#the contrast of how i grew up is SLAMMING into how i live now and it's cacophonous

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Every so often realizing how badly I was fucked up by a 10 year friendship abruptly ending and cracking open to reveal an utter emotional CHASM

[mrsriddlenott]

The Fifth Day Of Smutmas

[smutmas masterlist][main masterlist]

~ Decorate With Me ~

Alpha!Mattheo Riddle x Bratty Omega!Reader

Summary: Alpha!Mattheo is too lazy to decorate the house for the holiday’s, thinking it useless, you however entice him to decorate one thing at a time as you strip for him, teasing him and escaping his grasp until all that’s left to do is place the ornaments on the tree, leaving him to decorate you.

- kinda AU but not really, Omegaverse and no mentions of magic, implied businessman Mattheo bc thats hot☺️ -

Warnings: 18+ Content!! Language, SexualTeasing, Stripping,Marking Kink, HairPulling(only a lil),Unprotected PinV, Cumplay, Breeding Kink, Consensual Sexual Punishment, D/S Dynamics.

“Come on Matty, pleeease” You begged, standing over Mattheo where he sat, his navy colored business suit contrasting the black leather of the large couch.

“I said no. What’s gotten into you, you always listen to me why the fuck aren’t you now?” He rolled his beautiful eyes away from yours and back to the book in front of him that gripped his attention in this moment far too much for your liking.

“I told you, I want you to decorate with me.” You pouted, crossing your arms and poking your hip out defiantly, “Me and my family decorated every year, and now that we live together you have to too. You’re just holding it off because you’re lazy, you put the tree up weeks ago and it’s still empty.” You sighed, pointing your arm in the direction of the large, bare Christmas tree.

“I think you’re forgetting that I do not have to do anything Princess, and you calling me lazy is rather funny considering I work for the money that pays for everything you can ever desire. So please decorate if you wish, but I’ll be sitting right here while you are.” Mattheo’s voice was laced with indifference as his eyes remained unmoving but focused on the pages in front of him, gripping his glass of bourbon tightly at your intrusion. After days of being denied his help you were fed up, you knew of one surefire way to grab your mates attention and that was of course, you naked in front of him ready to do anything he wished for. But….until he granted your wishes you wouldn’t be granting his.

“Fine. I will just do it all alone.” You stated innocently, walking off as you discreetly began tugging the thin straps of your red gown down your arms, allowing it to slip off your frame and pool around your ankles where it was kicked off towards the man behind you. Mattheo’s knowing gaze immediately latched onto your matching lingerie set and stockings with a scoff before locking with your eyes over your shoulder, licking his lips in an obvious attempt to control himself.

“What do you think you’re doing? Did you fucking plan this?” You giggle as his brows furrow, looking away from him and arching your back much more than necessary as you bent to grab the large box of Christmas decorations you were allowed to take from your parents when you moved in with Mattheo.

You felt his eyes dig into your behind, giving a little shake as you tossed the lid open and began grabbing the lights that were neatly coiled above the many layers of decorations, “This isn’t gonna work y’know,” Mattheo laughed, slamming his book shut and tossing it aside as he pushed himself further down the couch cushion, spreading his legs to give himself more space as he watched you move about the room. The way the hem of your lace underwear was cradling your curves in a teasing manner as your tits bounced against their harsh confines was cracking his reserve already, “You think I can’t resist you prancing about in that….” He spoke in a deeper voice now, clearly affected by your body and clearly trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” Your face grew warm as you twirled the string of lights around the base of the tree, avoiding his burning eyes as you sauntered around it teasingly, reminiscent of how you would a pole. His eyes trailed along your exposed thighs and stomach, aching to have you in a way he hadn’t felt since your last heat. You weren’t usually such a brat and he was loving every minute of it, he saw how you became whiny after he had told you just a few days ago that he was too tired to decorate, fully intending to do it the next night. However, when you stood there with crossed arms and a deep pout he just had to see it again. Now though, he was losing his patience, he had to have you and he’d do anything for it.

Once the lights shone brightly up and down the tree you stepped back to observe your handy work, placing your hands on your hips as you looked over your shoulder to find Mattheo’s eyes raking up your body until they fell into yours with a silent order you weren’t going to follow. You could sense his desire to gain control again as he always had, but you wanted more from him, you needed more. His little reaction had done nothing to stray you from your plan, you saw in his dark eyes that he wouldn’t last long.

His eyes followed your movements as your fingertips ghosted up your body, tickling against your flesh to slowly grasp the latch of your bra in your steady hands, turning back to observe the tree as though nothing was happening. Mattheo’s breath hitched as you slowly unhooked your bra with your back still facing him, your shoulder blades moving teasingly as you shoved the material onto the floor in front of the partially decorated tree, still not turning to show him your exposed chest. He hissed as you stepped forward again, moving away and out of his sight to grab more decorations, his pants were tightened around his growing dick as he took the last swig of his drink before abruptly standing to follow you.

You noticed his presence behind you immediately, the tension in the room growing as soon as he stepped through the entrance, “You think you can tease me like that?” He asked, voice low as he approached your turned back slowly, each step sending a shiver down your spine and directly to your core as his expensive dress shoes hit the wood below them tauntingly. He chuckled, clearly thinking he had you cornered as he grew closer, gripping your hip in his aggressive hold as he leant over your nude shoulder, his warm breath against your neck filling you with a mix of expectance and defiance of his actions.

In one quick motion, Mattheo’s strong hand spun you to face him, almost knocking you off your feet as they attempted to catch up with the maneuver. His eyes met yours before trailing down your chest with a genuine smile, “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he sighed, his free hand finding your neck as he began melting into your touch. You allowed him to pull you into him, almost touching your lips together before you pulled away, “I need to get this box to the living room, we can get back to this after,” You almost let out a chuckle at the mans dumbfounded expression as you grab the box behind you, conveniently hiding your chest as you maneuvered around his still figure to the door behind him, “It would go way faster if I had some help though.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Mattheo mumbles to himself as you leave him alone in the spare room, his mind racing with ways of gaining power over the situation but each one required focus he couldn’t obtain while you strutted around the house half naked. So instead he opted to give in….just this once.

The echo of Mattheo’s footsteps didn’t shock you, nor did the growl that escaped his lips as he took in your now entirety bare ass in front of him, the only remaining part of your outfit being the white and red stockings that were driving him absolutely insane with each passing second. “Okay! You win, give me the fucking Santa,” Mattheo snapped, making you turn to him with a wide smile before throwing yourself onto him for a hug, almost immediately stepping out of his grasp quickly as he attempted to pull you back in.

He huffed behind you as you handed him item after item to find a place for in your home, still solely focused on your almost fully nude body in front of him even as he placed miniature Santas and reindeers all around your house. Eventually however all that was left was to place the ornaments on the tree which only took an excruciating 30 minutes before he could finally have what he wanted.

Your face smashed into the couch as Mattheo aggressively shoved you forward, tugging your hips upward as his hand firmly placed against your face, “Do you need me to fuck this attitude out of you Princess?” Your incoherent mumbles of yes go unheard as he forces his fingers into you hair, tugging you upward and against his clothed chest, “I asked you a question,” He whispered against the shell of your ear, nibbling on your flesh before he spoke again, “Now fucking answer it.” He spat out, shoving you back forward as you begged him to fuck you senseless, his hand finding it’s spot against the side of your face once more as he tugged at his belt buckle. The clinking metal sending shocks of pleasure to your core, drenching your entrance as it ached to have your Alpha.

In a matter of seconds, Mattheo tugged his dress pants and boxers only partially down his thighs, leaving you fully exposed and vulnerable in front of him as he lined his leaking cock up to your entrance before plowing into you with no real warning. Stretching you out almost beyond your limit as he immediately set a steady, rough pace to his thrusts, grunting above you as you clutched onto the leather of the couch. “Oh fuck Mattheo, you feel so good,”

Your almost incoherent babbles of pleasure egg him in as he snaps his hips faster against yours, eyes trained on where he disappeared deep into you, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into, pulling a scream of a moan from the back of your throat as he groans at the sound. The feeling of your walls clenching around him, silently begging him to stay inside of you, urging him to fill you up with his cum almost made him lose focus of his goal, snapping his hips harder and faster, his public bone bouncing against your clit every few thrusts as he built up his release.

Your mind was hazy as his warm, rough hand held you against the heating leather, the grip of his other hand on your hip surely leaving an entirely intentional print of his hand that had your mind going dumb as you clamped down around him, your legs shaking each time his tip slammed against you g-spot sending you soaring as your mind fogged, so close to your orgasm it felt almost painful.

“Oh fuck Matty please” You practically screamed, begging to cum as Mattheo slammed into you, the sound of damp skin smacking together echoing across the hardwood floors as you mewled and whined below him, his hard grip being the only thing keeping you in your position as you absentmindedly began bucking back against him, feeding his ego as you bounced on his cock, meeting his thrusts with a lazy smile on your face.

Your moans became whimpers as your walls clamped down on him tightly, unrelenting and desperately trying to hold him inside while you came around him, your legs were shaking uncontrollably against him as you quickly approached your high falling over the edge as Mattheo’s thrusts sped up, hitting your g-spot repeatedly, almost overstimulating you as he grew sloppy. His hips stuttered against you, groaning above you before he was pulling out of you entirely causing a desperate whine to escape you, sending him flying over the edge, shaking uncontrollably as thick spurts of his cum covered your back.

You whined below him, unable to form full words as you clenched around nothing, still coming down from your high as you almost cried at the lack of the full feeling Mattheo always left after filling you and stuffing his fingers back inside to ensure nothing came out. You wiggled your hips as if expecting him to go again just to fill you with his seed.

“Oh my pretty, bratty Baby,” Mattheo mockingly pouted down to you as he mindlessly played with his release covering your back “Are you mad I didn’t fill you up Princess?” Mattheo asks, knowing the obvious answer as he laughs over you condescendingly, “But I thought you wanted me to help you decorate, isn’t that why you thought this all out? Well….think of it as your punishment for being such a little brat to your Alpha.” He chuckled at himself, falling down beside you as he tugged your face into his chest, whispering to you that you did good for him and looked absolutely gorgeous covered in his cum.

~~~~

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[darknight3904]

Like We Used To

Masterlist / Main Masterlist

This marks the beginning of Part Two of This Love. 

Warnings: Slight references to male masturbation and dirty dreams. Nothing wild.

Asgard 2013

   "Are you sure you want this?" 

   "Hush, Fandral, she can make her own decisions." 

   "Yeah,  I can make my own decisions, and I  have decided to change it to blue." 

   "HA! You're such an idiot!" Volstagg cheered, slamming his final card to the table which erupted into loud groans 

Astri and her friends had been playing a Midgardian game Thor had brought back from New York, it was called Uno and Astri was inherently terrible at it.

   "He can not keep winning like this," Hogun said tossing his hand into the middle of the table. 

   "He has to be cheating," Sif whispered  

   "We could always rig the cards against him," Fandral suggested 

   "But then, is it a fair victory when one of us wins?" Astri asked 

   "It is if he hasn't been winning fairly this whole time." Sif pointed out

   "Pass the cards out, I plan to win again." Volstagg declared

   "Cheater," Fandral whispered as he dealt the cards again.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Loki didn't realize how mind-numbing his time in the dungeons would end up being. The first few weeks had been a blur, Frigga had sent furniture and books to him and he spent time rearranging and figuring out the best angle for his bed. Now, he was out of furniture to rearrange and the endless books were becoming boring. He had begun to stew over his loss on Midgard but felt his mind slipping away from his humiliation. As he lay there, he realized he missed the feel of the sun on his face and the way the wind would slightly blow through his chambers when he left the balcony doors open. Loki missed horseback riding through the dense forests of Asgard and the way the stars looked down at him at night when he couldn't sleep. Most of all though, he missed Astri and everything that came with her. He missed the way her laughter would carry through the castle when he made a bad joke. He could imagine the way her long hair would shine whenever the sun streamed into the huge library windows. Loki swore he could smell the soft scent of Astri's fruit-smelling perfume as he lay in his cell.

He couldn't believe she hadn't visited him yet. At first, he had presumed Odin had banned visitors but after asking Frigga who said Astri was free to visit him as much as she wished, he was saddened by her absence. Every day when his meals arrived he swore he heard the soft clicking of her shoes, instead he was met with the same guard over and over again. Loki tried to imagine what she could possibly be doing without him. They had spent nearly every waking moment together as they grew up. Was she with Thor or Sif? Was she rotting away in the library, learning a million different spells? Or perhaps she was with the Aesir fellow she had met in the damn markets? Loki had felt jealousy swirl in his stomach at the idea of the last one. Aesir wasn't necessarily terrible but he just seemed so droll. The way he just mindlessly complimented Astri whenever he saw her, it was like he was grovelling for her when they barely even knew each other. Loki doubted he even remembered what Astri wore each time they saw each other. Did Aesir know Astri's favorite foods and that she hated red flowers? Clearly not since he brought her bunches of them all the time and brought almond cakes when Atri clearly liked lemon better.

By the time his supper had arrived, he had decided that Aesir was possibly the most boring Asgardian who ever lived. Beyond his flat personality, he has terrible style. Loki had peered into Astri's mind the other night and found the most recent memories of Aesir. He had been dressed in the worst possible outfit. The way the silver in his armor contrasted against his skin made him look rather yellow. He felt Astri's embarrassment as they had strolled through the gardens when multiple handmaids had passed and giggled at Aesir.

   "What's on your mind?" A soft voice asked

Loki swore he had never sat up quicker than in this moment.

   "What's wrong, you look like you've seen a ghost." Astri asked, "Is there something on my face?"

   "I didn't think you'd ever visit," Loki admitted crossing the cell to where the golden barrier separated them

   "I wasn't planning on visiting today. I was going to make you sweat it out for a few more weeks but Volstagg was driving me insane and I needed a break." She explained

   "What did he do that's annoying you so much?" Loki asked

   "He keeps beating me at this Midgardian game Thor showed all of us." Astri sighed

Loki felt his mouth twitch slightly into a smile. Even though he wanted to be mad at her for not seeing him sooner, he was, as usual, finding it to be impossible to be angry with her.

   "I also brought this..." Astri said pushing a tray of food through a designated spot in the barrier.

   "Aren't you hungry?" Loki asked

   "No, Thor and I have been eating our suppers together for the past year and I swear spending time around him has fattened me up. It's like his huge stomach is affecting me too." Astri admitted

   "I think you look great." Loki complimented, he felt jealousy roar in his chest at the idea of Astri sitting across from Thor in her chambers, laughing at jokes and eating her favorite cakes.

   "Aesir said that a few days ago. I'm sure you already knew that though. You know you're not entirely undetected going through my mind like that at night. You show up in my dreams and that's how I know you're searching my memories, seeing what I've been doing with my days." Astri said

   "Anyone has a right to know what their best friend is up to. And how else would I know when I thought you had resolved to never see me again." Loki countered, surprised that she was able to sense him.

   "Oh please, you never thought that. You knew I'd show eventually." Astri knowingly said

Damn, she knew him well.

   "Has it occurred to you that maybe I missed you?" Loki asked honestly

   "It's crossed my mind. Although I'd like to think that you don't since then I'd feel guilty about not spending my every moment with you." Astri said

   "Like we used to?" He asked

   "Like we used to." Astri parroted with a soft smile that made Loki's heart beat just a little quicker.

Silence fell as he stared at the girl across from him. While she claimed to be fattening up with his "brother", he swore she had lost weight. Perhaps it was the lighting or maybe her dress was ill-fitting? No. Astri was definitely smaller than usual, her arms were normally more defined with muscle than they were now, exposed by a soft yellow gown she wore.

   "You're staring again," Astri said

   "I haven't seen you since the cage on Midgard." He reminded "Forgive me if I'm trying to commit your face to memory. I don't know when you'll visit again."

   "Maybe I will, maybe I won't," Astri said wistfully

She seemed sadder. As if someone had snuffed out her firey spirit Loki had come to love over the years.

   "Would you be able to come tomorrow?" He asked

   "What's in it for me?" She coyly asked

   "I'll read to you for as long as you'd like." Loki promised.

   "You're just tired of being bored in there," Astri said

   "Oh, quite the opposite I'm having a wonderful time here." Loki lied

   "You're not the only one going through their best friend's minds when they sleep" Astri smirked

When in the Nine Realms had she been doing that? Loki felt his smile falter as Astri laughed

   "By the way, beyond your obvious boredom, your dreams of me undressing and then bathing are quite erotic. I feel bad for your hand, and the other prisoners." Astri laughed

That explains the dream he'd been having for the past week.

   "You should not be going through my mind like that." He scolded, feeling his face redden

   "Oh, and that gives you permission to go through mine?" She questioned

   "What you saw is personal." He hissed, embarrassed at her knowledge of him

   "Whatever you say, Loki." She laughed

God he missed that sound, it warmed the air around him and sent a smile to his face.

   "I'll see you tomorrow. I hope whatever book you have is worth my time." Astri said standing

   "You're leaving already?" Loki asked following her as she walked.

    "It's getting late, I had a long day of losing to Volstagg. Plus I'm sure you need some alone time with your dreams of me." She teased

Loki felt his face go red, he was so embarrassed he bet even his ears were red.

   "What a nice color on you, Loki!" Astri complimented before walking away

Loki sighed and watched Astri walk off, she was going to kill him one day. The funny thing was he'd be perfectly fine with it, dying for her no matter how ridiculous the reason.

Astri had barely closed the door to her chambers before Thor had her jumping out of her skin.

   "How is he?" Thor asked

   "Don't scare me like that ever again."  Astri glared looking at Thor who was reclined on her bed

   "Why? It's so fun." Thor smiled

    "He's fine. He's bored and just as Loki as he has ever been." Astri said

Thor nodded as Astri walked to her vanity and began removing her jewelry and pulling pins from her hair.

   "Aesir came calling when you were with Loki." He said

   "Really? What did he want? I just saw him two days ago." She said

   "Well, he left these." Thor gestured to a large red vase of flowers "I put them in water, no need to thank me."

Astri rolled her eyes, she definitely wasn't going to thank him.

   "He say anything to go along with them?" She asked

   "Well, he said his mother was going to make the almond cakes you liked last time and he said he wanted to take a horse ride through the forest in a few days time." Thor said

   "How nice, I'll have to tell him I accept," Astri said picking her brush up

   "Don't you hate red flowers, and you don't even like almond cakes, everyone knows you prefer lemon." Thor pointed out

   "Maybe I've changed," Astri said

She looked at Thor through the mirror who gave her a 'Are you serious?' stare.

   "Okay, you got me, maybe I didn't tell him those things." She groaned

   "They seem like important things," Thor said

   "Pfft.... no." Astri laughed nervously, when did Thor become so observant?

   Silence fell over the pair as Astri brushed through her hair and every few seconds glanced at Thor who seemed to be admiring her patterned bedspread.

   "Did Loki ask about me?" Thor asked

Astri thought about lying to him to make him feel better. But what good were feelings if they came from lies that would just hurt later down the road?

   "He didn't. Our conversation was rather trivial today." Astri admitted

   "Ah. Okay." Thor said

   "I'm going back tomorrow night. Maybe he'll ask about you. If he does I'll tell him all good things." She said truthfully

   "You better." Thor smiled

   "I should really get ready to sleep so if you could you know...leave," Astri said, a bit rudely

   "I came to you to talk about something more important than Loki and Aesir," Thor said ignoring her request.

   "And that is?" Astri asked turning to him

   "My father has said that I am too taken with Jane. He's pointed out that I'm better served with what is in front me me here." Thor started

   "He better not be suggesting we court," Astri interjected, worriedly

Thor's silence was her answer.

   "We are not getting married. I would rather die." Astri groaned

   "That was rather rude." Thor pointed out "You don't have to worry I'm not telling you this because I want to court you. I'm telling you because I don't think he's right, I want to be with Jane but I also want to do my duty to Asgard."

   "You know you're not king yet," Astri said, relieved that Thor wasn't interested in her.

   "What does that have to do with Jane?" He asked

   "It means that you should go out and live. Who cares what Odin thinks is best?" Astri smiled

   "It's irresponsible." Thor pointed out

   "When has Thor Odinson ever cared about responsibility?" Astri laughed

   "Well there was that time I brought my brother back because he tried to take over Midgard." Thor pointed out

Okay he had her there.

   "I am sure whatever is meant to happen will happen. If you end up with Jane, great! If not...well we aren't getting married but there's lots of other eligible maidens!" Astri said

   "I suppose you are right..." Thor said

   "I'm always right." She smiled "Now, get off my bed and leave so I can sleep, Volstaggs victories and Loki's silver tongue have worn me out."

Thor's eyebrow raised at the last statement from Astri.

"Astri! You don't want to court me yet you sneak around with my brother while he is locked away under the castle?! I ought to tell the whole kingdom!" He gasped, feigning a scandalized face.

   "I didn't mean it like that, you idiot! I meant his wordy conversation is exhausting! Just go to your own room!" She blushed trying to pull him out of the bed.

Thor laughed and continued to laugh at her reddened face as Astri shoved him out the door and proceeded to slam it in his face. The Odinson brothers were surely going to drive Astri insane one of these days and hopefully, it wouldn't be for another thousand years.

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes movie has changed my entire life. Suzanne Collins cooked again.

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[forgottenarthur]

Marian/Arthur - “ you’ve been so quiet. what’s on your mind? ”

The prince started. In truth, he'd not known someone was there, so lost in his thoughts he'd been. Sitting in the broad windowseat, long legs outstretched with Aria's book in his lap, he'd been reading for hours when movement outside the window had caught his eye. Aria's scarlet cloak wafted in the breeze, a stark contrast to the snow-struck world ringing round her. She'd stopped in her course, noting a stablehand, and the ring of her familiar laughter had wafted, too, all the way to Arthur, his book forgotten in his lap, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched, entranced, as crimson heat overtook her cheeks, green-dark eyes shining bright.

Surprise bloomed in his chest -- a princess, even reduced now to a lady as she was, but still a princess raised -- stopping for a casual chat with a hand and, not only that, she grew entirely absorbed in it. Her face was angelic in happiness, her forest-dark gaze star-bright and dancing all about her as if the whole of cosmos bent closer when she smiled. How could she be so joyful in such circumstances? Everything she'd once known lost to her!

Unconsciously, Arthur leaned closer, as if he could prize the secret from the smiling curve of her lips or the flush of her rosy cheeks. He didn't think he'd ever been so pleased in his whole life as she was now to stop and chat with a servant in the blistering cold, yet another bell-soft peal of laughter seemed to make all the ice sparkle.

Sighing, he leaned back against the cushions pillowing his back, his eyes roving now over this icy landscape: her native home. How it would change from here on out, Arthur already knew. He'd watched his father conquer other worlds long before he'd ever set foot in hers, and whatever sweet wildness was here to be found: that, he'd stamp out and ring all in stone and iron to suppress it and, strangely, something in Arthur's chest ached now to think of that brutally civilizing force, to think of the way her eyes danced now like starlight, and to think they might be suppressed only into tame, flickering candlelight.

Was this how he, too, would someday be? If he lived, he would be emperor, and if he was emperor, would he too smother the stars beneath the tread of his imperial heel? Was it always destined to be so? Was that the only way, the only path to survival? For him, he knew it was empire or death: his only salvation. But was he doomed to uproot every flowering plant in his path? Would she ever smile like this again?

Arthur jolted at the familiar sound of his mother's voice in that moment and, quickly, sat up, swinging his legs around to sit in a less relaxed way, the window and Aria in her scarlet cloak now to his back.

"Mother--" he took a moment, processed what she had said. Arthur licked his lips, unconsciously glancing down. He saw the long-forgotten book in his lap and he slammed its cover closed.

Glancing up again, he spotted his mother following where his gaze had earlier strayed. Arthur pressed his eyes shut, knowing she could not fail to note Aria, robed as she was in crimson against a backdrop all of white, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"The Lady Aria is quite a beauty, isn't she?"

Arthur shook his head. She was, but he didn't wish to be having this conversation. "It's awfully cold out--" he began, not quite sure where he was going, but wishing to dislodge the line of thought he feared was forming in his mother's mind.

"And you...worry she will catch a chill?"

"What? No, I--" Arthur shrugged, helpless. "It's not like that, Mother."

"Hmm..." Marian slowly seated herself beside her son. "What is it like, Arthur?"

"I--" he shook his head again; rubbed the back of his neck again. "Will I be emperor, Mother?"

Her face shone with astonishment, settling into certainty. This was not the question she'd been expecting, but she had never shown even a hint of doubt that that was to be his future. "Of course."

Arthur fell silent a moment. He wished he could be so sure. He thought death a more likely outcome, in truth. "This is a beautiful place," he said, gesturing around them.

"It is."

"She's talking to a stablehand, you know."

"The princ--Lady Aria?"

He nodded. "They talk to stablehands here. Princesses. Talk to stablehands."

Marian's brows furrowed.

"It's a very natural conversation, too. Friendly."

"Arthur...Are you...jealous?"

"Mother!" he reddened. "Focus! What this means is...it's normal. Maybe she's not a princess, anymore, but she was one, once, and it was ordinary to them, then, that a princess ought to speak on friendly terms to a stablehand."

"What are you driving at?"

Sighing, he rubbed his arm. "I don't know, I--I don't know."

"Is that the type of Emperor you wish to be?"

"What?"

"One who speaks on friendly terms to a stablehand?"

Arthur frowned. "Is that...possible?"

"When you're emperor, Arthur, anything will be possible."

"Anything?" Unconsciously, Arthur glanced towards the window behind him. Aria was laughing again, and taking her leave. He glanced down at the book in his lap. "Anything..."

But he couldn't be so sure.

[issie-https]

𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Mick Thomson X Reader(platonic)

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: No

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: N/a

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Mentions of blood, emotional exhaustion and injury

𝐀/𝐧: Guess who’s back, back again!! Sorry for the lack of uploads, I’ve had a tad bit of writers block but I’m here with some hurt for y’all!(also fluffy at the end🫶) **NOT PROOFREAD**

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

I flung the door to my apartment open and kicked my heels off as I slammed the door back closed. I'd been laid off from my job after five years after the company went bankrupt. I let the tears stream down my face as I stormed through the house. It wasn't a big, flashy job but it kept me on my feet, I could barely afford my apartment but I was still living there and I could afford a good meal now and then so I wasn't bad off.

I picked up a shitty vase and threw it at the wall, I wasn't thinking, I had no idea what I was doing. Shards of glass went flying, some hitting me as the rest just surrounded me. I wasn't thinking about the burning on my legs as I went over to the shitty dinner table and threw everything on it at the wall before punching a hole in the crappy, thin wood. I finally let the tears run down my cheeks as I went into the kitchen - I slid down the fridge and sat on the floor. It was at that moment, I realised I had stood on glass - the blood trail was dark, signalling it wasn't just a small shard of glass.

My cries grew as the pain and burning came to my realisation. I could feel the blood running down my legs and gushing out my foot at a slow rate. I picked up my foot and put it on my lap as I evaluated the cut - it wasn't so bad to the point that I'd die but it wasn't just a little scratch either. I cried louder as I thought about how I'd most likely end up homeless by the end of the month. I had no second option for a job, I had no idea what to do — I didn't want to ask any friends for help because I didn't want to seem needy or dependent on anyone. In my friend group, I've always been seen as the independent one - the mother of the group - every time one of the girls or guys got hurt, I'd always be there with a bandaid and a hug. Every time they went through a bad breakup, I'd be at their door with comforting words, shitty comedy movies and two tubs of ice cream.

I threw my head back against the fridge door, letting out groans and screams in annoyance. I had no idea what to do, where to go, who to talk to or which way is forward. I wanted to pick myself up off the floor, clean my foot up, tell myself to grow a pair, send out my resume and get a job. But I couldn't move - my body felt like it was frozen to the spot, the only movements I was making was the shivering and gasps as I cried. My chest felt heavy as I lay down on the kitchen floor, the cold tiles were in contrast to my burning skin. I felt my eyelids become heavy as I slowly drifted off into a slumber.

༺time skip༻

I woke up and looked at the clock on my oven, it read 1:27am. The kitchen was now engulfed in darkness, the night had eaten the city alive and dowsed the sky in stars. I crawled over to where the light switch was and pulled myself up using the counter. I was met by the bloody sight of my past foot prints and the small puddle where my foot had been sat while I was asleep. I hopped over to the sink, dampened a cloth and tried to clean the blood off the kitchen floor. Much to my dismay, it only smeared the blood opposed to cleaning it up. I could feel myself getting upset again as the tears started rolling down my cheeks. Every so often, a tear would land in the blood and mix.

I couldn't think again, but at the same time, I was only thinking. How to clean up the blood, how to get a job - where to get a job even. I gave up in cleaning and just left the cloth on the floor and slouched against the cupboards. I needed help, physical help, mental help. No one was here for me.

That was until I heard the front door lock click and the light from the hallway lit up the entrance to my apartment. I could see someone's shadow, it was tall. Possibly James or Mick.

I was right, Mick walked into the living room as glass crunched under his boots. He flicked on the living room light and his face contorted into both confusion and worry at the sight. "Y/n?" He yelled. "I'm in... the kitchen," I rasped as I raised my voice so he could hear me. "What happened?" He asked comfortingly. "Nothing," I said, rubbing my eyes to stop myself from crying. “Y/n, you’re covered in blood, so is the floor. There’s broken vases and a hole in your table. Don’t pull that ‘nothing’ bullshit now,” he stated as he walked into the kitchen. “I stood on glass,” I said as I looked at him. He came and sat down next to me and pulled me into his chest, “let me see.” I nodded slightly and pulled away from his grip. I turned and showed him the bottom of my foot. “How long has it been like this?” He asked. “Since… eleven roughly,” I replied, I was still trying to catch my breath as everything was a little blurry and my head was starting to pound. He inspected the cut before standing up, “where’s the first aid kit?”. “Next to the medicine cupboard,” I choked out. He grabbed the kit and sat back down in front of my foot and pulled it onto his lap, making me lie flat on the floor. “Okay, I want you to take deep breaths because I have to pull the glass out and sterilise it,” he spoke as he put a little pressure around the area. I took a deep breath in and as I was about to breathe out, he pulled the glass out - I screamed as tears began streaming out of my eyes again. The pain was like stamping on a million needles covered in barbed wire. He applied pressure with some gauze and wrapped my foot up in a bandage. “You won’t need stitches - thank god - but keep an eye on it,” he smiled as he secured it. “Thanks, Mick,” I gave a weak smile back. “Let’s get you in bed,” he said as he picked me up. “No, I’ve gotta clean,” I furrowed my brows as he walked over the broken glass and to my bedroom. “I’ll clean tomorrow, the others will help - I’m sure of it,” he comforted me. “But I ma-“ he cut me off by saying, “I know but I don’t care. You’re injured so I will clean.”

I’m so thankful for Mick, he’s never hurt me. None of the others have but Mick is always the first one to notice if I’m not okay. He’s always the first one to check on me.

He placed me on my bed, went over to my closet and pulled out two shirts. He held them up to me and I pointed at the right one - it was a Guns N’ Roses band shirt. “Do you still sleep in a shirt and underwear or do you wear pyjama bottoms?” He asked. “Depends if you’re staying over - I don’t wanna seem weird,” I replied. “You’re the weirdest person I know and there’s some competition with Sid there. So fuck it, undies or bottoms?” He laughed. “I usually just sleep in a shirt and my underwear,” I laughed back. He nodded and briefly exited the room, coming back with a pair of his pyjama bottoms in hand. All my friends - guys and girls - have stayed at my place at least once so the spare room is filled with their clothes from past visits.

Mick got into bed next to me and pulled me into his chest as he rubbed circles on the small of my back. “You okay now?” He whispered. I mumbled an ‘mhm’ and snuggled into him. I felt myself drift off to sleep, this time, my chest had butterflies and I had a smile on my face. I was happy.

[seasaltandcopper]

Crossed Lines // Intro

Toying with a new idea/setting, let me know if there’s any interest in seeing more! This is just the intro and some set up to get you acquainted with the main protagonist, a half-elf mage named Shay, but the plan is to lean hard into dark fantasy (so a lot of whump, horror, action, angst, the whole kit and caboodle. I don’t have a strong direction for it yet, but if you know my Brand it’s a safe bet it’ll touch on those themes.)

Summary: Shay flees from a pack of demons, using blood-enhanced magic to veil his presence at the cost of exhausting himself.

Rating: T

Warnings: Blood, swearing

Shay dragged the dagger across the top of his forearm and crimson beaded in its wake. Wine dark drops of blood barely showed against the low contrast of dusky skin, and the cover of an even darker night. Shay grimaced at the sting. Familiar, but still unpleasant.

And unfortunately, necessary.

Mikal cautioned against over-reliance on blood magic, spent half his breath lecturing Shay about it, but even he couldn’t deny that sometimes desperate times called for desperate measures.

In the distance, the sound of the Hunt’s cries grew louder. A furious howling and chittering and the dry rasp of chitinous legs across the cobbles. Attuned to Shay’s scent, they’d chase him tirelessly until he either managed to break the connection, or they finally ran him down.

Shay sucked in a breath through his teeth, cleaned the obsidian blade hurriedly on his ragged cloak, and re-sheathed it at his belt.

Sorry, Mikal.

Raising his dominant hand, Shay let his fingers hover over the wound and extended his senses. Opened himself to the larger network of energies woven into every organic and living thing around him. Mikal called it the Weave, likened the innumerous threads of energy to a tapestry, but Shay preferred to think of it as a web.

That’s how it felt, anyhow. Perched at the center of a great spiderweb, feeling the thrum and vibration from each thread as it was plucked, his magic giving Shay the ability to tug and alter them too. Normally, blood wasn’t a requirement to work the threads. But it was a powerful catalyst, giving a lone Spinner the ability to amplify their craft threefold.

With a deft flick of his fingers, Shay pulled at the shimmering line drawn from his blood. Other threads joined it, pulled from his surroundings, tying them together, and around himself in a ward that would last until dawn. Tucked away in his makeshift bolthole, one of many in the network of safehouses scattered across the city, Shay knew he’d be safe.

Breathing heavily from the effort, Shay tugged a few more lines, weaving them into the increasingly intricate pattern caged around himself. From the ground, the walls, the boards, all stitched together with a single thread of brilliant crimson, spun from his blood.

Just a little more…

With a grunt, Shay tied off the ward as it stabilized. He severed the connection to himself, breaking the Hunt’s tether to him in the process. The sharp sting of the weaving’s backlash hit like a slap, left his ears ringing and the taste of iron and cloying bitterness in his mouth. He blinked, clearing dark spots from his vision. Panting, hand braced against the frigid, gritty cobblestones of the half-sunken cellar floor, Shay grinned.

Something screeched, a few streets over. A shrill squeal of fury and confusion. It sent a shiver down Shay’s spine, even knowing his ward would hold.

“Dare you to find me now, bastards,” Shay muttered, pushing out a quiet chuckle. Then groaned. Exhaustion slammed down on him like a giant’s club, the immediate consequence of weaving such a powerful ward. Even with the added boost of blood, he’d overdone it.

Stupid, and reckless, Shay imagined Mikal saying.

Stupid and reckless but still alive, Shay would argue.

And he would argue with his brother when he made it back home. That was as inevitable as the sun rising. Which—Shay cocked his head, peering out through a gap in one of the boards hastily tacked over the entrance to his hideout, taking in the position of the moon—was only two or three hours away, at most.

Enough time for a nap.

At this point, Shay didn’t think he had much choice in the matter. Magical exhaustion was nothing to play chicken with. Master or apprentice, it’d still knock you on your ass if you pushed yourself past your limits.

Here, though, Shay figured he was safe. He’d have to be, because he sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere else till his legs stopped feeling like jelly and he could force his eyes open longer than a breath or two at a time.

Stiffly, Shay lay down on the stone floor of the cellar, tucked his legs close and drew his dark cloak around himself like a blanket. Drying blood fanned down his arm, itching and stinging around the edges of the wound, but Shay felt too tired to do more than dab at it with the hem of his cloak. A draft crept in through the gaps in the boarded up window wells, slipped icy fingers under the crack below the trapdoor, and ruffled hair as white as moonlight, but his cloak and hood kept the worst at bay.

Discomforts aside, sleep came swiftly; for once, Shay didn’t even dream.

[tragicallywicked]

i wish you would take this seriously. - laura to bradley

NOTE: This turned out sadder than expected, I apologize. CONTAINS SEASON 3 SPOILERS

The sun cast a muted glow over Laura Peterson's ranch in Montana, illuminating the vast expanse of grass and the mountains in the distance. It was a place of solitude and peace, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing in the rest of the country.

Inside the ranch's cozy living room, Bradley Jackson was pacing restlessly, her fingers drumming against her thigh. "Laura, this is huge. I need to be there, on the ground, reporting live. It's what I do."

Laura, seated on the couch with a worried expression, responded, "Bradley, I know you. I know your commitment to your work, but you need to think this through. The protests, the tension... it's a powder keg. And with the virus still rampant? It's a disaster waiting to happen."

Bradley turned to face her, frustration evident in her eyes. "This is history in the making. I've covered protests, debates, elections. This is my job. But this? I can't just sit here and watch it unfold on TV."

Laura took a deep breath, trying to control her rising emotions. "It's not just about the job. It's about you being safe. You've seen how intense and violent things have become. And with COVID still around, it's double the risk."

The weight of Laura's concern was palpable, but Bradley's sense of duty was unwavering. "I've always taken risks in my career. This is no different."

The atmosphere in the room grew tenser. Laura's voice, filled with a mix of frustration and fear, rose a notch. "I wish you would take this seriously."

Bradley's face hardened, her patience wearing thin. "I am taking it seriously, Laura. But this is who I am. Journalism is my life."

Laura shot up from the couch, her voice raising in tandem with her frustration. "This isn't just about journalism! This is about our life, about your safety! Why can't you see that?!"

"You think I don't know the risks?!" Bradley retorted, her voice echoing through the room. "I know what's at stake. But I can't hide away from the world just because it's dangerous."

Laura's voice cracked with emotion. "You're being selfish, Bradley. What if something happens to you? What then? Have you ever thought about that?"

Bradley's anger peaked. "Maybe you'd be happier if I just sat around here all day, doing nothing while the world falls apart! Is that what you want?!"

"That's not fair, and you know it," Laura shot back, tears starting to brim in her eyes. "All I want is for you to be safe."

The room was thick with tension, both women breathing heavily. Bradley's voice was sharp and biting, "Maybe you should have thought about who I was before getting involved with me."

Laura's tears fell freely now, her voice barely a whisper, "Maybe I should have."

The painful silence that followed was deafening. Both were caught in their own whirlwind of emotions, neither willing to bridge the growing divide between them.

With a final, resentful glance, Bradley stormed off to the guest room, slamming the door behind her. Laura sank to the floor, her tears falling thickly down her cheeks, the weight of their words and the uncertainty of the future pressing down on her.

The stillness of the night was occasionally pierced by the distant cries of animals and the rustling of trees swaying to the rhythm of the wind. The stars overhead shone brilliantly, each twinkle a testament to the vastness of the universe and the minuteness of human squabbles.

Inside, the cold silence persisted. Bradley, sitting on the edge of the guest bed, cradled her head in her hands. She replayed the evening's confrontation over and over, wrestling with her emotions and the weight of her decisions. The longing to be in D.C., to report, to be part of the historical narrative was visceral. But was it worth the distance it was creating between her and Laura?

Down the hallway, Laura lay on the couch, a blanket haphazardly draped over her. The soft glow from the fireplace painted her face in a dance of light and shadow. Tears had left trails on her cheeks, now drying, but the pain remained. She understood Bradley's dedication, her passion. It was one of the things she admired most about her. Yet, the fear of losing her, of being left alone in a world filled with uncertainties, was overpowering.

That night, the ranch that had been their sanctuary felt cold and distant, as both women grappled with their own thoughts, emotions, and fears, separated by walls and unspoken words.

Hours seemed to stretch into an eternity, but as dawn approached, a new resolve formed in Bradley's heart.

She slowly packed her bags, each fold of clothing a reminder of the world she felt so drawn to. As she zipped up her suitcase, she took one last look around the guest room – at the rustic decor, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, and the memories she'd made with Laura.

Laura, who had silently been observing from the doorway, finally broke the silence. "Bradley," her voice was soft, filled with a mix of pain and understanding.

Bradley met her gaze, her eyes heavy with unshed tears. "I have to go, Laura. You know that."

Laura nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I do. But that doesn't make it any easier."

Bradley took a deep breath, her voice firm. "Maybe it's best if we don't do this anymore. Clearly, our priorities are different."

Laura's eyes flashed with pain and anger. "You're choosing your job over your life Bradley."

Bradley's frustration was palpable. "I'm choosing my purpose, Laura. I thought you, of all people, would understand that."

"You're risking your life out there!" Laura shot back, her voice rising in desperation. "And for what? Another story? Another headline?"

Bradley clenched her jaw, her emotions on the edge. "Then maybe it's best if you don't."

The coldness of the words hung heavily in the air between them, a tangible force that seemed to press down on their shoulders. The atmosphere in the room grew dense, laden with regret, resentment, and unspoken feelings. The love that had once felt invincible, that had been their anchor through so many storms, now felt fragile and frayed.

Both stood rigid, their postures echoing the defensive walls they had built around their hearts. Eyes that had once searched each other's with warmth and understanding now avoided contact, lest they betray the depth of pain that lay beneath.

Each second that passed felt like an eternity, the room echoing with the deafening silence of words left unsaid and emotions unchecked. Their hearts, once so intricately entwined, now felt miles apart, separated by the weight of choices and priorities.

It was clear that the rift between them wasn't just about this current argument. It was the culmination of every unsaid word, every unaddressed issue, and every ignored feeling that had slowly built up over time. The chasm wasn't created in a day; it was the result of many moments, big and small, where they had chosen pride over love, stubbornness over understanding.

In that room, under the weight of all they had been and all they could have been, they both realized the fragility of love and how quickly it could be overshadowed by the complexities of life.

Laura looked at Bradley, her eyes filled with tears. "Fine. Go. Just... go."

The palpable tension in the room seemed to tighten even more as Bradley reached for her suitcase, the weight of the leather handle symbolizing so much more than just her belongings. Each movement she made was deliberate, her posture rigid, attempting to shield herself from the barrage of emotions threatening to break through.

Laura watched, her heart clenching painfully in her chest, as Bradley prepared to walk out of the life they'd built together. Each step Bradley took seemed to resonate deeply within the walls of the ranch, echoing the profound sense of loss and finality. Laura's throat tightened, and her eyes stung with unshed tears, the sheer magnitude of their ending overwhelming her.

Bradley's grip on the suitcase was tight, knuckles white, betraying the turmoil she felt inside. Though she walked with a certain briskness, there was a hint of hesitance in her stride, as if a part of her was still clinging to the hope of reconciliation, of words that could bridge the gulf between them.

As she approached the door, Bradley's resolve began to waver ever so slightly. For a moment, she paused. In that split second, a myriad of emotions passed between them — regret, sorrow, longing, and the heart-wrenching pain of goodbye. But Bradley didn’t look back, so Laura didn’t stop her.

But with a deep, shuddering breath, Bradley pushed the door open, the chilly Montana air rushing in, mingling with the heated atmosphere of their argument. The door closed behind her with a soft but definitive click, and the resounding silence that followed felt like a void, emphasizing the huge gaping hole left in the wake of her departure.

[spicysoftsweet]

summary: gojo’s tired of you resisting him

warnings: home invasion, noncon, degradation, fem!reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a crumb for @mahitopegger i have no idea wtf happened. i didn’t edit this || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.

It was only after the soft click of your door, and the eerie silence thereafter that seemed to threaten to close you in, that you realized that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes darted left, then right, and you kicked off your shoes slower than usual, setting them semi-haphazardly to the side of your entryway.

Even if you weren’t paranoid, you were still the type of person to double check, sometimes triple-check your locks on occasion before you left your home, and you did remember your key turning the right way just seconds ago.

Maybe you were overreacting - after all you lived in a relatively safe area, alone save for your cat with a propensity to mewl for food at all hours of the day. Ah, that was possibly the issue, the fact that your little furry friend hadn’t made his presence immediately. But he knew how to be quiet sometimes, and was fond of an early afternoon nap.

The sound of your keys clattering on your coffee table now seemed unceremoniously loud, like you were disturbing a religious service. In your own house.

Your heart started to race for just a moment, and you turned around quickly.

Nothing. No person, no ghost, no cat. Just you, a sudden sense of unease, and your rapidly beating heart.

Why were you so anxious?

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt so unsettled for the moments in which you paced down your hallway, ears tuned to the soft footfalls of your presumably sleeping companion. You would have whispered its name but you didn’t want to wake up the needy little bastard unnecessarily.

It was only three paces in that you stilled suddenly, and the memory of the last time you’d felt this way suddenly struck vividly in your mind.

Clear blue eyes, bordered by long, pale white eyelashes. A smile, once easy and bright, with corners turned up far too high into malice.

You froze.

Was it him? Was Gojo in your house? He wouldn’t... would he?

Your last encounter had been... suboptimal, to say the least. You’d all but told him to get lost, that you weren’t and would never be interested, not after knowing who he was, what he was.

You needed a quiet, calm existence. Your imprint on the world would be measured. You had to stay away from bad omens like his.

But his reaction had been unnatural. He hadn’t given you a real response, just a smile, and you had felt just as unnerved then as you did now before you parted.

You were clearly still spooked.

But these nerves were just vestiges of your anxiety. Gojo knew how to take no for an answer. Of course he did.

He didn’t - you opened your bedroom to find the young sorcerer waiting for you, your cat comfortable in his arms.

“Ah! You’re back~”

Gojo didn’t move; rather, he continued to sit in his relaxed position, legs outstretched onto the bed, palm stroking softly at the soft orange fur. The soft purr of the docile animal filled the air with sharp contrast to your wordless mouth, opening and closing once in shock, and the frenzied beat of your heart.

He smiled before his eyes did, and shifted on top of your covers, getting to his feet. Dressed casually in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants, as though he’d been lounging around your house the entire day... as though he lived here.

“W-what are you doing here?”  You choked out.

His eyebrows furrowed, and his hold on the little creature relaxed, who remained for just a moment, mewing once before jumping off his lap, brushing by your legs that felt as though they would start shaking any moment, and then promptly sauntered out of the room.

“You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” Satoru remarked, now sitting with legs criss-crossed on the bed, hair mussed and relaxed, and with affect as bright as a child on his first sleepover. He patted the space on the bed next to him, beckoning you to come sit. “Did you have a good day?”

“Gojo, please get out of my house.”

His expression darkened for just a moment before it returned to its natural cheeriness. He patted the space next to him again.

“You must be tired. I can make you something. Tea?”

Your feet were glued to the ground, neither advancing nor retreating.

“P-please leave,” you repeated, more wary this time. Your hands were starting to shake and you watched his eyes flicker to them, then back to your eyes.

“Why would I do that?” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly.

His eyes bore into yours and you felt your stomach turn.

“Don’t you like my attention?”

“Satoru, please,” you continued, your lower lip wobbling inadvertently. “Please, just leave... I won’t tell anyone you came here, just... I can’t return whatever feelings you have, so just go.”

Your fists clenched and unclenched, but you still were so tense, planted onto the floor as though you were a sharp dagger thrust into vulnerable flesh. Why weren’t your feet moving? You should be running. Running as far as you can from this man who could just as easily become a monster if he so pleased.

As though he knew you’d already become powerless - not that it made a difference, the power differential was already so vast - he rose, walking towards you in an open, unguarded stance. He wasn’t afraid of you in the least. The very thought made your blood boil.

Once he stood before you, towering over your shorter, smaller frame, his lips pursed.

“Stop shaking.”

It was a command, given in an annoyed but direct fashion.

You don’t know why you eked out, powerlessly, “I can’t.”

“You weren’t this afraid when you were telling me to fuck off a couple days ago,” he noted. His hand rose to grip your chin, tilting your face to him. You don’t know when you’d started crying, but tears were now streaming down your face, warm and wetting his fingers.

“You’re crying? Where’s the sass you had then?”

“Please...”

Against your better wishes, his lips pressed to yours, and somehow then, your body remembered that adrenaline could also make you fight, and you did fight, thumping your hands balled into fists against his chest and his shoulders, as his hand gripped your chin tighter and his tongue forced its way down your throat. Once he’d gotten tired of your struggle, his other arm hooked around your waist, and he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body.

Your screams were muffled by his kiss as it grew deeper, and at some point, he’d decided on biting your lip painfully, drawing blood once he’d threatened you to shut the fuck up before he gave you something to cry about for real.

You remembered that the first time Gojo had kissed you, it had been soft and tender, nothing like this kiss that was violent and demanded submission; once his hand moved from its grip on your chin, it grasped your hair, fingers twisting and tugging to tilt your head back.

His lips left yours, now red and soon purple and blue, and made their way down your neck to mark them the same.

Every scream was futile, every plea for mercy fell on deaf ears.

At some point, you may have heard your cat meow for something... food? Out of sympathy? You weren’t sure, all you could think about were the painful hickeys on your collarbones and traveling down your bosom.

“I don’t know why you’re so resistant. You yourself called me selfish,” he murmured, ripping the top part of your clothing with the nonchalance with which one would peel a banana. At the sight of your exposed breasts, he was like a man rabid, slamming you backwards into the wall without much regard for head injury. His left arm caged you in, while his right pressed painfully onto your breast.

He paused for a moment, and grinned salaciously.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that~! You look so docile... it’s weird coming from you.”

To that, a fire renewed in your eyes, and you spat directly in his face. His lips curled again in satisfaction, barely reacting to the spittle dripping down his pretty features.

“Fuck you.”

“I will.”

With a small chuckle, he jerked your face painfully to the left such that you couldn’t look at him directly as he took your breast into his mouth.

The idea of this bastard suckling on you, loudly, lewdly as though you’d belonged to him only made the churn in your stomach worse, but the desperate attempts to a knee to his chest were met with barely a resistance. Like he knew you couldn’t hurt him and it was only a matter of time until you stopped and succumbed to him.

The process was already happening - you could feel your nipples hardening and a new flow of heat in your panties. Your tears became more prolific - no longer fear, but rage, but the hand that kept you steady against the wall was impossibly strong.

Your head swam as a confused pleasure started to replace the pain and fear you were feeling. More clothing was torn off of you, more of your skin was marked and licked and sucked. Once your panties were ripped to shreds, he lay your now languid and fight-drained body against him, cooing appreciatively at the new helplessness, pumping two slender fingers up and down your wet inner core as he moved you from the hard wall to the soft bed.

You almost thanked him.

His fingers remained within you as he laid you down, but once he withdrew his touch as your pounding hazy head hit the pillow, he replaced them with the roughness of his tongue, penetrating you without the least bit of shame.

You let slip the moan you had been holding in in defiance.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”

He continued to lick and you continued to mewl.

Once he’d tired of the taste of your cunt, he invaded your privacy in the most all-encompassing way possible, pushing every inch of a greedy, throbbing cock inside of you. As you cried from the stretch, he shushed you with a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your screams.

As if someone was going to help you. Maybe your cat would come and watch, but he’d found something else to do.

“I know it hurts but you’ll get used to it, I promise, babe,” he murmured, groaning slightly as he seated himself to the hilt. “There.”

He stilled and in the silence of the moment only punctuated by both of your soft pants, you remembered how to sob.

His nose crinkled, and he let out of a soft sigh, cock jerking impatiently inside you.

“Why are you so stubborn?” He mused, leaning against you so that his head rested in the softness of your breasts. He could hear your heartbeat that doesn’t beat for him... but rather it did, because he is the one making it quicken in some odd rhythm of terror and pleasure.

You didn’t speak because there was far, far too much to yell.

As though a timer had rung to mark the end of his empathy, he rose onto his hands again, sighing as he adjusted into the plushness of your walls that didn’t reject him as fervently as you did. He moved, shoving two fingers down your throat to gag your renewed protests as he thrust into you repeatedly.

The short gasps with every stroke only encouraged him, and the immense pleasure he found in the light of your eyes starting to fade into a placid dullness.

“You love me,” he informed you with every rut.

You didn’t answer.  

You weren’t sure what this disgusting repetitive sensation bringing your body to climax was. You were no longer sure what he was even talking about, just that there was a warm thing pumping inside of you and fingers down your throat and pain everywhere else in your body, particularly your neck and shoulders and arms and breasts, and you were staring into precious sapphires littering the base of twin lakes.

“You love me,” he repeated. “I know you do.”

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 10-12

Masterlist

Time for a Freaky Friday situation, an Isekai situation, and a fun family trip! And what’s a fun family trip without helping your uncle who is trapped in an attic and trying to raise a cat with your half-brother/uncle/whatever whose in your father’s body? Dear Grandfather God… get MC some help-

Let’s pick up where we left off last time with MC and Belphie >:)

“No need to be nervous, I won’t bite.” Belphie tapped his knuckles against the door he was leaning on to emphasize his point. “And I can’t on account of the magic door.”

“Why…” MC began before straightening their posture and clearing their throat. “What are you doing up here? I was told you were in the human world.”

“As you can see,” Belphie sighed. “I’m not. I’ve been stuck in the attic since before you got here.”

“But why?”

“Lucifer.”

MC narrowed their eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He locked me up here, rude, right?” Belphie’s carefree tone heavily contrasted how tense his shoulders were as he leaned oh-too casually on the doorframe. “To cut right to the chase, I need your help.”

“My… help..?”

“Yep. I need you to get me out of here.” Upon seeing MC’s scandalized expression, he raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Calm down, I’ll explain.”

Belphie began his explanation. “So, Lucifer and I got into a little brotherly spat that got blown out of proportion, it was really all a misunderstanding. I want to be able to have a civil conversation with Lucifer that isn’t marred by my… prison.”

“Mammon told me that you opposed the exchange program, and that’s why you got sent to the human world.” MC said quietly. Ugh, they almost cursed themselves out then and there for all the muttering they were doing. They weren’t some guilty child!

Belphie had a look on his face that MC had seen on the five other brothers. The look that always preceded one of the brothers calling Mammon a scumbag, a moron, an idiot, or something equally nasty. The look quickly disappeared as Belphie gave MC a halfhearted shrug.

“I was, yes. But I couldn’t care less about that now.” Belphie waved his hand in the air like he was waving off the whole issue. “It was my bad, really. I was being unreasonable, and I got pissed.”

“What exactly do you need me to do to get you out of there?” MC asked, clenching and unclenching their fist to get the tension out.

“I need you to undo the spell holding the door shut. If you were anyone else, I’d be asking you to make pacts with my brothers in order to override Lucifer’s spell and open the door,” Belphie’s eyes flashed again. “But you… you can just use some of your magic, can’t you? I assume Lucifer passed some of his power down to you?”

MC stiffened and took a step back from the door. “How did you-”

“MC, I’ve lived with Lucifer for over five thousand years, I know his magical signature as well as I know my own, and yours is too damn close to his to be a wild coincidence. And,” Belphie gestured at MC. “You look and act like a mini him. It’s cute, honestly.”

MC frowned, cute?! MC wasn’t cute! But that was a… decent explanation..?

“So,” Belphie took a step back from the door. “Put your hand on the door, and try to open it. You might feel some magical resistance but if your magic is similar enough to Lucifer’s you might be able to open it without any difficulty at all.”

MC reached out, then hesitated. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

“MC, you’re my brother’s kid. I don’t want this dumb fight between me and Lucifer to break my family apart. Besides, it’ll be nice to have you as a part of the family too. I don’t want to sully that by being stuck up here.”

Part of the family? MC’s eyes practically sparkled. A real part of their new family… they looked up at Belphegor and nodded.

“Okay, here I go…” MC tentatively placed their hand on the door.

It began to burn at an intensity that nearly made MC scream and collapse on the spot. Their hand was glued to the door as the door’s spell seemed to crawl its way up their arm. MC countered with the biggest burst of their own magic they could possibly muster.

The blast of bright blue that slammed into the door made it creak back and forth slightly, but the spell held its ground.

MC snatched their hand back and stared expectantly at the door. They swayed on their feet slightly as they looked up at Belphegor, who tapped the door. When blue sparks met his hand, he frowned.

“It didn’t… it didn’t work… I’m…” MC paused before they apologized, they didn’t have to. They tried their best, didn’t they? They just needed to get a better hold of their magic. “I’ll get stronger, I’ll get better at magic and then I’ll come back and open the door.”

Belphie sighed in relief and smiled at MC. “Thank you, MC. You’re really helping me out here, you’re sweet.” Belphie then crouched ever so slightly to get to MC’s level, and smirked conspiratorially. “You know, all powerful demons need snacks to recharge their magic, right? Mammon has a massive stash of candy that he thinks is secret hidden in one of the potted plants in the planetarium. You didn’t hear this from me though.”

They gave Belphegor a small smile. “I’ll get you out soon, okay?”

“I trust that you will.”

———

Disgusting.

That was the one thought that permeated through Belphegor’s mind when he first saw MC.

The thought remained throughout the entire first encounter, and the feeling of roiling nausea only grew when MC’s attempt to break Lucifer’s spell failed spectacularly. Belphie tried as best as he could to follow MC’s retreating form down the attic hallway, but his vision was limited.

A half demon. Truly Lucifer had fallen from whatever grace he still had left from a time where his youngest brother actually respected him.

A half human child. Did Lucifer truly have no self respect? A proud high ranking demon, the second strongest in the entire Devildom, in fact, had a half human child.

How monumentally stupid.

Belphegor was no stranger to half-demons, he had been alive far too long to have never come across one. A few hundred years ago they were much more common, running around the human world wreaking havoc and scurrying around the Devildom like scared mice. The duality always made Belphie smile. They may have been beings of pure terror in the human world, but their demon half could never compare to real demons in the Devildom.

Asmodeus held the unofficial record for most half demon children, obviously. As much as Belphegor absolutely detested humans, he couldn’t exactly fault his older brother. Asmo was the Avatar of Lust after all, and the Avatar of Sloth of all people couldn’t judge him for indulging in his sin every once and a while.

Hell, even Satan and Mammon occasionally had children pop up in the human world. The difference, the thing that made all the difference was that they never brought their… spawn home. They never brought their half-human little monsters into his home.

What gave Lucifer the right to do so? The right to bring that into Belphegor’s home? One of the beings responsible for the death of their sister. His sister. Did he not care about that at all?!

Belphegor collapsed onto the bed in the attic, ruffling his hair and shutting his eyes.

The brat couldn’t even break the door.

The thought almost caused Belphegor to laugh. The little brat couldn’t even break the door.

He cracked up, muffling his laughter with his hand. The child was Lucifer’s and they couldn’t even fully break the door. My my, how the mighty have fallen. It had taken over three months for Belphegor to even get close to being able to get into that little brat’s head to call them up to him, and they couldn’t even break the door?

Belphie’s borderline hysterical laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation stopped abruptly as he looked around the room. Something-

Someone was glaring at him.

His eyes instinctively darted to the door, the most logical conclusion was that the brat had snitched and Lucifer was at the door. But the hallway was empty. The feeling of being watched made him shudder, then stiffen. He tilted his head and sat in silence. No sound, just the familiar smell of…

The Celestial Realm.

Belphie dragged a hand down his face and growled, lying back down and clamping his eyes shut. He needed to sleep.

So, that was the first problem MC had to face that month, the second was the fact that Satan snuck a cat into the house and he and MC were co-parenting it in secret. The third problem was Satan was still acting like a massive dickwad. All this fighting wasn’t good for baby Detective Toe Beans!

After receiving the “Lucifer got so mad he gave birth” talk from the other brothers, MC could have had their own rage-baby then and there.

I have never regretted typing a sentence more, but anyway, MC was on a warpath to find Satan.

‘Calm down,’ MC thought to themselves as they walked down the hallway of the HOL. ‘Don’t overreact, maybe this is all some big misunderstanding.’

The demon they were hoping to find was walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. Satan gave MC a half nod and barely acknowledged them.

“Hi Satan!” MC chirped, trying to sound as friendly as possible. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

After being so coldly snubbed, MC stood in the hallway completely motionless, until of course the little voice crawled its way up their spine and nestled in the base of their skull.

‘Who does he think he is?’

MC squared their shoulders and started after Satan, resolute in their totally non-suicidal goal of chastising him for his behaviour.

“Satan!” MC threw his door open and crossed their arms, the room was a complete mess of books and loose papers as usual, the Avatar of Wrath himself was sitting on his bed with his nose in a book. “We need to talk.”

“Do we now?” Satan drawled, not looking up from his book. That stupid encyclopedia must’ve been the most interesting thing in the god damn universe for Satan not to look up and see MC seething with a kind of pure rage only preteens we’re capable of. “Walking into people’s rooms without knocking is rude, you know. Let’s talk about that.”

“Honestly can you not be a smartass for a few seconds and just fucking look at me?!”

The sudden cursing got Satan to raise an eyebrow and look up. “What do you want, MC?”

“I want to know what the hell your problem with me is.” MC said, attempting to keep their voice as level and calm as possible. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you since I got here, and you’ve been nothing but a massive jerk!”

“Did you ever stop to think that I just don’t like you?”

“For what reason? What did I do?!”

“You look exactly like him!” Satan finally snapped. “Another Lucifer prancing around the house like they run the place!”

“So to you I’m just another Lucifer..?” MC asked, then let out a humourless laugh. “Are you… are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re pegging me as another Lucifer? You?”

Satan bristled, his eyes began to flash green, MC’s own eyes had begun to show a slight blue tint. “What are you implying?”

“I’m ‘implying’ that you, Satan, the one who was born of Lucifer’s wrath, calling me a copy of Lucifer is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing.” MC snarled, almost every fibre of their mind was screaming to transform and teach Satan a lesson, but they held back. “You hate Lucifer, anyone with two brain cells can see that, but you don’t see how stupid you’re being?!”

In an instant Satan yanked MC up by the front of their shirt and let out a low growl. “Do you want to repeat that, half-breed?”

“You’re being an idiot.” MC’s bratty, teasing tone couldn’t fully hide the boiling anger that was just beneath the surface. “You think you have the right to demand that people see you as different from Lucifer, yet you don’t grant me the same courtesy.”

With that, Satan’s demon form was out and less than a second later so was MC’s. The half-demon’s foot shot out and hit Satan right in the knee, the Avatar of Wrath staggered backwards slightly which allowed MC to back away until they felt their back hit a pile of books.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, daring the other to make a move, when the door to Satan’s room slammed open. There stood enemy number one, Lucifer.

“What the hell are both of you doing?” Lucifer hissed, his eyes flicking between Satan and MC.

“STAY OUT OF THIS!”

With Satan and MC’s combined shout, books began to shoot off the shelves and off the tops of piles. The books whizzed around the room, crashing into things and making the room even more of a mess.

“Both of you calm down!” Lucifer growled, both Satan and MC turned to shout at him again.

“JUST SHUT UP!”

Quick as lightning, a book shot towards MC, time seemed to slow as the spine of the book brushed past their nose as they stumbled out of its way. MC was out of the book’s path, but now it was speeding directly towards Lucifer.

Satan, most likely desiring to protect his book from Lucifer-germs, dove forward to grab the book while Lucifer prepared to catch it with an outstretched hand. The moment the two touched the book a blinding flash of light engulfed the entire room, leaving everything completely still.

Huh, well that happened. Argument paused, gather everyone.

Satan and Lucifer switched bodies… coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool-

Wait why are they staying in MC’s room?!

Lucifer (in Satan’s body) pulled the “you live under my roof you follow my rules” card, and MC got to work ordering a tent on Akuzon. Their tent, their rules.

“Satan! We have a bit of a problem with you agreeing to stay in my room with Lucifer!” “And what’s that problem, MC?” “Uh, I don’t know, THE DETECTIVE.”

Satan completely forgot that they were hiding a cat from Lucifer. Whoops!

When Lucifer stomped out of MC’s room later that day holding the cat the two knew they were screwed.

MC and Satan had to compromise their dignity and beg Lucifer to not take away their poor kitty. Lucifer just grumbled that he’d deal with this when he got back into his own body.

Body switching shenanigans were abound, Mammon and Satan were working together to make Lucifer look as ridiculous as possible without breaking any of the ground rules everyone laid out.

This all culminated in getting Mammon hung from the ceiling.

That night, MC tried to ignore Satan and Lucifer’s sleep talking, but it was a fruitless endeavour.

The only good part of that arrangement was the fact that Bean refused to snuggle up to Satan while he was in Lucifer’s body, and Lucifer didn’t want the cat near him while in Satan’s body, so MC got all the snuggle time with their favourite kitty.

While Bean’s intense purring was adorable, it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Lucifer and Satan’s rampant sleep talking.

“Fuck you Lucifer…” Satan in Lucifer’s body mumbled. “Gonna fuckin rip your head off…”

“Diavolo you can’t just get me another dog…” Lucifer in Satan’s body grumbled before letting out a snore.

MC rolled their eyes and looked at their cat. “Can you believe this shit, Bean?” They whispered.

Bean responded by pawing at MC’s face. What a big baby with such cute widdle eyes omigoodness what a baby baby-

Having enough of that tomfoolery, MC gently placed Bean down on their bed, and tiptoed out. They ended up doubling back to their room and grabbing one of their books.

Sneaking up to the attic a second time was much easier than the first attempt. It had been a week since their first encounter with Belphie and MC thought that he might want an update.

“So yeah… that’s what’s happening right now.”

Belphie appeared to be suppressing a laugh as he nodded and cleared his throat. “Mm… that’s… very unfortunate.”

“It’s not that funny.”

MC and Belphie stared at each other for a few seconds, before both of them broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Okay,” MC relented. “It’s kind of funny…”

“So, any updates on the plan?” Belphie asked, MC responded with a noncommittal shrug.

“Well, almost everyone has welcomed me in with pretty open arms, so I don’t think they’d question it if I asked them to come up here and get you out.”

“Almost everyone?” Belphie tilted his head as he leaned on the wall next to the door.

“Yeah… um…” MC quickly looked away and pursed their lips. “Satan… you know?”

“Ah,” Belphie’s usual lazy smile reappeared. “Satan’s going to be a tough one to win over. You know why, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Lucifer told you?”

“No actually,” MC mumbled. “Mammon, Beel, Levi, and Asmo did.”

Belphie’s eyes flashed for a brief moment, like MC had just offered him a present, but it was so quick MC barely took notice.

“I’m guessing he must be keeping a lot of stuff from you, huh?”

MC crossed their arms and shrugged. “Kinda… I guess. He kept you being in the attic a secret, he’s keeping the reason the Grimoire is in the Underground Tomb a secret…” MC frowned as all the strange little secrets began to come to light. Their father’s practically fanatical loyalty to Diavolo, the reason for the Celestial War, the reason no one talked about Lilith…

“Hm,” Belphie sighed. “It sucks that Lucifer doesn’t really tell you anything.”

“Mhm…” MC looked down at their feet, until they remembered the other reason they went up to visit the attic. “Oh! I brought you something!”

They held out the book to Belphie, carefully sliding it between the gaps in the door. “It’s a manga Levi recommended to me, I read it and it’s awesome! I thought you might be bored up here, so I brought it up for you to read.”

When Belphie took the book he stared at it like it was a completely foreign object, then his features melted into a smile. “Thank you, MC.”

“Right!” MC smiled proudly. “I’ll work on my magic, and on my relationship with Satan, then I’ll bust you out of here!”

Belphie chuckled and gave a thumbs up. “Good luck, kiddo. I believe in you.”

The seeds of discord were planted and the local attic cowboy was being one hell of a gardener. I need to stop typing take my phone away from me.

When MC left the attic, the first thing they heard was Mammon crying in the stairwell. It seemed that even the HOL’s ghosts were annoyed with all his whining.

“MC… help meeeeee…” “You’re hanging there for a reason, Mammon. I’m not going to disturb your punishment.” “MCCCCCCCCC!”

Don’t worry, MC did some sick maneuvers and cut Mammon down! Hooray!

“You now owe me a life debt.” “Wait what-” “We’re fixing my and Lucifer’s relationship with Satan.” “…kid if you smoked the weed in my room just tell me, I won’t be mad.”

No dear uncle Mammon, MC was not high on the devil’s lettuce, they were high on the power of family!

Time to fire up Doji Magi!

Obviously MC wasn’t the protagonist, everyone was trying to woo this random generic anime character (tm)

It wasn’t going good for anyone other than Levi. MC wasn’t even allowed to properly participate because Lucifer didn’t approve of his child getting involved in this degenerate anime stuff.

Too late Luci-goosey, your kid was a weeb long before they came to the Devildom

Of course, come graduation day, things got much more fun.

“THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!” MC screamed with delight as they swung a folding chair at an oncoming monster.

Mammon was having decidedly less fun as he dealt with his share of the monsters that had suddenly spawned into the game. “MC what the hell are ya talkin’ about?! This is crazy!”

“Can both of you shut up?” Lucifer said as he calmly snapped a monster’s neck. “Get to the roof, all of you.”

“This was very well foreshadowed I’m very impressed.” Satan said, Levi nodded enthusiastically.

“I know! All those hidden lore bits were so fun to find.”

“Wait, lore?” Mammon asked, he turned to MC. “What’d we miss while we were in fake detention?”

As the group continued to make their way up the steps to the roof, downing monsters left and right, MC turned to Satan and laughed. “You’re absolutely drenched right now.”

Satan smirked and flicked some of the monster goop onto MC. “You don’t look any better.”

“Ew!” MC stuck out their tongue and leaned to the left, looking behind Satan. “There’s a monster behind you by the way.”

“Ah,” Satan turned and punched the monster so hard in the forehead that its skull caved in. “Thank you, MC.”

The rooftop was filled with significantly less monsters than the rest of the school, and it uh… oh… hm… gamer instincts were tingling.

“Hey, this is a lot of negative space…” Levi picked a medpack up off the floor. “And an odd collection of healing items…”

“Where’d all the enemies go..?” Mammon asked tentatively.

“Better question,” MC piped up. “Where’s the music?”

Right after those words left MC’s lips, the door to the rooftop burst open, revealing a very familiar three headed doggo that MC and Lucifer so adored. It was Cerberus! Who looked positively murderous!

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Mammon shrieked and hid behind Levi.

“Oh… that’s what all the dog imagery meant.” Satan said. “I thought it was odd that all the books in this school’s library had something to do with dogs.”

“Yeah! Aw, it all makes sense now!” Levi exclaimed.

“Cerberus,” Lucifer stepped forward and crossed his arms. “Sit.”

Cerberus, did not in fact, sit. He instead growled like a monster truck, and the acidic looking drool that was falling from his gaping jaws was an indicator that the giant pupper was quite hungry.

“Uh… bad dog?” MC offered. With that, Cerberus charged forward.

Mammon, Levi, and MC dodged to the left while Lucifer and Satan dove to the right.

“Shit! How are we supposed to fight Cerberus!?” Levi squeaked.

“Maybe we can- SATAN WATCH OUT!”

Cerberus had decided to ignore Lucifer and rush straight towards the fourth born, whose weapon of choice had just decided to break, and MC had a sneaking suspicion that Satan wouldn’t be able to punch all three of Cerberus’ heads at once.

“CERBERUS!” Lucifer shouted, causing everyone to freeze in place. “YOU LAY A HAND ON MY BROTHER AND I WILL [Hello, this is the narrator, Lucifer has asked that I censor what he said because he doesn’t want this to end up reflecting badly on Diavolo].”

It was thirty seconds into the very vulgar threat before Levi thought it would be a good idea to cover MC’s ears. Game-Cerberus whimpered and sat down, much to the utter amazement of everyone.

“Wow, I can curse in Latin now!” MC chirped.

“MC, you will forget what you heard.” Lucifer sighed.

“Of course, father!” MC said sweetly, they then leaned over to Levi. “Noooooot.”

Yay, the fam’s out of the game! L!MC and Satan both agreed that Cerberus would never in a thousand years listen to either of them and they should just depend on Lucifer to deal with their homicidal pupper.

Good news, in the days after the game, glasses related thefts went down 100%! Also, pranks relating to Lucifer’s coffee being turned into vinegar went down 83%!

Satan was chilling out :D… but Lucifer still had a speech to give and he was not about to trust the guy who filled the house with cats once.

It was time for a visit to the human world to go find a witch!

“Come on! I wanna see the horsies!” Mammon whined, hanging off of Lucifer in Satan’s body like a petulant little kid. The actual kid rolled their eyes and snorted.

“Let’s be honest with ourselves, Mammon.” Lucifer said. “You want to see the horses so you can find the one you’re going to bet all our money on.”

“Of course I wanna see the horse I’m gonna bet on!So can we gooooooo?!”

Satan in Lucifer’s body finished off the last of his gelato and scoffed. “No, we’re not going to bet the house on the ponies, Mammon. We’re going to spend it on-”

The high pitched shriek that left MC caused everyone to whirl in their direction as the half demon jumped up and down and frantically pointed at a sign. They were clearly trying to sputter out some kind of explanation of what had them so excited, but no one could understand a word.

“MC, calm down-”

“It’s the musical!”

“What-”

“I’ve watched so many analysis videos on this! Father! Father! The music in this is supposed to be insane! I wanna see! I wanna see! You gotta let me see!” Every single word was punctuated by MC jumping up and down to the point that Lucifer was actually concerned their wings might pop out and they’d take flight.

Right in the middle of one of their jumps, Satan caught them and held them up in front of Lucifer. “Oh dearest brother of mine, your poor spawn wants to see the show- hang on it’s this one?” Satan did a double take at the sign for the show. “Now I actually want to see this.”

Lucifer finally shoved Mammon off of him and got a good look at the sign, at least two out of the three people he was travelling with had taste. “Yes, we can watch the show.”

“Yay!” MC clapped their hands, then noticed their feet weren’t touching the floor and turned to look at Satan. “Uh, Satan, you know you can put me down, right?”

“No, I don’t think I’m going to do that,” Satan said as the group began their walk towards the theatre. “It’s fun having you up as a half-human meat shield.”

“Hey!”

A distinct interest of MC’s had been discovered by the rest of the group that day when they started rambling and explaining the intricacies of musical theatre and opera to a very confused Mammon. Lucifer and Satan exchanged amused glances as MC continued to rapidly explain increasingly more confusing parts of music.

“So that’s the main difference between recitative and an aria,”

“Uh huh…”

“So technically Hugh Jackman is wrong in his explanation that Val Jean’s soliloquy in the movie adaptation of Les Miserables is recitative because it’s more of an aria because Val Jean is basically screaming about his emotions.”

“Hugh Jackman? Wolverine?”

“Yeah, Wolverine. Anyway back to leitmotifs-”

MC’s animated explanation continued all the way until the four were sat down in their seats and the show began. Mammon, of course, started fully weeping whenever anything sad happened. It was intermission when Lucifer and Satan finally had enough of it.

“Mammon…” Satan rubbed his temples and glared at the sobbing second born. “I swear, if you don’t stop crying, I’m going to strangle you…”

“Do it like the Phantom of the Opera.” MC offered.

“What?” Satan asked.

“Lasso noose.”

Mammon loudly blew his nose and shoved popcorn a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Musical theatre is so fuckin’ weird…”

MC 🤝(being a musical theatre nerd) 🤝 Lucifer

So after the play, they hopped on the train and MC and Mammon stuck their heads out the window to baa at some nearby sheep. The sheep responded, Mammon and MC can speak sheep confirmed.

Of course, Mammon went off and got involved in the murder of the very witch they were trying to find.

“Only one version of events is ever true!” Satan proclaimed to the three unfortunate bastards that were also involved with the crime.

Lucifer looked from the dead body that was covered in a tablecloth, to MC. He made an awkward attempt to cover their eyes, but even he seemed confused by the action.

“Father, it’s fine.” MC lightly moved their father’s hand away and pulled something out of their brand new bag. “Satan, here!”

MC held up a Sherlock Holmes cap. “It’ll make you look more like a detective.”

“Thank you, MC.” Satan put the cap on and turned back to the crime scene in front of him. “I’m going to solve the shit out of this.”

Hearing those words come out of Lucifer’s mouth even knowing that it was Satan saying them made Mammon forget he was being accused of murder and laugh like a maniac. This did not help MC and Satan’s “Mammon’s not crazy” case.

MC and Levi had spent a week playing Danganronpa nonstop, MC was ready for this!

After clearing Mammon’s name, the ghost of the witch showed up and told the gang to solve her murder and she’d undo the body switch curse.

“The killer is, YOU!” MC and Satan pointed at the culprit with flourish.

“You have no proof!”

“I’m afraid we do in fact have proof.” Satan smirked triumphantly. “The other two suspects were too far away or standing up,”

“And the knife entered the body at a downward angle,” MC continued. “The only person close enough to stab the victim like that is you.”

“So suspect number 3,” The two said together. “You’re the dumbass who did it!”

“Did they rehearse this?” Mammon leaned over to ask Lucifer.

“No idea.”

Yay! Murder solved! Time for the life lesson!

“If only I had trusted him to be my apprentice…” “oh wow what a convenient life lesson, right father? Right Satan? Trust?”

“…” “…”

Satan and Lucifer got poofed back to normal and everyone got to go home. Lucifer, like in canon, lets Satan give the speech because he learned that he needs to trust his brother more and have a little bit of faith.

The speech is a success, and life returns to normal, but better. Satan and MC build up their relationship and after a few weeks, it was like the stuff from the beginning of the year never happened.

The attic was Belphegor’s favourite nap spot, though at the moment, Belphie didn’t want to sleep in the attic. He had been stuck up there for the past four months, and the only form of social interaction he had was sporadic chats with Lucifer or the half-human.

He must have been going completely mental up there because he was actually wishing he was talking to the kid, at least the brat was nice to him…

“Belphie!”

The cheery voice of the little “angel” echoed down the hall, Belphie found himself smiling at the sound, at least before he realized what he was doing. MC appeared at the door, practically bouncing on their toes.

“Belphie Belphie Belphie!” MC waved their DDD in the air.

“MC MC MC.” Belphie repeated. He leaned against the wall next to the door and yawned. “Nice to see you again, any updates?”

MC flicked through their DDD and gave Belphie a thumbs up. “I’ve been practicing my magic and stuff, but that’s not what I’m up here for.” They held up their DDD to show Belphie a picture.

“Beel’s team won their game-thing!”

The picture showed Beel in his team uniform eating an entire pie with a medal around his neck, the rest of the brothers and MC were posed for the picture around him. “I have no clue how this sport is supposed to work or what the rules are, but apparently he won, so that’s good!”

Any traces of Belphie’s half decent mood vanished as he looked at the picture. Everyone seemed… really happy. Levi, Asmo, Satan, Mammon, Beel, all of them, looked happy. Happy without him…

“That’s… great, MC.”

—————

Belphegor truly didn’t think he’d pity the human he vowed to kill. MC was literally a mixture of everything he hated, humans, Lucifer, Diavolo’s stupid exchange program… but yet, Belphegor felt pity.

The way MC lit up when they talked about the fun things they had done with the brothers and the other exchange students, how they went up to the attic to keep him company when they had a spare bit of time… they did all of that without knowing that Belphegor despised them. It was honestly pitiful.

Though, the Avatar of Sloth’s feeling of detest had somehow lessened. The little half demon had managed to get their hooks in him. Unfortunately for them, it only made Belphegor’s blood boil more. His brothers adored that little brat, it was plain to see. The half human had won them all over, like half of MC’s ancestry wasn’t responsible for the death of their little sister.

Belphegor narrowed his eyes as he lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He had been stuck up there long enough to have counted every knot in the wood, every nail and plank, and every spider that managed to crawl through the cracks. The familiar feeling of guilt began to twist in his stomach. His sister died because Beel chose to save him. He should have been more careful… he shouldn’t have taken her to the human world…

‘It’s their fault.’ Belphie tried to push any and all thoughts other than that out of his head. ‘That human killed her. If they had never met she wouldn’t have died.’

Repeating that over and over did not expel the roiling feeling of guilt that crawled its way up Belphie’s spine and constricted his ribs.

“I hate you…” Belphie growled. MC was the reason for all this, weren’t they? They were the reason he wasn’t with his family, they were the reason they could be happy without him, yet even repeating his declaration of hatred like a mantra didn’t make the guilt go away. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!”

A sudden sharp yank on Belphie’s ear made him lurch upwards and look around the room. Nothing.

It was a childish gesture, wasn’t it? A sharp pull to his ear, a habit he knew all too well belonged to…

It belonged to…

…

Belphegor needed to sleep.

———————

Sup my witches, bitches, and bastards, we’re reaching the exciting part :D the part you angst hungry sickos (affectionate) are waiting for! ✨ lesson 16 ✨ next time, we’re doing the buildup, then after that, ANGST COUNTRY BABY!

Reblogs are very appreciated!

[goodgirlofglory]

That which lingered on his mind / Chapter 1

Prologue - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 4,7k

Warnings: 18+, Non-con, dub-con, Explicit sexual content, Explicit language, smut, Graphic descriptions of violence, bondage (bound wrists), oral (f receiving), asphyxiation (choking), Cumplay, Some graphic descriptions of blood.

Chapter summary: Steve Rogers, Captain America and your former neighbor, used to harbour some secret feelings for you before he was turned into a Hydra asset. Now he’s come back to claim what he cannot rid himself of: his desire for you.

Author’s note: This one came to me a dark January night and hasn’t let me go since. This series will be about 7-8 chapters, so stay tuned! Not beta-read, so all mistakes are mine. My work is not to be distributed anywhere but my blog. Reblogs are welcome, though. And I so appreciate reading your replies and tags<3 hope you enjoy ;)

It started out as any other night. You had a cup of tea and scrolled through your phone for a while before a violent yawn told you it was time for bed. 

It was a normal night.

Until you stood face to face with Captain America. Or at least, who you thought was Captain America. America’s hero and your former neighbor. 

You had never really paid any attention to news about the Avengers or Mr. Rogers, and had never been one to socialize with neighbors. He lived across the hall from you and was quiet and polite, never drawing more attention to himself other than a smile and a curt greeting now and then.

That was until he disappeared off the grid about four months ago. It was all the news could talk about for a good three weeks. Gossip in the building also started flourishing. Where had he gone? What happened? Was he dead?

Apparently not, for there he stood, silent as the grave, inside your apartment, half shrouded in darkness, blocking your way to the bedroom. 

 You didn’t really know what his uniform used to look like either, but from what you could remember he used to have a star on his chest, and not the squid looking emblem he now bore. His face was also an unusual sight, jaw covered in a gruff beard, hair long and pushed back. But worse were the eyes; steely, cold and intent on you.

 Had it only been good ol’ Captain America standing uninvited in your home you would have been scared. But this. This chilled you to the bone.

 What the fuck was going on?

 Your body froze as you stared at the man, who made no effort to speak nor move. Finally you found your voice. 

“Excuse me, but what the hell are you doing in my apartment? Please leave before I call the police.”

You tried to sound tough, but your voice shook slightly at the last word. He must have picked up on that, for his otherwise dead eyes gained a slight glimmer. 

 “Please do. Their deaths will be on your shoulders.”

A small gasp caught in your throat. You were starting to become terrified. This was absolutely not the Captain America you had seen on the news nor the Steve Rogers you had greeted in the hallway. 

“Actually, don’t bother, you’ll never reach your phone,” he continued, sounding far too nonchalant for the ominous aura he was putting off.

Your eyes widened when you remembered leaving your phone on the living room table, all the way across the room behind you. 

What should you do? Run for it anyways? Scream for help? You opted for a seemingly less provoking approach.

“What do you want?” you asked, tears starting to involuntarily form at the corners of your eyes.

His eyes seemed to darken somehow, setting themselves on you with deadly weight, piercing your soul.

“You.”

Your fight reflex kicked in before you could think, and you lunged for the front door across the living room behind you.

But you barely got a few steps in before a thick arm snaked around your waist and janked you back to hit painfully against a hard, unrelenting body. You managed to shriek in fear before a second hand, big enough to cover both your mouth and nose slammed down on your face and muffled your cries, knocking your lips against your teeth. You tasted blood.

You kicked, hit and scratched at your assailant's body, but gained only a mocking snicker in response. His mouth came down to whisper in your ear, sending ice cold shivers down your spine.

“Please, keep fighting, it only makes this more enjoyable.”

You sobbed into his coarse hand, tears springing free from your eyes, wetting the skin of his fingers. 

 He tsked

 “Cuing the waterworks. He wouldn’t like that,” he breathed into your ears and tightened his grip on your face, effectively cutting off your air supply. You squirmed against his arms in panic, new tears falling, not managing to move him even an inch. His grip remained as tight as iron. 

 As your vision blurred and you slipped into dark unconsciousness, you kept wondering what he meant by “he”.

 §

 You awoke groggily, feeling the muscles in your arms ache as they lay over your head. You usually woke up with your arms thrown over your head, so it took a few seconds to remember what had happened.

When you did, your body surged upwards, but was promptly janked back against the bed. Looking up, you registered for the first time that both of your wrists were bound to the bedpost above your head, using the bondage ropes you had gotten as a joke a few years back. Looking down you saw that you were still fully clothed, with your oversized UNI t-shirt and cotton shorts.

 The knot looked intricate and a few janks told you it was secure as well. 

 Your breathing started to race as you understood you were stuck, and a cry ripped itself from your lungs at the realization. 

 “Ah-ah-ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a calm voice came from across the room.

“HELP,” you screamed at the top of your lungs, ignoring the man who sat in the chair in the corner. It felt good to defy him, if only for a split second. 

 He made no indication that your behaviour bothered him, his stare as even as ever. 

“I will kill anyone who enters this apartment,” he said calmly. “You don’t want to endanger any of your good neighbors' lives. That’s not who he perceived you to be. I, on the other hand, have no problem killing everyone in this building if it helps you understand what is happening here.”

 “And what the fuck is happening here exactly?” you snarled, still janking at the knot around your wrists, bound just a little too tightly.

He smirked at that.

“Feisty, just like I hoped. It’s more...fun if I can break you first,” he mused.

He got up from the chair and moved over to the bed. When he got close enough you kicked out at him, and you would have hit him right in the gut if he hadn’t caught your foot. Not that it would affect him, you bitterly thought after.

He looked almost amused before twisting your foot around until you shrieked in pain.

“Oh,” he cooed, “remember to be quiet. We wouldn’t want anyone to come checking in on you, would we?”

He let go of your foot, and you recoiled in the pain that shot up through your body. A sob escaped your gritted teeth.

He snickered.

“Pathetic. But I do see the appeal.”

He leaned forward and grabbed your jaw in a harsh grip, making you look him in the eyes as he leaned in so close his breath brushed across your face. There was a slight hint of mint to it.

“What's happening here, sweetheart, is that I’m gonna get some things out of my system.”

His hand let go of your jaw and moved down to slightly encircle your throat, lingering like a taunting threat. Your throat constricted instinctively at the presence of his calloused hand. A smirk played at his lips as you squirmed under his light touch. 

“I’m going to fuck you, Y/N”.

 You thrashed at that, nausea setting in your stomach, your skin prickling as the words landed.  

 “No, no, no, please,” you started to mumble in your panicked state, janking  more desperately on the knot around your bound wrists.

 “Oh yes, and the more you fight, the worse it’ll be for you,” Steve smirked as he moved around the back of the bed and started to climb onto it, grabbing your kicking feet with ease, straddling your thighs.

Helpless to stop it, you watched as he took a fistful of your shirt in both his hands and ripped the fabric open, split down the middle, exposing your stomach and chest underneath. In the chilly night air your nipples hardened and goosebumps spread across your skin.

You saw the feral expression that grew behind his eyes. 

He only hummed in response to your desperate whine, before letting a hand flitter up your hip.

His fingers stroked lightly up your torso, following every dent and bump, and you shivered at how soft it was in contrast to his earlier brutality.

Your breath hitched in your throat and his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“Does that feel good?” he asked in a low murmur, smugness shining in his eyes, mockery dripping from his voice.. 

You shut your mouth and bit the inside of your cheek, tears welling in your eyes, trying to quell the impulse to scream. 

You had no doubt in your mind that no one in your building could overpower the super soldier, and you were terrified he would keep his word. 

You couldn’t let anyone else die. 

 A painful tweak of a hardened nipple brought you back to the room, and you cried out.

“Don’t disappear now, I need you present for this,” he instructed in a patient voice, almost like you were a disobedient child. 

 He bent down then, and took a pebbled nipple into his mouth while his hands landed on either side of your head, caging you in.

The sensation of his hot and wet mouth in contrast to the cold air of the room sent sparks flying through your body and, more horrifyingly, down between your legs. You bit your tongue out of shame, and tried to squirm away from his wanton mouth. It took only a single hand of his on your chest to effectively pin you down as he continued his ministrations on your nipple, sucking, licking and teasing with his teeth.

He radiated warmth hovering over you like that, his hand a searing presence on your skin, no doubt feeling how hard your heart was beating against your ribcage.

His smell filled your nose, musky, with hints of smoked wood and cedar, and something familiar and sweet - your own perfume. Did he go into your bathroom? Did he use your perfume on himself?

His mouth moved up your chest and to your neck, and he was so close, so overwhelming.

You squirmed slightly at his approach, but noticed that in this position, pinned under his thighs like you were, the fabric of your panties caught on your core, dragging along the awakened skin, and to your horror you could feel the slick starting to gather there. You stifled a whimper, face burning with dread and newly bloomed shame. 

His beard scratched your throat as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply.

“There’s that smell,” he murmured with a throaty sigh, “that smell he couldn’t get out of his head”.

What was he on about? Who was “he”? 

Your mind raced with questions as his tongue started to lap at your throat, leaving open mouthed and sloppy kisses to your sensitive skin.

You closed your eyes and tried to resist, tried to fight your body’s reaction to his stimulation, but as his teeth nipped at a particularly sweet spot, your whole body shuddered involuntarily and a small gasp escaped your mouth. 

 His face snapped up from your neck, piercing blue eyes finding yours teary and terrified - and no doubt dilated.

He straightened after a second, and shimmied off from where he was still stradling your thighs. As soon as your legs were free, you started kicking out at him, rage and defiance surging, trying and failing to hit him in the chest as he effortlessly caught both your ankles and gathered them in one hand. 

He leaned forward, face smooth and emotionless, and landed an open handed slap across your face a second later.

Your head whipped to the side, and your breath left your body for a second as your head swam, a high pitched ringing filling your ears.

You gasped in shock, your whole body going stiff as pain spread from your cheek.

You had never been hit before, and especially not that hard. Tears sprang forth from your eyes as it dawned on you how utterly fucked you were. 

“Let that be a warning,” he said in a calm voice, seemingly not affected in the slightest by the violence he was so willingly dishing out.

The fight was out of you for now, and you could only breathe through the sharp pain that lingered on your face as he moved in between your thighs.

Sitting back on his haunches he started to remove the tactical suit on his torso, impatiently ripping at the fastenings as his eyes never left your face, red, swollen and wet from your tears. 

You averted your gaze, disgusted by him, disgusted by yourself, desperately trying not to reveal your body’s reaction to his.

When he was completely naked from the waist up, his hands turned to your sleeping shorts, removing them with deft haste and surprising softness before leaning back again, his touch leaving your body. 

Several seconds went by without any action, and your curiosity gained the better of you. Turning your eyes to him, you found him studying your body. His face was as blank as ever, but his eyes betrayed some sort of sentiment you hadn’t seen before.

“He used to dream about you,” he said after a while, seemingly more to himself. 

He bent forward once he realized you were watching him, caging you in again as he hovered over you, moving closer and closer.

Face still stinging from his slap, you didn’t dare move even a muscle as his lips found yours. It started slow, but soon he grew impatient, and his tongue invaded your mouth, hot, wet and dominating, moving languidly against your own. 

Breathless and reeling, a small whimper left your mouth, and the responding groan that emitted from his throat rumbled through you.

While still moving his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands reached down and you felt the distinct calloused warmth of his touch to the inside of your thigh. 

A small, panicked “no” croaked out of you, but he only swallowed it eagerly, not letting up his touch as it zeroed in on your core. 

You could feel his fingers touching the cotton covering you, and by the breathy laughter he huffed against your mouth, he no doubt felt how wet it was.

“Oh, doll, I don’t think you’ve been completely honest,” he mocked as he leaned back again and looked down at your ruined panties. 

You tried to hide your burning face in the nook of your elbow as he ripped your panties off before bunching them up in his hand and bringing them to his face. But his eyes caught yours in a steel grip as he inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering for a second before a pleased sigh left his lips.

You watched as his tongue swiped at the wet patch of the fabric before he put the panties in his pocket.

You thrashed at his obscene actions, nausea burning hot in the pit of your stomach, mixing with your undeniable arousal. 

What the fuck was wrong with you? 

As your mind raced against the reality of the situation, Steve laid down on the bed between your legs. His mouth attacked your pussy. 

A squeak escaped your mouth, hands janking at the knot around your wrists as he started devouring you, mouth moving between your clit and weeping wound with urgency, almost desperation. 

A full on groan left his mouth as he lapped at the juices that were steadily leaking from you. 

His hands found your breasts and started teasing your nipples, and you tried to squirm away.

You needed him to stop, you needed this assault on your senses to cease, because you could feel your resolve burning away as sweet, untainted pleasure started spreading through your body. 

Steve’s tongue swept up and swirled around your clit, and you tried inching away. One of his hands gave your breast a sharp slap before tweaking your nipple painfully again. Another warning. You headed it. 

“Does that feel good?” he asked, but in contrast to the last time it almost sounded like he cared.

You shook your head weakly. 

He chuckled against your mound and gave your breast another slap, sending jolts of pain through your chest. 

“Don’t lie,” he warned, but there was surprisingly little malice in his voice. “But nevermind. This pretty, swollen, soaked cunt tells me all I need to know,” he said almost fondly before giving your clit a few licks. 

“Give in, Y/N, I can feel how much you want to,” he taunted in between licks and all you could do was lay still and take it, new tears streaking from your eyes and wetting the hair at your temples as you squeezed them shut. 

He was right. You couldn’t deny the pleasure he was wringing from your body.

“I’m going to stay still now, and you move however you want,” he said then, before doing just that. 

Somehow, having him stop was more torture than what he had been doing, and your stubborn pride, your better judgement and the stinging feeling of violation that burned in your chest fought against your body’s sudden need for stimulation - for his stimulation. 

Something in you snapped, and you tentatively moved your hips so your clit could find his tongue, stretched out waiting for you. 

You shivered. 

It felt good. 

You rolled your hips again, more firmly this time, and the resulting swipe of his tongue against your sensitive bud of nerves had your breath leaving your body in a shaky exhale. 

His hands gave your breasts an encouraging squeeze, before resuming their attention on your nipples, and you moved your hips with more fervor. 

Before long you were grinding yourself on his mouth, breaths coming out in puffs as your eyes stayed shut, losing yourself in the hot feel of his tongue. 

Desperation grew as you could feel that distinct coil tighten in your abdomen, and every draw of breath fueled the build up. 

Not thinking anymore, you bucked your hips on him in repeated motion, lingering on the edge of the abyss, searching for that which would make the coil snap.

A desperate whimper left your mouth and as a response, a rumbling groan from his throat vibrated right through you and you fell head first into your orgasm, entire body shuddering violently as your mouth opened in a silent scream. 

He was on you as you came down, lapping up your release and groaning as you trembled at the overstimulation. He was frantically groping at your waist and hips, strong arms and hands grounding you as you floated on the aftershocks of your high.

The moment the orgasm faded from your foggy mind, it fell in on itself.

How could you let yourself give in like that? 

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind trying to escape the whole thing, if only for a moment, go far far away, go numb, go blank. 

You weren’t allowed more than a few seconds reprieve, however, as you faintly heard him rustling around before you felt pressure at your entrance.

Before you had time to protest, Steve pushed his cock into you, giving a pleased huff as your body squeezed instinctively, drawing him in even more. 

Your eyes shot open and met his - wild and pleased.

“There she is,” he said with dark glee as he breathed hard. 

You fought to draw breath as your body seared with pain of the intrusion. His girth was more than you could take. It was all you could do to handle the stretch of his cock bottoming out, pushed inside you to the hilt.

“Feel that? Feel how your willing cunt is swallowing me like that, inviting me in?” 

He started to move a second later, not giving you any time to adjust, setting a punishing pace that sent sparks of pain up through your body.

You cried out at the agony, nails digging into your own palms. 

Above you, Steve growled as he bared his teeth at you, slamming his hips against yours. 

His cock was rock hard as it speared you, and he only seemed to grow harder at your pained cries. 

Through the pain and your strained whimpering sounds, you faintly heard him mumble.

“- all those incessant thoughts about you….never like this….if he only fucking knew...ripe for the taking, and the bastard didn’t as much as ask you out...”

His hand seized your throat as he stuffed his face into the crook of your neck again, inhaling fervently. Hitched breaths was the only thing that escaped you at this point, as he kept up his torturing pace, abusing your pussy without halt. 

“- That fucking smell in the hallway...never escaping it...fuck…gonna fuck those thoughts right out...”

 Was “he” Steve? Was he rambling about himself? Or at least, who he used to be?

The pain had slowly subsided as you’d listened to the man’s crazed rambling, and a deep onslaught of pleasure was starting to make itself known with each punch of Steve’s cock. Soon your body started to tremble, and you fought against the coil starting to build again. 

Steve shifted his hips to run his hands down your sides, and the new angle hit the spot deep within you that made your breathless.

Your mouth opened in a complete and utter moan, and Steve’s head snapped up from your neck, something akin to surprise in his eyes as he took in your face. 

“That’s the spot, isn’t it?” he asked, and his voice was thick with pleasure. 

You tried to avert your eyes, but his hand shot up and gripped your jaw, pulling your face so close that your breaths mingled. His stare locked yours in an iron grip. 

His thrusts slowed, and he rolled his hips, reaching deep, so deep inside you, and a pleasured sigh left your lips to fan across his lips as he found that spot again.  

“Look at you. Steve would never think of you like this - he respected you. Little did he know you were a cock hungry little masochist,” he husked, pupils deep pools of dark desire. Your cheeks burned as you clenched around him at his words.

He grunted, letting his eyes fall close for only a second, and you noticed how his long and beautiful eyelashes fanned across his cheek. 

“Let’s see how much you can enjoy this, huh?” he asked in an almost mocking tone as one of his hands reached down to where his body was rutting into yours, and his thumb found your clit. 

You cried out as he started an unrelenting circling of the sensitive bud, and he mouthed at your jaw as he hummed in response. 

In the back of your mind a small voice was telling you to fight, to gnaw and hit and thrash until he understood that you didn’t want this. Another voice was arguing that you would only be hurt further if you fought more. There was no getting away from his intent and no overpowering him.

A louder voice was whispering that it was okay to give in. Give in to the way he felt on your skin, the way he moved in you, the way he looked at you. Give in to the pleasure.

 Your orgasm washed over you like a warm wave, spasming through every muscle as they sung with exhilaration. A shuddering groan left your lips and your pussy pulsed around Steve’s cock. He growled as he crushed his lips to yours, and you opened yours willingly, moving your tongue against his in a wet and sloppy kiss. 

“Good,” he praised in a groan after breaking the kiss, and to your surprise, something akin to pride bloomed deep in your chest at his praise. 

You were completely lost in the pleasure now, in the drag of his cock against your trembling walls, his musky og smoky scent and those blue, lust-blown eyes piercing you. 

His pace quickened again, and you could tell by the way his muscles tensed that he was closing in on his own release.

“I can feel you fluttering, doll. Listen to the sounds this pretty pussy makes. Maybe I should keep you?” he mused darkly, a small wicked grin on his lips. 

For a moment terror flashed across your eyes. Keep you? In the back of your mind the pain of your still bound wrists alerted you of the implications of that notion. Your cheek was still burning hot from his earlier “warning”.

As if he read your mind, he sneered.

“Take what he never had. Continue to take what he never had. Make you mine, let you have my cock every time I want, keep this tight pussy on a leash”.

You heaved for breath as his thrusts grew frantic, and he raised himself to his haunches, hands a bruising grip on your hips as he looked down at you. 

Under the dim moonlight his muscles rippled, shining in a layer of sweat, his hair disheveled and falling into his face, and those eyes, forever shaking the bones in your body. 

Your name ghosted on his lips as his brows furrowed and your back arched as your third orgasm seized you by every muscle in your body, your head thrown back in a desperate, strangled whine.

 “Fucking shit,” he exclaimed through gritted teeth, and as your cunt pulsed around him, you drew his orgasm right out of his body. 

He gave a few stuttering thrusts before stilling, thrust to the hilt inside you. Through the blood coursing in your ears you heard his snarl as he emptied himself in you.

For a moment his face completely stilled, eyebrows raised, eyes fluttered shut, mouth slightly open. In that moment, you swore you recognised your former neighbor, Steve Rogers, Captain America in those features. 

But in a moment he was gone, and this Steve, whoever he was, was leaning forward to crush his mouth on yours. 

Still coming down from your high, you eagerly opened your mouth for him in a rather intimate kiss, one of his hands coming up to cup the side of your face. 

You almost sighed at the softness of it all when his teeth caught your bottom lip and bit hard enough to draw blood. You yelped in pain as the iron taste filled your mouth and he let you wrench your way out of the kiss, snickering as he leaned back up and licked some of your blood off his lips. His eyes were wicked  as he pulled himself out of you.

The emptiness he left behind was both a relief and a disappointment, even as your lip stung. You licked at the cut, wondering just what brand of danger had forced himself into your bed. 

“God, what a sight,” he murmured above you, fingers dipping down to spread your nether lips apart as his cum dribbled out of you. 

Embarrassment burned your face as he looked on, perverted astonishment painting his features. 

Two fingers swiped your slit, gathering both of your releases on them before bringing them up to your mouth.

When you did nothing but stare at him, he simply whispered “open”.

You obeyed, holding his gaze, and he pushed his fingers slowly into your mouth. The mix of the iron of your blood, the salt of his cum and the tangy taste of yourself made your face scrunch up, and he hummed low in his chest.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, face emotionless but for the shining sin of his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself, you nodded.

The corners of his mouth twitched up at that, approval coating his features.

“Oh, I’m gonna keep you, alright,” he murmured, dragging his wet fingers down your torso.

As his fingers slowly caressed you, exhaustion drizzled over you, your vision blurred, and you fell into unconsciousness.

 §

 When you awoke, bright daylight was shining in through your window.

The soreness piercing your muscles was like nothing you had ever felt before, but the sleep had been even deeper, sitting like a pleasurable hum in your bones. 

You remembered immediately what had happened in the night and was relieved to find that your wrists were no longer bound. The bruises, purple and pink, would probably last for weeks. 

The ache deep in your core made your gut wrench in remembered dread, but somehow there was a feeling of anticipation there as well.

A quiet voice inside you whispered that you hoped he would stay true to his word, and come back. 

Author’s note: Christ. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a blood kink brewing inside me. 

Taglist:

@thedaughterofwandavision​ , @hellotvshowtrash​

If you want to be added to the taglist, leave a note on any of my fics or send me an ask<3 

[dreamerstreamer]

Ocean Blue

Pairing: GeorgeNotFound / George x mermaid!gn!reader

Summary: [Mermaid!AU] George loves the ocean and spending his summers at his grandfather’s seaside home. That is until one day, he meets you, and he finds himself falling in love all over again.

Warnings: one scene with a tw// depiction of drowning

Word Count: 11.6k

A/N: i could not get this idea out of my head and just knew that i had to write it. it was somewhat inspired by the little mermaid, but a lot of it also came from my own imagination. i took a bit of a different approach while writing it, but i hope you all like it! <3

George loved the ocean.

He loved the spray of sea salt on his face as he sat on the pier. He loved the crashing of the waves as the rolled up along the shore. He loved the cry of seagulls as they soared overhead, their ivory white wings dotting the sky like tiny clouds.

There wasn’t anywhere else on the planet where the world looked so vibrant, so vivid and bright. Maybe he was biased, as a colourblind man whose favourite colour was blue, but he didn’t care. He loved the ocean, and he loved being surrounded by the great, deep blue.

Every year, he couldn’t wait for summer to roll around so that he could travel down to his grandfather’s house by the seaside. Without fail, George would come running up the steps into his grandfather’s warm, familiar arms as spring turned to summer and the sun’s rays beat down on his back. He didn’t mind that he couldn’t swim—he was more than happy to simply sit on the beach and rock along in his grandfather’s boats, pulled along by the sea’s gentle waves.

Truly, George was positive that there was nothing more perfect than the summers he spent at his grandfather’s.

The seashore town was quaint and friendly, a stark contrast to the bustling city life he typically led. His friends Clay and Sapnap lived nearby too, so he never got lonely, even if he was so far away from home. He would go fishing and boating by his grandfather’s side, a smile plastered to his face as the wind nipped at his skin. Together, the two of them ate every meal on the back porch, gazing out at the vast sea as they quietly ate.

Yet, every time he looked out at the ocean, something in his grandfather’s eyes shifted. Something sorrowful and heavy swam in his eyes as he watched the tide rise and fall along the shore, his mouth set into the smallest of frowns. George remembered asking him about it, once.

“Grandpa, do you love the ocean?”

He blinked, turning to face his grandson with a wide smile. “Of course, I do.” He patted the wall behind him. “Why, I even put my home beside it!”

George furrowed his brows. “Then why do you always seem so sad when you look at it?”

His grandfather paused, his smile slowly waning before disappearing entirely. George blinked, looking at him expectantly for a few moments before he finally sighed. “Love,” he said, “is a dangerous thing, George.”

His gaze turned to the ocean, something familiar and empty flashing in it. “It’s so, so beautiful, but it can also break your heart.”

George didn’t ask him what he meant by that—it didn’t seem right—but he trusted his grandfather. He would have no reason to lie to him, even if he still looked so sad. No matter, every summer, George returned to his grandfather’s home by the seashore, eagerly awaiting the moment he would lay eyes on the sea once more.

George loved the ocean.

But he never knew just how much.

“Clay, you’re rowing too fast.”

Clay scowled, shooting Sapnap a sour look. “You’re the one who’s rowing too slow!”

Sapnap waved an arm over the water on his side on the boat. “Are you seeing how hard the boat is turning in my direction?” He narrowed his eyes as he gritted out, “That’s because you’re speeding up.”

Clay’s glower only intensified. “No, it’s because you’re slowing down, oh my go—”

George let out a long, drawn-out groan, rubbing at his temples. “What are you guys—toddlers? I’ve seen elementary school kids resolve arguments with more rationale than you two.”

Clay sighed, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he curled his fingers tighter around the paddle handle. “Can you blame me? Sapnap’s dumb as a rock.”

“Clay, I’m going to kill yo—”

“Next time,” George said loudly, quickly shutting Sapnap up, “we’re taking the rowboat instead of the canoe. I cannot deal with you two.”

Sapnap leaned back, wriggling his eyebrows at George. “Don’t act like you don’t spend the rest of the year wishing you were hanging out with us.”

George scoffed. “I’m not—don’t flatter yourselves.”

“Well,” Clay said, his lips quirking into a teasing yet honest smile, “I wish you didn’t only show up in the summertime. The rest of the year is such a drag without you.”

There was a slight pause, then Sapnap nodded, tucking a hand under his chin. “For once, I agree with Clay. You really should come down more often.”

George hummed, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe you guys should come visit me in the city, instead. It might be a nice change of scenery.”

“Maybe,” Clay mused. He gestured to the space around him. “But you’d be missing out on all this.”

George blinked, then turned slightly, his gaze sweeping across his surroundings. Greg, fluffy clouds streaked across the cerulean sky, and a seagull cried out overhead. The sea stretched across the horizon as far as the eye could see, and were it not for the compass sitting in Sapnap’s satchel, he would be certain they were lost.

As the rolling waves rocked the boat from side to side, George couldn’t help but smile, resting his arm against the boat’s ledge. “Yeah,” he muttered, a fond look flitting through his eyes. “You’re right.”

Sapnap opened his mouth, surely to make a snarky remark, when a gust of wind suddenly whipped his hair into his eyes. Clay let out a cackle at the sight, but was cut off when another strong breeze rushed past him. George rubbed at his bare arms, a shiver running down his spine.

Suddenly, he grew very still.

It had been warm just a few minutes ago.

Just then, something cold and wet fell onto his arm. George tilted his head back, squinting up at the sky. The grey clouds from earlier had grown dark and thick, and it had begun to rain. If there was one thing he had learned over the summer, it was how to recognize an incoming storm.

As the rain started to fall quicker and quicker, George turned to his friends, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Guys,” he said, “we need to head back.”

It was at that moment that a burst of crackling thunder rolled across the sky. George gritted his teeth, feeling his shirt start to soak through. “Now.”

Neither of them asked for him to elaborate, far too distracted by the crashing waves that grew tougher and rockier with each passing second. “Clay,” Sapnap said, reaching for his paddle with one hand and pushing his wet hair back with the other, “start rowing.”

Clay didn’t look up from where he was focused on paddling, his gaze set into a serious look as water ran down his cheek. “Already on it, slowpoke.”

Ignoring the urge to snap back at him, Sapnap turned to George, worry soaking into his words. “Life jacket. On. Hurry.”

George nodded, reaching out from under the seat to grab the familiar orange pouch. “Yeah, yeah, I’m—”

A rough wave suddenly crashed into the side of the boat, and George found himself shooting forward, the slippery plastic flying out of his grip and out into the choppy waves. He gasped, lunging for the boat’s ledge, desperately reaching, only to come face to face with the ocean, the life jacket having floated too far for him to reach, now.

The once kind and quiet sea now stared back at him unforgivingly, its murky depths threatening to suck him in and never let him go. He swallowed. He knew without a doubt that he’d never make it out if he fell in without a life jacket—regardless of whether or not he could swim.

“It’s fine!” Clay called out over the howling wind, his golden locks flipping into his face. “We still have three more. Here, let me just...”

He dropped the paddle onto the canoe floor with a clatter, slipping his arm under the bench. Panic suddenly shot through George’s system, and a horrible, sinking feeling settled into the pit of his stomach.

Something awful was about to happen—he just knew it.

The moment the notion registered in his gut, he saw it. Well, he felt it more than saw it. The wave crashing into the boat rocked him so hard that in one moment, he was sitting with his back against the boat ledge, his hand gripping the painted wood. In the next, he was tumbling out of the boat, his lips parted in a silent scream.

I’m too close to the edge, was his only thought.

In an instant, Clay was sitting upright again, his viridian eyes frozen wide with nothing but sheer fear, and the wooden ledge suddenly felt like it was leagues away from him. George felt the cold waves lap at his sopping shirt, and Sapnap let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“George!”

For a split second, time seemed to slow. George could clearly make out the sight of Clay’s wide eyes and Sapnap’s open mouth, could see the waves lapping at his back with a clarity he didn’t know was even possible.

Then he went under with a splash.

The moment his head was submerged, he gasped, feeling his lungs fill with seawater, the salt burning his throat. He felt the raging current wrap around his middle like a noose and yank him back, further and further from the boat. Desperation slammed into him like a truck, and he futilely kicked his legs, his hand reaching for the unforgiving surface.

No! Please!

Clay let out a desperate scream, lunging across to the other side of the boat, but it was already too late. George was already so far from them, sinking faster than an anchor. He could feel his eyes sting—whether it was from the seawater or tears, he didn’t know, and he didn’t think he cared. All he wanted was to get out, but he could already feel his muscles start to grow tired.

I don’t want to die. Not like this.

He thrashed at the waves that only seemed to pull him further and further under. With each second that ticked by and each desperate kick of his arms, he felt fatigue sink its claws in deeper. The blue he had once loved so dearly now held him hostage, like a mouse in a cage. No matter how hard he grasped at the waves, they would not allow him to move upward. It was almost like he was chained to the bottom of the ocean, destined only to fall lower and lower. His chest felt like it was burning, despite being surrounded by a world of water.

This wasn’t happening—this couldn’t be happening. What would his grandfather think? His mother? His father?

His arms fell limp at his side, his legs finally growing still as the freezing water dug into his skin.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

He was vaguely aware of Sapnap’s muffled shouts and could barely make out the shape of Clay’s arms reaching for him, but they all felt so distant, now—their faces looking like nothing more than distorted silhouettes. He could have even sworn he felt something wrap around his wrist, but by then, he was far too gone.

I’m tired, he thought, his eyelids falling shut.

And the cold, murky depths dragged him into darkness.

George awoke to something warm and wet brushing over his cheek.

Slowly, he shifted, inhaling deeply only to feel an incessant itch digging into the back of his throat. Almost immediately, he began to cough, the warmth suddenly leaving his cheek. Above him, a voice gasped.

“You’re alive!”

George froze at that. I am?

He heard something shift beside him. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought that I was almost too late. That would have been really bad.”

His fingers twitched at his sides, and he curled them downward only to pause when his palm met sand. I’m... on the beach?

The last thing he remembered was being pulled under the water, waves cresting over his head and saltwater binding around him like a trap. He could recall the icy chill that ran down his spine like an eel as he kicked fervently, trying to reach the surface only to be tugged deeper and deeper downward.

Just how in the world was he even alive?

With a soft groan, George blinked, raising an arm to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. The sky was clear now, he noticed as the cloudiness of his vision quickly lifted. Carefully pushing forward, he sat upright, wincing at the slight ache in his muscles. How long has it been since, well... everything? He didn’t know.

“How are you feeling?”

He jumped at the sound of a new, unfamiliar voice coming directly beside him. Gulping, his turned, his gaze landing on you. The moment your eyes met, he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

He felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, rattling against his rib cage as his eyes traced over your face. Your eyes almost seemed to glow in the sunlight, dappled with a shimmer he had never seen before. He took in the sight of your dewy skin, dripping with saltwater, and your torso, shimmering in the sunlight.

Your bare torso.

His cheeks flushed bright pink as he swallowed, trying to calm down his racing heart. Were you naked? Where in the world were your clothes? He could feel the wheels in his head turning at breakneck speed, with only one thing in mind. He gulped.

Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down—

He glanced down.

But instead of, well, you know, what he found was a tail. A fish tail.

His jaw dropped, the dots finally connecting in his head. There was no way—

“A mermaid?” he blurted.

You furrowed your brows at him. “Mer-maid?” you repeated, slowly forming the unfamiliar words with your lips. You pointed to yourself. “Are you talking about me?”

George nodded, too dumbfounded to speak.

You blinked at him, tilting your head. “My name isn’t mermaid—it’s [Y/N].” You squinted at him for a moment, then your eyes lit up, your tail flapping against the sand. “Could you possibly be referring to my people? Those of us blessed by the ocean with tails?”

His gaze darted down to your tail, following its movement before returning to your face, nodding once more.

You hummed, your gaze thoughtful as you tapped at your chin. “Well, we call each other friends. And family.” You grinned at him, and something warm burst in his chest. “But I guess you could call us seafolk. We belong to the sea, after all. She is our caretaker. Our mother, if you will.”

He could only gape at you in stunned silence. “I-I don’t understand,” he finally sputtered after a long moment. “How did I get here? Did you—?”

You shyly tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, your cheeks growing hot as you lowered your gaze to the damp sand. “Ah, I, um—yes.” Your tail curled a little closer toward you. “I saw you fall in and dragged you out to shore.”

He blinked at you, his lips parted in awe. “You saved my life,” he whispered, suddenly feeling breathless.

You shot your head up, your face growing even warmer. Waving your hands in front of you, you stammered, “W-Well, I wouldn’t call it that—a”

He shook his head, and you fell silent, only able to watch in wonder as he grinned at you. “No, no. You did. You saved me. I would have drowned if you didn’t.”

You blinked at him once, then a sheepish smile slowly spread across your lips. “Oh, um.”

He felt something in his chest melt a little at how soft your voice was. “Thank you, [Y/N],” he murmured, hoping you could hear his sincerity.

For a moment, you only stared at one another, your eyes scanning each other’s faces. He couldn’t think of a better word to describe you than stunning. Suddenly, you raised your hand, slowly reaching up toward his cheek. George swallowed, feeling his heart flip. Your fingers were only an inch away from his skin when a distant voice called out from behind him.

“Oh my god, Clay. I think I see him.”

George froze, and your arm darted back to your side, your shoulders growing tense as your gaze darted behind him. Turning his head, he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes only widening at the sight of a small speck atop the cliff a few yards away. He was embarrassed to admit that he had been so entranced by you that he had almost forgotten about his friends.

“Are you for real? You’re crazy, let me see—”

A second silhouette joined the first, and in a flash, you were shuffling down the beach, the tide lapping at your tail as your hands pushed against the dark sand. “I have to go,” you mumbled in a hurry, your words coming out frenzied. “They can’t see me.”

Your eyes darted back to his for a split second, and you bit your lip, a pang of guilt shooting across your face. “You weren’t even supposed to see me.”

He leaned forward, the words flying from his mouth before he could stop them. “Wait, um, please!” He hesitated for a second—just one—then he opened his mouth once more. “Will I ever see you, again?”

You paused, your body fully submerged under the water now. Something like fear and curiosity swam in your eyes. “I, um, I don’t even know your na—”

“George,” he said quickly, his gaze trained on yours. “My name is George.”

Your eyes grew wide, and he thought you were going to say something when there came another shout—closer, this time. 

“It’s him! It’s really him! Sapnap, go tell gramps!”

Your lips curled into a small smile, sad and longing. “Goodbye, George. I’m glad you’re alive.”

He opened his mouth, desperate to say something to you—anything. But you were gone before he could even make a sound, disappearing into the waves with a splash. He stared at the spot where you had vanished into ocean, entranced by the rippling water.

That was real, right? He hadn’t just had some beautiful daydream, had he?

All of a sudden, something barrelled into his shoulder, and he yelped as he was knocked onto the sand. Coughing, he blinked wildly up at the sight of Clay’s faces hovering over him. His eyes were glossy as they raked over his face, a giddy smile tugging at his lips.

“George?” he breathed, half-laughing as he spoke. “Oh my god, you’re alive.” Leaning back, he grabbed George’s hand and pulled him upright, his grip nearly crushing his hand with how tight he was squeezing. “How? How did you make it? We thought you were a goner, especially with those waves.” His chest shook as he took in a trembling breath, sighing with aching relief. “It must have been a miracle.”

George nodded, but he was only half paying attention. His head was still spinning with dizzying thoughts of your hand brushing against his cheek and the sight of your dazzling smile. He could have sworn he could hear your voice in the crashing waves and the sweet sea breeze.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “A miracle.”

George grunted as he tugged back at the paddles once more, feeling the boat push further back beneath his feet. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and he could feel his shoulders start to ache, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

There was no way he was going home without seeing you, again.

It had been a little over a week since he had been rescued from the seashore, tumbling back into his grandfather’s shaky arms with a sob. He knew they tried to hide it, but he was pretty sure Sapnap and Clay both cried that day after apologizing profusely to his grandfather. Just that once, he kept quiet, but only that one time.

He remembered his grandfather’s trembling hands as he gripped his shoulders, his old, weary eyes searching his face. “Just... how did you come back?”

At the time, George had swallowed, lowering his gaze to the ground. He had an answer—a beautiful, mesmerizing one at that. But as wondrous as it was, it was also one that no one would ever believe.

“I must have been swept back to the shore, or something,” he had said instead, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I guess I just l got lucky.”

His grandfather had stared at him for a long moment, and his eyes had glinted almost knowingly, but he had only smiled and hugged him a little tighter. “Lucky, indeed.”

For the next few days, George wasn’t allowed out of his grandfather’s sight. While he understood his grandfather’s fears, he quickly grew sick of it. It wasn’t his fault that there was a freak storm, and his grandfather knew it. Storms that appeared that quickly were rare, and George swore up and down that he wouldn’t go out to sea on a bad day ever again. It took hours of begging, but his grandfather finally agreed with a clap to his back and a stern look that George didn’t even have to ask about to know what it meant.

Be careful.

And of course, George wasn’t about to be anything less than careful, if not also the tiniest bit reckless.

After all, he wouldn’t exactly call rowing out to the middle of the sea in search of a mermai—er, seaperson—the most careful thing in the world.

Well, it doesn’t matter much now, does it? he thought, feeling his muscles strain beneath his arm as he pulled back. Letting out another small groan, he lowered his arms and set the paddles down in their holders, rolling his neck with a determined huff. I have to see them, again. I just have to.

He couldn’t explain it, really. On one hand, he thought it just had to be the mystical factor that drew him back in—what other person could say they had met someone like you? But on the other, he knew it was more than just what you were, but also who you were.

You were kind, and selfless, and humble, and curious. You had saved him from what otherwise would have been most certain death, and you did it all while knowing he couldn’t offer you anything in return. He could still see your bashful smile and your cheeks stretched in glee in his head as clear as day, and he didn’t think he would ever be able to forget the way you made his heart flip.

There was no doubt about it—he was smitten.

Just then, he was pulled out of his thoughts by a familiar voice.

“George?”

He froze, his fingers going slack against the paddle handles as he turned.

George would recognize your voice even if it came from a mile away.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he turned, his chest suddenly feeling a million times tighter than it had a few moments ago. You tilted your head at him from where you were treading in the water.

“[Y/N],” he breathed, your name rolling off his tongue like a secret plea.

He could barely make out the silhouette of your tail beneath the gentle waves, the scales reflecting shards of scattered light across the surface. You swam a bit closer, your eyebrows knitting together as a bright, curious look swirled in your gaze. “You... you came back?”

He nodded without even an inkling of hesitation. “Of course.” He paused, something warm and prickly climbing up in his chest, then hastily added, “I had to.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Why?”

He sucked in a deep breath as he set down the paddles, facing you head-on. He could have said anything, really—it wasn’t like you’d know if he was lying. But there was something about the way you looked at him, something about the earnestness of your tone that made him want to tell you the truth.

“I wanted to see you, again,” he said honestly.

You swam even closer, so close that you were touching the boat, now. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” you whispered, your voice coming out almost as if it were a simple breeze on the wind.

His eyes never left yours. “No.”

Your eyes flashed, your cheeks burning ever so slightly. Something like hope danced in his veins, and he found himself speaking once more.

“And—” He gulped. “And what about you? Aren’t you afraid of me?”

You stared at him for a moment longer. Then, your lips curled into a brilliant grin, and he suddenly felt as though you had sucked the air from his lungs with a single look.

“No.”

It was only a matter of time before George found himself drawn to you like the planets to the sun, returning day after day to the ocean just to see you, again. The two of you would meet at your favourite rock, one that just barely stuck out of the water enough for you to sit on and watch the clouds. Clay and Sapnap would whine about it, of course, claiming that he was abandoning them, but he always took the time to hang out with them—he made sure of that.

With each passing day he spent chatting with you atop the rocking waves, the more and more he captivated he became by you. You told him of your love of seeing the sunset above the water, and how much you loved to hear the passing birds sing. He shared with you his passion for games and explained to you what a computer was.

(“It’s like a... metal box?” he had said, gesturing vaguely. “But it lights up and has moving pictures.”

He was almost positive he was already half-in love with the way your eyes swam with curiosity. “I’ve never heard of anything like that! Could I try using one? I would love to bring one home.”

“That, um, won’t exactly work.”)

Not a single day went by where George wasn’t drowning in thoughts of you, always thinking of new things to tell you and ask you about and share with you and—really, he felt like he could talk to you for years, if he wanted to, and he didn’t think he would particularly mind it if that ended up being the case. Despite how much time he with you, George never brought anything home with him. That was, until today.

“I got you a present!”

He blinked at you, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “You did?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes glimmering with stars. “Yeah!” Slowly, you lifted your arms up from behind your back, raising your palms up until they rested on the edge of the boat. “Here.”

A quiet gasp escaped his thang as he stared down at your hands with a wondrous look, fascination bubbling up between his lungs. “A conch shell?” he murmured.

Reaching over, you took one of his hands in yours. He felt a spark run up his arm at your touch, your fingers gently wrapping around his wrist. Despite how cold the ocean was, your hand was warm against his skin. With a soft hum, you flipped his hand over and slid the shell into his palm before letting go. He found himself missing your touch in an instant, his fingers itching to search for yours once more.

“I picked it out myself,” you said proudly, a triumphant smile gracing your lips. “It’s the prettiest one from my collection.” Your eyes darted to his face, and you bit the inside of your cheek, your grin faltering slightly. “Do you—do you like it?”

He watched as you lowered your gaze to the gentle, lapping waves and the sunlight danced on your tail. Your thumb nervously tapped against the edge of the boat, and he felt something warm and wet slink down and around his rib cage. Smiling, he curled his fingers around the shell, clutching it close to his chest.

“I love it. Really.”

The brightness of your smile was absolutely blinding, but he didn’t think he would mind losing the rest of his sight to you.

That day, George‘s grandfather asked him about the conch shell he had placed on his bedroom windowsill, eyeing it with a coy gleam in his eye. “Who gave that to you?”

George paused at the question, mulling it over for a moment before an image of your laughing face shot through his mind. His lips quirked into a warm smile.

“Someone special.”

A few days later, George found him rowing back out to your rock once more, but this time, his heart was hammering away in his chest. With each row of the paddle, the blood rushing through his ears grew louder. He could only hope you would like it, and only pray that you felt the same way. 

“George! You’re back!”

He startled, glancing over his shoulder to see you hauling yourself up onto the rock. The sun framed your head in a glowing halo as you pushed your wet hair away from your face, smiling welcomingly. Chuckling, he ignored the nerves sparking up his backside at the sight.

“Of course I am,” he said, sending you a cheeky look. He set down his paddles, smiling. “Did you miss me?”

Your smile was earnest as you said, “Always.”

He coughed, lifting a fist to cover his mouth and the burning heat shooting you his neck. “T-Thanks,” he managed to choke out with a grateful smile. He glanced down at his fingers, trying to pretend they were shaking as he opened his mouth, again. “Um, [Y/N]?”

Your tail curled a little tighter into itself, and you smiled at him. “Yes?”

His toes curled in his shoes as he willed himself to keep his eyes on yours. “Remember, uh, how you gave me that conch a little while back?”

You nodded, tilting your head at him. “Well,” he continued, flashing you a shaky grin as he under the boat seat, “I also got you something.”

In an instant, you were leaning forward eagerly, your eyes glimmering with curiosity. “You did?” You clasped your hands together, practically shaking with excitement. “Oh, what is it, what is it?”

George swallowed, feeling the gnawing feeling in his gut creep up to squeeze his heart. He sucked in a quiet breath before pushing it down once more, finally lifting up his arm to reveal his gift.

It was a bouquet.

George pretended his face wasn’t on fire as your jaw dropped, half-looking like you were about to throw yourself into the boat. Surely you knew just what he meant by giving you flowers, right...?

“Oh my gosh, George,” you whispered, shuffling a little closer toward him. Your eyes were the size of saucers as you peered over the edge and at the bouquet in his hands, and he nearly melted at the sight. The awestruck look on your face was worth all of his nerves and more.

Suddenly, you raised your head, your eyes locking onto his. “What are they?”

He froze. You... don’t know what flowers are? How can you possibly not know what flowers ar—?

His train of thought came to a screeching halt, and he resisted the urge to slam his forehead straight into his paddle. Right. You lived underwater.

How foolish of him to think you would know.

Trying not to let his shoulders slump too much, his offered you a grin. “They’re called flowers,” he explained. “There are different kinds of flowers, but these ones are called daisies.” He reached his arm out over the ledge to where you sat, angling the bottom of the bouquet toward you. “Here. You hold them here—around the stems.”

You slowly wrapped your fingers around the delicate ends, careful not to crush them under your grip. Once you were holding the bouquet securely, George sat back, watching with a fond look as you turned it over in your hands.

“Flow-ers,” you sounded out slowly. “Flowers. And day... zees?” You wrinkled your nose, shooting George a questioning look. When he nodded, your face brightened. “Daisies! Daisies. Flowers and daisies.”

George could only smile as you examined the flowers this way and that. The disappointment he felt a few minutes ago had completely vanished, now—he was far more enraptured by your fascinated expression and the small sounds of awe you were making.

“They’re so pretty!” you squealed, your tail happily flopping against the rock. Lifting the centers up to your nose, you inhaled, exhaling with a sweet sigh. “And they smell so nice.”

You traced a finger over the flower edge, humming to yourself with a thoughtful look. “We don’t have these below the sea. The closest thing we have is coral, but they’re not nearly as soft as this.”

He leaned his arm on the wooden edge, murmuring, “Yeah, petals are really soft, aren’t they?”

Your gaze flitted to his and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Petals?” you parroted.

He blinked, lifting his head as recognition flickered through his mind. “Oh,” he said, reaching over to gesture to the soft, white parts, “I’m talking about these here.”

You brushed your fingers over the daisy petals, something tender settling across your features. “They’re so... delicate,” you whispered. “They’re not like anything that grows on the ocean floor.”

George stared at you as you leaned back against the wet slab of stone, wistfully gazing out at the horizon. A cool gust of air ruffled your hair, and a whirlwind of thoughts rushed through his head.

I want to to touch you. I want to hold you. I want to understand you. I want to know you. I...

Just like that, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I want to see your world.”

You turned to face him, blinked wildly. “Huh?”

He jumped, his eyes going wide. Oh, he said that out loud. Oh, no. His fingers tightened into a clenched fist at his side, and he felt his nails dig into the palm of his hand. As you cocked your head, inching down the rock toward him, he felt a tide of acceptance wash over him.

Well, there was no going back now, was there?

“I want to see the world you live in,” he admitted. “I want to see what the sun looks like from the bottom of the ocean. I want to see the rest of your conch shell collection, but down where you keep them all. I want to meet your friends, your family.”

His chest suddenly felt tight, something warm and sweet coiling around his heart. “I want to know what seafolk things make you happy.”

Your lips curled into a smile, but it was sad. “But you can’t,” you said softly.

He sighed, mirroring your expression. “But I can’t.”

A melancholic silence fell over the two of you, and you dipped your head, looking down at the creamy white petals in your hands. For a few moments, all he could hear was the sound of the waves and your soft breathing. All of a sudden, your raised your chin, your fingers squeezing a fraction tighter around the daisy stems.

“I... I want to see your world, too,” you said ardently, making him blink at you in surprise. “I want to walk down a street, and see a dog. Maybe even a cat! I want to meet your friends and your family.”

You smiled again, but this time, it wasn’t nearly as sad. “I want to know what human things make you happy.”

He couldn’t help but return your smile, and another quiet fell over the two of you, but this one was more comfortable—more warm. As you looked at each other, your eyes boring into one another as the sea breeze sang in your ears, George felt something soft and fuzzy wrap around his heart, making his head spin with dizzying thoughts of you.

For once, the two of you weren’t a seaperson and human, destined to be kept apart no matter what.

For once, and even if only for a little while, you were just two hearts connected by the sea.

“Let me teach you how to swim.”

George shot you a bewildered look, his eyebrows knitting together. “What? No.”

You pouted at him, your tail slapping eagerly against the rock. “Please?” you whined. You were practically draping yourself over the boat edge now, and he tried to ignore the way his heart flipped in his chest. “It’ll be so much fun!”

He grimaced, pressing his lips into a thin line. “You don’t have legs like I do,” he reasoned, “and you’ve been swimming all your life. I’m the complete opposite. The learning curve is going to be ridiculously steep.”

Your eyes were full of determination as you lifted your head to meet his gaze, not backing down. “That doesn’t mean you can’t do it and that I can’t teach it! It’ll be super helpful, too!” You squinted at him. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

He swallowed at your closeness, focusing all his energy into keeping the heat from shooting up onto his cheeks. “Well... I mean...”

You inched even closer to him as you begged, your gaze shimmering like the ocean surface. “Please, George? Pretty please?”

He stared down at you for a moment longer, screwing his eyes shut. He was... scared, that was for sure. He may love the sea, but he also knew just how ruthless and unkind it could be. But here you were, looking at him with those pretty, pleading eyes, and he trusted you—he did.

Sucking in a deep breath, he raised his arms in surrender, offering you a sheepish smile. “Okay, okay, you win.”

You dropped back into the water a gleeful look, clapping your hands together in delight. You opened your mouth to speak, but he quickly added on, “But start off slow, okay? I’m nervous.”

You nodded, your gaze growing stern despite your grin. “I will, I swear.”

Feeling his chest unwind the slightest bit at your firmness, his arms trailed down to the hem of his shirt. Grabbing on, he quickly pulled the fabric up and around his head, dropping it onto the damp bench beside him. Turning back to you, he tilted his head, glancing down at the waves anxiously. “Where do we start?”

Your lips were parted, and for a moment you were simply silent, staring at his bare chest. Then, you quickly whipped your head up, blinking as your cheeks grew warm. “Huh? R-Right, um, here!” You shoved your arms out before him, your fingers splayed out as you averted your gaze from his. “Take my hands.”

Lips twitching with amusement, George crouched slightly as he slipped his hands between yours. “Okay,” you said quietly, “now you have to jump in.”

George froze, anxiety pumping through his veins. “Jump... in?” He inhaled a weary breath, his arms shaking. “I...”

You slotted your fingers between his, your expression serious yet earnest. “Yes,” you murmured, just for him to hear. Your eyes bore into his with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine, and he felt his heart skip a beat, but not out of fear. “I’ll be right here, though. I won’t let go. I promise.”

For a few seconds, he simply breathed, staring down at the calm water lying just inches below him. With a shaky breath, he pushed himself to his feet, one hand lifting up to grab his nose and the other still wrapped in yours. Taking one last peek at your reassuring smile, he screwed his eyes shut.

Then he jumped.

The water came rushing up around him with a splash, cold and invigorating. His grip tightened around his nose as his head went under, and he pursed his lips tighter. The last time he had been in the water taught him to hold his breath underwater, and to hold it well. He felt your tail brush against his legs, and in an instant, your arms were wrapped around his, hoisting up him upward. The moment his face broke the surface, he gasped, his hand dropping to his side as you tread water to keep him afloat.

“Hey, hey,” you said quickly, your tone reassuring and smooth as you brushed the wet hair away from his face, “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Your eyebrows furrowed in concern as you scanned his face, chewing on your lip. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, his chest heaving with a mixture of adrenaline and excitement. Glancing down, he watched as the water parted around your tail as it pushed back and forth, and he quickly found his legs mimicking the motion. A surprised smile tugged at his lips as he felt the bulk ones of his body lift a little. He didn’t realize the water could feel so... refreshing.

“Actually,” he said, turning back to look at you again, “I’m—I’m doing a lot better than I thought.”

An ivory white grin split your lips, and your hold around him tightened the tiniest bit. “That’s amazing. You’re amazing, George.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he felt warmth shoot across his chest. That was totally just because you were holding him, right?

His heart stumbled.

Oh god—you were holding him.

Your arm was pressed against his and he could smell the salt in your hair and you were so warm and—

George swallowed thickly and offered you a lopsided grin. “Thanks.”

You returned his expression and waded a little further out into the watery depths, your grip around him as secure as ever. “Well,” you began, “now that you’re actually in the water, how about we start with just floating? Everyone should learn how to float.”

When he nodded, you hummed with a determined look. “Just lean back until you’re facing straight up to start...” you instructed, pushing gently on his shoulder.

George sucked in a breath and let himself shift farther and farther into his back. Little by little, he felt his legs float up until his toes stuck out of the water while the back of his head remained submerged. “...and then,” you continued, still holding onto his head, “spread your arms and legs like a starfish.”

A wave of panic shot through him as his eyes met yours. Were you going to let go? Was he going to—?

As if you had read his mind, you smiled and shook your head. “Don’t worry about sinking—I’ll be here to make sure nothing happens to you.”

A loose breath escaped him as the tide of panic pulled back, but it still lapped at the edge of his mind. Pursing his lips, he shut his eyes and slowly unpeeled his arms from his side, stretching them out alongside his legs. He held his breath, his heart feeling more like a trembling leaf than anything as he waited for something horrible to happen...

...and then nothing.

Peeking an eye open, he grinned, turns his head to face you with an excited shout, “I-I think I’m doing it!”

From his sideways view of you, you cheered, lifting your free arm in victory. “You are, you really are!”

All of a sudden, you suddenly flipped onto your back, stretching your own arms out until the two of you were only connected by your intertwined hands. His heart felt like it was about to take flight as he watched the sun ripple across your smiling face. “See?” you said with a cheeky glint in your gaze. “Now we’re floating together.”

Turning your head back to stare up at the sky, a sigh escaped your rosy lips as they curled up into a wistful smile. “You can’t see the sky so clearly like this under the sea,” you murmured. “It’s so much... brighter up here. And then with the sound of the waves...”

You paused, your eyes fluttering shut as you drank in the sound of the seagulls’ cries and the sea’s gentle lullaby. “Gosh,” you said breathlessly, squeezing his hand in yours. “it’s just perfect, isn’t it?”

George nodded, focused on the feeling of your palm pressed against his and his heart swelling in his chest.

“It is.”

He wasn’t looking at the sky.

To say the least, George was more than surprised when he found himself swimming as though he had been doing it his whole life just a little under a week later. He had heard that even grown people could learn to swim quickly, but he never thought that he would be one of them.

Perhaps it had something to do with the joy he felt whenever you praised him, or perhaps he was just always meant to do this. After all, he loved the sea—it was only a matter of time before he learned, right?

Either way, now that he could swim, he knew exactly what he wanted to do, now.

“You are so going to regret this.”

He grinned at you. “Maybe. But I’ll regret it even more if I never do it.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you sent him an amused look, mischief tugging at your lips. “And to think you couldn’t even hold your head underwater a few days ago.”

He feigned a glower at you, but he could tell by the gleam in your eyes that you weren’t buying it. “Hey! I’m just a fast learner.

You rolled your eyes at him, but the way your grin widened showed that you didn’t mean it. “Sure, sure. You act like I’m not the best swimming teacher you’ve ever had.”

He cocked a brow at you. “You’re the only swimming teacher I’ve ever had.”

You suddenly clapped your hands in front of his face, making him jump. “Anyways,” you began as you pulled your arms back with a smile, clearly trying to divert his attention, “are you ready?”

He nodded, returning your smile as excitement flowed through him. You lifted three fingers in the air and began to count down. “Three, two, one...”

George sucked in a deep breath, his lungs filling to the brim with as much air as he could manage before he squeezed his eyes and ducked his head under the waves. The world suddenly went quiet and muffled around him, the faint sound of bubbles rising filling his ears. After a second, he peeked open a single eye, then two.

He wanted to gasp at the sight.

A world of vibrant blue surrounded him, streaks of cerulean engulfing him entirely from every direction. Below him, he could barely make out the shape of a school of fish dart past, colourful branches of coral poking out from the depths. Just above, the fractured and scattered rays of sunlight swirled across the surface like a light show of its own. And just in front of him, there you were, smiling so prettily with your hands in his.

The saltwater stung his eyes, but he didn’t care. The world you lived in was beautiful—you were beautiful.

Just then, something true and warm struck him to the very core of his being, and his eyes grew wide.

Oh, he loved you, didn’t he?

He didn’t think it was even possible to fall so hard for someone so quickly, but you were special. He hadn’t been able to put a name to the sweet, lovely feeling you had stirred in him before. But looking at you now, with your eyes sparkling with mirth and surrounded by the very thing he loved most, he knew.

Love—oh, he loved you.

If only he knew how to tell you.

His chest wound tighter and tighter like a spring that was about to pop, and he quickly signalled to swim back up to you as he fervently kicked his legs. As he surfaced once more, he gasped for breath, feeling the spring deflate as his eyes burned without mercy. You surfaced a split second after him, your mouth already open as your eyes darted to his.

“That,” George gasped in between breaths, “was amazing.” He pressed a hand to his eyes, feeling the saltwater nip at the back of his eyelids like sandpaper. He winced as he did so, and in a flash, you were swimming in front of him, your hand reaching for his cheek.

“Oh gosh, your eyes,” you murmured, concern flooding your face. “Are you okay?” When your fingers brushed against his skin, he shivered, and you immediately pulled your hand back, clutching it to your chest. He didn’t know how to tell you that that shiver was a good thing.

He shook his head, waving his other hand at you. “No, no, I’m good. Just a little—“ He winced, again. “—ow.”

George caught a glimpse of you pursing your lips before his eyes fluttered shut once more, trying to dull the sting. “I told you this was a bad idea,” you said softly, regret singeing your voice. ”I shouldn’t have let you do it.”

He turned toward the direction of your voice, rubbing the base of his palm into his eyelids. “I said I wanted to see your world,” he said, determination soaking into his words, “and I was right—it’s more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

He lowered his arms, his eyes opening once more to see you staring back at him. There was a certain awestruck look on your face that made him smile, a certain glimmer in your eyes that made him want to cry. “I don’t regret it one bit.”

You swam an inch closer to him, tilting your head at him as as you simpered. “Even though your eyes look like they got stung by a jellyfish?”

He nodded. “Even then—wait.” He furrowed his brows at you, his hand shooting up to brush against the rim of his eyes as he gaped. “They look like what?”

You snorted at his hanging jaw, laughter bursting from your lips and bubbling out of your throat. “They’re all red and puffy!” you managed between chuckled. He gawked at you as you flipped around, your tail splashing against the water as you giggled.

George slowly felt a smile stretch across his face as you laughed at him, your scales reflecting like tiny mirrors in the sun as your skin shone with tiny droplets of water. Your world may be beautiful, but it paled so much in comparison to you.

He felt his throat tighten as a single, dark claw scratched at the corner of his mind, dragging across the edge of his skull. You know this can’t last forever, right? it whispered into the crevices of his heart.

He chewed on his lip, his smile wavering for just a moment. I know.

He didn’t want to think about how late it was in the season, now. He didn’t want to think about how much he was going to miss your face and the spray of the ocean breeze. He didn’t want to think about how high his heart soared whenever your eyes met his. He couldn’t bring himself to.

Because he knew that once summer ended, so would everything else.

“Hey, dude, what day are you going back home?”

George fiddled with the hem of his shorts, picking at a loose thread. He thought for a moment as he stared out at the sun’s fading light as it finished sinking into the sea. “Um, on... Tuesday?” He nodded to himself. “Yeah, Tuesday.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, Sapnap asked, “Isn’t that, like, literally tomorrow?”

George glanced over to his side, Sapnap peering over at him curiously from where he sat beside him. “Yeah.”

Sapnap sent him a sad smile, reaching over to pat his back. “We’ll miss you, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Clay said from his other side. George looked up, green eyes curved into small crescents meeting his. “Things aren’t quite the same without you here.”

He laughed at that, a quiet fondness trailing over him. “I’ll miss you losers, too.”

A comfortable quiet settled over the trio for a few moments. Then, Sapnap spoke up once more. “By the way,” he said, “aren’t you gonna say something to—” He gestured vaguely, his lips twitching. “—you know who?”

George’s blood ran cold. There was no way Sapnap was talking about who he thought he was talking about. 

Lowering his hand to his side, he tried not to pick at his thumb. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said slowly, suddenly taking great interest in the soles of his shoes.

He heard Clay sigh above him, nudging him with his foot. The porch banister creaked from where he leaned against it. “George, c’mon, you don’t need to lie to us. We know you’ve been seeing someone.”

Sheer panic shot through George’s system as he whirled, his eyes darting back and forth between the two. Sapnap snorted, leaning a little closer beside him. “Seriously—it’s so obvious. You are a terrible liar.”

Suddenly, George’s hand shot out, his fingers curling around Sapnap’s wrist. “You can’t tell anyone,” he said in a panicked blur, the wheels in his head spinning out of control. “Seriously, guys, you can’t, I’m not kiddin—”

“Woah,” Sapnap cried, raising his hands in front of his chest defensively, “calm down! We have no idea what this person even looks like, okay? You can chill.” He zipped his lips, sending George a cheeky wink. “Your parents won’t hear a word from us.”

George’s heart came to a screeching halt in his chest as he processed his best friend’s. “Wait,” he said, disbelief clouding his features as his grip on Sapnap’s shirt grew loose, “you haven’t seen them?”

Clay cocked a brow at him. “No? You’re the one who literally rows out to the middle of wherever to see them.” His lips curled up into a crooked smile. “Of course we haven’t.”

George’s hand went limp and it fell to his side, “Oh. Oh.” He nearly slumped over in relief. “That’s good.”

Sapnap shifted beside him, bending over to rest his chin on his hand. “Well?” he continued, prodding once more. “Have you said anything about leaving or...?”

George’s heart dropped again, but for a different reason this time. “N-No,” he admitted quietly.

Clay sent him a quizzical look, his eyebrows knitting together. “Did you never even bring it up?” When George shook his head, he stepped away from the railing, bending down to be at eye level with him. “What? Why not? You should.”

George paused for a second, then let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know, it’s just...”

Before he could stop himself, he started talking, and talking, and talking. The words just came pouring from his lips, like a free-flowing stream with no end in sight.

He spoke of how your smile would always make his day, how infectious your laugh was. He spoke of your curiosity, and just how he would give anything to see you gaze up at him in awe. He talked about how warm your hands were when you took his into your own and how he wished he could hold them all the time. He spoke of your determination to teach him how to swim, and how you actually did it. He talked about just about anything he could possibly think of when it came to you, you, you.

He spoke of just how much he was going to miss you, and how much it was going to hurt.

By the time he finished rambling, the sun had long disappeared, his face only illuminated by the lamp on his grandfather’s porch and the moon’s pale glow. His heart felt both full and empty all at once, and at his sides, Sapnap and George stared at him in silence, only the sound of chirping crickets filling the air.

“Wow,” Clay finally said after a long moment, his eyes trained on George. “That’s...”

Sapnap nodded beside him, his own eyes wide with awe. “...woah.”

George shifted uncomfortably, clenching his jaw as he tilted his head at then. “Aren’t you guys going to say anything else?”

A voice came from behind him. “I will.”

When Sapnap and Clay glanced up above his head, George whirled, his mouth opening at the figure standing before him. “Grandpa?”

His grandfather leaned against the wall of the house, smiling in that wise, worldly way that all old people always seemed to. “You, George,” he said lowly and surely, “are in love.”

George’s eyes widened, but his expression grew firm, a sense of acceptance settling deep into his bones. “I know.”

His grandfather leaned down until he was face to face with his grandson, his dark eyes meeting George’s. “You must tell them,” he murmured. “Do not just leave without saying goodbye—without being honest with yourself.” Something sad flickered across his face, but it disappeared as soon as it arrived. “That’s the worst thing you could possibly do.”

George swallowed, his hands curling into fists at his side. “Okay,” he murmured, honest and true. “I will.”

His grandfather smiled and stood up straight once more before turning to Clay and Sapnap. “Now, you boys should get going. It’s late, and lord knows just how much packing George hasn’t done yet.”

Clay wheezed as George whipped his head around, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Grandpa!” he hissed.

While his friends stood, his grandfather simply sent him a brazen look and pulled the porch door open with a chuckle. George sighed as he turned back to Sapnap and Clay. “You’re so slow, George,” Sapnap teased as George got onto his feet.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like you’re not a last minute packer, either.”

Clay waved his hand at them, instead opening his arms up with a fond grin. “Okay, enough with that—give us your goodbye hug, now.”

George chuckled, sinking into Clay’s arms as Sapnap wrapped around from the other side. They separated just a few moments later, Sapnap and Clay already heading down the steps back to their own homes. “See you around,” George called out after them with a wave.

He could barely make out the shape of Clay’s smile in the darkness as he shouted back. “See you around. Text us when you get home.”

Sapnap’s shout quickly followed. “And stop blocking my number!”

George laughed quietly, still waving away until he was positive they were long gone. Dropping his arm to his side, he cast his gaze up at the twinkling night sky. The moon stared back at him with pale, pleading eyes, its light reflecting off the dark ocean surface just a few yards away. Something heavy sank in his chest.

He wondered if you were looking at the stars, too.

It was barely the crack of dawn when George desperately tugged at the paddles, rowing harder than he ever had in his entire life. The sky had just begun to paint itself with splashes of orange and amethyst, but he could only focus on the knowledge that somewhere out there, you were waiting for him.

He was leaving in just a few hours, now. This was his only chance—his last chance. You needed to know, and he was going to tell you even if every fibre of his being screamed not to.

At that moment, a voice soared over the rolling waves.

“George!”

He whipped his head up, his gaze immediately finding your face in the pale, morning light. Under any other circumstances, he would never even think to leave the boat like this. But in that moment, he simply couldn’t bring himself to think of anything else but you. In a whirlwind, he dropped the paddles with a clang and found himself leaping over the boat into the water with a shout of your name.

“[Y/N]!”

The morning waves were warmer than he thought they were, and he swam through them with ease, watching as your tail flapped behind you as you met him halfway. The moment your hands met, his fingers intertwined with yours, your fitting perfectly in the spaces between his.

“George,” you murmured when you finally looked at him properly. “I missed you.” Your eyebrows knit together in worry as you scanned his face. “Is everything alright? You look... stressed.”

A pang of pure pain and anguish shot through his chest, and he felt the back of his eyes sting as he lowered his gaze. “I... I have to tell you something.”

You nodded without even an inkling of hesitation. “You can tell me anything. I’m here to listen.”

The tight coil in the pit of his stomach only grew at your words. He opened his mouth, then closed it. “It’s—I, um—”

He could feel your eyes on his, concerned and heavy as he struggled to find the right words. His throat felt tight and dry, but you were the last person he wanted to be dishonest with. He had to tell you. With that, he finally let the four words he never wanted to say slip from his lips.

“I have to leave.”

Your brows furrowed, hurt and confusion shooting through your lovely gaze. “Leave?” you repeated. “Why?”

He swallowed, his heart cracking further with each passing second he spent looking at your broken expression. “I only stay here at my grandfather’s for the summer, and today, I have to go back home. I won’t be able to come back until next year.”

Your eyes slowly filled with understanding, but he could still see the layer of sadness lying just beneath. His gut churned with something hot and wet. “God, [Y/N],” he said, his voice cracking as he dipped his head in shame. He felt his eyes grow glossy. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Your hands tightened around his, and you shook your head, offering him a small smile. “No, no, George, don’t say that. It’s okay. I understand.”

The words were suddenly pouring out of his mouth uncontrollably, the regret rising in his chest until he was completely submerged. “I don’t want to leave you—I never want to leave you, [Y/N]. I should have told you sooner, oh, I—”

He stopped. He didn’t think he was ever going to say it, but he let his voice drop to a tiny whisper. If not now, then when?

“I love you. I love you so, so much.”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting while you took in his words. Realization flashed across your face, and almost immediately, anxiety rolled through him as he began to ramble. “I was scared to say it out loud, scared to know what you would say, and you don’t have to feel the same way, but I just wanted you to kno—”

Suddenly, you pressed a finger to his lips, and the words died in his mouth. “George,” you crooned, your warm gaze melting the ball of nerves in his chest, “oh, George.”

You lowered your hand as you smiled at him, looking like everything he could have ever dreamed of and more. “I love you, too.”

His jaw dropped, his mind going blank. You giggled at his expression, swimming even closer to him and the space between you disappearing. “Thank you for telling me. Really.” You glanced down at the waves lapping at his chest as you continued softly. “Even if you have to go, I am so grateful for the time I’ve spent with you.”

Slowly, he slipped his hand out of yours, lifting it up to hold your face. Leaning forward, he asked just for you to hear, “Can I...?”

He didn’t have to finish the sentence for you to nod with a shy smile, your eyelids fluttering shut. Letting out one last small breath, he surged forward, your mouth meeting his in a kiss.

You tasted like sunshine, freedom, and a little bit like salt, he thought. He wasn’t sure if that last one was you or the ocean, but he found himself not caring. He was far too enraptured by the feeling of your lips on his, sweet and soft. It wasn’t like it mattered, anyway. After all, the ocean was a part of you, and he loved you and the ocean.

You parted with a gasp, your lips puffy and rosy. You looked ethereal in the sunrise, your eyes alight with streaks of pink and lavender. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know this is selfish of me to ask,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours, “but, could you... can you—” He gulped. “Will you wait for me?”

You didn’t even have to think about it. “Yes,” you breathed, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Oh, yes, yes, yes, George.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners, and a surge of affection ran through him. “I promised you I wouldn’t let go, didn’t I?”

His heart swelled to the size of the ocean and back while his thumb rubbed small circles where your waist met your tail. “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he said firmly. “You have my word, my heart, my everything—all of it is yours.”

You only smiled brilliantly in return. His arms snaked around your back as he pulled you close, your own arms wrapping tightly around waist as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. For a few long moments, the two of you simply stayed like that, silent but content with the feeling of your arms around each other. The waves rolled around you soothingly, your tail brushing against his legs as you simply tread in tandem with one another.

“I’ll miss you,” you suddenly whispered, breaking the silence as you tightened your embrace.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. “I will miss you far, far more.”

Your gaze softened, and you pressed your palm to his cheek. He leaned into your touch, his eyes squeezing shut as you spoke. “Will you, now?” you murmured.

He lowered his head, his hot breath tickling your cheek as his gaze dropped to your lips. “Yes,” he whispered. “More than you’d know.”

And as the sun rose above the horizon, his lips met yours once more, his heart dissolving into seafoam among the waves.

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, my love.

George slammed the trunk of the car, his shoulders slumping as he let out a sigh. It really was over, wasn’t it?

“You all packed to go?”

He turned at the sound of his grandfather’s voice, his lips curling upwards as he walked up to him with his eyes crinkling at the corners. Patting the back of the car, he bobbed his head. “Yeah,” he said, “I think I’m ready.”

His grandfather stopped just a foot away from him, scanning him up and down. “And,” he added, “did you say all your goodbyes?”

George‘s grin widened. While he had indeed already said goodbye to Sapnap, Clay, and you...

“Almost,” he said, his eyes flashing. “I’m just missing one.”

His grandfather’s eyes furrowed in confusion, and he opened his mouth to ask when George suddenly threw his arms around his neck, pulling him close in a tight embrace. He froze for a moment before wrapping his arms back, chuckling into the hug.

“Thank you, grandpa,” George whispered into his ear, hoping he could hear the sincerity in his voice. Pulling away, a warm, sad look flitted across his face. “I’ll see you next year.”

His grandfather reached over to pat his shoulder, giving him a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Oh, George. You have a safe trip, now.” He cast a knowing glance at the seaside. “You know I’m not the only one waiting for you to come back.”

He blinked, squinting just the tiniest bit before shaking his head, smiling to himself. His grandfather always seemed to know more than he let on, but who was he to question it?

Pulled the driver’s door open and sliding in with a grunt, his grandfather pushed it closed as he buckled the seatbelt. As he turned the key in the ignition, he sent his grandfather one last wave. Goodbye, he thought wistfully before backing up in reverse and pulling out of the driveway. In just a few moments, he was speeding down the long, winding path away from his favourite place in the whole world.

He rolled down the window with one hand as the other gripped the wheel, the ocean lying to the side. The wind whipped at his hair, the familiar sea breeze tickling his nostrils as a seagull cried out above him. Along the horizon, he could have sworn that maybe—just maybe—he caught a glimpse of a tail’s silhouette against the cerulean blue sky. He smiled to himself, his chest growing warm as he pressed down a little harder on the pedal.

George loved the ocean.

He loved the feeling of the sand squishing beneath his toes on the beach. He loved the cold tides wrapping around him like a familiar blanket as he dove into its murky depths. He loved the rocking of the boat where he sat, feeling at peace in the middle of the water.

There wasn’t anywhere else in the world where he felt so loved, so known, so understood. It would be a while until he could return to his beloved beachside. He would have to wait days, weeks, months until he could come back, but he knew he would—he had to. After all, he had given you his word.

George loved the ocean.

But most of all, he loved you.

[doodler-jpeg]

Life [Wilbur Soot/Fundy]

BOOOM HI HELLO HOW ARE YOU UH UM SO I WAS INSPIRED WHILE I WAS BORED AND THEN THIS IS HOW THIS ONESHOT CAME TO BE. ITS NOT GOOD, BUT ITS DECENT. You’re gonna be taking Sally’s place so, uh, I’m sorry, Sally, you’re just another salmon. Still love you though  THIS TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE DEAR GOD ITS BEEN IN THE WORKS FOR LIKE A MONTH LMAO

ALSO, KEEP IN MIND THIS IS C!WILBUR/SMP!WILBUR

⚠️CUSSING, AFAB READER, PREGNANCY, THIS IS A REALLY LONG ONE SHOT OH MY GOD, PLATONIC FUNDY RELATIONSHIP SO YEAH⚠️

Pronouns: she/her or they/them [you’re referred to as wife, mom,, that stuff, but you can change those if you want]

You hummed as you strained out your clothing beside the river near your home. A smile graced your face, [Eye Colour] eyes glinting happily in the warm sunlight of that fine summer day. Autumn would soon turn the land into a seemingly barren wasteland, though, so you decided to savor every last bit of happiness the hot days brought you. 

Hanging the large amount of clothing upon thin clothing lines, you dumped out your bucket and made sure nothing got in the lake. Walking back inside of your home, you set the buckets in the corner of the cozy cottage and walked back outside. Your brown boots thudded quietly against the cobblestone path that lead into the woods around your home that would eventually be covered in snow.

A sudden childish giggle made you turn to the fields that were a ways away from your house, right in front of the sparsely scattered trees to the right of your little house. You furrowed your brows in confusion as a blur of yellow, white, and red rushed over to you.

“Hello there.” You couldn’t help but stare as the child looked up at you silently. “What are you doing here, little one?” He only blushed, his face flushing a vivid red before he ran off. You shrugged and continued your trek into the forest.

//

You watched as flakes of snow fell delicately onto the muted green coloured grass, bundled tightly in a burrito of quilts that you and your mother has made together. You shuffled slightly from your position on your warm bed, closing your eyes as you waited for sleep to consume you.

It seemed life had other plans, though, as a faint light came toward your home, edging closer and closer until you could make out a figure, their clothing a great contrast to the paw snow. They were shivering visibly, clutching their arms as their lantern shook in their hand.

You frowned as you peeled your blankets off of you, pulling your boots on quickly. Grabbing a lantern cage, you lit the candle inside of it and hurried outside, feeling nervous as the figure hurried over to you.

Soon enough, they were standing in front of you, a miserable look on their face, their eyes red and puffy as their teeth chattered together.

“Come inside,” you didn’t care for introductions or your safety. This person seemed nice. “I’ll start a fire. Uh- there should be a few blankets on the sofa. Would you like anything to drink? Warm milk, tea? I’m not gonna offer coffee because it’s late, so I’m sorry about that.”

“Just water, please,” they croaked out. “I’m sorry for the intrusion. I was headed off in search of territory to claim. Turns out I chose the wrong day. God, it’s cold.” You let out a quiet laugh as you carefully tossed some wood into your fireplace, lighting the material on fire. Almost immediately, the flames grew and you sat up, placing your flint and steel on the fireplace mantle.

“I’ll go get you your water. Go warm up.” You urged before you walked into the kitchen to get the brunet some water.

//

““And then Tommy ran off!” Wilbur howled with laughter as he told the story of how he managed to lose his father in the forest close to his family home. ““Phil was looking for us for hours!” You smiled at the story as you carefully sewed up your friend’s heavy coat, making sure the patches were relatively the same colour as the rest of the jacket.

“You never really tell me about your family, so why are you telling stories now?” You commented, threading the needle in your hand through the fabric and back out of it, pulling the thread tightly. You snipped it with your scissors, placing the needle down to look for any other holes as Wilbur flushed a bright red.

“W-well— one day, I want you to meet my family, so- this sounds so fucking stupid. Never mind, forget about it.” He covered his face in his hands as you bummed, picking up a patch and laying it out on the brown fabric.

“What you’re saying is that you would introduce me to your family because you like me that much, huh?” No answer came from Wilbur, though he did let out a flustered groan as you chortled.

//

You placed a kiss upon your new boyfriend’s cheek, causing the brunet to laugh as he shrunk away from your lips

“Stop it,” you only grinned at the man, kissing various areas of his face in retaliation. Wilbur laughed harder, pushing you away gently as his face scrunched. ““It tickles!”

You grabbed his face in your hands and he looked into your eyes for a moment before you began attacking his face with kisses. When you pulled back for a break, Wilbur copied your actions from earlier and rubbed his thumb across your cheeks with a smile. He leaned his forehead on yours and let out a breathy sigh, closing his eyes as he basked in the moment.

“I love you so fucking much, [Y/N].”

//

““Dont be scared, darling,” Wilbur mused as he gently rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of your hand, lightly squeezing every few rotations. “Techno’s made sure to keep any weapons away and Tommy might be a little less wreckless. I’ll make sure to tell them during dinner.” You nodded uncertainly, playing nervously with the bracelet Wilbur had made you way back when the two of you first started as friends.

Wilbur rapped his knuckles on the door, his other hand never once letting go of yours as the two of you waited. A bit of shouting was heard through the door, slightly muffled, though it was evident that it was coming closer.

The door was flung open by a blond boy, his blue eyes shooting us to meet Wil’s not even a second after he opened the door. A grin was on the boys face as he turned and shouted for Phil [who Wilbur had told you was his father]. Soon enough, a blond man with a bucket hat trodden over, frowning at Tommy.

“Listen, motherfucker, you may be living here, but I’m not gonna fucking let you live if you keep fuckin shoutin.” You froze nervously and glanced over at your boyfriend. He just sent a small, awkward smile onto reassure you before he turned to look down at the two.

“Are you really gonna argue in front of my wife?” Wilbur piped in, feeling himself become giddy as Tommy and Phil shot their heads over to look at you.

“You brought a girl over?!” Tommy yelled in surprise as he stumbled back, eyes wide as he observed your movements skeptically.

“Wil? Can you come over here real quick? I just need to talk to you.” Phil forced a smile as he grabbed the taller man’s ear and yoinked him over to a different room, leaving Tommy and you alone.

“Hi,” you smiled nervously, raising a hand in a half assed wave.

“Do you happen to be American?” The blond asked, leaning his face over to stare at you.

“I mean- I’m a water nymph. I don’t really know if that counts because we usually just have different accents, but we never take into account where anyone’s from.” You laughed, scratching your cheek.

“Well where are you from?” Tommy urged, crossing his arms.

“To be specific, I came from the North Sea right by the Netherlands. I don’t really think that’s important though.” You shrugged.

“So you’re Dutch? Speak it.”

“Im not necessarily Dutch, I was just born in the North Sea, Tommy- I think you’re a Tommy. You seem like a Tommy.” You cleared up, ““The only reason I learned English was to communicate with certain humans.”

“Okay.” The boy sighed, shoulders slumping forward as you let out an amused chortle, “I’ll leave you alone. For now.” Tommy backed up, turning into a room while a big, burly pig person ducked under the doorway, a large sword in hand and an uninterested expression on his face. As he turned to the door, he spotted you and his eyes widened momentarily before going back to their half lidded position.

“Who’re you? Phil didn’t- oh. Oh, today was that day. Oh my god, how could I forget it?” The hybrid smacked his forehead harshly, ““I’m so sorry.”

You laughed, waving your hand dismissively as the pig moved to the side to let you in. You carefully stepped into the warm house and the tall hybrid closed the door behind you.

“Dinner’s nearly done, so you can go sit down in the living room. If you need anything, Phil has ears all over the place. Just look at those crows.” Techno motioned over to the few crows that perched themselves on the window, letting out quiet caws. You waved at the birds and they flapped their wings in response.

“They seem nice.”

//

You sat next to your husband, hand intertwined with his as Phil smiled over at the two of you.

“So, anything new happening with you two?” The blond man inquired, placing his hands on the table. 

““I mean,” Wilbur laughed, turning over to look at you. “Would you like to tell them, dear?” You nodded, a grin on your face as you sat as straight as you could.

“I’m pregnant,” you said, your voice surprisingly calm. Tommy let out a shocked ‘‘what the fuck??’, while Techno choked on his food, slamming a fist onto his chest.

Phil was quiet, eyes wide in shock as he took in the information.

“Pregnant? With Wilbur’s kid?” You nodded, swinging Wilbur’s hand as Tommy cheered.

“Im gonna be a fuckin uncle! Yeah! I’ll be the best damn uncle ever!” He cackled, leaning back as Techno snorted.

““Can I teach them PvP?” You and your husband glanced over at each other before shaking your head.

“Maybe when they’re old enough to know what they’re doing.”

//

““Hello, my precious baby,” you cooed gently, holding the newborn as they let out a quiet sigh. ““My baby. You look just like your father.” A warm but tired smile was on your face as your baby opened their eyes, brown meeting [Eye Colour].

“Love, is the baby okay? Is she doing alright?” Wilbur called nervously through the door, to which you laughed.

“Yes, they’re doing great,” placing a gentle kiss on the baby’s nose, they brought a hand up and lightly tapped their nose.

//

““Fundy! Come here!” You cheered, reaching your arms out to the toddler. They giggled, waddling over to you. Their scab covered knees were littered with bandages and the red overalls they wore were much unlike what Wilburs would have wanted your child to wear, but it was your kid! They deserved the best!

““My precious baby,” you placed a kiss on their cheek, causing the brown haired child to giggle and wipe the kiss from their cheek. You grinned, littering their face in kisses as they squirmed, ““My little champion!”

“Yah! Cham-champion!” They babbled, bringing up a finger to chew on as you set them down and smoothed out your dress. 

““Alright, sweetheart, papa will be here soon, so make sure to tell him what you want to tell him, alright?” Your boy nodded, a goofy grin on his face as he reached over to one of the toys you had brought.

//

You cradled your son’s head as he sobbed, shaking his head in denial as to what had just happened.

“He-he’s gone, mama!” He choked out, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His tears stained your shirt, though the feeling didn’t bother you as you rocked your son back and forth, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Fundy, it’s okay,” you cooed, ““He doesn’t have to live with all the mistakes he made in the past anymore. Who knows, maybe he’ll come back?” 

““But what if he doesn’t? That was his last life and- and it’s gone! My dad’s gone!” Letting out a pained wail, he continued to sob. And you let him.

He had gone through so much.

//

““Who the hell are you and what are you doing around my son?” You sneered, standing in front of your son as the transparent figure stared at you curiously.

“You don’t remember me?” They asked, voice echoing as they tilted your head. “I- [Y/N], it’s me! Your husband! I- I am your husband, right?”

“My husband didn’t push away his son and focus on a failed country more than his own fucking family.” You loaded your crossbow, aiming it at the ghost. ““You didn’t come to his birthday parties, didn’t get him anything, you barely paid attention to him when your country was in the spotlight! You’re no husband to me.”

“Mama-” Fundy gulped nervously, ““Mama, please.”

“You know what, whoever the fuck you are? You’re no damn husband to me and you never will be. Now leave me and my son alone, for fuck’s sake.”

The ghost was silent as you turned, leading the man beside you toward the house at the top of the hill, though a small smile made its way onto his face.

“She’s the one I married?” He murmured, moving his hand to where his heart was, “Was she really the love of my life?”

[obscureamor]

❝𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭❞ 

❥     sakusa kiyoomi x fem! reader

❥     t/w  |  nsfw, noncon, slapping, degradation

»     a/n  |  initially started out as a thirst, then my brain went ‘slapping.’

You’re too disgusting for somebody like Komori… is what he wants to think, but truth be told Sakusa only wanted you for himself.

You always used to be close with the two cousins, but as time went on Sakusa grew colder towards you, while his feelings grew warmer... you took it the wrong way. He admired you in a messed up sense, admired the way you were so carefree and in the moment, but he hated it. He hated that part about you. In a way, Komori is the glue that holds you all together. You’re just a straggler though. You come and go as you please and Sakusa hates it.

And you can tell…

You can see it in the way he looks at you, the way his eyes analyze your every move. Just waiting, hoping you’d mess something up. When you did something wrong, it gave him a reason to talk to you. He didn’t care that it wasn’t in a positive light, that the memories you’d have of your conversations would only be negative. Sakusa hasn't had a normal conversation with you since you were kids.

He didn't expect you to come back from your trip so soon, so when Komori calls him, frantically telling him he can’t pick you up because the roads are starting to become frosted… he has to pretend it’s no big deal. 

He doesn’t live that far from the train station, but having to walk back home with Sakusa in the dark isn’t anyone’s dream. You have to stay over with the way the snow is visibly picking up and from what Komori told you, he should be able to come and get you by tomorrow. 

You’re bundled in a nice scarf and coat over your outfit. The walk is silent, the only sounds being the occasional ‘hurry up’s from Sakusa and you sniffling. Every breath is visible as you two walk towards his house. The way the snow is getting caught in his hair makes you smile, but you can only wonder how you look at this exact moment. You hope snot isn't dripping down your face. You're shivering but it's such a contrast to the way your body feels hot all over.

-

You can feel the tension in the air as you enter his home. It’s been a while since it’s only been you two. He watches as you take off your shoes, silently judging the way your hands shake or how you keep messing with your shirt.

‘Stop fidgeting,’ he wants to say but bites his tongue.

He takes off his mask watching as you walk to the kitchen to wash your hands. He follows shortly after making sure you did everything right.

“Sakusa?” you question, turning to look at him only to find him already staring. “W-Would you like to stay in the living room or—?”

“The living room.”

It’s nerve-wracking as you follow him and suddenly you can’t remember how to breathe. The hotness you were experiencing earlier has turned into icicles. It's festering, weighing you down, and you can feel your eyes watering even though nothing has happened yet. You're hit with a barrage of worry, goosebumps rising on your skin because suddenly the house feels too cold. When did you start being afraid of Sakusa? You're afraid of him. It’s something you never admitted because who could you admit that too? So when did it start? Was it when his eyes became over-analytical of you? When every word that came out of his mouth had a biting edge to them even though he didn't mean it?

You're taking deep breaths as you reluctantly take a seat on the couch, watching as he leaves to check on something before taking a seat beside you. Your eyes are darting all over the room before they settle on the window. It’s dark out and you can’t see anything with the way the snow is hitting the glass. You can feel his stare on you, so you do what you do best… try and fill the silence.

“How was your day?”

You turn to look at him, staring at him with those stupid eyes, a shaky smile on your lips as you await his answer.

“Good. And yours?”

You inhale a sharp breath. His day was only…  ‘good.’ Well, you don’t know what you were expecting with someone as straightforward as Sakusa. You’re just glad he asked you about yours too.

“Today was… well, um—” your voice trembles as you feel his cold stare on you. “—kinda boring… the train ride wasn’t that long, but nothing interesting happened. I’m sad Komori isn't with us though.”

His hands clench into fists and you’re so dense that you take his silence as a signal to keep going.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Komori and I went to go eat at, like… I don’t know— it was really early.” There’s a chuckle that you try to mask before you continue, “Maybe about 3am…  but! That’s not the point. He ended up getting caught between some fence and I really don’t know how.”

You’re too busy caught in your own world, reminiscing memories of your little adventures with Komori, that you don’t realize the way Sakusa is staring at you. The way his lip is curled into a scowl and his eyes are squinting in disbelief. He never knew that you two hung out alone. As far as Sakusa’s knowledge went, if Komori is there then so is he. When did you two start to see each other without him? Did you act differently when you were around Komori? Was there a whole other side to you Sakusa doesn't know about?

You’re still going.

How can one person talk about another this much?

There’s a yelp that leaves you when Sakusa pushes you to the floor, his body on top of yours. Your head feels like it's pounding as his hand slaps over your mouth. He’s relishing in the way your wide eyes are focused on him and him only.

“I’m so tired of you talking about him.”

He can hear your muffled words behind his palm, eyes frazzled and wide. Your hands are laying limp at your sides. The overwhelming feeling of dread washes over you— the icicles break in half and stab you in your gut.

“I’m better than him in every way, so pay attention to me.”

The way his eyes have no emotion behind them other than pure annoyance scares you. It was a look he gave to strangers when they touched or bumped into him, not a look he gave you. It’s silent as the wind picks up and the beating of your heart could be heard loud in your ears. His hand moves to hold your jaw, forcing your lips to pucker out. Your hands scramble to grab his wrist, pulling and tugging to let go so he squeezes harder making you cry out in pain at the way his nails start to dig into your skin. You don’t expect it when Sakusa spits in your mouth, the defining ‘ptuh’ making everything seem worse. He watches with monotonous fervor as you struggle and shake your head trying anything and everything to not swallow. It’s all futile as he watches his spit mingle with yours before finally, it goes down.

You can feel something tug at your pants before you process what he’s trying to do. He’s pulling them off, fingers then looping into the waistband of your panties before he pulls them down messily, albeit swiftly.

“Omi! ‘op!” you cry out.

The sound of his belt being worked off rings in your ears.

If there was one thing you knew about Sakusa, it’s that he liked to work smoothly and efficiently. He can’t do that with the way your legs are trying to kick at him, with the way your nails are digging into his wrist to let go of your jaw. So when his hand leaves your face you’re relieved, almost crying in relief as you go to soothe the ache, but it’s short-lived when you can hear the sound of his hand meeting your skin. The pop against your cheek and the crackle of the sting.

You finally realize that he wasn’t one of the top three aces for nothing.

“You’re just a stupid whore,” he mutters as he lines himself up with your entrance. “You have no idea how lucky you are for me to even think about fucking you.”

“Kiyoomi, please stop.”

There's anguish in your voice, but the thought is fleeting. It dissipates as if it’s snow after a sunny day. He likes the way his given name sounds coming out of your mouth too much for him to think about how you feel.

You can feel him rubbing himself along your lips and every time his cockhead catches on your entrance a whimper leaves you.

“Saku—”

When his hand meets your cheek for the second time, you feel him swiftly push in, hands settling on your hips. You throw your head back in a silent scream, back arching and chest flush against his. Your cunt is squeezing him and the groan Sakusa lets out echoes within the desolate house.

You sob out and you already know your skin is red, probably welting at the force. He hates the way your nose is leaking snot and how your disgusting tears are dirtying his floors.

“P-Please, stop, Saku—!”

There’s a ringing in your ears as he backhands you.

You don’t know what you’re doing wrong. What’s wrong? You can feel your cheek bruising. Your skin is stinging like the bad sunburn you got when Komori forgot to wake you from your nap at the beach. When your vision finally clears up as you blink away the tears… the look in Sakusa’s eyes scares you. He’s always had an apathetic look to him, but this… his eyes seem as black as the winter's night, and it’s only now that you realize— you’re stuck in a house alone with him until tomorrow.

“Kiyoomi…” you gasp. Your eyes scrunch tight and your shoulders raise as you brace yourself for another impact that doesn’t come. “Omi… I-I don’t— what did I do to you?”

You look so pathetic as you try and understand, but your small brain wouldn’t understand anything as complex as a man’s emotions.

“Omi-chan, please tell me what I did,” you sniffle, trembling hands coming up to grip onto his shoulders.

He’s reminded of when you all were younger at that nickname, reminded of when you would cling to him as you do to Komori now. You can’t save yourself no matter how much you plead and beg for him to stop.

He blinks at you once, twice, before rearing his hips back and slamming into you. There’s a choked out cry that leaves you, hands twisting his shirt as you grip onto him tighter.

“It hurts, Kiyoomi! P-Please stop!”

You’re so dry, but it’s not like it matters. Sakusa relishes in the way your pussy starts to tremble around him as it gets slicked up with every thrust. He wonders how much of a slut you really are and at the thought of Komori being the one to fuck you he slaps you again.

“You’re so dirty it makes me sick.”

His hands are pawing at your tits and it’s only seconds before he gets tired of your shirt being in the way. He shoves the piece of clothing up and you can hear Sakusa ‘tsk’ at your choice in bra color. He starts thrusting into you with such ferocity that makes your tits bounce with every thrust.

“Are you gonna cum like the dirty whore you are?”

You’re shaking your head, but you’re such a fucking liar. The way your stupid hole is drooling around him and clamping down tells him everything he needs to know. His hand leaves your hip, coming to rest on your throat.

“I’m going to cum in you. Komori won’t want a tainted whore.”

“Please no Kiyoomi! Please don’t! Please! I-I—” you’re trying to think of anything, but you only cry harder when your mind comes up blank.

He says nothing as he keeps moving, hand growing tighter around your throat. It’s not enough to choke you, just enough to tell you that he’s in control of the situation— he always has been. Sakusa gives no warnings as his breath hitches and he releases his load into you. He’s still going, not stopping until you cum. It’s just to prove his point that you really are a mindless whore.

There’s an earth-shattering sob that leaves you when you feel his seed flood into you. It’s so overwhelming that you cum, gummy walls riveting him in place as your body trembles. It’s moments later that Sakusa is left staring at you in awe for reasons unknown to him. Your pussy looks so pretty when it’s his cum that’s leaking out of it. He knows you’ve never slept with anyone, knows you’re untainted, but none of that matters now.

You can feel his eyes boring into you as you try and muffle your sobs... they’re as black as the winter’s night— void of emotion but full of plight.

[astridthevalkyrie]

summer rain: chapter 1

Your days in the Training Corp aren’t too out of the ordinary. You make friends, you train hard, and you eat dinner every day.

Oh, and you’re also hellbent on getting revenge against Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. 

Chapter 2

Read on FF.net or AO3.

Helloooo, beautiful people. I’m so excited about this story! This is now the official first part of the series, so it’s a prequel to the three oneshots I’ve already posted. If you haven’t read them, no worries, you can read this just fine. If you want to, just know they all have an established relationship and will reference the past, so you may possibly get spoiled. 

I plan for this to have five or so chapters, so buckle up, and as always, happy reading!

You’ve been expecting more.

Maybe that’s the wrong perspective to have. It’s still the military, and it’s still your first day and sure, that’s exciting and all, but you’ve heard stories. People always describe their first day of training as absolutely terrifying, but life-changing. They say that the first day is the day all the baby-faced cadets realize they’re in over their heads. It’s an introduction to the rest of their lives. At least, that’s the case for the people who stay. If one can’t handle a verbal beating, how can they stand any chance against the titans? The first day changes everything.

This, however, isn’t life-changing. It’s not terrifying. It’s rather...dull.

To be fair, the man in front doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it either.

You’ve heard of him, of course you have. Even back within Sina, people talk. A newcomer, a gift from the walls, humanity’s savior. Recently joined the Survey Corp and yet already a lieutenant, a definite shoe-in for the next available section commander position. Apparently his origins are a bit of a mystery, but he’s either the long lost son of a rich merchant or he’s come from outside the walls themselves because it’s just impossible that any common person can possess the skills he’s rumored to have. You’re not sure you believe all of it - apparently he’s so fast that the titans can’t even see him coming? yeah, sure - and yet there’s just something about him that gives off a truly well-earned confident aura. That’s been the most exciting part so far, the chance to see him up close, to see that he’s actually real.

Still, since he began talking, Lieutenant Levi hasn’t once raised his voice. He hasn’t screamed at them all for being the weakest pieces of shit he’s ever seen. He hasn’t even told them about how they’re going to train to become snacks for the titans. It’s disappointing. You’ve been ready to stand your ground, to show you’re made of some tough stuff. That can’t happen when your trainer won’t even bother to strike fear into your heart. Where other people may be relieved, you are mourning this loss of the traditional military experience.

At the very least, he’s not the actual trainer. He started his speech with a complaint that their actual instructor was sick for the day so now he had the absolute pleasure to welcome dozens of new fucking brats to their new home and occupation. His words drip with venom and boredom - clearly, he didn’t join to do any of this. It’s beneath him. All in all, Lieutenant Levi seems rather...arrogant. Maybe it’s well-deserved. But you don’t have to like it.

As he walks up to people at random who shout out their bare identities, the lieutenant snaps out comments that seem like they’re meant to bully rather than to frighten.

“Your posture is shit.”

“Oh wow, I bet the titans will be real scared of your noodle arms.”

“And here I thought these villages would send their best and brightest. Instead they sent you.”

But you’re not one to let things get to you so easily. You have your fist balled to your chest proudly, ready to serve humanity. You’ve fought to get where you are, and now you’re really, actually standing here, with your new comrades besides you, and you couldn’t be more proud. A bright smile settles on your face. You will make the best out of this, no matter your humanity-saving trainer’s dour mood. 

Unfortunately, said humanity-saving trainer takes notice of your smile, and with his gaze locked on his new target, he walks up to you, eyes narrowed in irritation.

“What’s your deal?”

You straighten your back, snap to attention, and look directly ahead as you know is appropriate. “Cadet (F/N) (L/N), sir, from Stohess District!”

His expression doesn’t throw you off, despite it looking like he’s never been so irritated in his life. You know you haven’t done anything wrong (at least not yet), so him looking that pissed off must be an internal issue, nothing to do with you. You’re not any different than any of the other cadets that have introduced themselves.

“Cadet (F/N) (L/N),” he says as though he’s testing out a brand new curse word, with just a hint of mockery in his voice. “I didn’t ask for your name or where you were from. I asked what your deal was.”

Well what in the holy hells is that supposed to mean?

Is what you want to say, but instead you simply furrow your brows and ask curly. “Sir?”

“What the fuck are you so happy about?” he clarifies, annoyance displayed clearly on his face.

Well damn, no need to be so edgy. You aren’t necessarily required to be as serious as everyone else here, and smiling isn’t a crime last time you checked. But this is obviously Lieutenant Levi’s thing, to be snarky and mean, and the sooner you answer, the sooner he’ll move on and find a new victim. “Just happy to be here, sir.”

Your smile stays right where it is.

“Oh, is that it?” He stares at you, deadpan. “You like the thought of being eaten? Does the idea just make your day? Do you fantasize about it at night? Let it lull you to sleep?”

Your smile grows a little strained.

Passion aggression is nothing new. You grew up in Stohess, you’re used to your fair share of cattiness. The lieutenant must take lessons from the tea-sipping high class ladies you’d basically grown up with, because he reminds you of them vividly. Ironic, considering you thought the military would be an escape to a life that was real and included less passive bullshit. It’s that frustration at the similarity that makes your polite mask crack.

The response slips through your lips before you can stop yourself. “No, sir, but last night I did happen to dream of a trainer that was tough enough to handle one of his subordinates smiling.”

You can be catty too. 

The grounds become more silent than they already were. It’s as though everyone is suddenly holding their breath at this new confrontation, just waiting to see what the newly dubbed hope of humanity will do if someone matches his sass. The loud silence is what finally makes you just a smidge nervous - surely, they won’t kick you out on your very first day just because of a smart comment, right?

Impatient and a bit anxious, you finally allow yourself to look directly in his eyes, and you’re suddenly stricken by how grey they are. You don’t think you’ve ever met anyone with grey eyes. They’re damn gorgeous. And there’s a hint of...something in them, and to your surprise it’s not rage. He looks calculatingly gleeful, as though he’s just been waiting for someone to say something back to him. He appears cruel and delighted all at once, and the contrast of it along with the striking silver hue is more personality than you’ve ever seen in someone’s eyes before.

It’s a breathtaking sight. You move in just a millionth of a centimeter to get a closer look -

And then he moves, lightning fast, reeling back and swinging his leg around to sweep your legs from under you. With a gasp, you hit the ground hard, head ringing and vision blurring for a few seconds. Your hair, which was loose around your shoulders, flies across your face, some of it entering your mouth. From above you, grey eyes are triumphant, looking down on you as though to ask whether or not that’s tough enough for you. You’d love to answer, but your head is throbbing and you can only let out a pathetic, confused noise that causes titters to spread throughout the room.

What the hell just happened?

You move to get up, but he’s quicker, slamming his foot down on your leg and holding you right where you are. For someone with such a short stature, he looks pretty damn tall from down here. Maybe this is the sight that the titans barely get to see before he slices through them. 

Everyone is watching, even if they’re not turning their hands. This is their entertainment today, and the fool has just made its move. The fool being you, of course. They’re all hungry to see how this will play out.

Your cheeks glow bright with embarrassment, but you are not going to waver. Not on the first day. This is what you wanted, right? You wanted someone who’d be a hardass, who’d strike fear in you and make this a day you’d never forget. Well, Lieutenant Levi is your wish come true.

“Please remove your foot, sir,” you muster as politely as you can, looking up at him icily.

He digs the heel of his shoe into your thigh to make a point, and maybe to see if you’ll cry out in pain. But you look him in his strange grey eyes and you only blink, a small smile returning to your face. Will he kick someone who’s already down?

The moment seems to last forever, and you briefly entertain the fantasy that time is freezing for him as much as it is for you.

And then it’s all broken - he takes his foot off and walks right by you, and the only words you’re spared after being humiliated are, “Tie your hair up, you look ridiculous.”

Thus goes your first meeting with Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

____________________

Dinner that night is filled with chatter. It seems people have found their loyal companions pretty fast, and cliques are forming faster than a speeding bullet. 

Luckily, you don’t need to worry about making friends. Besides the fact that you’re charming and perfect (according to everyone else and definitely not just you), you joined the military with your best friend from childhood. Millie Shackel is every bit the Stohess lady you are, the Rose to your Maria, the jelly to your butter. It’s amazing how much two girls can bond over a shared hate for the lack of activity happening within their stuffy town.

You gnaw at the bread on your plate, squeezing your eyes shut in pain after a particularly hard bite makes the back of your head throb. Not for the first time, you place your hand gingerly on the back of your skull, confirming that there’s no blood pouring out.

“Shouldn’t have mouthed off,” Millie quips from across the table, looking at you amusedly.

“Thanks,” you mutter bitterly, abandoning the bread for now until the soreness goes away. “Didn’t think one stupid comment was going to make him go berserk on me.”

She laughs, confirming you sound every bit as stupid as you feel. “I don’t think that classifies as berserk. That was a superior putting you in your place.”

“Suck-up,” you accuse, eyes narrowed. She only rolls her eyes, and you bring the cup of water to your lips and begin simply guzzling it down when someone claps you on the back, making you choke.

You turn to glare, still coughing up water, at two guys behind you. The one who nearly killed you is tall, with hair the color of bananas, and he’s grinning with no regrets, the shameful bastard. The other one behind him looks apologetic, red-haired with pretty green eyes. He whacks his friend on the arm. “You idiot, you nearly sent her to the infirmary!”

“Oh, come on.” The tall guy slides next to you without permission, slinging an arm around you as though you’re the closest of chums. Back in Stohess, you’d have called for his execution or some shit. “Surely the girl who talked back to Lieutenant Levi can handle some water going down the wrong way.”

Millie does not look pleased at the intruder, and looks even more grouchy when his friend sits down next to her, albeit keeping a much more respectful distance. When you finally stop coughing violently, you shove the guy’s arm away.

“A-asshole, what the hell’s your problem?” 

“There’s no problem, kid.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “I just wanted to see the balls on you. Guess it was overexaggerated.”

“Obviously,” you snap, “I just talked back, I didn’t hop over the wall and kill a titan.”

“Regardless, good job with the way you handled it. The others are talking about you.”

Millie gives you a stern look. “Hear that? Now we’re the troublemakers.”

You shrug apologetically, and decide to take another crack at eating your bread. This time, it goes down easier, with only a light sting to remind you of the lieutenant’s cruelty. 

“I’m Stephen,” the redhead says with a shy smile, extending his hand. You shake it, then turn your gaze questioningly to the one next to you. He grins cockily, waiting for you to ask. You don’t.

“This is Ricky.” Stephen spoils his fun, sounding exasperated. 

“I assume you two are close.” Millie wrinkles her nose distastefully. You bite back a laugh - there’s that Stohess bitchiness that you love about her.

“We met this morning,” Ricky responds, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

The two of you warm up to the boys soon enough. Ricky is rather friendly when he’s not trying to steal your food thinking you won’t notice, and Stephen is downright sweet, his emerald eyes brightening when you ask him where he’s from. He goes off on a ramble about his village which is somewhere smack dab in the middle of the land within Wall Rose. Apparently their local stew is the best there is. You privately disagree; nothing quite tastes like the stew they make in the Orvud District, least of all this bland loaf of bread in your hand.

Ricky, on the other hand, is from Shiganshina, which is apparently an outer city of Wall Maria (so the two boys really had just met that morning). 

“So, I’m guessing it’s the MP for you two?” Ricky says. Millie looks offended.

“That’s not right for you to assume!” She deflates a little. “But yes, it is.”

“Hey.” You shoot her a scowl. “It’s the MP for you. I don’t have any intention of hurrying back to precious Sina.”

Millie gazes at you with her we’ll talk about this later look like she has every time you’ve brought up that you have no intention of returning to fucking Stohess where nothing ever happens. Before she can say anything, Ricky ruffles your hair fondly. 

“Should’ve known you were made of tougher shit than that. So what, you like playing hero?”

You shrug. “No, I just have a sob story. Dead old Dad was a Scout, and then he was titan chowder.”

Stephen looks disturbed at how bluntly you say it, and even Ricky is a bit thrown off. You chuckle at their expressions, waving a hand nonchalantly. “It’s fine, it happened a while ago. I barely remember him. But you know, what better way to connect with your dead dad than to align yourself with the people who let him die, right?”

Ricky’s mouth hangs open as Millie snorts. “You can laugh, she’s making a joke. Get used to her sense of humor, it’s always this bad.”

“I resent that.”

“So you don’t care about getting into the top ten?” Stephen asks carefully - scoping out the competition, you realize.

“Couldn’t give less of a shit,” you answer coolly, “but Millie obviously does.”

“I’ll get into the top ten, it’s not about that.” Millie says confidently, shaking her head as though it’s ridiculous to even imagine that she wouldn’t. After all, you two were raised to be perfect. “The real goal is to be first.”

Ignoring the madly ambitious look in her eyes, you focus on Stephen. “So what is it for you? The Scouts?”

He winces bashfully. “I’m...undecided.”

You laugh out loud, a bit meanly. “What, undecided like you’re going to some top university in Mitras? This is the Training Corp, Stephen, you’re not gonna get to try out a bit of everything. Just choose whether or not you wanna be shipped off to a pointless death, and then you’ve made your decision.”

Stephen frowns, shaking his head. “If it was that simple, then what would be the point of choosing?”

Who in the holy hells asked for his philosophical wisdom, that’s what you want to know. Rolling your eyes, you turn to Ricky, who is chewing on your bread, abandoned after your taste buds just wouldn’t adjust without the butter you were used to. With his mouth full, he answers easily. “Scouts.”

You nod. At least he’s sure.

____________________

“That wasn’t right,” Millie says later, right as you’re about to lie down on a scratchy-looking bed.

“What?”

“What you said to him. He can take his time deciding if he wants to. And it’s just rich, coming from you.”

Your eye twitches in irritation. “You’re just pissed because I don’t wanna take on the most boring job in the world.”

“Grow up,” Millie hisses, venom laced in her voice. “Not everything’s about your entertainment.”

Turning around, you see your best friend with arms crossed, giving you a disapproving look that reminds you of your mother. How odd. What’s that old saying about people becoming what they most hate?

“You’re gonna lecture me now too? Hit me with some philosophy, maybe?” You raise your brow, daring her to say more. “Or do you wanna knock me over again? Maybe I’ll get a concussion this time.”

Millie scoffs, sitting down on the bed she’s claimed. “You know what, it was nice. Seeing someone put you in your place like that.” Her lips quirk under your hard gaze. “Maybe he’ll teach you a thing or two about taking things seriously. Give you some actual goals to achieve.”

The only thing Lieutenant Levi will teach you is to never get distracted by something like how beautiful someone’s eyes look ever again. Even now, you can still picture him, the way he stood in front of you, startled you, threw you off. The way his eyes were filled with more duality than you’d ever expected to see in a person.

Pretending like you didn’t just fantasize about his pretty grey irises, you roll your eyes and flop down on the bed next to her’s. “He’s not gonna teach me jack shit. He’s not even our trainer.”

Millie hums, whether it’s to you or to herself you don’t know, and when you look at her again she’s closed her eyes, clearly wanting to end what was a very long day. It’s not long before you join her.

“(F/N).”

“Yeah?”

“I miss home.”

You don’t, but you keep it to yourself.

The last thing you think of before you fall asleep is how cold the lieutenant had looked when he humiliated you, and your cheeks burn angrily.

____________________

Two weeks pass by in a blur. Once training starts, there’s not much time to think about something like goals, because everyone’s goal is simply living until dinner each night. Avoid getting yelled at, attend classes, study hard, and for the love of all things holy don’t fall on your face when you’re balancing in the practice ODM gear. 

It’s a rush, and you actually find yourself enjoying it. The food still tastes stale and the bed is still too hard to be comfortable, but there’s an easy routine that’s so much more than sit still and look pretty. While you’ve never been a fan of routine, this is different. There’s a purpose to this, even if everyone has different things they’re working towards. Whether they’re trying their best to show what they’re made of and get into the top ten like Millie, or pushing themselves because they get starry-eyed at the thought of saving humanity like Rashad, or simply staying out of trouble to avoid getting meal privileges taken away like Clara, everyone is working towards something, and it’s thrilling to be in the midst of it, to be a part of something meaningful.

You and Ricky are fast friends - he’s surprisingly not too insufferable and he shares your enthusiasm for not taking things so seriously. He also seems like he’s looking for a partner in crime, someone to partake in the oh-so delightful task of slacking off with. Millie is throwing herself into perfecting everything, and Stephen, while not as crazy as she is, is more nervous about losing respectability in front of their trainers and comrades. So the two of you naturally gravitate towards each other, because jeez, at least a few people here need to remember that life still exists outside of all of the training and military drama. 

Today is the first time they’re letting you practice hand-to-hand combat, and while that’s obviously ridiculous since you’re training to fight titans (or just bully people, if you’re joining the MP, but Millie didn’t appreciate you voicing that out loud), it’s also a chance for you to show off a natural talent. 

You’re flexible. And fairly fast too.

Sure, you’re no fighter, but back home you were put into dancing lessons since you were a wee young thing, so you have a much higher tolerance than most of these chumps. You can take a few hard punches here and there, and you’re fluid with your movements, so you’re giving as good as you get. Even combat is a dance in a certain way, it has all the same elements at any rate. Everything comes down to the placement of the feet, and every other body is an accessory that has to be utilized perfectly to do any damage. 

Unfortunately, Ricky’s fought, like actually fought - fucking peasants from Maria and their street fights - and so as much as you put up a damn good fight, he eventually gets you in a hold from behind. You squirm in his grasp as he laughs, digging his fingers in your side. You try to protest, but it’s hard when he’s tickling you so hard.

“H-hey, hey!” Your giggling only gets two octaves louder when Ricky doesn’t let up. “Stop!” Ricky’s laugh mixes in with yours, until he’s lifting you off the ground. Your breathing becomes painful as you struggle against his grip, clawing at his hands. “Ricky! Let go!”

Finally, he decides to show mercy, dropping you. He regrets it pretty soon, though, because then you’re on him quickly, throwing a hard punch against his shoulder. He groans, letting out a pained, “What the hell, (F/N)?” but you’re not done. You grab the collar of his uniform, and tug it forward briefly to give yourself some momentum to shove him back as hard as you can.

Ricky stumbles on his feet, catching himself before he falls at the last second. There’s a determined expression in his eyes, not quite competitive but suddenly eager to show off.

“So, think your dainty dancing is gonna give you the advantage here?” he challenges, balling his fists in front of his chest. You do the same. “Hate to break it to you, kid, but that’s not how that works.”

“Beat me, then. Properly.” You smirk, planting your feet firmly. Let him throw the first punch, you decide. “I have to be on the ground for you to win.”

Ricky’s clever too, knowing you intend to use his size against him. He lowers his arms, extending them as though he’s going to let you take a free shot. Yeah, you’re not that stupid. You stay right where you are, raising an unimpressed brow. The two of you stare each other down, trying your best not to break into smiles. 

“Hit me.”

“Hard pass.”

“Because you know your punch will be too weak?”

“How’s your shoulder, Ricky? Should be feeling fine, since my punch was so weak.”

He barks out a laugh, rolling his shoulder back experimentally. “Like getting hit by a feather.”

Okay, trash talk isn’t part of the combat training that the trainer, Instructor Grumman, has assigned. But it’s still fun, and it’s about a thousand times more preferable than actually fighting. Fighting is painful and pointless. Trash talk is entertaining and doable. 

Still, you hunch your shoulders. If Ricky really won’t move, you’ll come at him with full force. Digging your heel into the ground, you give yourself a boost and run towards him with a burst of speed. His eyes widen, and his first instinct is to hold out his hands to keep you at bay. But with the close proximity and his lanky figure, it won’t be enough. You’ll have him on his back within seconds if you ram into him in one, two -

You don’t make it.

You don’t make it because you’re suddenly flung into the air. You let out a frantic shriek and bring your arms up to shield your face. The ground approaches with dizzying speed and you hit it with a sickening thud. Your hands are suddenly covered in scratches and you open your mouth to furiously ask Ricky what the fuck he was thinking and how did he even do that and did he have to throw you so high -

But when you look up, it’s cold grey eyes that meet you.

Fuck.

The glare that was supposed to be for Ricky is now aimed at him, unadulterated hate coursing through your veins. This is the first time you’ve seen him since that day. Just what in the actual fuck is his problem, and just what had you done to deserve being thrown over his shoulder and up into the sky like a fucking ragdoll? You hadn’t mouthed off this time. Hell, you didn’t even know he was there, so just what the fuck was he punishing you for?

“People who don’t take their training seriously usually end up looking up like this,” he hisses. His glare matches yours, which is ridiculous, because he’s the one who knocked you down. Why is he pissed off? “‘Course, they’re usually looking up at a titan, but we don’t have any of those on hand for me to demonstrate.”

Yeah, he’s far from a titan. Fucking shrimp.

“I was taking my training very seriously, sir,” you say with gritted teeth. “In fact, I would have defeated my opponent had you not stepped in and shot me up in the air.” Your hands would also have significantly fewer bruises. 

He snorts, actually snorts, like you’ve just told a hilarious joke. “A real opponent isn’t going to let you run that mouth of yours before they come at you. You’d be dead in two fucking seconds.”

People are looking now. Everyone remembers that first day, and they all look as though their favorite stage actors have come to town to perform a show. They’re all waiting to see just what the girl who talked back to Lieutenant Levi will do now. A circus trick, perhaps? They don’t know what you’re made of - no one is going to see you crack. And definitely not because of this insufferable man.

“You don’t know that, sir.” You say it with a poisonous smile, wanting him to know that it’s not meant to be respectful. “I might just make it. Maybe I’ll even make it longer than you.”

There are hushed gasps all around you, but the lieutenant pays them no mind. He looks amused, as if you’re just a stupid little girl, an arrogant brat who somehow thinks she’s somehow stronger than him. You’re not an idiot, you know that he’s an excellent soldier who will probably make captain soon, and you’re a lowly cadet who doesn’t even know the basics yet. But once you’re trained up, once you have experience, you think you could take him on, and you could possibly win.

Lieutenant Levi leans down, crouching on his legs before leaning in. He grabs your shoulder harshly, and leans in to whisper in your ear. “I’ll be waiting, (L/N).”

You almost feel respected until he adds, “Waiting to see the day that fucking smile gets wiped off your face.”

With that, he stands up and turns. Turns to walk away. Turns as though you’re not still on the ground. Turns as though your comrades aren’t snickering around you, convinced that he just put you in your place a second time. Turns as though he didn’t just single you out for no damn reason - who even fucking asked him to watch? Who asked him to interfere in your business? Why didn’t anyone else demand his attention? You weren’t the only one goofing off. Hell, there were some people who were actually just lazing around! Where was their punishment?

Furiously, you speak before your brain can catch up.

“Why don’t you fight me, Lieutenant?” you say loudly as you get to your feet.

He stops.

Ricky, who is safely standing a few feet away now, gives you a wide-eyed look, silently asking if you’re brain damaged. But you pay him no mind, your eyes focused on the back of Lieutenant Levi’s head, probably burning a hole in him with your gaze by now. Immediately, the crowd changes sides again, hushed oohs spreading around. It’s not enthusiastic, no one actually believes you’ll triumph, but they are enthusiastic that you have the balls to try.

He turns, giving you the driest expression you’ve ever seen, and you half expect to be dismissed. To be told that you’re too weak to even think about fighting him.

Instead, his stance changes, his fists are raised, and he’s accepted your challenge.

You know you can’t win. That’s not the point. The point is to hold out. For a whole minute, at least. Half a minute. Was twenty seconds too generous?

There’s a small part of you that regrets mouthing off this time.

Lieutenant Levi doesn’t have to waste any time staring you down. He has no need to debate in his head about who should throw the first punch, and nor does he grant you the courtesy of devising a strategy in your head first. In half a second, he’s approaching you with dizzying speed, fist reeled back, about to knock you over for the second time today.

But you’re sick and tired of these fast maneuvers. 

You duck down just as he closes the gap between you, and you go for his legs. He grunts in surprise as you make contact, clutching tightly. It may look pathetic. Your arms are wrapped around his thighs, which you basically just dived into. Your face is squished against his hip. Your feet have left the ground, as you’ve thrown your entire body at him. At this moment, you look absolutely ridiculous.

But it’s worth it.

The lieutenant loses his balance as his feet slip from under him. You can feel him falling down, down, down, with a gasp that is just fucking music to your ears. This is turning out better than you’ve ever hoped for. You’ve proved everyone wrong, even yourself. He’s going to hit the floor, and you’re going to win. You’ll win.

Or at least, you would have.

You’re both hurtling through the air for one glorious moment. Then, recovering from his shock in an instant, Lieutenant Levi spins the two of you in midair, and despite all your efforts and quick calculations, it’s your back that hits the floor again with a loud crack, air knocked clean out of your lungs. You gasp for breath. His knees are digging into your neck, you’re going to choke -

He takes no time to recover. He’s up and on his feet in a second, brushing the nonexistent dirt off his pants, and you’re left panting with your hand on your throat, trying to recover what little dignity you have left as laughter erupts around you. Dizziness and confusion overwhelms you, as does something else. Just a few minutes ago, you’d been looking at him hatefully. Well, you from five minutes ago had no idea what hate was. You could kill him right now, this arrogant, pompous, cruel jerk. 

How dare he look so unperturbed? Like this is just a normal weekday for him?

A hand yanks you up by your hair, nails digging in your scalp painfully. You’re brought to your knees with a heaving gasp. He tugs your head up until you’re looking at him properly, and he has the nerve to smirk. It’s slight - perhaps he knows a full blown smile would look creepy on him - but it’s there, mocking you.

When he speaks, it’s just a little louder than a murmur. “I thought I told you to tie your hair up.”

Then he releases you, and your buckle over in pain. The position literally has you bowing down to him. White hot anger seeps through you. Consumes you. When he starts walking away, his every step thunders in your head, echoing a million times. He had no right. 

No right at all.

It seems like Millie’s wish has come true. You have a goal now. A goal that Lieutenant Levi has so graciously given you.

You’ve decided. No matter what happens, you’re going to get revenge on Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. He’s going to fucking pay.

____________________

You’re pacing out in the field later that day, muttering under your breath, the events from earlier replaying in your head on loop. Millie’s decided to give up on getting you to come study with her, and she’s blatantly refused to participate in your little quest for revenge, citing it as “pointless and foolhardy.” Well, this whole thing is pointless and foolhardy. The Training Corp is just a way to produce more dead bodies every year. But Millie didn’t agree with your line of logic and has left you to brood on your own.

Realistically, what are your options? It’s not an easy task to take on. Humiliating a man who is now so respected and admired will be difficult when his ego soars sky high. Something heavy will be needed to bring it down. Now you have no intention of ruining him for life, nothing major or extremely dangerous. If you did have such an intent, it would’ve been rather simple, just a letter back home to your mother to spread the word of what humanity’s hero was really like. Not that she’s inclined to listen to your demands nowadays, but it’s a doable plan that would work one way or another. But you want to embarrass Lieutenant Levi the exact same way he embarrassed you. You want to knock him flat on his back, while everyone watches, and you want to stand triumphantly as he kneels down to you.

Someone listening to your thoughts right about now would think you were having a vivid sexual fantasy. You groan, slumping down against the bark of a tree. It’s going to be dark soon. You have a curfew that you’re inclined to obey. But you simply can’t go back without thinking of a plan. He deserves it. He deserves to be utterly humiliated. Punishing you is one thing. Beating you in a fight is only natural. 

But holding you up by your hair like you’re one of the fucking spoils of war only to have you kneel to him - that’s sick. He’s sick, and probably perverted. You wonder if he’s always been like that, or if the glory has gone to his head. And you wonder why he’s chosen you to play this game with. Because of a smile and some cheek? That’s no excuse. 

Maybe you’re just the prettiest one here, and he has a crush.

Even the cocky thought can’t distract you enough from your frustration. You can’t possibly beat him. There’s a reason he’s getting so much attention. It’s because he can fight like no other, and it’s all natural talent too. Frankly, you call bullshit, no one is just that good without any practice, but whatever, not the point right now. Who could possibly make you capable enough to beat the lieutenant in a fight? Who could possibly know all his weaknesses? 

Probably only him.

Your eyes widen.

____________________

The sun shines brightly the next day. You feel the warm breeze from the open windows kissing your cheek as you run through the base. Most people passing by pay you no mind, although a few give you questioning looks. But they don’t say anything, probably figuring you’re just a lost newbie who’s inevitably going to get yelled at when you show up late for class. But they’re mistaken, you’re not lost at all. You’re running with purpose. And well, you might be late for class, but it’ll be fine, you know Stephen takes detailed notes that he’s willing to share, and even if he feels like being mean, this is much more important.

Originally, the plan was to go all the way to his office, the path pieced together from directions you’d gotten from Instructor Grumman who believed you were going to apologize (for what?). Hopefully, he won’t actually double check if you went through with it, because you have no intention of apologizing for a single damn thing. Your aim is far more sinister than that. Today is the first step of a plan that will take you a long while, but it’ll pay off eventually. You’re going to achieve your goal. 

That is, if he agrees.

The universe is on your side, because you don’t even need to go all the way to his office. There he is, in the flesh, talking to a blonde man you recognize as Captain Erwin Smith and a woman who you haven’t seen before. Maybe if he hadn’t been so callous yesterday, you’d have waited until he was away from his comrades before approaching him. It’s too late to care about appearances now.

You step up to the three of them and salute, clearing your throat.

He looks at you, and his eyes harden when he sees a smile plastered on your face yet again. 

“Can we help you?” Captain Erwin says gently, but there’s just the slightest edge in his tone. Clearly one is not supposed to just approach this dream team. Your bad.

You open your mouth to answer him, but Lieutenant Levi beats you to it, looking bored as he does. “She’s lost, Erwin. Classes are on the other side of the base,” he says dismissively, waving a hand like he’s swatting away a fly.

“I am not lost. Sir.” Your spine is still straightened and your fist is still balled against your heart. You’re not sacrificing it just yet, but you’re certainly sacrificing your pride here. “I have a request for you. After you pointed out my obvious flaws yesterday, I realized that if I don’t get help, I’m going to fall seriously behind.”

Captain Erwin shoots him an exasperated look, already having figured that his best friend (or whatever they are to each other) must have done something to you. Meanwhile, the woman cackles, nudging the lieutenant’s shoulder. 

“She’s being proactive! You appreciate that, don’t you, Levi?”

He doesn’t answer. His attention is now exclusively on you - you nearly feel special. 

“So what do you need from me, Cadet?” You ignore the way your stomach flip-flops violently from the way he stares at you, the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a light smirk. Something in him clearly enjoys the idea of you needing him for something. Something else to lord over your head, something else for him to be cocky about. “You want me to find someone to give you private lessons?”

“Close,” you say, mustering the brightest and happiest fucking expression you can, “I’d like you to give me private lessons. I want you to train me.”

The lieutenant’s eyes flash upwards. 

Your hair is neatly tied up in a tight bun.

Y’all have no idea how weird it is to write “Lieutenant Levi.” I loathe it.

Also, this is my first time writing in second person. Lots of firsts here, folks.

Please review, your comments are my source of life.

[drakenology]

I Hate Everything About You - Dabi

warnings: ANGST, smut, daddy kink, mentions of rape,violence, AND swearing (cause im a potty mouth)

author’s note: this lil story is inspired by my favorite song I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace. im a lil emo bitch ok? I recommend listening to the song to get a better perspective of how the emotions of the lyrics and the story goes hand in hand. the chorus goes like “I hate everything about you. why do i love you?” and I immediately thought of something angsty and raw to write. hope yall enjoy! this one might be a little long.

summary: You and Dabi have worked together as villians for as long as you can remember but you two don’t get along at all. is this truly hatred or is this repressed feelings coming to surface?

You hated heroism. You viewed it as weak and meaningless. When both of your parents were murdered by an anonymous killer and no one came to their rescue when they could very well have been saved, something dark took over your spirit. You snapped. At the tender age of 17, your parents did not receive justice for the act of violence committed against them. The police told you there “wasn’t enough evidence” and that the killer had most likely killed himself.

There were simply too many holes in the case for it to be solved. Obviously this infuriated you. So much in fact that you planned to blow up the entire police precinct.

And you did.

Now being on the run at only 17 you fell into a life of crime, committing yourself to being a villain who killed police officers off duty earning yourself the villain name “Cop Killer” from the authorities. Not to mention your very dangerous quirk called “Leech”. You were able drain anyone you gazed at of their blood, the gaze having to be completely focused on the person’s eyes. Once concentrated enough it becomes hard for the person to look away from you. To trigger your quirk, you have to say the word “leech” in order to essentially stop the flow of someone’s blood to their heart; their blood being extracted from their veins to yours. The blood only made your quirk stronger as you can now manipulate it and use it in combat. You had enough control to where you could take a little or take it all. The stolen blood was also good for increasing your stamina and speed for a short period, manifesting a weapon with the blood you stole and of course leeching the person of their blood entirely, instantly killing them. The murders you committed granted you the number one spot of Japan’s wanted list. You were also the youngest assasin in Japan at the time so you had to move around a lot. You spent your teenage years living in abandoned buildings and sketchy motels; robbing, stealing and of course murdering for survival.

The day you met the League of Villains was your 23rd birthday. As a treat to yourself, you had cornered one of the dirtiest cops you had ever encountered. He was a known sex trafficker, a thief as well as a disgusting rapist. You had him right where you wanted him; wearing a disguise to hide your true visage in order to avoid being recognized. You had pretended to be a love interest to the cop, sitting in the seedy hotel room he rented to have a little “privacy” with you.

“Oh baby, you don’t know what you do to me. I wanna see that pretty little mouth of yours around my cock. Get on your knees for me.” The police man said, the sleazy bastard unbuckling his belt. You nod, secretly being disgusted by this man. But you had to keep your cool. You got down on your knees and took his hard cock into your hands and pumped, looking him directly in the eyes as you did so.

“Yeah, baby. You’re so hot.” He groaned, keeping his eyes locked on yours almost instinctively as sweat collected on his brow.

“Thanks.. but your time’s up, you sick fuck.” you say, standing up on your feet. You straddle him, watching the cop’s eyes become terrified as he finally realizes who you really are.

“Leech.” You say as you watched your quirk take effect. The reaction was instant as he starts to gasp and grab at his heart, clinging onto his last minutes of life as he died on the hotel bed. You moan as his blood is transferred into yours, creating a dagger out of his blood. You slice his neck, licking whatever was left off of his cold throat. You laugh, searching his dead body to take whatever he had on his person; money, personal possessions and his gun. Just as you’re about to get up and leave you get the feeling that you aren’t alone. You turn and see none other than the villain you had seen all over local news.

Shigaraki. 

He chuckles dryly, admiring your work at killing the cop underneath you.

“Well done, little girl.” He said, peering over your shoulder to get a good look at the mess you made of him. You go to ask how the hell he got into the room until you hear the sound of police sirens blaring outside. 

“We have the entire hotel surrounded. There are Heros on the way to assist us. Surrender now or face the consequences.” You hear the cops say on a megaphone.

“Shit.” You mumble, quickly grabbing your things; planning your escape in your head.

“Listen, I’ve admired your work since your attack on that police station, Cop Killer.” Shigaraki said. “We could use someone like you in the League of Villains. My friend Kurogiri here can get us both out of here in one piece. But only with your consent of course.”

You think for a moment. You’d rather make a smooth escape than risk being arrested. So you agree. 

“We’ll explain everything once we get back to base.” Kurogiri says, morphing himself through the cracks of the door. 

Kurogiri takes both you and Shigaraki and consumed you both into his portals, leading you to the secret hide-out of the League of Villains. You look around, your vision a little hazy from being in the dark portal. You see a few other people standing in the lobby. A guy with a weird mask on with two sides on it eagerly introduced himself as Twice. You see a cute girl that looked a little young to be in a place like this. 

“Toga Himiko. Nice to meet ya. Hey, you’re way prettier in person. The police drawing of you is really unflattering.” She says, waving at you. You smile meekly as you turn away to see this guy standing at the corner of the bar. He had burn scars all over his face and neck, dark hair and the most mysterious eyes you’ve ever seen. You met his gaze when you noticed him staring at you, sizing you up. You found his stare threatening and kind of alluring. You almost couldn’t look away. 

“Don’t stare at me for too long, Cop Killer. I know what those eyes can do.” He said sarcastically, not even caring to introduce himself. He felt familiar, like you’ve known him for a long time. You rolled your eyes and walked over to Shigaraki. 

“Look, if you think just because you got me out of a tight spot that I’m just gonna beg to work for you, you’re wrong. I work alone.” You said, adjusting the top of your outfit. 

“I know. But today that changes. You see, we’ve been watching you, Cop Kill-” He says, interrupted by your loud groan.

“My name is Y/N. Please just call me by my name. My mother didn’t name me Cop Killer.” You demand, folding your arms in protest. 

“But that’s what you are, Y/N. Don’t be ashamed.” Shigaraki says, inching closer to you. “Look, the services of the League of Villains aren’t free. We helped you. Now you help us. You understand don���t you, Y/N?” 

You sigh, wishing you had just leapt out of a nearby window back at the hotel instead of taking help from this creep. 

“Fine.” You say, looking down at your shoes. 

“Wonderful.” Shigaraki says, walking away from you. “Oh and one more thing. I hate back talkers.”

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

A few months pass and you’re well acquainted with all the villains of the organization. You were all usually partnered up for missions; you always alternating between Toga and Dabi, who had finally told you his “name”. You grew to be pestered by Dabi. You’d much rather be paired up with Toga than Dabi any day since you and Dabi just could not get along, you both arguing like an old married couple at every mission. You couldn’t stand him. His cockiness, his elitist attitude, his aloofness. He hated you because of your attitude, you thinking you knew better than everyone else. He thought you were a spoiled brat who hasn’t done anything remarkable to even earn a spot in the League. To you, he was everything you despised about some men. 

One night you were all playing a friendly game of Blackjack; which seemed to be a ritual between the members. Shigaraki didn’t bother playing but Kurogiri always seemed to watch. 

“Ugh.. Fold. What do I have to do to get a decent fucking hand, huh?” Twice said, his two voices seeming to contrast in differing personality. You laugh, slamming down a perfect hand worth 21. 

“I stand, bitches.” You say, winning yet another round. 

“I’m bored.” Dabi says, standing up and leaving the table. 

“Oh don’t be like that, Dabi. Come back!” Toga says, throwing her cards down. She sighs and stands up from the table. “Well, I guess that’s it. I’m goin to bed. Nighty night, Y/N. Twice.” Everyone went their separate ways. You walk into your room and change into something more comfortable and walk outside to get some air. To your dismay, Dabi was already standing outside in the same spot you liked to chill and think. 

“Yo.” He says, referring to you. You roll your eyes and walk over to him. 

“What?” You say, annoyed to the point where you just want to turn around and go back inside. 

“Aw, what’s wrong, Cop Killer? Don’t like me?” He asks, inching closer to you to whisper in your ear. You stand still for a moment and lunge at him, grabbing his throat and pushing him against the wall. 

“Stop fucking testing me.” You say sternly, looking him deeply in the eyes with the intention to kill. 

“Careful, little girl. You might just turn me on.” He says, grabbing your arm and pushing you back. You freeze, stunned at the sudden harsh movement from the tall man in front of you. ”You’re 5′4′’, sweetheart. If I wanted to, I could end you without even using my quirk. You ‘oughta be nicer to me.” 

You get angrier by the second, yelling and screaming about how much you hate him all while trying to take jabs at him, throwing punches at his face. Dabi dodges every swing, smirking at your abilities. He was impressed, but he’d never tell you that. 

“Huh. Keep it up and you might actually hit me.” He teased, swinging back at you, landing right on your jaw. You stumble and collect yourself, charging towards him once more. You were certain you’d hit him, the blood from someone you’ve killed earlier that day increasing your speed. 

“Fuck you.” You hiss, taking another swing at him and connect, landing right on his cheek. He smirks, wiping blood from his mouth. You get cocky and go for another punch only for him to dodge you. He grabbed your arm and twisted it, pinning you against the brick wall in front of him with your back facing him. 

“When?” He asked in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You hated that he could so easily overpower you, making you despise him even more. He releases you from his grip and stands close to you; you feeling the warmth of his skin radiating from his body. 

“Listen. You hate me and quite frankly I can’t stand you either. But you don’t see me attacking you. Try it again and I won’t be so nice next time, little girl.” Dabi said, grabbing your face to daringly look into your poisonous eyes to mock your quirk. You focus, ready to end this asshole. Suddenly his lips crash into yours. At first, you’re disgusted and fucking pissed. But then you feel yourself start involuntarily melting into his kiss. So you kiss him back with no shame, all bitter feelings leaving your mind as the kiss gets more intense. You feel his hands groping and caressing your body, his hands exploring to stop at your neck; wrapping it around. You gasp, feeling yourself get hot. 

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. And then you spoke. And I couldn’t stand you. But I couldn’t shake this feeling of wanting to bend you over and punish you for your slick mouth. You need a good hard dicking to keep your mouth shut and I’m the one to give it to you. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?” He asked, starting to kiss your neck harshly. You moan, embarrassed at his words. He was right. You found him attractive as soon as you saw him but his attitude rubbed you the wrong way. But right here and now, you realize that you might have been hiding your true feelings behind a façade of hatred. You wanted him too and you couldn’t stand it. 

“I’m talking to you, Y/N.” He persists, biting into your neck. You mewl, shocked at how good he was making you feel. You almost couldn’t believe you were in this situation. It was confusing but formalities could come later. You wanted him now. 

“Yes, Dabi. I wanted you to fuck me the first time I saw you.” You say quietly, feeling him reach under your shirt and bra to grab at your naked breast. You bit your lip, feeling slick pool between your legs as you fall victim to his touch. 

“Get inside and go in my room. I expect you to have nothing on when I get there. Understood?” He demands, pinching your nipple lightly. You gasp, nodding at his request. 

“Words. You’ve already made me angry with that stunt you pulled punching me in the face. I wouldn’t try me further.” He said, grabbing your hair and pulling it to expose more of your neck. You moan, unable to control yourself suddenly. It’s like he knew exactly what to do to turn you on. Fucking asshole.

“Y-Yes, daddy- I-I mean Dabi.” You flush. Damn. You couldn’t believe you let that slip. He laughs, kissing your lips once more as he lets you go. 

“Daddy works just fine.” Dabi says smirking, watching you stumble towards the door to go back inside. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You knew you should just go into your own room but, God you wanted to see what he’d do to you for almost punching him. You wondered how rough he’d be, your panties soaking at the thought as you gulp and open his room door. You sat on his bed and took off your clothes, leaving your underwear on to tease him. Suddenly his door opens and it’s him. He looked you up and down, loving what he saw. But to his dismay you had on too many clothes still. 

“I thought I told you to get naked, little girl.” Dabi said, pushing you onto his bed. He stood above you, running his fingers down your stomach and stopping at the waistband of your panties. You shudder at his cold fingers. 

“You never said naked.” You tease, looking back at him. He frowns, shaking his head. 

“Man, you just love pushing my buttons don’t you? You’re gonna regret teasing me so much.” He says, pulling your panties down roughly, holding them up to his face. He smirked at the wet spot he saw on them, throwing them onto the ground. “This is gonna be fun.”

You hiss as he slid one measly finger inside you while rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb, the single finger not being enough to satisfy your craving for that certain pleasurable stretch. Somehow though, Dabi was making you feel good with that one finger. You roll your hips for more friction only to have Dabi hold you down with his other hand. 

“Stop squirming so much. It makes you look desperate, doll.” He teased earning a whine from you. As if to be a little forgiving he adds another finger, watching your face twist up in pleasure. You were visually trying to hide your moans, Dabi not liking that at all. 

“Come on now. It’s no fun if you don’t scream for me. Let everyone here know how good I make you feel.” He said, halting his movements. You nod, moaning loudly as he adds a third finger. Any shame or embarrassment is gone as he worked you up to your first orgasm. You grab at his sheets, trying to move for more friction only to once more be overpowered by Dabi. 

“You don’t listen too well do you? I said stop squirming. You’ll have your fill but good girls wait to cum. Understand? I expect you to address me correctly this time.” He says, grabbing your face to make you look at him. Something about knowing you could kill him with your eyes turned him on, because he knew he could keep you from doing so. All he had to do was please you, knowing you won’t be able to focus on anything but screaming his name let alone his eyes. 

“Y-Yes daddy.” You mewl, your eyes rolling back as he pulled out one of your breasts, sucking on your nipple harshly. The sound of your moans was music to Dabi’s ears, the only thing he ever wanted to hear come out of your mouth. He cooed praises into your ear, telling you hot sexy you are and how et your pussy is just for him. He crawls on top of you, pulling his fingers out of you as you whine at the sudden loss. He kissed you, ripping your bra off. He sat up and stared at the gorgeous naked woman underneath him. 

“You’re so hot when you’re not talking shit.” He says, playing with your boobs. He was unsure of where to start. He wanted to please every inch of your lovely curves, his eyes drinking in your hips up to your beautiful breasts. He nearly drooled at the sight of them, your nipples seeming to perk up when he looked at them. You stare back at the man on top of you, his scars almost complimenting his skin as you watched him take off his shirt. You bit your lip as you feel a nice sized bulge grind up against your dripping core. You didn’t even notice that his pants were off, drooling at the sight of his body overpowering yours. He grinded up against you, leaning in close to your ear. 

“Ready to get fucked, sweetheart?” He asked, nibbling on your ear lobe. 

“Yes, god, yes!” You gasp, feeling him take off his boxers. He positioned his dick at your entrance, tapping it against you to tease you. You moan, going to grab his cock and shove it inside you but you think twice, already in trouble with him. Dabi smirks, excited to break you as he shoved himself inside you and started to rut his hips into you. You moan sinfully at the sudden stretch, loving how he filled you. You feel him speed up, not even fully adjusted to his length as you clawed at his back for dear life. 

“You’re takin me so well, doll.” He said, grabbing your neck to lightly choke you. Your eyes roll back as you reveal a sinful ahegao face while he pounds you senseless. You’re moaning his name and telling him how good he feels inside you, cussing and screaming into the air as you feel yourself coming close to cumming.

“C-Can I-?” You ask, unable to finish your sentence as you feel yourself clenching around him. Dabi is relentlessly prodding at your g-spot, causing you to see stars as he notices he’s hitting that special spot. He smirks and angles himself so that he’s repeatedly hitting that spot, watching you cover your mouth as you scream. He snatched your hand away from your mouth and pinned it above your head. 

“Tell me you’re sorry for punching me, kitten.” He demands, harshly pinching your nipples. You shake your head no to tease him. “No? Must need more convincing, huh brat?” He pulls out of you, you letting out a pathetic sob at the loss. He roughly flips you on your stomach and plants a hard smack on your ass. You yelp, your pussy aggravated as it throbs at the feeling of pleasure. He yanks you towards him and shoves himself back inside you, you laying flat on your stomach. You kick and scream under him, feeling him so deep it blinds you. 

“Oh my god, daddy!” You whine, shoving your face into your pillow as he assaults your g-spot. 

“Say it.” He demands, landing another hard smack on your ass this one sure to leave a mark. 

“I-I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry!” You scream, desperate for release. 

“Good girl.” He hisses. Dabi grabs your hair and lifts your head off the pillow wanting to hear the last moans you can give before you cum. 

“Go ‘head and cum for me. You’ve earned it.” He says. And just like that you clench around him hard, your orgasm washing over your body as you cum all over his dick. He rides out your orgasm, only to continue pounding you earning a sharp yelp from you as you throw your head into the pillow again.

“You didn’t think it was over did you? That’s cute.” He said, taking you further. At this point you’re overstimulated, the pleasure almost painful as he worked you to another orgasm. 

“God, I love you!” You scream to his delight as you cum quicker than your mind can keep up. 

“I love you too. Even though you’re fucking annoying.” He hisses, unable to hold himself back anymore. He cums hot inside you, grunting as he slaps your ass one last time before pulling himself out. You moan softly, breathing heavily as he cleaned you up. He kissed up your body, you unable to move from being completely fucked out of your mind. 

“When you socked me, I knew you were a keeper.” He laughed. 

“Shut up.” You say, smiling into your pillow. 

“HEY, YOU TWO DONE IN THERE? YOU COULD HAVE WOKEN UP THE ENITRE CITY WITH ALL THAT RACKET!” Twice shouted through the walls, turning your face red with shame. 

“SHUT UP AND MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!” Dabi yelled back, rubbing soft circles on your ass to soothe his harsh marks on both cheeks. 

bitch i.. i’m sick. 

[weelittleweasley]

Muggle Music | Draco x Reader

Prompt: As a muggle born Hufflepuff you find comfort in your muggle music and books when you are feeling anxious or insecure. Although Draco has been known to have a distaste for muggles or of muggle descent, however you when it comes to you, his opinions change.

Warnings: angst, fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Hi all! So sorry I haven’t been as active this weekend. I took the time to relax and have a little fun and unwind before things get crazy work wise with me. Hopefully I’ll be back to pumping out fics again by tomorrow!

You delicately place the record on your player that is perched happily on top of your dresser as music starts to play as the record spins. The sounds of the familiar verses and chorus melt away any anxieties that were plaguing you through the day. Stevie Nicks’s voice washed over you as you allowed your body to sway gently to the music. 

Being muggle born wasn’t something you normally worn with a badge of pride at school. You were a little embarrassed that you never grew up around magic and its brilliance, rather you grew up with the mundaneness that was being ordinary for so long. But nothing could quite cheer you up like listening to muggle music or reading a good book that your mother bought from the book store. It was simple, but it never failed to make you feel at home, swallowed with warmth and comfort through these tiny vessels of your muggle upbringing.

Aside from not growing up with magic and missing out on the portion, you were also embarrassed of being a muggle especially because of who you were dating. Everyone and their mother knew that the Malfoy lineage was strict about marrying pure and only having children that would be pure bloods. You had been dating Draco for only a couple of months, but you did feel insecure about his dating history and how it has only been with pure bloods. You were the first to break that streak. Draco didn’t expect to fall for you, but when it happened, it happened fast and every thought he had about you not being a pureblood washed away. But there was always that little voice inside his head that spoke, What would mother and father think about this?

You swayed to Fleetwood Mac, trying to keep your negative thoughts at bay about how scared you were that Draco was going to break up with you because of your blood status. Earlier that day you had heard Pansy Parkinson gossiping to her posse about how Draco deserved to be with a pure blood and not some “mudblood” like you were. When you heard the words fall from her mouth, you wanted to cry. She was right. Draco deserved someone who would make his family proud and you would not do that. 

You didn’t even notice the tears falling from your eyes until they ran across your lips, the salty taste on your tongue. Rhiannon softly played in the background as you wiped your tears away with the backs of your hand. This was such a silly thing to cry over, but you couldn’t help but feel the way you did. Your insecurities were getting the best of you again.

Suddenly, a gentle few knocks come from your door. You suck up your sniffles and wipe what remains of the tears away. Glancing in the mirror, you check your appearance before opening the door. And there he stood. Draco in his Slytherin robes, his white blonde hair combed back, and sneaky little smile. He pulled you in for a tight hug by your contrasting Hufflepuff robes, breathing your scent in as you relaxed under his touch. “Good afternoon, darling,” Draco squeezes you, planting a kiss on your forehead. 

“Hi,” you mutter into his chest before pulling away, letting him inside your room. 

Draco enters, plopping his bag down at your desk. He contorts his face and says, “What is that?” as if to be disgusted by the music you are playing. Your heart sinks gently into your stomach as his face looks confused. 

You feel like your insecurities are now sticking out like a sore thumb. The things that bring you comfort make Draco contort with disgust. “Oh, sorry,” you quickly rush to your record player and turn off Fleetwood Mac as Landslide gets cut off. Too bad, that was your favorite song on that album. “It was my music from home. Mum gave me a few albums to take with me if I ever needed a taste of home. I didn’t know you were coming over or else I wouldn’t have played it.”

Draco suddenly grows disappointed in himself. Something you had loved so dearly and had such fond memories attached to was something he was taught to deplore. His disgust with all things doing with muggles made you upset because you were muggle born. Which in turn, meant he was supposed to hate where you came from. How could hate someone as lovely, considerate, and gentle as you? It would be impossible. “Don’t apologize. It’s your room, you play whatever you want. You can keep playing it if you want to,” he urges, hoping that you’ll play the music again just so he can see you happy, dancing along to whatever rhythm played from the odd machine you tinkered with.

Shaking your head, you insist, “No, I don’t want to play it anymore. It’ll just make me sad.” Sad because you miss home and sad because you know that Draco and you come from two separate worlds and he hated yours. Or so you thought. You chose to ignore the sad smile on Draco’s face. “Let’s change the subject, shall we?”

As you talked to Draco about your plans for the upcoming weekend in Hogsmeade, he couldn’t help but be distracted by his own thoughts. He hated knowing that you were uncomfortable and insecure of your muggle history. He hated that he was conditioned from such a young age to have a distaste in those things thanks to his father’s upbringing. Draco’s heart strings were strung any time he noticed you shift in your seat when someone bought up not being of pureblood descent. You would get very quiet and minutes later excuse yourself to go somewhere else away from the people who had insulted you in passing. He knew he wanted to make it up to you, but it was just a matter of how he would do it. 

----

A few days later, you parked yourself at a table in the library, studying and doing homework quietly, scribbling down in your notebook every once in a while. As you jot down notes, you didn’t notice Pansy pass your table. “Studying hard mudblood?” she coos sarcastically at you.

“Please leave me alone, Pansy,” you quietly plead. You just needed to study. That was all. You didn’t need to be reminded of all of your insecurities in the middle of the library for everyone around you to watch your discomfort.

Pansy leans on the table. “Why? Because Draco can’t defend you?” she spits.��“I’m still shocked that he’s with a loathsome creature like yourself. Aren’t you embarrassed? You’ll never quite live up to his or his parents expectations? I mean, what’s going to happen when you meet his parents? Let’s see if you even make it up to that point.” 

Tears start to prick in your eyes as you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat. “Go away, Pansy,” you speak gently, no malice in your voice even though you had wished there would be. 

“Am I talking about a sensitive topic?” she asks, knowing damn well what sees doing. “Admit it, (Y/N). You’re no good for Malfoy. You and your little muggle music and muggle books. You’ll never be enough for him.”

With that, you gather all of your stuff and dash out of the library, the laughs of Pansy echoing in the library. As you turn the corner, you bump into the person you wished most not to. “Hi, love,” Draco speaks, happy to see you until he sees the hot tears streaming down your face. “Hold on, wait a minute, what’s wrong?” he grabs your arms, looking at you in the eyes.

You shake your head, “I have to go.” You push past your boyfriend, running out of the library, completely horrified of what just went down. Running down the halls and up the stairs, you try to avoid the stares of concerned students and passing, (Y/N), are you okays. You just wanted to get back to your room.

Opening the door with a swing and then slamming it shut, you inhale a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. You were away from Pansy now and her torturous comments. Looking to your desk, you know exactly what you needed no matter how much it reminded you of your past. You grabbed another record from your stash that you tucked away in your drawer and plucked Queen from the pile. As you placed it on your record player, the sounds of the Jazz album filling your dormitory, sending soothing waves of comfort through you, drying your tears instantly.

Meanwhile in the library, Draco marched over to Pansy, steam bellowing from his ears. Pansy’s smile fell as she saw the pissed boy. “I don’t know what you said, but to be quite frank, Parkinson, I’m not surprised it was something rude and selfish, much like yourself,” Draco spit at her.

Pansy rolls her eyes, “Come on, Draco. You know better than anyone that you don’t belong with a mudblood. You need to stick with your own kind.”

Draco’s blood is boiling. “First of all, you know shit about what is best for me, Pansy, so I’d suggest keeping your fat nose out of my business. Second, muggle born or not, (Y/N) is a brilliant, beautiful person who is a better witch than you will ever be. If I even sense you close to (Y/N) again, consider yourself done for,” Draco scolds Pansy as her face turns parchment white. 

After his little meltdown, Draco leaves the library. On a mission to find you and comfort you after what just happened. 

In your room, you lay on your bed, listening to your muggle music, as you glide your fingers over the binding of your favorite muggle book, The Scarlet Letter. Maybe Pansy was right? You should just stick to your muggle things and stay away from what is muggle born. It would be for the best. 

Your thoughts are disturbed when you hear a knock at the door. You groan, emerging from your position on your bed. The door opens and there’s Draco who wastes no time in scooping you up in a hug. “Don’t listen to her,” he speaks into your hair. “She has no idea what she’s talking about. She is jealous.”

“But she’s right, Draco. I’m a dumb muggle born who doesn’t belong in your world. You were destined to hate me and everything I come from. It should stay that way before things get too complicated,” you try to reason with him as Draco shakes his head in disbelief. “You’ve only dated purebloods, Draco. Ever since we got here, you’ve dated purebloods and purebloods only. I haven’t dated anyone and Merlin, it’s year six! Now, my first ever boyfriend is not supposed to like people like me.” 

Draco’s heart breaks hearing you talk about yourself like this. “You mean someone who is considerate? Someone who is compassionate? Someone who loves people for their hearts?” he retorts as you ignore him. “(Y/N), I don’t care if you are pureblood or not. I want you and you only.”

Your heart should be swelling with joy, but it only makes it break. “I need to be alone right now, Dray. Please,” you whisper, holding your face in your hands. “Just leave me be for right now.”

Everything is screaming for Draco to stay and work this out with you, but he knows you need some space. He just shakes his head and leaves your room sadly. When the door closes, you don’t hesitate in letting the tears fall again. 

-----

Potions class was finally dismissed as you walked alone in the halls, trying to distance yourself from everyone, to scurry away in your room, curling up into your bed while listening to more muggle music, wishing you were home with your mother and father and siblings. 

Draco hadn’t come to talk to you since the library incident two days prior. He didn’t even bother trying to find you when your class took the weekend trip to Hogsmeade. You figured that he was out of your life for good and no matter how much you wanted him to stay, you knew it was best for the both of you. The relationship wouldn’t have worked out anyway. It was best for you to part separate ways.

As you approach your dormitory, you hear the faint chorus of Paul Anka’s Put Your Head On My Shoulder coming from the other side of your door. Your eyebrows furrow. Did I leave the record player on? I don’t even have that record though? You push the door open to reveal a Draco standing the middle of your room, Paul Anka playing on your record player. “What are you doing?” you ask him right off the bat.

Draco has a small smile on his lips. “Doing what I should have done when I asked you to be mine,” he claims as he grabs your hands. “When we took the trip to Hogsmeade this weekend, I bought some muggle records they had in the back of the shoppe as well as some new books for your collection,” he points to three large stacks of records and books on your desk as a smile threatens to spill on your lips. “I should have made an effort to learn about what you grew up with. But better late than never?” he suggests as you engulf him in the most enormous hug you can muster. Draco laughs as you squeeze him tight, his grip on you iron. “I took some time to listen to some of your favorite records and I stayed up all last night reading your favorite book.”

“You read The Scarlet Letter?” you ask in disbelief. The surprises never stopped when it came to Draco. He proudly nodded. “I can’t believe you would do all of this for me...this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Draco’s heart swells with pride. “It’s what you deserve,” he simply states. “Now,” he extends his hand to you. “Will you join me for a dance?”

Giggling, you accept his hand as the two of you rock gently to the sounds of Paul Anka on your record player, gazing into each others eyes as you smile like an idiot. “I can’t believe you sometimes, Malfoy,” you shake your head. “What do you think of it? The music, the book?”

“To be honest with you, it’s not half bad. The ABBA album is pretty good,” he shrugs, making you laugh wildly, throwing your head back. “Now that’s music to my ears,” he refers to your laughter as you blush. 

For the next few hours, you and Draco listen to your new albums he purchased for you as you lecture him on muggle books and authors, him smiling wide as you speak passionately about them. Although Draco knew his father would have a field day when he heard about this, he couldn’t care less. You were happy and that’s all that mattered to Draco.