenge and maybe show them who's got who wrapped around their finger. You soak in the view for a second before unraveling your arms.

"Well you still haven't issued the challenge, Dabi, or what's in it for me if I win."

"Or lose, Angel. I want you to drink the blowjob shots the way they're supposed to be taken. From between our legs without using your hands. If you don't spill anything then I'll pay for your drinks for the rest of the evening. If you do spill… Well I'm sure we can agree to a fitting punishment when we get there. And you can't spill anything from either of them, deal?" This wasn't the first time Dabi had challenged you, nor were you the first person he'd used this tactic on. You'd usually hear Bakugou complaining that he'd found the two making out in the backroom afterwards, even if the other participant had won. But this time he involved someone else too and well, the look you're imagining Bakugou having during it might just be worth it.

"Pay for my friends drinks too and we have a deal." you informed him on your condition as you stood up, knowing that you'd have to move to find a better fitting spot to do this, away from too many peering eyes. Dabi didn't respond and instead just grinned and grabbed two of the shots, following you out from behind the bar. Bakugou took a second to debate if this was a good idea or not but watching you walk away, your hips swaying enticingly managed to convince him. "Fuck it…"

You knew exactly where you all could get out of the spotlight and moved over to a corner with a booth. You sat down on the end of one of the couches, watching the two men arrive after you. Bakugou had grabbed the last shot and was cautiously looking around for anyone watching you, or a co-worker noticing their absence. Dabi on the other hand had his eyes on you, placing one of the shots he was holding besides you on the table, towering over you. You just looked up at him and smiled. He grinned back before grabbing a random chair from one of the other tables, dragging it so it faced you.

Dabi didn’t hesitate to sit down, spreading his legs apart so you could see the pants straining against his crotch. With one hand he placed the cream topped glass between his legs on the seat, the other arm he leaned the elbow on the back of the chair. His muscles were tensing up under the red shirt as to keep the position and you could just imagine what was hiding underneath. He cocked his head to the side and gave you a shit eating grin, lifting an expectant eyebrow at you.

“Well, dollface?” You made eye contact with him and an involuntary shiver went down your spine going straight to between your legs. You didn’t expect it to affect you this much this quickly. Free drinks sounded really good at the time but now you’re not even sure you’ll be able to stay long enough to enjoy them. Yet you couldn’t give up before you’d even started.

You didn’t dare respond to him and instead hid the rush of blood to your face with a smug smile, straightening your back. You dragged your hand through your hair to pull it back before you bent down, keeping eye contact with those blue eyes. If he was going to try and mess you up then you could at least try and do the same. He had moved his hand from the glass and had instead placed it on his thigh besides your head. You opened your mouth and glanced at the glass to make sure you got it. Before you took it into your mouth you made sure to lick the cream off the top, looking up at him through your lashes.

That got a reaction out of him. The grin he was so proudly wearing dropped and instead he stared down at you with his mouth slightly agape. It looked like he was already breathing heavy and you could see him clench his hand in the corner of your eye. Proud of your work you grabbed the shot glass with your mouth and threw your head back, downing the shot in one go. You gracefully grabbed the now empty glass and then slammed it on the table. You removed some of the cream that had gotten on the corner of your mouth with the knuckle of your finger.

“Next.” You said, confidence dripping from your voice. If the music wasn’t blaring through the speakers then you swear you could’ve heard Bakugou swallow nervously. Dabi just chuckled and stood up but before he had fully turned around you could see the outline of something in his pants, pushing against the fabric. You ego only grew at the sight.

“Your turn, hot stuff.” Dabi patted Bakugou's shoulder, pulling him from his hypnotised staring at your lips. He quickly realized what he had been doing and looked away, not ready to admit to his actions. Despite that he still walked over and sat on the chair.

He mimicked Dabi and spread his legs as well, his pants also straining on his crotch. Even in the dim light you could see that something was pushing against the fabric in his pants as well. Your gaze fell to it and your mind was about to start wandering if Bakugou's hand hadn’t gotten in the way when he placed the shot. Unlike Dabi, Bakugou wasn’t as confident and had a difficult time knowing where to place his hands, deciding in the end to just cross his arms. The action just made the muscles on his arms even more visible. He didn’t dare make any eye contact Once again you could feel your body react, your breathing slowing and becoming heavier but you were hoping they didn’t notice. But with your luck, Dabi must’ve. But you didn’t let him say anything as you just smiled again and leaned down. Bakugou was still not looking though and you just couldn’t have that. So you took your hands and placed them on his inner thighs, grabbing onto the surprisingly muscular meat.

You felt him jump slightly and snap his head to look at you. You just looked back up and smiled, giving him a wink. Bakugou would argue that it was just the red lights but you knew he was blushing mad. You decided to cut his suffering short, afraid that if you turned him on any more it’d start to be painful in those tight pants of his. So you opened your mouth, ignoring the obvious hard on right in front of your face and took the glass into your mouth. But as you pulled back up you heard Bakugou mutter something under his breath.

“Fuck, babygirl…”

His voice had been strained and quiet but you caught it in the middle of all the noise surrounding you despite him trying to cover his mouth with his clenched hand. And you lost it. You choked on the shot and had to grab the glass from mouth before your could down the whole thing. You coughed and placed a hand on your chest, trying to regain your breath. You placed the half empty glass on the table beside the other two. Bakugou shot out of his chair to make sure you were alright but didn’t quite know what to do.

“Shit…” You mumbled, realizing what had just happened. You lost. You looked up at Bakugou who was still worried about you choking while Dabi was closing in from the side. His grin was already giving away what he was thinking.

“Well well well, angel. You talked so big yet couldn’t take a little dirty talking. Cute. But what should we do with you now? Bakugou?” Dabi had snaked an arm around Bakugous shoulders once again, caging you in between the two men. Bakugou just looked at him confused and disturbed before it clicked in his head what he was talking about. He just grunted and looked back down at you, something had shifted in his eyes and they weren’t as innocent as they had been before.

“Let’s get out of here.”

You weren’t prepared for the tone of voice from the blonde. Your heart began beating quicker as you started to form an understanding of what you had gotten yourself into. Dabi just grinned and took a step back, motioning for us to “go ahead”. You looked to the table and saw the last shot and decided to down it too before standing up. Bakugou didn’t take a step back though and you hit his chest with your own, looking up at him surprised. You felt his hot breath against your face and his stare made you weak in the knees. His hands grabbed your waist and without a second thought he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulders.

You yelped at the sudden motion and saw the whole world start to move as Bakugou turned to head out the backdoor. Dabi soon joined your view, casually strolling behind you two, chuckling at the sight.

“Your place is close to here, right?” Bakugou asked, glancing back at the taller male who just nodded.

“Yup, third floor in the building just across from here.” Dabi took the lead and Bakugou followed. You just clinged to the back of Bakugou's vest, trying to see what was happening in the front and hoping not too many people saw you in such an embarrassing situation. But you couldn’t help but feel that maybe it didn’t matter, maybe what was about to happen was worth the embarrassment.

“I swear to god if the apartment is filthy or you haven’t changed the bed sheets since your last fuck buddy I’m taking her and leaving.” You watched the stairs as Bakugou went up them, still carrying you. One hand firmly planted on your ass, either to keep your dress from riding up or just because he wanted to cop a feel. As he finished his sentence you two stopped and you could hear a key turning in a lock and a door opening just after.

You weren’t put down until the door had once again been closed and you were all in Dabi’s apartment. And even then you didn’t have a moment to take in your surroundings as Bakugou blocked your view, grabbing your chin gently. You looked up into his eyes once again, meeting his deep red ones with your wide ones.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since you opened those pretty lips of yours.” He muttered, eyes glancing down at your lips and then up again. Wasting no more time he pressed his to yours and you almost couldn’t believe it. He was pressing firmly, almost as he was afraid it was a dream he’d wake from, tilting his head to the side as his hands found your neck. You closed your eyes, enjoying the moment and moving your hands over the shaved part of his head. That’s when a third pair of hands joined in.

“Don’t forget that this is a punishment, angel, not a prize.” Dabi whispered in your ear, his hands going down your front, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up, exposing your panties. You gasped at the sudden movement only to have Bakugou use it to his advantage, slipping his tongue into your mouth and brushing it against your own. Your sounds were muffled as Dabi used one hand to cup your boob, the other sneaking down to feel you through your underwear. You knew he could feel your wetness through the fabric.

“Shit, so cute, you’re already wet… At this rate you’ll have to problem taking both of us.” You heard him muse as he looked at you from over your shoulder. You couldn’t respond thanks to Bakugou's invasion of your mouth and only whimpered. Dabi chuckled at your predicament and instead of trying to help you just made it worse by slipping his hands underneath the hem of your panties instead. Sliding two fingers between your nether lips he found the bundle of nerves placed between them. He didn’t even hesitate to start drawing slow circles around your clit.

You had to pull away from bakugou, putting your hands on his chest to keep him from going back for round two too quickly. You were panting and letting out small whimpers, unable to look at his face. He stared at you confused before realizing what the other man was doing and how it was affecting you. The two made eye contact with you in between them, Dabi never relenting on his assault on your bud.

“Oi, don’t you have a better place to do this then your hallway?” You heard Bakugou speak above you. His hands moved to your waist and then your back, pulling you closer to him defensively.

“You’re the one who couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to move to the bedroom so don’t blame me, hot shot” Dabi finally pulled his hands out of your underwear and you took a deep breath of relief from the constant stimulus. You legs were quivering from the assault on your senses and the sudden lack of it. But before you could truly calm down you were pulled from Bakugou's warm embrace and into Dabi’s arms instead as he started to lead you away. You could hear Bakugou’s hurried steps behind and the rustling of clothes.

You moved through the small apartment and to a bedroom. The double bed was made and you were about to go sit down, give yourself a break. But as soon as you moved towards it a hand grabbed your arm, looking back at the owner of the hand you saw Dabi shaking his head.

“Remember what I said before? Punishment, not reward, babygirl.” You felt your stomach sink but ironically also fill with butterflies.

“Help her out of that dress and underwear, will ya, hot stuff?” You were handed over to Bakugou who looked about as confused as you. Dabi went and opened a cupboard and you heard the clinking of metal from it as he searched it’s content. He hummed in satisfaction as he placed a bottle on top of the cupboard and then something that glimmered in the light coming from the window. At the same time Bakugou had done as he was told, pulling the dress higher and higher and with your help it had slipped right off. The bra was quickly unclasped and thrown to the side as well just like the panties had been. You could feel his red eyes look you up and down, watching the newly exposed skin as if it were gold.

“Here we go… Hands in front, dollface.” Dabi sauntered back to you two and without thinking you obeyed, holding out your hands in front of you. He grabbed your wrists and soon the sound of something clicking shut filled the room. You looked at your wrists and saw handcuffs now hanging from them. The black fur was kind to your skin though and they weren’t too tight so you couldn’t complain. But you still stared in awe at them, as did Bakugou.

“Ain’t too tight? No? Good. Then get on your knees.” A simple hand on your shoulder had you falling to your knees without second thoughts. You began to wonder what these men had done to you.

As you were down there you watched Dabi unzip the black pants which had been getting tighter and tighter the further the three of you had gone. He dropped them to the ground and you watched as if hypnotised by the tent formed in his underwear. You could hear him chuckle above you, amused at your wide eyes stare. He did quick work of his underwear as well, fishing himself out of them with practiced skill. He was semi hard already, a tuft of hair at the base of his slim cock. He lazily started to work himself to full mast while watching you.

“Liking what you see, I take it. Good. I can see your mouth salivating already, why don’t you taste it?” You looked up at him for a split second before looking at his cock again which he’s let go already. You almost timidly pull on it, opening your mouth to take him in. You swirl your tongue over the tip before taking more and more into your mouth. You close your eyes to focus, letting him slip further down your throat. A hand carefully grabs the back of your head and grabs a handful of your hair. He’s impatient, probably from the build up at the bar and start to set a slow pace which you follow. You feel the tip of his dick drag across your tongue and the back again as the pace speeds up. Soon he’s set a reasonable pace and you open your eyes again to look up at him.

He’s panting and watching you closely, his eyes half lidded by now aroused he is. The sight makes you even hornier and you feel that you need some release yourself and move your hands down to your own crotch. But nothing slips past Dabi's watchful eyes and he speaks up before you can do anything about your own arousal.

“Hey, we didn’t tell you you could touch yourself. Why don’t you do something productive and jack Bakugou off instead? He’s been drooling all over you since you started bobbing your head like a good girl.” You looked to the side and saw Bakugou, he had pulled down his pants and underwear without you even noticing, even his vest was gone and shirt unbuttoned as he worked his own manhood. You two made eye contact and you reached out with your handcuffed hands. The blonde sucked in breath from between clenched teeth and took a step closer, letting you take over for him.

The three of you kept this up for a bit, you bobbing your head on Dabi's dick while he controlled your pace with his hands while your own hands were jacking off a panting and cursing Bakugou. You had lost track of time until Dabi pulled out of your mouth, your spit covering his shaft and your own chin. The lack of fullness had you desperately looking up at Dabi who was visibly trying to restrain himself. At the same time you slowed your hands movements, bewildered by the sudden pull out.

“Shit, don’t look at me like that, dollface, or I might just finish in your mou-” He was cut off by Bakugou grabbing your head and pulling you to him instead, taking full advantage of your open and confused mouth. He was much rougher than Dabi, instead of pacing you he was face fucking you, keeping your head still as he pounded your throat. But the moment only lasted so long as even Bakugou had to pull out as to not cum down your throat and cut his playtime short. You sputtered and coughed after the sudden invasion but was ultimately sad he had stopped.

“Sorry, babygirl but I had to know how your mouth felt wrapped around my cock.. It just looked so inviting and I couldn’t stand you looking at juts him like that.” Bakugou confessed, looking down at you, panting after the sudden burst of energy.

“I was wondering when that explosive personality was gonna play part in this. But enough foreplay, get her on her feet..” Bakugou helped you up, holding onto you so you wouldn’t fall. He pulled you up to his chest and slipped a hand between your legs. Now it was his turn with you and his fingers were much thicker than Dabi’s had been. He didn’t dwell too long on your clit, only playing with it a second before traveling deeper. By now your juices had stained your thighs and he had no problem slipping two fingers into you. Despite the roughing up he had done to your face before he was now slow and calculated in fingering you, pushing in and pulling out in deliberate movements. You were desperately needing something more and ground your hips into his hand. He paid you no mind as his mouth latched onto your neck, sucking on it so he knew it would leave marks. There was nothing you could do but moan and sigh, letting your head fall back on his shoulder.

You two were soon pulled out of your little bubble by the sound of chains falling. You opened your eyes and saw Dabi pulling on a chain from his ceiling. He noticed your staring and just smiled lazily, giving you a come hither motion with his hand. You could feel Bakugous hesitation but you were soon let go, his fingers slipping out of you. You stumbled forward to follow Dabi’s instructions. When you got close enough he pulled you to him by your handcuffs and raised them. Another click and your handcuffs were stuck to the chain, your arms raised above your head. Dabi took a step back and examined you, seemingly proud of his work.

“There we go, angel… Now the fun can really begin.” He stepped in close again and kissed your lips briefly. Then he left you standing there in the otherwise cold room. He went back to the cupboard and grabbed the bottle he placed there before. While he was gone Bakugou had once again snuck back to you, figuring out just what he had planned. He stood in front of you without saying a word, just watching your chest heave. Then he bent down and grabbed the back of your thigh. And then the other. Standing back up he pulled you with, lifting you up into the air and keeping you there, spread legs presenting everything to him. He looked down and then back up, grinning and leaning in close to you.

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you, babygirl? I’m gonna pound into you until you can’t think of anything but my cock in your pussy. How many times I’ve imagined pushing your face down on the counter at the bar and taking you right then and there, letting everyone see what a good fucking looks like. And I bet you would’ve taken it, wouldn’t you? Like a good girl you would’ve begged me to make you cum. Let’s see if you beg like my mind thinks you do.”

You were speechless. The words coming from Bakugou were something you wouldn’t have expected yet he was growling them to you as if he’d practiced it before hand. You swear you would’ve come right then and there if you didn’t know you’d be punished for it. He didn’t make it any easier when he pushed his thick dick inside of you, slowly but surely pushing himself to the hilt.

You were pulling yourself up on the chain involuntarily from the pleasure entering your system. Arching your back you felt your back hit something warm. Another hand joined on your body, one holding onto the underside of your thigh. Then something cold hit the small of your back and running down your ass making you gasp and clench on Bakugou’s cock.

“I see you two started the fun without me… That isn’t fair but I guess it wasn’t your fault, was it (Y/N)?” Dabi’s voice was behind you and you tried to look at him but your arm was blocking you from turning your head. His other hand suddenly appeared, clearly lubed up and pushing at your other hole. You naturally clenched up more and hear Bakugou curse in front of you.

“Shh no no babygirl, relax… You trust us right? We’ll make it feel good, I promise you’ll be cumming and screaming our names in minutes if you just… relax..” Dabi’s soothing voice calms you down and with some effort you managed to calm your muscles enough to let Dabi’s fingers enter. He praised you as he starts to pump one finger in and out of your whole, then two. It’s clear he’s done this before and knows exactly how to work your buttons. Bakugou wasn’t patient enough to wait for that long and was slowly pulling in and out of you himself, one hand having moved to have his thumb rub circles on your clit. Not enough to make you cum but enough to make you relax more.

Soon enough Dabi was able to scissor his fingers in your ass without you wincing in pain. He pulled out and used his now free hand to help hold you up after having lubed up his own dick. He started to push slowly, the head of his cock slipping into you and you gasp and arch your back again. He stops for a second, looking to make sure you’re still alright before he starts pushing again. Soon he’s pushed himself to the hilt together with Bakugou filling up your pussy. You’ve never felt this full and it did feel amazing, both men pushing at your most sensitive spots.

“See? I told you. Now let’s show you what it means to take two men at the same time, dollface. You’re gonna love it.” He whispered the last part in your ear and your eyes widened as they started to move. What started out in synchronised thrusts soon derailed as they picked up pace. Both of them pushing in and pulling out of you at whatever pace worked for them. Bakugou made sure his thrusts were deep and made you feel full as he sheathed inside you while Dabi was much more erratic and quick, stimulating and pounding the sweet spots of your inside. And their moaning, sighing and groaning was mixed together with your own noises as you all chased your releases. And they came quick

“D-dabi… Bakugou…. I’m about… to.. to cum... “ You managed to get out between moans and you hoped the two men heard you. Luckily they did as they both slowed down much to your own dismay.

“Is that so, angel? You’re gonna cum on our cocks as we pound into you, huh?” Dabi asked teasingly from behind you but Bakugou had other plans.

“Beg for it, babygirl. Beg. for. it.” Every word was emphasised with a thrust of his hips and you whimpered. You couldn’t help but hesitate as you looked into his eyes and saw that he was completely serious, his eyes glazed over and primal. But your need for release was greater and won over your own embarrassment rather quickly.

“Please… Please let me cum. I need to cum, I’ve been needing it since t-the beginning. Since I sucked your big cock, I’ve never been so horny. Fuck, please? Please pound i-into me until I can’t think of anything else, I wan’t you two to fill me and fuck me and and fuck shit, please.” You rambled on and on, trying to convince the two men to let you cum while your head felt fuzzy and you couldn’t think straight. You could see Bakugou’s grin grow on his face and he sped up his pace.

“Good fucking girl, begging like that…. shit… Alright, we’re counting down from 10. You can’t cum… until we reach 0.” You felt them both ready themselves to destroy you in those last 10 seconds and yet you didn’t care, nodding your head desperately.

“Good. 10”

They started, with a newly regained energy they went back to their quickest pace, no mercy this time. But you didn’t mind, you head went all fuzzy again and you got a far away look in your eyes.

“9”

“8”

“7”

“6”

“5”

One of Dabi's hands moved from your thigh and started to rub your clit again. You felt his grin against your shoulder and you cried out.

“Little more, babygirl. 4”

You felt the orgasm approach you like an oncoming train.

“3”

It wasn’t fair, none of this, you realized. But why did it turn you on so fucking much?

“2”

“1”

“Come on, (Y/N), cum.”

You didn’t need any more encouragement then that as you let the tidal wave hit you. It washed over you and made you spazz out, closing your eyes tightly as the two men didn’t stop. They became even more erratic in their movement and even quicker to pound in and out of you. As the white light flashed before your eyes you felt them cum too, filling you up yet they still moved. They both went quiet, trying to keep themselves from buckling under their own orgasms. Dabi’s fingers never stopped rubbing your clit.

Your orgasm had come and gone yet they didn't’t. Fucking. Stop. You were desperately whimpering and trying to pull away from the two but there was no way you could from your position. So you took it. Dabi’s fingers were rubbing your over sensitive clit and the two were like wild animals in heat as they kept fucking you. You didn’t know how but you didn’t care either, another orgasm was on its way way quicker than you had anticipated.

It hit you again and tears spotted your eyes, the electricity going through your body and making you shake once again. Only then did the two seem satisfied, slowing themselves down to a halt yet not pulling out. There’s was a moment of just silence apart from all of you panting and catching your breath from the whole ordeal. Then you started laughing

It was quiet but you laughed, exhausted. Soon the two joined in with their own quiet chuckled.

“Shit… That was really fucking good. Didn’t expect to have this good of a fucking time with this loser” Bakugou looked around you to give Dabi a look before looking back to you. He paused for a moment before he leaned up again, giving you a gentle kiss. You felt Dabi take his turn to leave a hickey on your neck as you kissed Bakugou but you couldn’t care less at that moment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, hot stuff. Thought you knew I was the best fuck in this whole damn place. Apart from angel here, of course” Dabi responded after he let go of your neck, happy with his work.

“So… Whose up for another shot?”

362 notes · View notes

yaimlight · 4 years ago

Text

Rating: explicit 18+

Pairings: Katsuki x Shoto / Katsuki x fem!reader / Shoto x fem!reader / Katsuki x fem!reader x Shoto

A/N: part of Two’s Company, Three’s A Crowd series but can be read on own. Story version available on ao3.

“Here’s how tonight’s going to work,” his said sternly, unbuttoning his jacket as he strode over to the sofa, gripping the back and leaning into Shoto’s space. “You’re going to go into the bedroom, get naked and kneel in the middle of the bed and wait for us like the good little slut you are.” A shiver ran down Shoto’s spine at the casual degradation. He liked that with Katsuki, didn’t care when he called him slut or whore in situations like this but he kept his features blank, raising an eyebrow at the blonde, “am I?”

Katsuki’s smirk widened. For now he was finding Shoto’s defiance appealing, he did always like it when Shoto fought back but he suffered no delusions that before long he would bend to the other mans will, handing over control to the blonde. For now though he was happy to play the brat as Katsuki called it, defiant and teasing. That was until he felt Katsuki’s hand on his thigh, squeezing at the muscle. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Shoto yawned, eyes barely seeing the TV as he waited for Katsuki and Y/N to get home. Katsuki had been adamant that they would be home by ten but the clock was slowly creeping closer to midnight and though he wasn’t worried per se he was starting to grow concurred, just a little. He had barely heard from either of them all night apart from a couple of texts, Katsuki complaining about the gala whilst Y/N kept chiming in with teasing comments and reminders that Katsuki needed to be doing something other than harassing Shoto. Not that he had minded the attention. He never minded the attention.

All of them were expecting this night to turn into something and though they hadn’t really spoke about what would happen when the other two got home Shoto wasn’t leaving anything to chance. The first thing he had done when he got home was shower, scrubbing every inch of himself clean. The temptation had been there to get himself off with half formed fantasies and memories but Shoto wanted to wait, wanted to get lost in the tangle of sheets and the feel of Katsuki and Y/N around him. So he had kept his hands to himself, keeping himself busy as he blow dried his hair, pulling the long strands into a lose plat that ran all the way down his back, lose strands falling into his face. By the time he had been done with that the only thing left for Shoto to do was wait. So he had pulled on some leggings and an oversized jumper and taken up his place on the sofa, eagerly anticipating the of his lovers but that had been three hours ago now and Shoto’s excitement had dwindled into almost nothingness and he was seriously considering going to bed. It had been a long day and even though they were all off the next day Shoto wasn’t so convinced he could keep his eyes open for much longer.

Sighing he chanced a look at the clock, contemplating phoning one of them or even just texting to let them know he was going to bed but like they had been summoned by his desire to sleep the rattle of keys in the lock came and Shoto froze as he reached for his phone, relief washing over him at the gentle murmur of the other two talking. “Welcome home,” he called, looking round as Y/N came through into the living room but whatever else he might have been planning to say died on his lips.

She looked stunning in her red dress, the fabric the same colour as Katsuki’s eyes and was picked specifically to match the blonde but that wasn’t what caught his attention. Her neck and jaw were littered with bite marks and hickys, all the marks various shades of reds and purples, some of them starting to fade to yellow around the edges. For them to be there they had to be fresh, maybe five minutes old, ten at a push. That could only mean that whilst Shoto had been sat there waiting for them to return they had been somewhere in the building, Katsuki’s mouth attached to her neck and probably dragging one sweet moan after another from between parted lips. Shoto’s eyes narrowed. Could they have not waited to get back to him?

“Hello my love” she smiled, supporting herself against the back of the sofa as she leant down. She cupped his cheek, tilting his head up to hers and a wide smile on her lips. He was anticipating the kiss, his eyes closing and lips slightly parted before their lips were even pressed together. He had thought it would be like all the other kisses they exchanged when one of them got home, chaste and short but sweet all the same. He hadn’t been expecting her to swipe her tongue across his lips, prodding gently at the seams until Shoto parted his lips and let her in.

Moaning he tipped his head back further, hands settling on her waste and tugging her onto his lap, his excitement growing as she went willingly. The kiss was hard and demanding, Shoto losing himself in it quickly. He tangled a hand in her hair, holding her mouth against his as the other tried to find its way under the many layers of her skirt. It had been far too long since he had been able to get lost in her like this and Shoto was quickly growing desperate and hungry under her, his dick already half hard. He wasn’t sure he would be able to wait tonight and he was probably only a few more minutes away from flipping her over onto the sofa and hiking her skirts up just enough for him to get his head between her legs.

“That’s enough,” Katsuki growled from somewhere behind her and suddenly everything stopped. She pulled away from him, laughing as Shoto’s hands went back to her waist in an attempt to keep her close, his lips chasing hers. A growl came from behind, Shoto catching just a glimpse of Katsuki as he stepped up behind Y/N, wrapping an arm around her waist and hulled her off of Shoto’s lap. Her laughter got louder, a wide smile on her lips as she allowed the blonde to manhandle her until she was standing once more.

Shoto scowled at the other man who was stood as close to Y/N as he could get, his arm still tightly wrapped around her waist and chin resting on her shoulder. He was smirking at Shoto, confident and smug as he slowly turned his head and placed a kiss on her neck over one of the almost faded marks, his eyes never leaving Shoto’s. So that’s how it was going to be then, Katsuki dictating how the rest of the evening would go. He wasn’t against it, just Katsuki had a tendency to drag things out and be unnecessarily mean about it and Shoto wasn’t sure he would be able to put up with it tonight.

He scoffed when Shoto continued to scowl at him, unwrapping himself from around Y/N. Katsuki handed her his award, Shoto only just noticing the heavy looking glass X mounted on a black base. He should congratulate the other man, should let him know how proud Shoto was of him but he didn’t want to stroke his ego too much. He was smug enough as it was. She took the award with a smile, Katsuki watching her go as she disappeared behind the sofa and out of Shoto’s view, the clicking of her heels fading as she went back into the bedroom.

As soon as she was gone Katsuki’s sharp gaze snapped back to Shoto, his red eyes dark and hungry. He looked good in his suit, the black fabric tailored perfectly to highlight his well-defined chest and arm muscles as well as his trim waist. His eyes were rimmed in black, making the red stand out even more, his undercut styled to perfection, not a single hair out of place. He looked intimidating, powerful and hot and the asshole knew it.

“Here’s how tonight’s going to work,” his said sternly, unbuttoning his jacket as he strode over to the sofa, gripping the back and leaning into Shoto’s space. He sat up slightly straighter, refusing to back down and holding Katsuki’s gaze. The blonde may be running things but Shoto wasn’t about to make it easy for him. “You’re going to go into the bedroom, get naked and kneel in the middle of the bed and wait for us like the good little slut you are.” A shiver ran down Shoto’s spine at the casual degradation. He liked that with Katsuki, didn’t care when he called him slut or whore in situations like this but he kept his features blank, raising an eyebrow at the blonde, “am I?”

Katsuki’s smirk widened, his amusement clear. For now he was finding Shoto’s defiance appealing, he did always like it when Shoto fought back but he suffered no delusions that before long he would bend to the other mans will, handing over control to the blonde. For now though he was happy to play the brat as Katsuki called it, defiant and teasing. That was until he felt Katsuki’s hand on his thigh, squeezing at the muscle. “If you know what’s good for you.”

Shoto’s mouth suddenly felt dry, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “And exactly how long will I be waiting?” he managed to get out, his flat voice only wavering slightly as Katsuki’s hand slid higher until his thumb brushed against Shoto’s now fully hard dick. Katsuki leaned in, dragging his nose along Shoto’s jaw, gently getting him to tilt his head to the side. His lips followed closely behind, teeth nipping along his jaw and up to his ear. “However long I want,” he growled out harshly, cupping Shoto’s erection and grinding his palm down.

Shoto’s head fell back against the sofa, moaning loudly as his hips jerked forward, hands darting out to grab hold of Katsuki’s thighs. The blonde chuckled, cruel and amused as he continued to move his hand against Shoto, dragging low moans and sighs from between his parted lips. He could practically feel the smugness rolling off the blonde, the other man clearly feeling like he had won but Shoto wasn’t quite ready to give up just yet. “What will you be doing-” Shoto broke of to groan, Katsuki’s mouth latching on to the sensitive spot under his jaw and sucking harshly, leaving behind a mark that Shoto’s uniform wouldn’t be able to cover up, “whilst I’m waiting?”

Katsuki pulled back and Shoto lifted his head to watch the other man, already missing the feel of Katsuki against him. Katsuki isn’t smiling, his dark eyes pinning Shoto in place and making him feel trapped. His hands flexed on Katsuki’s thighs, fingers digging in as Katsuki griped at Shoto’s dick through the thin fabric of his leggings, his thumb pressing down on the head and rubbing firmly against it. Shoto sucked in a breath, his hands twitching but still he doesn’t look away, entranced by the way Katsuki’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

He wants to slide his hands up higher, wants to unbuckle the blondes’ belt and slip his hand inside the stupidly expensive trousers but he also wants Katsuki on his knees. He wants to see those dark and hungry eyes staring up at him as his lips spread wide around his straining member. He wanted a lot of things and he wasn’t sure where to start or even if he would be granted the chance to choose.

Katsuki’s eyes flicked to the side, a smirk spreading across his lips. He glanced back at Shoto, winking at him before he pulled away once more, Shoto moaning in frustration as the blonde squeezed at his dick before letting go completely and stepping backwards out of Shoto’s hold. Y/N was waiting for him, sliding up to Katsuki’s side as she passed him a glass of whiskey. Katsuki wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he took a sip of the amber liquid. Her hand rested against his chest, her head tipped back expectantly. Katsuki didn’t leave her waiting for long, his smirk knowing as he leant down and claimed her lips in a bruising kiss.

They looked good like that, dressed as they were and solely focused on the other, uncaring that Shoto was watching, his fingers twitching on his thighs as he longed to join in. It wasn’t lost on him how out of place he would look next to the other two, dressed as they were and looking like royalty, with him in his old and rather basic clothing. He was sure that in this moment he would only look good on his knees, grovelling at their feet and willing to serve. Maybe next time. Maybe latter.

The kiss ended abruptly, Katsuki nipping at her lips when she whined at the loss. “Why are you still here?” Katsuki growled, glaring at Shoto as he ducked his head and bit down on her exposed collar bone. She moaned loudly, head tipping back to give him more room to trail his mouth down the open v of her dress. Her eyes met Shoto’s over Katsuki’s head, her pupils blown wide and a wicked smirk on her lips. He wanted to stay, wanted to watch as Katsuki continued to do whatever it was he was planning but he knew if he stayed Katsuki would make him regret it. It would feel good, whatever Katsuki deemed as an appropriate punishment but it would be frustrating, the blonde working him up again and again just to leave him on edge and unsatisfied.

Sighing he pushed up off the sofa, taking one last look at the couple before heading back towards the bedroom. He didn’t look back, not even when he heard Y/N gasping and Katsuki’s low and rumbling laughter. If he looked back he would stop and if he stopped than Katsuki would make him wait and Shoto really didn’t want to wait any longer than he had to.

Shoto ignored the main light, instead turning one of the bedside lamps on and filling the room with a muted yellow glow. He made quick work of pulling his clothes off and folding them nicely. Normally he would leave them on the chair in the corner but considering the mood Katsuki was in Shoto didn’t know if it would be needed so instead he placed them on top of the dresser, ready for the next day.

Shoto crawled up onto the bed, situating himself in the middle of the black sheets and facing out into the room. He spread his knees slightly and raised himself up, his muscles tensing. He lifted his arms, slipping his hands under his braid and lacing them together at the back of his neck. It was a favourite position of Y/Ns, liking to see them proudly on display whilst being at her mercy. The last time he had been like this though Katsuki had been opposite him, Y/N directing the blondes every movement until Shoto was a begging mess and Katsuki was snarling and making demands. That was a distant memory though, having happened eight months ago on her birthday and Shoto was very much eager to create a new memory.

Time passed, Shoto not really sure how long but his thighs were aching along with his shoulders and his erection had started to soften slightly. He was still aroused though, his mind constantly straying to what the other two were doing out in the other room. He’s been in this situation before, years ago and the feelings of anticipation for what’s to come and the annoyance of being kept waiting were still the same. At least this time he wasn’t blindfolded and bound though maybe that’s worse because Shoto’s eyes would not stop darting around the dimly lit room, his hands constantly twitching against his neck and his wedding band getting caught in his hair.

“Well aren’t you just delectable,” Shoto sat up straighter at Y/Ns teasing voice having been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even heard her coming. He keeps his head facing forward, eyes darting to the side so he could follow her as she strolled into the room to stand in front of him. Surprisingly she was still in her dress, her neck and chest covered in bite marks and bruises, Katsuki making her look like the victim of a vampire attack.

Her eyes drag over Shoto and he felt it as if it were her hands, fingers gently sliding from his neck and down his chest and abs. His dick twitched, his interest renewed under her gaze and her lips curled up into a smirk, her teeth biting down on her plump bottom lip as she looked at Shoto like she wanted to devour him. She didn’t move though, didn’t touch or ask things off him and Shoto knew then that she was as much under Katsuki’s command as he was.

“You managed to listen this time then,” Katsuki grumbled as he strode into the room. Shoto’s eyes darted to him but the blonde didn’t even acknowledge him, his eyes fixed on Y/N. “I always listen,” she smirked, turning to look at Katsuki as he scoffed, raising an eyebrow at her as he place his whiskey glass on the dresser then proceeded to shrug his suit jacket off, flinging it across the back of the chair. “I do listen, I just chose to ignore what you’re saying,” she shrugged, that teasing smile still on her lips. Katsuki came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his front against her back. “Not tonight though,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “No, not tonight,” she placed her hand on his arm, sliding it up as she tilted her head to look at him, “I am yours, do with me what you will”.

The room seemed to go still, the two of them staring into the others eyes for a long few moments before Katsuki leant down and sealed his lips over hers. Shoto could do nothing more than watch as they kissed, this one slow and tender and full of love, Katsuki accepting the trust she was placing in him. It was a kiss he had seen many times before, one he had also shared with the both of them on multiple occasions and every time it reminded him of how lucky he was to have this, to have them. They part slowly, smiling softly at the other and Shoto can feel an answering one on his face even though neither of them are looking at him.

“What about you?” Katsuki asks, turning to look at Shoto, “you good?” Katsuki looked directly at him, his gaze soft in comparison to his gruff voice. It’s an out, an opportunity for Shoto to ask for something soft, more of a joint adventure before Katsuki got too into it. Before he got to the point where something could go wrong and damage their relationship, not that Shoto thought anything could at this point. Shoto had been hoping for a night together, the three of them a mass of limbs as they took pleasure in the others. He hadn’t thought that they would do anything to involved but considering it was their only free night for what would be a while he should have known better than to think they would do anything that was simple.

“Yes,” he said simply, perfectly comfortable to let the blonde have his fun. The affect was almost instantaneous, Katsuki’s soft smile became an almost predatory smirk, eyes darkening. “Good,” he growled, stepping back and out of Y/Ns hold. He shoved his hand in her hair, gripping tightly and yanked her head back. Shoto swayed forward as she gasped, hands flying up to grab at his wrist but not to pull him away. Her back was bowed, chest forced out, drawing Shoto’s eyes down. Katsuki’s other hand came up, shoving under the fabric of her dress and cupping her breast, squeezing gently. She moaned lowly, the movement of Katsuki’s hand visible as he pinched at her nipple.

It’s maddening, watching Katsuki as he yanks the deep red fabric out of the way, exposing her chest to both of them. Shoto wants to get his mouth on her, wants to cover his tongue with ice and suck one nipple into his mouth and leave it cold and hardened only for Katsuki to come along with his warm hands, pinching and twisting until she was whimpering from the attention. He wants to touch and taste. It always leaves him feeling needy and desperate when he wasn’t allowed to interact with them but that was why Katsuki was keeping her out of his reach, not even giving Shoto the chance to even try and reach out.

Katsuki untangled his hand from her hair, spinning her to the side. With quick and sure movements he yanked down the sleeves of her dress, Y/N tugging her arms free so the top half of her dress fell to her waist. She didn’t have a bra on, a dress like that not allowing for it. Katsuki didn’t waste any time, hands and mouth descending on her chest as he covered her in more marks, more claims of ownership. “Katsuki,” she moaned, her hands going to his shoulders and head tipping back and just allowing the blonde to have his fill.

Shoto can see he isn’t being gentle, can see how his teeth sink into the swell of her breast as he bites down with a growl. Shoto’s dick twitched and before he can stop himself he lets out a whine, wanting to be pressed behind her and leaving his own marks on her neck. The noise has Katsuki stilling, head turning to smirk at Shoto. He knows what Shoto wants, knows that he likes not being able to touch as much as he hates it. They lock eyes, Katsuki cupping the underside of her breast and deliberately dragged his tongue across her nipple, mouth wide and head turned so Shoto can see what he’s doing. She hums, her eyes closed and tugging at Katsuki’s hair. He doesn’t seem to appreciate it though and with a low growl he sealed his lips around the hardened nub and bit down, hard.

Her body goes stiff, her mouth falling open on a cry and hands tightening in his hair but she doesn’t push him away, allowing him to sink his teeth in to the point that it must be painful. She’s never been one to shy away from a little pain with her pleasure though and neither he or Katsuki had ever denied her that spark of pleasure that came with the pain. Katsuki pulled back, keeping her nipple caught between his teeth before letting it go with a pop. It’s red, sore looking and in an attempt to sooth the sting Katsuki places a gentle kiss on it that was completely at odds to his previous harsh treatment.

Once satisfied he straightened, placing a soft kiss on her lips before they both turned their attention to Shoto. It was worse having two sets of eyes on him, his skin prickly under the intensity. Shoto shifted on his knees slightly, starting to feel uncomfortable in the position he had put himself in. “Think someone’s feeling left out,” Katsuki mumbled teasingly, smirking knowingly. Shoto huffed, glaring at the other man but Y/Ns laughter cut through his annoyance. “He does look rather lonely,” she smiled. He can’t miss the hunger in her eyes, the way she bites at her lip and her eyes drag across every inch of him. Katsuki snorted, “go keep him company,” he steps out of her way, hand gently pushing her forward and she goes without complaint.

Shoto’s attention focuses on her, watching intently as her hands go to her skirt and she starts shimmying out of the mass amounts of plush fabric and netting. It pools at her feet, leaving her stood in a pair of black lace underwear and her heels. Shoto licks at his lips, taking in the tempting view before him. He wants to touch but he knows he isn’t allowed, Katsuki not having told him he could. Stepping out of the puddle of fabric she quickly slips her heels off and takes the few steps to the bed, leaving her dress behind on the floor.

She crawled up towards him, still smiling and Shoto straightens, suddenly very aware of his nakedness. Once close enough she pushed up onto her knees, mirroring Shoto’s stance and shuffling even closer. “Hey,” she smiled, hands settling on Shoto’s hips to keep her steady as she leant in, her mouth finding his. Shoto leans into it as much as he can, moaning into it as she teases her tongue across his lips. He loses himself to it, hands tightening behind his neck to keep them there and just lets her dominate the kiss.

They have shared a lot of kisses over the years and Shoto thinks he would never tire off it. Her tongue sweeps across his lips, prodding gently and Shoto grants her entrance, her tongue slipping into his mouth instantly and coaxing his own to move with hers. It was deep and long, the kind of kiss that Shoto would like to press into, taking her down to the bed and pin her beneath him. This is good though, steeling his breath yet leaving him wanting more and he would have been happy to continue that way until he felt her fingers ghosting along his forgotten erection.

With a groan he pulled away from the kiss, his eyes fluttering open to see her black eyes shining back at him, a wicked smirk on her lips. Her hand warm around him, unnaturally so and it doesn’t take long for him to recognises his own quirk being used against him.

Her touch is teasingly light, fingers gliding up and down him with barely any intent behind it, the occasional press of her thumb against his leaking head only making his frustration worse. Its too soon for him to beg, too soon for him to break down and give Katsuki what he wants but Shoto can’t stop the desperate moan he makes as she presses her thumb down once more, rubbing purposely at the underside of his head. It’s been a while since he had someone else’s hands on him and he is ashamed to admit that the gentle touch is getting him more worked up than it normally would.

“Do you want more?” she mumbled against his jaw, her mouth surprisingly cold despite the heat radiating off of her. “Please,” he gasped as she sealed her lips over the same spot Katsuki had, sucking harshly. Shoto’s hips jerked forward, chasing something more but as suddenly as her hand had appeared it was gone, Y/Y laughing at the frustrated whine he made. “Hush love, I’ll give you what you need,” she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth and Shoto turned his head, trying to capture her lips but she is gone before he has the chance to.

Her lips alternated between hot and cold as she kisses and nips her way down his neck and chest, her teeth scraping over his nipples and sucking briefly before she continued on her way down. Her hands held onto his hips, supporting her weight as she shuffled back, working her way down his body. Her spine curved beautifully, drawing his eye down to the swell of her ass. Shoto wants once more to touch, to run his fingers through her hair, to force her head down and take.

His hands slip, arms lowering but before he can even think about letting go a disapproving “no” cuts across the room. Shoto’s head snapped round to find Katsuki leaning against the doorframe, eyes fixed on Shoto and glaring. He had rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, his tie gone and the first couple of buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. He’s got another glass of whiskey, the glass dangling from his fingertips and his legs crossed at the ankles, looking relaxed. He had looked good in his suit but like this he truly looked magnificent.

Y/Ns hand stilled the moment Katsuki had spoken, her mouth open and pressed teasingly close to where he wanted her, so close in fact that her cheek was brushing against his straining member and with every twitch he was leaving a smear of pre-cum along the unblemished skin. “Put them back,” Katsuki commands, eyes narrowing when Shoto doesn’t comply with the order straight away.

He has two options, comply with Katsuki and most likely get Y/Ns mouth around him or ignore the blonde and thread his fingers through her hair and most likely end up being forced to sit on his hands and watch whilst his own frustrations grow. The idea of playing the brat is tempting, the thought of denying Katsuki what he wanted giving Shoto a small sense of control but his need was greater and with a sigh he lifted his arms once more, interlocking his fingers behind his neck again and looking at the blonde with what he hoped was annoyance.

Katsuki smirked, clearly happy with his win. “Continue,” he stated, taking a swig of his drink. Y/N moved before he had even finished talking, kissing her way down and across so she could mouth at the bottom of his erection. Shoto hissed at the sudden feeling of her warm mouth on him, his hips jerking forward as he sought out more.

She hummed against him, her grip on his hips tightening as finally her mouth made contact with his leaking tip. The sound that was dragged out of Shoto was a mix between a moan and a whine and it was only matched by the mocking laughter that floated over from the door. Katsuki pushed off the door, a casual confidence about him as he walked across the room to stand behind her, smirking at Shoto who was trying to keep his eyes open, his body shaking slightly from the effort of staying in the same position for so long. Katsuki lifted his free hand, eyes dropping down to watch as he placed it on her lace covered ass, squeezing at the plump flesh. She moaned around Shoto as her lips sunk down his length, her warm tongue pressing down against the vein. It was good, always was and she knew exactly how to work him up but keep him just teetering on the edge.

She sucked harshly at the head, her tongue lapping at his leaking slit and moaning at the taste of him. Shoto’s eyes fluttered closed, his head tipping back and hips straining against her hold but her grip tightened, keeping him still as she continued to work him over. He was breathing deeply, heart beating rapidly as he felt his release racing towards the surface. He was close already and it had probably only been five minutes but the way her tongue pressed against him, the tight suction of her mouth as he hit the back of her throat was enough to have him hurtling towards his climax already. “Stop,” Katsuki barked and she stills instantly, her lips sealed around his tip and tongue pressing against the sensitive underside. Shoto snarled, eyes snapping open as he jerked his head forward to glare at Katsuki. “Don’t look so fucking put out, you’ll get what you want,” Katsuki ran his hand up her back, the woman humming and causing Shoto’s dick to twitch in her mouth. “Eventually,” the blonde smirked.

Katsuki took his hand away from Y/N, knocking back the last of his drink. “Sit back on your knees and lean back, use your hands to support yourself,” Katsuki barked his orders, turning away from them to place his empty glass on the dresser. He kept his eyes trained on the pair on the bed through the large mirror that hung above it, watching them intently. “Now,” he growled, eyes locking with Shoto’s in the reflection.

His command sent a shiver down Shoto’s spine and he was moving before he knew he was doing it. His knees ached as he lowered himself down, legs spreading slightly so his ass fit between his feet. Y/N moved with him, her mouth staying exactly where it was. She braced her arms on the bed next to his thighs, her chest lowering to the bed and making her ass stick out even more. Shoto leant back, hands falling from where they had been locked behind his neck, his shoulders feeling stiff. He did just as Katsuki had asked, splaying his hands out on the sheets behind him and then they waited.

Katsuki turned away from the dresser, looking at the two of them with the same intensity he would in a fight, the same drive and hunger, the desire to win. “Almost perfect,” he hummed, returning to his place at the end of the bed, both hands going to Y/Ns hips. Shoto sucks in a breath as Katsuki ran his hand up her sides, fingers sparking and leaving little red marks behind that fade just as quickly as they appear, Y/N moaning at every spark he pressed against her.

The vibrations are maddening and Shoto has to tense, preventing himself from jerking his hips forward but Katsuki seems to sense his struggle, wrapping his hand in her hair and tugging slightly. “Open,” he growls and she does, her mouth opening as wide as it will go and her tongue flattening, leaving Shoto with nothing but the warm puff of her breath on him. The blonde is smirking at him, eyes seeming to spark and then he’s pressing her head down, Shoto’s dick sliding across her tongue. He groans as Katsuki continues to press her head down until her nose is pressed into the curls at the base of his erection and he’s pressing against the back of her throat.

“Close,” Katsuki barked and she does, her lips closing around him and tipping her head slightly to get more comfortable. Shoto sucked in a breath as her throat tightened slightly, hands twisting in the sheets to keep them still. “Such a pretty little picture,” Katsuki murmured, letting go of her hair so he can lean forward and place a delicate kiss to the almost faded mark on her neck. “Be a good girl and stay just like that,” he mumbles against her neck and she hums in answer, the sound vibrating along Shoto’s length and he bites down on his lip to keep the sound in. He knows what Katsuki’s about to do and he already hates him for it.

Katsuki kisses his way back down her spine, teeth nipping and scrapping along the delicate flesh and the whole time he keeps his eyes on Shoto, his smirk obvious even though Shoto can’t clearly see it. He bites down her lace covered cheek, her surprised yelp muffled and her throat constricting around Shoto once more. Katsuki chuckles at Shoto’s choked off moan, ignoring the glare he directs to the blonde.

Standing back Katsuki slips his fingers under the band of her underwear and slowly drags them down over her ass, the sound of ripping following and then the offending garment is thrown aside. His eyes finally leave Shoto’s, dropping his gaze down to her ass as he cups each cheek in a hand and gently squeezes. “Be good for me and maybe you’ll get a reward,” he smirked and then he was dropping to his knees, the tips of his blonde spikes the only thing visible over her ass but Shoto doesn’t need to see to know what the blonde is doing.

Y/Ns eyes flutter closed, a low moan vibrated up her throat and dragging an answering moan from Shoto. He could hear Katsuki, the slide of his fingers as he fucked her with them, the way he sucked and licked at her, the wet slurping sounds filling the room. She stayed as still as she could her body trembling slightly as Katsuki took his fill, her mouth firmly fixed around Shoto’s dick and nose buried into his pubic hair. It was torture, the gentle vibrations as she moaned and gasped around him, her throat muscles twitching and tightening around him causing his hips to jerk forward slightly, trying to burry himself further inside her but he was already as deep as he could get.

He hates this and Katsuki knew he did. He had never been able to understand why Katsuki enjoyed it so much, how he could spend hours like this and not be reduced to frustrated desperation. Shoto had seen it though, Y/N on her knees for hours, Katsuki almost indifferent to the fact his cock was in her mouth and Shoto was sure he felt more frustrated by it then the other two had and he had only been watching. It always drove Shoto to braking point, not being able to get any relief whilst being surrounded by that warm wet heat. He had been reduced to begging on several occasions and as she moaned again Shoto felt his resolve to endure crack but that was what Katsuki wanted and Shoto didn’t want to make this easy for the blonde, despite his growing desperation and frustration.

Shoto griped tighter at the sheets, body tensing as he tried to keep hold of his quickly disappearing control. He wants to fist a hand in her hair and hold her still as he fucks into her mouth, wants to watch her eyes water as he hits the back of her throat again and again, those choked of little moans she makes like music. Shoto wanting seems to be the theme of the evening but just as he is about to snap and start begging, everything stops.

She whines, low and annoyed as Katsuki pulls back. He’s smirking at Shoto, the red of his eyes almost completely gone, swallowed by his pupils. Katsuki moans, tongue darting out to lick her off his lips and Shoto’s eyes track the movement, his own tongue mimicking the action. “You wanna taste?” Katsuki teases, knowing full well that Shoto would but he nods anyway. “Words Sho,” he glares and Shoto stares at the blondes lips, trying to decide how best to ask for it.

After all these years he knew how Katsuki liked it, knows how to please his husband as much as he did his wife. He tilts his head forward slightly, looking up through his long lashes and keeping his face black. It would have been better if his hair was lose, cascading around him but this would have to do for now. “Please Katsuki, I want to taste her cunt on your lips,” Shoto keeps his voice level and flat, fighting back the small smirk as Katsuki sucked in a breath, eyes going impossibly wide. Shoto didn’t swear often and when he did it was only mild things but Katsuki liked it when he swore, liked getting him to the point where he just let whatever words came to mind fall from his lips regardless of what they were.

Around him Y/N tries to laugh, her tongue pressing up against the underside of Shoto’s dick. He groans, hips twitching and Katsuki glares at him, his smirk gone as he realises what Shoto was doing. “Off,” he growls, his clean hand coming down to smack lightly at her ass. She yelps at the sudden action, her whole body jerking forward and swallowing around Shoto. The groan has barely left his lips though before she is pulling off of him, it turning into a whine when the cool air of the room hits his spit slick dick. Katsuki yanks at Y/Ns hips pulling her back and further away from Shoto, the woman going limp in his hold and allowing him to position her how he wants her.

Katsuki gets her to the edge of bed, pulling her up onto her knees and stepping in close behind her, pressing his chest against her back. Her arms loop around his neck and Katsuki takes a step back, making her back bow. She’s practically draped across him and on full display, Katsuki’s hands curling around her inner thighs and forcing her to spread her legs open. It’s a truly magnificent sight, Y/N naked and wanton whist Katsuki was still fully dressed. The fact that both of them are naked and he isn’t giving the blonde an air of power. He is in control here, the two of them nothing more than playthings for his amusement and pleasure.

“Wouldn’t you rather taste her for yourself?” Katsuki’s rumbling voice snaps Shoto back to attention, his eyes flickering up to Katsuki’s. He’s smirking knowingly, lips gently ghosting along Y/Ns arm. “Yes,” Shoto answered instantly, his tongue darting out to lick at his suddenly dry lips. Shoto likes using his mouth to bring his lover’s pleasure, especially Y/N. He could spend hours between her legs, licking and suck and drinking her in, just listening to her little whines and breathy moans. Shoto didn’t think there was ever a scenario where he would say no to eating her out and Katsuki knew that.

“Go on then,” Katsuki’s smirk widened, his head turning to nip at her neck instead but his eyes remained on Shoto, watching him with dark amusement. It’s a trap, Shoto was almost certain of it but he still hastily fell forward, getting on his hands and knees and crawling towards them. Katsuki’s laughter cuts through Y/Ns gasp and Shoto wants to look to see what the other man is doing but he’s to focused on his prize. He drops down onto his elbows shuffling forward until his face is level with her sex. This close he can smell her, can see how wet she already is and he can’t help but moan, leaning forward and more than ready to get his mouth on her and make her scream for him.

“Oh, just one more thing,” Katsuki said casually and Shoto stilled, his mouth just hovering above her. He flicked his eyes up to look at Katsuki but he wasn’t watching him any more, his gaze trained on Y/N instead and fingers curled around her jaw, keeping her own head turned towards him. “He may be the one on his knees but I’m the one letting you have this. I’m the one who decides how fast he goes, how long he spends with his mouth pressed against your needy little cunt, when you cum or if you cum at all. Me not him, so my name better be the only one that makes it past your lips,” Katsuki growled out and Shoto wanted to tell him no, to demand he take it back because he knows how much Shoto likes hearing her call out his name, both of them actually. Shoto likes to know he is pleasing them, likes to hear his name shouted to the heavens as they fall apart for him and to deny him that is just cruel. Katsuki is reducing him to nothing more than a glorified sex toy, like he is something Katsuki can use on Y/N instead of Shoto being his own entity. He hates it and loves it in equal parts.

Katsuki’s grip on her jaw tightens, fingers digging in to the point Shoto knows there will be bruises and she gasps, mouth falling open slightly and her eyes going wide. “If you so much as breath his name then I will sit your ass on his dick and leave you both there until you’re pathetic begging messes,” he snarled, eyes narrowed and both Shoto and Y/N whined at the threat. They knew Katsuki would and the thought of being inside of her and unable to do anything makes Shoto twitch, already knowing it wouldn’t take long for him to start begging Katsuki.

“Understand?” Katsuki asked but she didn’t answer, eyes glazed over and looking a little out of it. Snarling Katsuki yanked her head to the side and put his mouth against her ear. “Do. You. Understand?” he asked again, growling out his words. Her eyelids fluttered, her tongue poking out to wet her lips as her gaze shifted. She was looking at Shoto, still knelt between her legs and mouth parted slightly where he had been so close to tasting her. “Yes,” she whispers and Shoto offered her a small smile, hoping she could keep that promise because he really doesn’t want what Katsuki’s threatening.

Katsuki’s hold on her jaw eased, turning her head away from him so he can drag his mouth along her exposed neck. “Good,” he mumbled against her, his teeth nipping at the underside of her jaw and getting a small gasp from her. Red eyes find Shoto’s then, a small yet wicked smirk on his lips and Shoto knows then that the blonde wasn’t going to make this easy. He wants her to fail, wants to drag this out and make them squirm. That’s fine. Shoto was feeling bratty enough to not go willingly, to try and make it difficult for the other man as well.

“Get on with it,” he demanded but Shoto defiantly remains where he is despite wanting to get his mouth on Y/N and make her scream. Katsuki snarls, his annoyance evident and Shoto can’t help but smirk a little, raising an eyebrow at him. Katsuki’s patience snaps remarkably quickly, the hand on Y/Ns thigh darting up to fist in the hair at the back of Shoto’s head, the blondes fingers snagging in the braid and making Shoto wince at the slight sting of pain as he yanks his head back. He doesn’t give Shoto time to readjust, shoving Shoto’s head forward and suddenly the whole bottom half of his face is pressed against Y/N. Shoto’s eyes go wide, a small noise of surprise leaving his lips as Y/N gasps above him.

“Now,” Katsuki growls, pressing Shoto harder against her until his nose is nudging at her clit. His lips brush against her, her slick coating them and his chin and Shoto can’t help but moan. His lips part, tongue darting out to lap at her, Y/N moaning high pitched and breathless. It makes something snap in Shoto and he drops down onto his elbows, angling his head to get a better angle and then his mouth is opening, dragging his tongue across her and lapping at her slick.

Shoto’s good as this, the fact he likes doing it probably contributing to that as well as the fact that Y/N is the only woman he has ever been with. He knows exactly how to get her off, knows how hard to suck at her clit and when to stiffen his tongue and press it inside of her. He knows how hard to go when he flattens his tongue and drag it across her and when to use just the slightest hint of teeth. He knows how to get her gasping, how to have her squirming on his face and begging for more and as he works his mouth against her, she doesn’t disappoint. Every moan and gasp is like music to Shoto and it just makes him hungry for more.

“I…S…Sh…Katsuki!” she stutters out, her hips rolling against Shoto’s mouth and he lets out his own moan. Katsuki’s amused laughter floats down from above and Shoto doesn’t need to see him to know he’s smirking. “Almost love,” Katsuki teased. “Maybe you just need a little more or maybe someone just isn’t good enough.” The words had barely left Katsuki’s mouth before his grip is tightening in Shoto’s hair and yanking his head back.

He gasped at the sharp sting of pain, eye flying open as he’s forced to look up at the people above him. Y/Ns got her head thrown back and resting on Katsuki’s shoulder, her mouth open slightly and chest rapidly rising and falling as she breathed shallowly. There are bite marks and bruises covering her neck and shoulder, her pupils blown wide, eyes glazed over and looking a little dazed. Shoto can’t help but smirk at that, feeling a little proud that he had done that to her but it doesn’t last long, Katsuki tugging at his hair and drawing Shoto’s attention back to him.

Katsuki’s eyes are narrowed, a sneer on his lips as he looks down at Shoto. “I want her screaming Shoto, want to see her squirming on your face and you’re going to give that to me, aren’t you?” Katsuki growled, his fingers winding around the top of Shoto’s braid and tugging. “Yes,” Shoto hissed, his scalp beginning to tingle from the almost constant pull on his hair. It pathetic really, how quick Shoto is to agree but he wants to make Katsuki happy, wants to please him as much as he does Y/N and he knows Katsuki likes to watch. As much as the blonde likes to tease him for it he’s more than happy to be the one watching Shoto fall apart in front of him.

Katsuki smirked and Shoto knows his defiance is crumbling but worst of all Katsuki knows this to and it won’t be long before Shoto gives up entirely and just becomes one of those moveable art dolls in Katsuki’s controlling hands. “So good for me.” Shoto groaned at the praise, fingers twisting in the sheets. He didn’t have time to bask in it though, Katsuki shoving his head back down between Y/Ns legs. “Hurry the fuck up then. I want to see her cum all over your pretty face,” Katsuki growled and with a moan Shoto pressed his mouth back against her clit and coated his tongue with ice before pressing it against her.

The loud and surprised moan she made had Katsuki laughing, pressing Shoto’s face harder against her until he felt like he couldn’t breath, only for the blonde to pull his head away so he can gasp for air. He gives Shoto just enough time to suck in a breath before he was shoving his face back down. That’s how they continued, Katsuki holding Shoto’s face against her until his breath was catching and then only letting him up to gulp in a lungful of air before shoving him back down again. The whole time Katsuki talked, praise and filth coming so easily to him. “That’s it, make her fucking scream. Such a good little slut for me. You can do better than that, can’t you Sho. Does it feel good, having him fuck you open with his tongue?” Katsuki’s gruff voice mingles with Y/Ns moans and gasps, the blonde laughing as she fumbled her words, trying not to call out Shoto’s name.

She sounded wrecked and though he knew how frustrating the punishment would be Shoto wanted to hear her calling out his name but she didn’t and every stuttered half formed syllable of his name had Shoto growling in frustration and redoubling his efforts. Katsuki found it all to amusing for Shoto’s liking, his mocking laughter the only thing he could hear as he gave Katsuki exactly what he wanted. “Think you’re slacking hot shot. Come on, though you were going to be good for me but this is just fucking pathetic. Nothings going near that desperate little prick of yours until she cums so unless you wanna stay like this all night I suggest you try harder,” Katsuki taunted him, not giving Shoto a chance to answer back before he was pressing his head back down and whatever Shoto had been about to say was lost as he pressed his tongue inside of her, covering it with ice and getting another loud cry as a reward.

Shoto’s jaw was begging to ache and he could feel her slick across his chin and starting to slip down his neck. She was so wet for him, her hips squirming to the point Katsuki had no choice but to let go of Shoto’s hair and grab hold of her hips to keep her still. He lamented the loss of the other mans controlling hold but it gave him more room to do what he wanted and Shoto didn’t waist his chance, dropping his chest down and tilting his head for a better angle. She was close, Shoto could feel it in the way she fluttered around his tongue, trying to clamp down on it and keep him as deep inside her as he could go. It wouldn’t take much more to push her over the edge, just a little something more and lucky enough Katsuki was more than happy to comply.

“Hold fucking still,” he growled, followed by the unmistakable crack and pop of his quirk going off, the sweet smell of nitroglycerin filling the air. Shoto timed it perfectly, a complete coincidence but still perfect none the less, his ice covered mouth heating beyond the point of normal just as Katsuki’s quirk crackled to life. Shoto sucked on her clit and his to hot tongue sliding across her. The effect was instantaneous. “Katsuki!” she screamed, her body going tense as she came, her hands scrambling for Shoto’s shoulders, her nails digging in. Shoto moaned at the combination of the taste of her and the sting of pain, pressing his tongue inside her and getting another gasp. He should feel annoyed about having the other mans name on her lips, should maybe feel grateful that she had managed to keep his name to herself but as he lapped up her release all Shoto could think was about how good it had felt to get her off and how much he wanted to be inside of her, his neglected and forgotten arousal suddenly at the forefront of his mind.

A small whimper came from above, Y/N trying to pullback from overstimulation but Shoto moved with her, rocking forward and curling his tongue. He could quiet happily stay there for a while, working her back up again and just enjoying the feeling of her grinding against his face but Katsuki had other ideas. Large hands curl around his biceps, none to gently pulling him up and Shoto was left with no choice but to allow it, his hands gripping at Y/N in an attempt to steady himself. Katsuki let go of his arms, curling one around his hip as he grips his jaw with the other. He looked at Shoto over Y/Ns shoulder, red eyes dark and full of hunger, Y/N still draped over him, her eyes closed and chest heaving.

“Look at you,” Katsuki practically purred, his thumb brushing against Shoto’s bottom lip and tugging at it gently. Shoto turned his head slightly, sucking Katsuki’s thumb into his mouth and letting his teeth graze across the sweet tasting flesh. Katsuki always tasted sweet, like burnt sugar and the taste of him mixing with Y/Ns own slightly sweet and musky one was addictive and had Shoto sucking harder at the digit, moaning shamelessly. Katsuki growled, thumb hooking behind his teeth and yanking Shoto towards him and suddenly they were kissing, Y/N trapped between them as Katsuki invaded Shoto’s mouth.

It was a filthy kiss, Katsuki licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue, his teeth nipping at Shoto’s bottom lip as he tried to lick Y/Ns taste from him. Shoto moaned into it, his hold on Y/N tightening as he shuffled forward, pressing himself against her as he let Katsuki completely dominate the kiss. The blonde never let go of him, his own hold tight and fingers digging in, keeping his mouth open for him to plunder.

There was a gentle hum and then Shoto felt another set of hands on him. One griped the other side of his hips to Katsuki, holding him still as the other slipped between their bodies and went straight to to Shoto’s straining erection. He tore his mouth away from Katsuki’s with a moan, hips jerking forward into her tight grip. She muffled her chuckle against his jaw, her lips trailing along until her mouth found Katsuki’s hand, her tongue cold as it snuck out between her lips and lapped at his fingers.

Shoto watched as Katsuki huffed, turning his head to once again mouth at her neck, sucking and nipping bruises over the already fading marks from before. Her hand had slowed, her grip light as she gently ghosted her fingers across him. It’s maddening and soon enough Shoto is whining, turning his head until his lips pressed against Katsuki’s palm. “Please,” he gasped, trying to role his hips forward into her light grasp but the hands on his hips tighten, both of them keeping Shoto in place and he groaned, both in frustration and desperation. Katsuki laughed, clearly amused by Shoto’s frustration and he knows he shouldn’t be this desperate, shouldn’t be considering begging already but it had been far to long and he just wanted to give in and let them take whatever they wanted from him.

“Such a pretty little thing when you get like this,” katsuki teased, pulling away from Y/Ns neck to watch as she liked between his fingers, her cool tongue finding the corner of Shoto’s lips. “What do you think love, does he deserve a reward for having such a filthy fucking mouth?” She doesn’t answer, not straight away as their mouths met between Katsuki’s fingers, tongues sliding against the others as best as they can considering Katsuki’s fingers are covering their lips. They can both taste Katsuki and Shoto knows she could taste herself on his tongue.

Her hand curls back around him, her thumb pressing against his slit and smearing his pre-cum across his head. It’s a deliberate action, slow yet with enough pressure behind it that it sent a spark of desire up his spine. She pulled away from his mouth just as he moaned, the sound loud in the room where he had expected it to be muffled. Katsuki’s hand shifts as she pulls away, his hand covering the bottom half of Shoto’s face as she turned to look up at the blonde. “Yes,” she said simply, her hand lazily moving across Shoto’s length. Neither of them pay him any attention, his hands twitching on her hips as she works him up at such a slow and teasing pace, his huffs and whines dampened behind Katsuki’s palm. The blonde smirked, eyes lighting up as he leant forward, bridging the small space between them and slotting his mouth over hers in a hard and demanding kiss.

It doesn’t last long, Katsuki pulling back was a satisfied hum. Shoto wanted to demand they go back to kissing, would have been happy to have his sounds muffled by Katsuki’s hand as Y/N got him off with her hand and just watching the two of them kiss. He doesn’t get that. Instead Katsuki pulls away, his hands leaving Shoto so he can help Y/N move so she isn’t leaning back against him. “Top of the bed,” Katsuki nudged her, jerking his head behind Shoto. She goes without complaint, lifting Shoto’s hands from her hips and placing them at his sides before she was slipping out from between them and off of the bed.

Shoto tried to turn and watch her as she walked past him but Katsuki’s hand darted out, grabbing hold of his chin and keeping his face turned towards him. Behind him he felt the bed shift, the matrices dipping as she climbed back up behind him. There was silence, the moment dragging on and Shoto wanted to look, wanted to know what was going on behind him but he felt trapped in Katsuki’s gaze and he knew that even if the blonde didn’t have a hold on him Shoto probably still wouldn’t be able to look away from him.

Shoto shifted, hands flexing at his sides and tongue darting out to lick at his lips. He could still taste the faint sweetness of Y/N clinging to them. Katsuki’s eyes followed the movement, letting out a small huff before letting go of Shoto and taking a step backwards, putting more space between them. “Back on your hands and knees,” he grunted, cross his arms over his chest and a bored look on his face. Shoto hesitate for just a second, wandering what his punishment would be if he just turned round instead and stole a kiss from Y/N. It would probably not be worth it but the thought of annoying Katsuki was tempting. Huffing he complied, shuffling back slightly before dropping down onto his hands. His fingers curled around the edge of the matrices as he settled into the new position, his head held high and looking at Katsuki in what he hoped was bored indifference, waiting for the blondes next command.

Katsuki doesn’t say anything, his eyes dragging across the two of them and just taking in the scene before him. Shoto doesn’t know what Y/N is doing behind him, doesn’t know how she has arranged herself at the head of the bed but however she is presenting herself has Katsuki’s eyes narrowing, a small frown tugging at his lips. He turns, taking the few steps back to the dresser before turning to face them again, leaning back against it, his hands gripping the edge and legs crossed at the ankles. “Well? Get on with it already before I change my mind,” he snaps, glaring past Shoto. He wants to ask what he is talking about but his words get stuck in his throat as two hands gently cup his ass.

Shoto sucks in a breath, eyes going wide as Y/Ns hands ever so gently slide inwards, her thumbs brushing against his crack before pulling his cheeks apart. The bed shifted, Katsuki’s bored look slipping into a wicked smirk. Her warm breath against his hole was the only warning he got before she dragged her tongue across him. Shoto moaned, head dropping forward and eyes closing as her tongue prodded and lapped at him, just like he had done to her just moments ago.

She didn’t waist time, pressing forward and wiggling her tongue against his opening, pushing the muscle into him. His mouth fell open on a breathless gasp, hips rocking back as she began to fuck her tongue into him, her lips sealing around his rim and sucking. “Be quiet,” Katsuki grumbled. Shoto’s head shot up, glaring at the blonde as he forced his mouth closed. He wasn’t looking at Shoto, eyes fixed on a point behind him and Shoto knew he was watching Y/N. She was probably watching Katsuki back, eyes alight with amusement and most likely taunting the blonde in some fashion, something she was prone to do when the three of them were like this.

Shoto was inclined to do what Katsuki asked but he couldn’t keep his noises in, mouth open as one moan transitioned into another. It felt good, always did when she got her mouth on him and it didn’t take long to have Shoto panting. She knew his body as well as he did hers and she could have him squirming in a matter of minutes. It was messy, Shoto able to feel how slick he was with her saliva, it left him feeling dirty and so perfect until her mouth pulled away from him with a slurp. He would have groaned at the loss but before the sound could make it past his lips Shoto felt a slick finger circling his hole, pressing down on him lightly.

Ever so slowly she pressed her finger inside of him, sinking the digit all the way in. Her movements were slow and measured as she pulled her finger out and pressed it back in. Shoto whined when he felt her breath against him, her tongue pressing in against her finger and stretching him wider to accommodate the both of them. He couldn’t help the moan that slipped free as she picked up the pace, her finger curling as she pressed into him.

“Shut up or I will make you,” Katsuki hissed, his gaze finally snapping down to Shoto. With a whine he managed to force his mouth shut, bitting down on his bottom lip as he tried to keep his lips pressed together. It was an impossible request and all three of them knew it. Shoto got loud when things were like this, ever since the first time Y/N had fucked him he had been unable to keep his noises to himself, crying out his pleasure like he was being paid for it and as her finger finally pressed against his prostate he knew that tonight would be no different and far to soon his mouth was falling open again, a loud cry falling from between his parted lips.

The sound had barely left his mouth before Katsuki was growling, stalking back across the small space to grab at Shoto’s braid and yanked his head back. Shoto cried out, head pulled back at an almost painful angle until he could feel tears pricking at his eyes. “I told you to shut the hell up,” he snarled, glaring down at Shoto, “guess I’ll just have to do it for you.” As he was talking Katsuki’s other hand went to his belt, deft fingers making quick work of his belt and zipper. “Open up princess,” he commanded, his hand shoving inside his underwear and Shoto was helpless to do anything other than let his mouth fall open, the lewd sounds of Y/N opening him up on her tongue and fingers drowned out by his own moans.

Katsuki shoved the band of his underwear down enough for his dick to spring free, the thing bobbing in front of Shoto’s face. Pre-cum pooled at the top, the shaft red and angry looking and Shoto desperately wanted it in his mouth. He didn’t have to wait long.

Griping the bottom of his shaft with one hand and holding Shoto’s head still with the other, Katsuki pushed forward, his erection forcing Shoto’s mouth wide as he slipped ever so slowly into him. Behind him Y/N pulled her mouth away, her finger slipping free only to come back with a second, the two of them pressing into him at the same maddeningly slow pace as Katsuki. His moan was muffled by Katsuki’s dick, pressing down on his tongue and forcing his mouth wide. Shoto’s fingers tightening in the sheets in an attempt to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing hold of the blonde. To pull him in or push him away Shoto didn’t know.

Above him Katsuki groaned, hips stilling and behind him Y/N did the same, her hand coming to a stop with her fingers all the way inside of him. Katsuki wasn’t as far into Shoto’s mouth as he could, a few inches still to go before his lips would be wrapped around his base but he knew that Shoto had his limits. Despite how often they did this his gag reflex wasn’t what Y/Ns was and if Katsuki tried to push into Shoto’s throat he would be choking in seconds.

They both held still, Y/Ns fingers not even twitching as she dragged her lips across the swell of his ass, her teeth nipping gently. It was maddening, Shoto wanting them to do something and soon enough he found himself rocking, trying to get them to move, to do something before he went insane. Above him Katsuki snarled, his free hand gripping Shoto’s jaw and his thumb digging in, forcing his mouth a little wider so he could push in a little further. Shoto gaged, eyes going wide as Katsuki nudged at the back of his throat. He looked up at the blonde with wide eyes, already feeling the tears pricking at his eyes.

“Hold fucking still or I’ll tie you to the bed,” Katsuki snapped, pressing forward until his dick was pressing into Shoto’s throat. He lasted all of five seconds before his throat started to burn, his eyes stinging and he looked up at Katsuki, silently begging him to move. The hard look in his eyes softened slightly, the grip on Shoto’s jaw loosening until his thumb was gently brushing along his bottom lip. He pulled back a little, easing the pressure on Shoto’s throat and letting him breath. “Just a little longer, you can do that for me can’t you?” he practically purred his words and Shoto whined around Katsuki’s dick, anticipating the strain on his throat whilst also dreading it.

Y/Ns lips brushed against the bottom of his spine, her fingers curling and twisting. He felt her smile, Katsuki’s eyes flickering up to her and his own lips curled up into a wicked looking smirk. His grip tightened on Shoto’s jaw again, fingers pressing against the edge of his lips. He didn’t give any warning, thrusting forward until he was as far back into Shoto’s throat as he could get. At the same time Y/N pressed her fingers in and up, rubbing them hard against his prostate and Shoto gagged, spluttering and moaning around the dick in his mouth. His throat constricted, breathing getting harder, eyes streaming and face heating up to the point he worried his quirk might activate.

Katsuki groaned, pulling out quickly and Shoto sagged forward, coughing and spluttering as he gasped for breath. “Shush, that’s it, just breath. You did so well, such a good boy for me,” Katsuki murmured softly, his thumb gently brushing along Shoto’s jaw. His softness was jarring in comparison to his previous rough treatment but Shoto welcomed it, turning his head to press his face more into Katsuki’s palm and breathing in his sweet scent.

The moment dragged on, Shoto regaining his breath and calming back down. Y/N grew bored quickly though, her fingers pressing against his prostate again and had Shoto jerking forward, a startled cry falling from his lips. Her gentle laughter vibrated against his spine, her fingers a constant pressure against his prostate that had his whole body shaking and want lighting up every nerve.

“How many?” Katsuki asked, never taking his eyes of Shoto. “Two.” He grunted at the answer, eyes intense as he watched Shoto falling apart between them. “Give him another.” Shoto whined at the loss, Y/N already pulling her fingers out of him before Katsuki had even finished talking and leaving Shoto feeling empty. Just as quickly though she was back, three fingers pressing into him slowly. He hissed at the added stretch, pressing back against the intrusion until he could feel her thumb and pinky pressing against him. Katsuki smirked at Shoto’s desperation, watching him in amusement as he rocked back on her fingers. It wasn’t enough though, Y/N purposely keeping her fingers pointed away from his prostate. It still felt good, still had Shoto panting but he wanted more and he knew Katsuki was the only person who was going to give him that. He wouldn’t let Shoto have it for nothing though, he had to give Katsuki something first and there was only one thing he was in a position to give the blonde in that moment of time.

Shoto opened his mouth expectantly, his tongue hanging out as he looked up Katsuki and waited. The blonde arched an eyebrow at him, “you want something love?” Shoto dropped his eyes down to the dick just inches away from his face, the shaft red and tip glistening before looking back up at the other man. “Oh, you want my dick in your mouth, is that it?” Katsuki dragged his thumb across Shoto’s bottom lip, the digit sliding into his mouth and pressing down on his tongue. “You want me to fuck your face as she opens your ass up? Wanna be full at both ends like the greedy little slut you are?” Shoto moaned around his thumb, sucking it eagerly in hopes to get his point across. He might not be as good at giving head as Y/N but he still always managed to get Katsuki off.

His grip on Shoto’s hair tightened, yanking his head back with his braid and thumb forcing his mouth to stay open. “Tough shit,” he growled angrily, glaring at Shoto, “this isn’t about you princess. You will get what you are given and be fucking thankful for it.” Snarling he shoved Shoto’s head to the side, letting go of him and stepping back, Shoto’s hair tickling against his back before sliding off to the side. “Make him cry-“ Katsuki snapped as he walked over to the chair in the corner, tucking himself back into his suit pants and zipping them back up, “but he’s not to cum, not till I say he can.” He felt Y/Ns lips curl up into a smirk, teeth scrapping against his hip and then her fingers were gone, slipping out of him quickly and leaving him gasping. He didn’t have time to question what was happening before hands gripped tightly at his waist and Shoto found himself being flipped over onto his back.

Y/N smirked down at him, her hands curling around his thighs and pushing them further apart. “You ready lyubov?’ she asked softly, her hands gently rubbing up and down his thighs. Shoto swallowed, licking at his suddenly dry lips and unable to look away from her. Every mark Katsuki had left on her had faded, all apart from the red handprints on her hips, a mark that was unmistakable Katsuki’s. Shoto wanted to add his own, wanted to see his hand prints burned into her thighs, her ribs, her neck but Katsuki wouldn’t allow it, not tonight any way. Maybe in the morning.

“Get the fuck on with it,” Katsuki snarled. Shoto turned his head slightly finding Katsuki sat in the chair, his legs spread wide and head resting on his hand, his elbow propped up on the arm. He looked bored, swirling the glass of whiskey in his other hand and not even looking at them. Shoto didn’t like that, feeling like he couldn’t hold the other man’s attention, like he wasn’t good enough.

A gentle hand on his cheek had him turning his head back, Shoto’s eyes staying fixed on Katsuki until Y/Ns wrist blocked his vision. She was smiling softly at him, an understanding in her eyes. “Let’s give him a show hum?” she winked at him, her hand gently caressing his face. Shoto licked at his lips agains, his eyes dropping down to Katsuki’s hand prints before darting back to hers. He nodded. Her smile grew, a dark and mischievous glitter in her eyes before she winked at him and ducked down.

Shoto groaned as her mouth swallowed him down once more, her tongue pressing against the vein on the underside of his shaft. Unlike last time she showed no restraint, her head bobbing up and down as she sucked and licked at him and as there had been no instruction not to Shoto didn’t hesitate to slide his fingers into her hair, his hands curling around her skull. He didn’t try and hurry her pace, didn’t try to guide her movements, just held on and let her do what she wanted.

Humming she grabbed hold of his leg, guiding it over her shoulder and Shoto moaned, back arching and heel digging into her back as she swallowed him down. Slick and warm fingers pressed against his ass, pushing into him in one quick and sure movement. Her fingers found his prostate instantly, rubbing against it and heating up ever so slightly. With a cry his hips jerked up, his leg hooked over her shoulder attempting to keep her pressed down but she barely seemed to notice it. She was relentless, sucking and licking at Shoto’s erection, her hand moving steadily as she fucked him with three fingers and Shoto was helpless but to lay there and take it, moaning and hips stuttering, unable to decide if he wanted to press down on her fingers or up into her mouth.

A deep chuckle came from the side and with difficulty Shoto managing to turn his head to look back at Katsuki. He was still in the same position, head still resting on his hand and watching them but the bored look was gone, red eyes dark and a smirk tugging at his lips. “You feeling good slut?” Shoto groaned, hands twitching in Y/Ns hair as she pulled off of his erection, her tongue lapping at his slit as she spread her fingers inside of him, stretching him open. “I could keep you like this for hours Sho. Let her play with you until your over sensitive and crying from it. Could even get the cock ring out, just to be extra mean. You want that princess?” Katsuki swirled his glass of whisky, watching Shoto with a knowing and wicked glint in his eye.

“No!” he cried out, back arching once more as Y/N swallowed him back down, humming as she sunk her lips back down and sucked. Shoto groaned, his whole body feeling like it was sparking as she continued to work him open, her fingers pressing against his prostate almost constantly. “No? You want something else?” Shoto was so close, could feel it coiling in his gut. “Please,” he gasped, eyes fixed to Katsuki as he begged him to let him cum. “Please what?” he raised an eyebrow at him, smirk still visible as he lifted his glass to lips. “Let me cum,” he groaned, his fingers tightening in Y/Ns hair and forcing her head back down onto his dick as he ground back onto her fingers.

Katsuki smirked viciously, flashing his teeth as he leaned forward slightly. “No,” he snarled gleefully, red eyes alight as Shoto whined, turning away from the blonde to look up at the ceiling. It’s a struggle, Shoto squeezing his eyes closed and trying to fight back against the rolling wave of heat coiling inside of him. It was impossible though, Y/N grinding her fingers against his sweet spot and sucking eagerly at his swollen member. He didn’t stand a chance and as she hummed around him Shoto felt himself teetering on the edge, his mouth opening on a gasp and back bowing. “Enough,” Katsuki growled, his words cutting through Shoto’s lust filled mind like a knife.

“NO!” Shoto cried out, eyes snapping open and clutching desperately at Y/Ns head as she began to pull back, her fingers already slipping free with a squelch. Her touch is gentle as she prizes his fingers from her hair, easing his leg back down to the bed and Shoto actually sobs as she pulls away from him completely, shuffling back towards the pillows and turning to look expectantly at Katsuki.

Shoto lay there, his whole body feeling like it’s vibrating, staring up at the ceiling and trying to even out his breathing. He wants to throw something at Katsuki, wants to turn and snarl and demand he be given what he wants. He won’t though, knows that the closest he will get to that is glaring and snapping because as much as he hates it, hates how mean Katsuki can be, he loves it all the same. He likes when Katsuki takes control, likes it when he gets a little rough, a little demanding because Shoto likes to please and no one more so than Katsuki and Y/N. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t find the whole thing frustrating to point he’s considering giving Katsuki what he wants and start begging like a dog for scraps.

“Come on hot shot, get your shit together, you ain’t done yet.” Frowning Shoto turned his head to look at Katsuki. The blonde is looking at him the exact same way when Shoto fails to understand a social situation correctly, like he’s an idiot and Katsuki wants to smack him round the head. Scoffing he jerked his head towards the end of the bed before looking away to the side, taking another sip of his drink. Still frowning Shoto pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked towards Y/N.

She was reclining back against the pillows, propped up in her elbows and smiling. Her knees where bent, one brought up higher than the other and her hips turned to the side slightly so one thigh blocked his view of her pussy. She tipped her head to the side slightly, bitting down on her bottom lip and looking at him from under hooded eyes. She looked tempting like that, her gaze warming Shoto in a way that only hers and Katsuki’s attention could. His dick twitched as he dragged his eyes across her, the desire to touch her, to have her sky rocketing and Katsuki had given him permission

Smiling Shoto didn’t waist any time twisting round to get on his hands and knees, crawling up the bed towards her, his braid sliding off his shoulder and the end pooling on the bed. His hands landed on her ankles, sliding up her legs as he moved closer, pushing them apart to make room for him. She moans softly as his hands slide up her thighs, thumbs digging into the muscle slightly before he let go of her, dropping down onto his arms. He leant in, placing a quick kiss on her sex before making his way higher, kissing and nipping his way up her body. Her skin was warm under his lips and out of habit he lets them get colder, a thin layer of ice covering the inside of his mouth and tongue.

She gasps at the first touch, her body stiffening for a moment before she goes lax again. Tipping his head Shoto sucked a nipple onto his mouth, dragging his teeth gently across the pebbled flesh before dragging his ice covered tongue across it. He doesn’t stay their long, moving onto to the other and giving it the same treatment before moving on, kissing his way up her chest and on to her neck. She hummus softly, tipping her head and giving him better access. Shoto drags his lips along her neck, up to the underside of her jaw and nipping gently, delighting in the small and sharp intake of breath. He presses his lips against her pulse, letting the temperature drop dangerously until she was crying out, a hand coming up to curl around the back of his neck. When he pulls back the skins red and blistered, the shape of his lips standing out perfectly against her skin.

Smirking Shoto lifted his head, finding almost black eyes looking back at him. He doesn’t look away as he moves closer, his lips warming so when they brush against hers it’s just a gentle tingle of temperature difference. Her hand flexes on the back of his neck, pulling him forward that last little bit until their lips are pressed firmly together. They both moan, Shoto’s eyes closing as he deepens the kiss, his tongue pushing between her lips. It’s slow, languid, the two of them pressed together and just enjoying the feel of the other against them. There’s no rush and though Shoto can still feel his arousal humming through his body its not as insistent, fading to a gentle need whilst he enjoys the kiss. It doesn’t last long.

Something hits the side of his head and Shoto jerks his head away from Y/N with a grunt, startled by the sudden contact. Frowning he looks down, eyes narrowing even more when they land on the foil wrapper of a condom. Slowly he turned to look over his shoulder at the other man, Katsuki glaring back at him with mild irritation, “before I grow old and die.” Shoto huffed, rolling his eyes at the other mans impatience but he still leaned back on his hunches, snatching up the condom and quickly getting it open and on.

As soon as it was on he grabbed for Y/Ns ankles, pulling her down the bed and towards him, her gentle laughter filling the room. She draped her arms over his shoulder, fingers tangling in the lose strands of hair that had come free from his braid. She pulled him down toward her, smiling softly as she hooked one leg over his waist. His erection brushed against her slick folds, sliding across her and Shoto moaned softly, the anticipation building up inside of him again. Tightening her hold on him Y/N arched her back grinding against him, her words teasing as Shoto tipped his head forward and buried his face in her neck. “What you waiting for?”

Huffing Shoto shifted, bracing one arms on the bed next to her head and his other hand dropping down to his erection, warm finger wrapping around it and guiding it towards her entrance. They both moaned as he slowly slipped in to her, Shoto letting go of his member to grip at her thigh. She was tight and warm, Shoto sinking into her in one slow and smooth thrust. Shoto stilled once he was fully inside, his head resting on her shoulder and breathing deeply as he tried to calm himself down.

She nudged at his cheek with her nose, getting Shoto to turn his head enough that she could slot their lips together again. The kiss is sweet, no tongue demanding entrance, no teeth nipping at the others lips, just the slow and gentle movements of their lips pressing together. He doesn’t take his lips of her’s as he pulls his hips back and then thrusts back in just as slowly, muffling her gasp with his lips.

Everything about it is slow and gentle, Shoto only pulling his lips away from hers long enough to pull in a much needed breath but even then they don’t leave her skin, kissing and nipping at her jaw and neck before finding their way back to her lips for another kiss. They were both panting, breath mingling as Shoto steadily rolled his hips, what they were doing closer to love making than fucking but it felt just as good. Shoto was worked up, having been close to the edge one to many times and even the slow and steady pace he had going was enough to have that hot coil tightening in his gut.

“AH!” Shoto cried out, hips slamming forward and head snapping up as a warm palm came down on his ass, hard. Under him Y/N gasped, her hands tightening around his neck as her back arched, pressing her breasts against his chest. Shoto’s hips stilled, pressed as deep into her as he could and breathing heavily. His ass stung, the hit having caught him across the cheek and he knew without looking that Katsuki’s hand print would probably be standing out in stark relief against his pale skin.

Katsuki laughed, something mean and dark as he groped at Shoto’s ass, one hand splaying perfectly over the mark he had already left behind. “You didn’t think I was going to let you keep that up, did you,” Katsuki’s voice was light and teasing but his gripped tightened, his blunt nails digging into Shoto’s ass. He hissed at the sting, his own grip tightening on Y/Ns thigh and hips grinding forward. “You told me to get on with it, not how to do it,” Shoto snarked back, knowing the moment the words had left his mouth that he had made a mistake.

The room stilled, like the world was holding its breath. Shoto groaned in frustration, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face in Y/Ns neck. Her hold on him loosened, one hand staying curled around his neck as she gently brushed her fingers down his neck and back in what was probably meant as a calming gesture. “You little shit,” Katsuki snarled and then his hand came down hard on the other side of his ass, the crack of his quirk masking the sound of skin hitting skin. “FUCK!” Shoto shouted, pressing his face harder into the crock of Y/Ns neck. It hurt, pain radiating from where Katsuki had hit and the skin burning with it but underneath the sting of pain was a zing of pleasure, Y/N clenching around him and moaning in his ear.

“You want to play it that way then fine,” Katsuki growled. Shoto didn’t have time to even contemplate what Katsuki might do before the other man was grabbing at his braid again, twisting it around his hand before yanking Shoto’s head backward. He cried out, hands scrambling to brace himself on the bed as Katsuki pulled him backwards until his back was bowing. His eyes flew open, wide and slightly panicked as he looked down at Y/N. Her hands had fallen from his neck and shoulders, her leg having slipped from his waist. Instead her hands curled around his forearms, thumbs gently rubbing against the inside of his elbows. She’s looking up at him with what he thinks is sympathy but she makes no move to stop what Katsuki is doing. That’s up to him to do, to offer up his safe word and instead end up with gentle hands and sweet kisses. Shoto licks at his lips, pulling in a deep breath and then forces himself to relax.

“You want me to tell you what to do then here it is princess. You’re going to fuck her like you mean it and until I feel like you are giving her everything your ungrateful and pathetic ass can I’m going to continue to turn your ass as red as your fucking shitty hair. Is that direction enough?” Katsuki snarled, tugging at Shoto’s hair and forcing his head back even more to the point it was becoming uncomfortable. “I asked you a question, slut. Is that direction enough?” Katsuki brought his hand down across Shoto’s ass, his palm warm on his cold skin and his wedding ring digging in. “YES!” Shoto cried out, tears prickling at his eyes. “Then get the hell on with it.” Katsuki’s hold on his hair loosens, not enough for him to hang his head between his arms like he wants to but enough to ease the strain on his neck.

He pulls in a shaky breath, eyes finding Y/Ns once more. Her hand slide up his arms, fingers curling around his biceps. She nods her head once, giving him the permission he had been seeking and Shoto pulls his hips back until only the tip of his dick remains inside of her. He holds there for a second, enjoying the way her walls flutter around him before he unceremoniously thrusts back into her hard and fast. Her eyes go wide, head tipping back and mouth falling open on a cry.

Shoto doesn’t stop, doesn’t give either of them a chance to breath before he’s pulling back and shoving straight back in, moaning lowly as he sets a fast and unforgiving pace. The room fills with the slap of skin on skin and their ragged breathing. There’s no gentleness, just Shoto taking and taking, fucking into her like it’s the last thing he will ever do. “Harder,” Katsuki snarled, his hand coming down hard on Shoto’s ass and making his hips jerk forward. Clenching his jaw against the moan that wants to escape Shoto puts all his weight on one arm, hooking the other under her knee and pulling her leg up and out, splaying her open for him and picks up the pace.

It’s desperate and dirty, Y/N gasping and moaning, her nails biting into his arm as her grip tightens. It’s not like they hadn’t fucked like this before, Shoto consumed by his needs and uncaring of the marks he had left behind on her but it was always his choice, he decision to act like an animal, never because Katsuki had dictated it. He hated being forced into it but at the same time he could feel the heat coiling in his gut, muscles tensing as he raced ever closer to his climax.

“I said fuck her like you mean it, you useless fucking whore,” Katsuki snapped, bringing his hand down in three quick smacks, one on each cheek and the last low and between the two, dangerously close to his balls. It had Shoto flinging his head back, eyes screwing shut as he practically screamed at the sting on his sensitive skin. Panting he kept his eyes closed, dropping his hips and going as hard and fast as he physically can. His ass hurts, burning from the abuse and the three quick smacks had managed to chase of his impending orgasm but it was slowly building back up as he fucked into Y/N, her walls tightening around him as she raced closer to her own release. He knew her though, knew that this wouldn’t be enough for her to reach climax. If he moved though, dropping down onto one arm so he could get the other between them. It would pull at his hair, Katsuki not likely to ease his hold on it. It would hurt, that much was obvious but would it be worth it to finally find his release?

Another smack landed on his ass, Katsuki’s hand crackling with his quirk and sending a spark of heat out and up his spine. It wasn’t as bad as the others but he landed the hit directly on top of another one, the sting that much worse for it. “FUCK KATSUKI!” he cried out, jerking forward into Y/N, her sharp cry mixing in with his own. Behind him Katsuki laughed, “since you asked so nicely.” There was another quick slap to Shoto’s ass, this one more of a tap than anything and then Katsuki was gone, Shoto’s braid falling across his shoulder to pool on The bed once more.

He barely even registered Katsuki’s words, his mind clouded as he continued his almost frenzied pace. It wasn’t until he felt the brush of Katsuki’s suit trousers against his thigh, the bed dipping under the other mans weight that recognition sparked. “Don’t stop,” Katsuki grumbled, pinching at Shoto’s thighs when his thrusts started to slow. He yelped, picking up the pace again. His head fell forward, head resting against her shoulder and panting into her warm skin. Shoto was hyper aware of the man behind him though, the rustle of his clothes seeming loud in the room. “I hope your ready,” Y/N purred, nipping at Shoto’s ear and all he could do was moan, his lips dragging across her neck.

There was the crinkle of a wrapper, the snap of a bottle of lube being opened and then Y/Ns hands were sliding over his shoulders and down his back, her nails digging in to his still stinging ass as she pulled his cheeks apart. She rolled her hips up, meeting his thrusts and trying to pull him tighter against him. Shoto sucked in a breath as Katsuki’s slicked fingers brushed against his hole, pressing in as Shoto pushed back, his pace faltering slightly at the added sensation.

They had barely even pressed in to him before they were gone and something bigger was pushing against him. Shoto stilled, hips stuttering to a stop as Katsuki presses into him in one effortless thrust. It stung slightly, always did considering they didn’t do this often but Y/N had opened him up enough that it was bearable. Katsuki moaned behind him, something deep and rumbling, his hands flexing on Shoto’s hips. “Shit,” he hissed, hips stilling and buried as deep as he could get in Shoto, holding him still as he tried to regain his composure.

It was almost to much, Shoto feeling full and stretched to his limit whilst also being surrounded by the tight wet heat of Y/N. He pulled in a deep breath, cold air puffing out against Y/Ns heated skin and causing her to shiver. He felt like he was balancing on a knifes edge, to close to slipping and ending it all if either one of them moved. But they would and Shoto knew he wouldn’t last long after that.

One of Katsuki’s hands slid up Shoto’s back, his fingers curling around the side of his neck and thumb rubbing firmly at the top of his spine, the action soothing and helping to ground Shoto’s fraying nerves. “Always so tight and fucking perfect for me,” Katsuki groaned and Shoto couldn’t help but feel a wave of satisfaction and pride roll over him at the blondes comments. Katsuki’s hand moved from his neck, Shoto able to feel him pulling at his braid and undoubtedly wrapping it around his hand. He tugged at it gently until Shoto lifted his head so he could feel Y/Ns breath against his lips. His eyes fluttered open finding their faces close, their noses just brushing and breaths mingling. She was almost to close to focus, Shoto’s eyes falling closed again as he brushed their lips together in a barely there kiss.

A sharp tug on his hair had him pulling back with a hiss, Shoto turning his head enough to glare over his shoulder at Katsuki. He’s smirking, still in the remains of his suit and from the looks of it having only opened his trousers enough to get his dick out. He had a flush to his cheeks, red eyes dark and his eyeliner still perfectly done though his hair showed signs of having had fingers running through it. “I told you not to stop,” Katsuki smirked, raising an eyebrow at Shoto.

Never braking eye contact Katsuki began to pull out, just as slowly as he had pushed into him until just the head of his erection remained inside. “Come on love-“ Katsuki teased, the endearment sound almost mocking, “fuck her.” The hand on Shoto’s hip moved, hooking under Y/Ns knee and lifting her leg up and out, spreading her wider for him. “Please Shoto,” Y/N begged against the underside of his jaw, her lips cool against his left side. Groaning Shoto shut his eyes, turning his head back round and dropping his head as much as Katsuki grip would allow to find her lips in a deep kiss, his tongue invading her mouth instantly. She moaned into it, her hands flexing on his ass and getting notably colder, the almost icy touch easing some of the sting of Katsuki’s smacks.

Shoto pulled his lips away from hers, mouth sliding to her cheeks as he pulled in a deep breath. It was the only moment he gave himself to prepare for what was to come before he snapped his hips back and impaled himself on Katsuki’s erection. The grip on his hair tightened, Katsuki moaning loudly as Shoto muffled his own against Y/Ns jaw. Without taking a breath Shoto thrust forward again, the drag of Katsuki inside of him only matched by the clutch of Y/N around him.

Shoto set a fast pace, trying to get back to how he had been fucking Y/N before. It was maddening, how good it felt, Katsuki hitting his prostate on every other thrust and Y/N clenching around him as if she was trying to keep him inside. Her hands didn’t move from his ass, her grip tight and holding him open for Katsuki. The three of them were a mess of moans and gasps, Shoto trying desperately to keep some kind of rhythm but the closer he got to cumming the harder it became and soon he found himself faltering, his head dropping back down to Y/Ns shoulder and teeth digging in as he bit down, trying to muffle his wanton cries against her skin. He was close, his ass clenching down on Katsuki as the knot in his gut tightened. Bitting down harder he tried to force it back down, tried not to think about how good he felt being split open on Katsuki’s dick and fucking into Y/N but it was impossible not to, the pleasure making Shoto feel like he was vibrating with it.

The grip in his hair tightened and once again Shoto found his head being yanked backwards. His back arching as he thrust backwards onto Katsuki and ripping a loud cry from between his dry lips. “Oh no sweetheart. You don’t get to cum, not yet. Not till we do,” Katsuki growled, yanking on Shoto’s hair and snapping his hips forward. He wanted to sob, the desperate pleads for mercy on the tip of his tongue but he knew it wouldn’t get him anywhere, nor would asking Y/N to get herself off. Katsuki had made it clear that was Shoto’s job and if he didn’t perform the way Katsuki wanted there would be a punishment that Shoto knew he didn’t want.

Groaning he tugged at Katsuki’s hold slightly, the blonde easing his grip and allowing Shoto to drop down onto one arm. The position was awkward but Shoto managed to get his hand between them, his arm twisting until his hand was splayed across her lower abdomen, his thumb slipping between her slick folds to press against her clit. He warmed the digit, rubbing it firmly against her as he tried to pick up his rhythm again. A loud moan fell from her parted lips, Y/N tipping her head back against the pillows, her hips arching up into his messy thrusts and walls tightening around him. Shoto groaned at the added tightness, barely pushing back into Katsuki before he was thrusting forward again.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Katsuki growled in warning, pulling Shoto’s head back and forcing him to curve his spine once more. He sounded strained, like he was fighting back his own impending orgasm and Shoto couldn’t help but smirk at that, knowing the blonde was as close as he was. Katsuki let go of Y/Ns leg, his hand going back to Shoto’s hip and gripping it tightly. There would be bruises come morning, five little splotches of purple and yellow on Shoto’s pale skin that would be there for a few days to come. Bruises that all three of them would take great joy in prodding and poking.

“Please Katsuki,” Y/N whined as she tried to grind up against Shoto, desperately searching for her own release. “Yes,“ Katsuki hissed, his hips jerking forward into Shoto and forcing him as deep into Y/N as he could get. All three of them moaned, Y/N letting out a sharp cry that Shoto would recognise anywhere. She was close and Shoto tried to move his thumb quicker, pressing down and heating the digit up as he rubbed circles into her clit. “Come on Shoto, make her cum. Make her squeeze her tight little cunt around your dick and fucking scream my name.” Katsuki’s snarled out words had Shoto whining, hips rocking in quick sharp movements as he tried to get Y/N to cum before he did.

It didn’t take long, Y/N going tense under him. Her body arched against his, head thrown back and mouth open as she cried out Katsuki’s name to the ceiling. Her walls clenched around Shoto, gripping his dick tightly and it was only a miracle that kept him from coming in that moment. She whimpered and Shoto instantly showed his pace, quickly moving his hand away from her sensitive clit and braced himself against the bed. Shoto had every intention of stopping, of letting Y/N catch her breath and crawl out from under him so Shoto could sink down into the sheets and let Katsuki fuck him until he was crying with the need to cum but it seemed the blonde had other ideas.

Katsuki groaned, his grip on Shoto getting impossibly tighter. “My turn hot shot,” he teased and Shoto didn’t need to see him to know he was grinning like a maniac, all teeth and menacing. Katsuki was relentless, snapping his hip forward in quick sharp movements that had Shoto practically grinding into Y/N. She gasped, hands slipping from where she had been gripping at his ass to curl around the top of his thighs. Shoto could do nothing more than gasp, arms trembling as Katsuki continued to fuck into him hard and fast, his grip on Shoto’s hip keeping them up and at the perfect angle for him to hit his prostate, sending shockwaves of pleasure shooting up his spine like electricity.

“Please,” he gasped, finally giving in as he fought to keep his impending orgasm back. “Again,” Katsuki growled, pulling Shoto’s head back even more with one sharp tug on his hair. “PLEASE!” he screamed, eyes going wide and hands scrambling to push himself up onto his hands and knees, pressing back into Katsuki’s thrusts only to be pushed forward and back into Y/N with the force it. “Please what? What do you want Shoto?” Eyes wide and slightly blurry he looked down at Y/N silently pleading for help. Her eyes still dark and full of arousal, flicked up to Katsuki. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, stifling her own little moan. Her eyes slid back to him, her grip on the back of his thighs tightening as she pulled him closer to her, urging him to continue. She gave him a quick nod, more of a jerk of her head before she let it fall back against the pillows and watched them with dark and hazy eyes.

“Want you to cum,” Shoto gasped, beginning to rock his hips back into Katsuki’s thrusts and letting the blonde drive him back into Y/N. “Please Katsuki. I want you to cum in me. Give it to me. Please Katsuki, Please,” Shoto begged, letting go of anything that had been keeping him from doing so. He didn’t look away from Y/N the whole time, gasping and moaning and just watching the shift on her face as she bit back her own sounds.

“FUCK!” Katsuki growled out, his pace picking up as his steady rhythm began to falter. “Such a fucking greedy slut for it. You want it? Want me to fill you up, huh slut?” Shoto moaned at Katsuki’s words, hurtling towards his end and desperately trying to keep it at bay. He wanted that, wanted to feel Katsuki’s cum sliding out of him and dripping down his thighs, to feel the man’s claim on him. He knew that Katsuki wouldn’t do that, that it was all talk in the heat of the moment but it didn’t stop him from groaning out a desperate ‘please’.

That’s all it seemed to take, Katsuki groaning loud and almost animalistic. His thrusts stuttered, grinding against Shoto’s sore ass as he finally came. “Cum for me,” he managed to grit out, continuing to grind against Shoto and like he had been waiting for the blondes permission that tight coiling feeling in his gut snapped and Shoto finally came, his whole body lighting up with it. It ripped through him, Shoto’s eyes screwing shut as he called out Katsuki’s name like it was the only thing he knew, all his muscles tensing as a bright white light burst behind his eyes.

Vaguely he was aware of Katsuki cursing, his hold on Shoto loosening and his arms finally gave out, Shoto collapsing forward onto Y/N, burying his face in her neck and practically gasping for breath. His whole body was shaking, his dick twitching and dragging little whimpers out of him. “Sush moy prints*. You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Y/N whispered into his ear, her voice a low and soothing murmur even if she did sound slightly breathless. Her hands were gently running up and down his back, Shoto completely unaware of when she had moved them and he let himself sink into the gentleness.

He groaned as Katsuki’s pulled out, the blonde holding his hips still to stop him trying to squirm. As soon as Katsuki had slipped free Shoto let himself his lower half down, practically putting all his weight all on Y/N. She didn’t complain though, just wrapped her legs around his and started to hum, her fingers ever so lightly dancing up and down his spine. It was soothing and Shoto quickly found his eyes dropping as his earlier tiredness started to creep back in, his ragged breathing evening out slightly and his rapidly beating heart gradually starting to slow.

He was sedated, his body aching but in a pleasant way and held in Y/Ns warm embrace he was content, quiet happy to let sleep take him. “Oi! Don’t fall asleep,” Katsuki barked and Shoto jerked awake, eyes heavy as he opened them. “Leave him be Katsuki. He’s had a long day.” Shoto murmured his agreement to that, letting his eyes close again and nuzzling into the crock of her neck. It had been a really long day and Katsuki had left him feeling exhausted and he thought he deserved to sleep for at least ten hours. Would be even better if those ten hours were spent with his head resting on Y/Ns breast and Katsuki curled around him.

“I know that-” Katsuki snapped, the sound of clothes rustling as the blonde assumedly started to take his suit off, “but his fat ass will crush you and I am not dealing with you bitching about cramped thighs and crushed tits.” Y/N huffed, shifting slightly as if to get more comfortable and prove Katsuki wrong but the movement reminded Shoto that he was still inside of her. “Not fat,” he grumbled but he moves all the same, groaning as her walls flutter around his softened and sensitive dick. He’s slowly and lethargic, not even opening his eyes as he blindly gropes at himself to pull the condom off. Someone takes it from him and he mumbles his thanks before moving to the side and dropping back down onto the bed.

He snuggles into Y/Ns side, one arm sling over her waist and head resting on her chest, one leg still tangled around hers. He tucks his head under her chin, Y/N humming in what he thinks is content as she snuggles into him, her arm wrapping around him so her fingers can continue their gentle stroking along his spine. “Why are you always so useless after sex?” Katsuki mumbles, the bed dipping as he sits on the edge behind Shoto. He should take offence to that but Katsuki wasn’t necessarily wrong. Shoto did like to cuddle afterwards and when he was this tired he did become rather useless until he had at least gotten a nap. Maybe he was just getting old.

Yawning Shoto was mostly on his way to being asleep when he felt Katsuki’s hands on his tenders ass, his touch as gentle as it could be as he began to rub a soothing cream into his abused flesh. “Hurts,” he hissed, his body tensing slightly. It stung more than anything, the cream cold and easing some of the burn just like Y/Ns cold hands had. He would be tender the next day, would probably be able to feel it every time he moved let alone sat down and he would have to be careful around the boys unless they started to ask questions that he would need Y/N to help get him out off.

“Sorry,” Katsuki mumbled, his thumbs pressing into the underside of his cheeks. “Kiss it better,” Shoto mumbled jokingly, wrapping himself tighter around Y/N. She snorted, pressing her smile into Shoto’s forehead, her hand stilling and fingers slipping under his braid to rub at the base of his skull. “Cheeky little shit,” Katsuki huffed, pinching at the top of Shoto’s thigh. He let out a little yelp, trying to jerk away from the new sting but Katsuki’s hand curled around his thigh, keeping him in place. Shoto lifted his head enough to look over his shoulder and glared at the other man, Katsuki raising an eyebrow at him and a small smirk tugging up the corner of his lips. He was naked now, sat by Shoto’s hips and body turned towards them. He didn’t brake eyes contact as he leant down, brushing his lips gently across the swell of Shoto’s ass. He sucked in a breath, Katsuki smirking as he placed a delicate kiss on one of the red splotches Shoto could see.

“All better,” Katsuki mumbled, pulling away from Shoto and climbing off the bed. Groaning he let his head fall back to Y/Ns chest, ignoring both hers and Katsuki’s laughter. He listened to Katsuki moving around, turning off lights and moving clothes out of the way so none of them would trip over them in there sleep heavy haze in the morning, mumbling and cursing about Y/Ns abandoned dress. The bed dipped again as Katsuki climbed in, throwing another blanket over them so Shoto wouldn’t have to move off the duvet. He was far to comfy now and moving would just be a request to far for his tired mind and exhausted body.

Katsuki slips in next to him, pressing his chest against Shoto’s side and draping his arm across him to rest his hand on Y/Ns stomach. Her hand moves from Shoto’s hair, giving Katsuki room to nuzzle at the base of his neck, pressing a few light kisses there. “Love you,” Shoto mumbled, voice heavy with sleep. “ya tozhe tebya lyublyu moy prints,” Y/N whispered against the top of his head, brushing a kiss against his forehead. “What she said,” Katsuki grumbled against his back, sounding just as tired as Shoto felt. There was the sharp smack of skin hitting skin, Katsuki grunting. “Fucking fine. I love you too,” he grumbled, shoving his face against the back of Shoto’s neck.

Shoto hummed, letting the silence settle over him and finally let sleep sink in. He was warm and content, wrapped within the others embrace and sure he could probably do with a shower again but he didn’t want to move for anything over than a life or death emergency. Vaguely he was aware of Katsuki and Y/N talking over him but he couldn’t pick out what they were saying, the gentle murmur of their voices easing him deeper into sleep. His body ached, a pleasant buzz thrumming through his body and making him feel lose and relaxed.

Shoto wanting to return the favour and he very much liked the idea of tying Katsuki to the bed, cock ring in place as he and Y/N used him for their own pleasure, until he was crying from frustration and over stimulation. It was a tempting idea and as he finally gave into sleep, his dreams were filled with tear filled red eyes and a look of desperation.

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